"He is a simpleton," said Gallardo—"a learned man certainly, as good as bread, but 'touched.' He will never have a peseta. Whatever he has he gives away, and he takes what anyone chooses to pay him."
Two great passions filled his life—the Revolution and Bulls. That vague but tremendous revolution which would come, leaving in Europe nothing that now existed, an anarchical republicanism that he did not trouble to explain, and which was only clear in its exterminatory negations. The toreros spoke to him as a father, he called them all "tu," and it was sufficient for a telegram to come from the furthest end of the Peninsula for the good doctor instantly to take the train and rush to heal a goring received by one of his "lads" with no expectation of any recompense, beyond simply what they chose to give him.
He embraced Gallardo on seeing him after his long absence, pressing his flaccid abdomen against that body which seemed made of bronze.
"Oh! You fine fellow!" He thought the espada looked better than ever.
"And how about that Republic, Doctor? When is it going to come?..." asked Gallardo, with Andalusian laziness.... "El Nacional[28] says that we are on the verge, and that it will come one of these days."
"What does it matter to you, rascal? Leave poor Nacional in peace. He had far better learn to be a better banderillero. As for you, what ought to interest you is to go on killing bulls, like God himself!... We have a fine little afternoon in prospect! I am told that the herd...."
But when he got as far as this, the young man who had seen the selection and wished to give news of it, interrupted the doctor to speak of the dark bull "which had struck his eye," and from which the greatest wonders might be expected. The two men who, after bowing to each other, had sat together in the room for a long time in silence, now stood up face to face, and Gallardo thought that an introduction was necessary, but what was he to call the friend who was addressing him as "tu?" He scratched his head, frowning reflectively, but his indecision was short.
"Listen here. What is your name? Pardon me—you understand I see so many people."
The youth smothered beneath a smile his disenchantment at finding himself forgotten by the Master and gave his name. When he heard it, Gallardo felt all the past recur suddenly to his memory and repaired his forgetfulness by adding after the name "a rich mine-owner in Bilbao," and then presented "the famous Dr. Ruiz," and the two men, united by the enthusiasm of a common passion, began to chat about the afternoon's herd, just as if they had known each other all their lives.
"Sit yourselves down," said Gallardo, pointing to a sofa at the further end of the room, "You won't disturb me there. Talk and pay no attention to me. I am going to dress, as we are all men here," and he began to take off his clothes, remaining only in his undergarments.