The saddler expostulated. By the life of.... He certainly intended to go to the corrida, he had gone out to buy his ticket, and now Carmen prevented his enjoying the fiesta, by wanting to go to the Plaza herself.
"What can you do when you get there? What good can your presence do? Just think, if Juaniyo caught sight of you!"
But to all his arguments Carmen replied with the same obstinacy.
"If you do not care to come with me, I will go alone."
Antonio ended by giving in, and they drove to the Plaza together, entering by the Puerta de Caballerizas. The saddler remembered the Plaza well, as he had accompanied Gallardo on one of his journeys to Madrid during the spring.
He and the employé both felt out of humour with that woman with the red eyes and streaming cheeks who stood in the court-yard not knowing what to do.... The two men heard the noise of the people and the music in the Plaza. Were they going to stay there all night without seeing the corrida?
At last the employé had a happy inspiration.
"Perhaps the lady would like to go into the chapel!"...
The procession of the cuadrillas was ended, and through the doorway several horsemen came trotting back from the circus; these were the picadors who were not on duty, and who withdrew from the arena, ready to replace their comrades when required. Tied to rings on the wall were a row of saddled horses, the first who would have to go into the circus in place of any killed. Behind these the picadors were employing their wait by making their horses pirouette and turn, and a stable-boy was galloping a restless horse to quiet it before giving it over to the picadors. All the horses were kicking, plagued by flies, and dragging at their halters as if they scented the danger close at hand.
Carmen and her brother-in-law were obliged to take refuge beneath the arcades, and finally the torero's wife accepted the man's invitation to go into the chapel. It was a safe and quiet spot, and possibly in there she might do something to help her husband.