Blood and Sand

by Vicente Blasco Ibáñez

"They are just like us," said he tenderly, "they only want speech. How can I say like us? Many are worth more than any of us."

And he spoke of Lobito,[86] the old head of the herd, swearing he would not sell him if he were offered all Seville, with the Giralda thrown in. As soon as the Marquis, galloping across the vast plains, came in sight of the herd to which this treasure belonged, he would instantly respond to the call of "Lobito."... And leaving his companions would come to meet the Marquis, rubbing his muzzle against the rider's boots, and this although he was an immensely powerful animal and the terror of the rest of the herd. Then the breeder would dismount, and search in his saddle bags for a piece of chocolate to give to Lobito, who would gratefully shake his head, armed with those immense horns. Then with one arm round the bull's neck the Marquis would calmly walk in among the herd of bulls, made restless and fierce by a man's presence. There was no danger. Lobito walked like a dog, covering his master with his body, looking all around him, and imposing respect on his companions with his fiery eyes. If any one, more venturesome than his comrades, approached to sniff the intruder they met with Lobito's threatening horns. If several of them with heavy playfulness joined to bar his way, Lobito would stretch out his armed head and force them to make way.

When the Marquis related the great deeds of some of the animals reared on his pastures his white whiskers and his shaven lips would tremble with emotion.

"A bull!... He is the noblest animal in the world. If only men were more like him things would go on better in the world. There you have a portrait of poor Coronel. Do any of you remember that jewel?"

As he spoke he pointed to a large photograph finely framed, representing himself, much younger, in peasant dress, surrounded by little girls in white, who seemed to be seated in the midst of a meadow, on a black mound, at one end of which appeared a pair of horns. This dark and shapeless bank was Coronel. Of enormous size and very fierce to his comrades in the herd, this beast showed the most affectionate gentleness to his master and his family. He was like one of those mastiffs who are so fierce to strangers, but who let the children of the family pull their ears and tail, and receive all their teazing with grunts of pleasure. The little girls were the Marquis's daughters; the beast would sniff at their little white dresses, while they half frightened at first, clung to their father's legs, but would suddenly with childish confidence rub his muzzle. "Lie down, Coronel," and Coronel would lie down with his feet doubled beneath him, while the children sat on his broad back heaving with his heavy breathing.

One day, after much hesitation, the Marquis sold him to the Plaza in Pampeluna, and went himself to assist at the corrida. De Moraima was deeply moved and his eyes were dim as he recalled the occurrence. Never in his life had he seen a bull like that one. He rushed gallantly into the arena, though rather dazed at first by the sudden light after the darkness of his stall and the roars of thousands of people. But directly a picador pricked him, he seemed to fill the whole Plaza with his magnificent onslaughts.

Soon, there were neither men nor horses nor anything else left! In a moment all the horses were down and their riders tossed in the air. The peons ran, and the arena was in disarray, as if a branding[87] had been going on. The audience clamoured for more horses, while Coronel stood in the middle of the Plaza waiting to turn and rend anyone who came out against him. The slightest invitation was sufficient to make him attack, no one had ever seen anything like him for nobility and power, rushing in to his charge with a grandeur and a dash which drove the populace mad. When the death signal sounded, he had fourteen wounds in him and a complete set of banderillas, yet he was as fresh and as brave as if he had never left his pasture. Then....

When the breeder reached this point he always stopped to steady his shaking voice.

Then ... the Marquis de Moraima, who was in a box, found himself, he knew not how, behind the barrier, among the excited servants of the Plaza and close to the matador, who was slowly rolling up his muleta, as though he wished to put off the moment when he should have to meet so formidable an enemy. "Coronel!" ... shouted the Marquis, throwing his body half over the barrier and striking the woodwork with his hands.