When he spoke1 with the Marquis de Moraima he regarded him with an almost filial affection. That gentleman, dressed as a countryman, a rough centaur2 with "Zajones" and a strong garrocha, was an illustrious personage, who could cover his breast with ribbons and crosses, and in the king's palace wore an embroidered3 coat, with a gold key sewn on to one flap. His remote ancestors had come to Seville with that monarch4 who had expelled the Moors5, and had received as reward for their great exploits, immense territories wrested6 from the enemy, the remains7 of which were those vast plains on which the Marquis now reared his cattle. And this great nobleman, frank and generous, who preserved, notwithstanding the simplicity8 of his country life, the distinction of his illustrious ancestry9, was looked upon by Gallardo as in some sort a near relation.
The cobbler's son was just as proud as if he had in reality become a member of the Marquis's family. The Marquis de Moraima was his uncle, and though he could neither announce it publicly, nor was the relationship legitimate10, he consoled himself by thinking of the ascendency he exercised over one female of the family, thanks to a love which seemed to laugh at all prejudices of rank.
All those gentlemen who up to now had treated him with the rather disdainful familiarity with which the[Pg 149] patrons of the sport of rank treat toreros, were now in some sort his cousins, and he began to treat them as equals.
His life and habits had completely changed. He seldom entered the cafés in the Calle de las Sierpes, where most of the amateurs assembled. They were good sort of people, simple and enthusiastic, but of little importance; small tradesmen, workmen who had become employers, small clerks, nondescripts without profession, who lived miraculously11 by strange expedients12, apparently13 having no other business than to talk of bulls.
Gallardo passed by the windows of these cafés, saluting14 his admirers, who waved frantically15 to him to come in. "I will return presently"; he, however, did not return, he went further up the street to a very aristocratic club, decorated in the Gothic style, where the servants wore knee breeches, and the tables were covered with silver plate.
The son of Se?ora Angustias could not repress a feeling of pride each time he passed through the rows of servants drawn16 up on either side like soldiers, or when a Major-domo, with a silver chain round his neck, came to take his hat and stick. In one room fencing was practised, in another they gambled from the early hours of the afternoon till dawn. The members tolerated Gallardo because he was a "decent" torero, who spent a good deal of money, and had powerful friends.
"He is very well educated," said the members gravely, realizing that he knew just about as much as they did.
The sympathetic personality of his well-connected manager, Don José, served the torero as a guarantee in his new existence. Besides, Gallardo, with the cunning of a former street urchin17, knew how to make himself popular with this brilliant set, among whom he met "relations" by the dozen.
[Pg 150]
He played heavily. It was the best way of drawing closer to his new friends. He played and lost, with the proverbial ill-luck of a man fortunate in other undertakings18, and his ill-luck became a matter of pride to the club.
"Gallardo was cleared out last night," said the members proudly. "He must have lost at least eleven thousand pesetas."
The calmness with which he lost his money made his new friends respect him, but the new passion soon grew upon him, even to the point of making him sometimes forget his great lady. To play with all the best in Seville! To find himself treated as an equal by these gentlemen! Thanks to the fraternity established by loans of money and common emotions!
One night a large lamp suddenly crashed down on to the green table. There was sudden darkness and wild confusion, but the imperious voice of Gallardo rang out:
"Calm yourselves, gentlemen. Nothing much has happened. Let the game go on. They are bringing candles."
And the game went on, his companions admiring him even more for his energetic speech, than for the way in which he killed his bulls.
The manager's friends questioned him as to Gallardo's losses. Surely he would ruin himself: everything he earned by bull-fighting he lost by gambling20. But Don José smiled disdainfully.
"This year we had more corridas than anyone else. We shall become tired of killing21 bulls and piling up money.... Let the lad enjoy himself. He works for this and is what he is ... the first man in the world."
In his new existence Gallardo not only frequented this club, but some afternoons he went to the "Forty-Five," which was a kind of Senate of tauromachia. The toreros[Pg 151] as a rule did not gain easy access to its precincts, for their absence admitted of the fathers of the "sport" giving free vent22 to their various opinions.
During the spring and summer the members met in the vestibule, and overflowed23 into the street, sitting on cane24 chairs, waiting for telegrams about the different corridas. They believed very little in the opinions of the Press; besides it was necessary for them to have the news before it got into the papers.
It was an occupation that filled them with pride and elevated them above their fellow mortals, to sit quietly at the door of their club breathing the fresh air and knowing exactly, without interested exaggerations, what had happened that afternoon in the corrida of Bilbao, Coru?a, Barcelona, or Valencia; how many ears one matador26 had received, how another one had been hissed27, while their fellow-townsmen remained in complete ignorance, waiting about the streets till the evening papers were published. When there was "hule" and a telegram came announcing the terrible wounds of some native torero their feelings and their patriotic28 solidarity29 softened30 them sufficiently31 to admit of their imparting the momentous32 secret to some passing friend. The news flew instantaneously through the cafés in the Calle de las Sierpes, and no one could doubt it for an instant, for was it not a telegram received by the "Forty-Five"?
Gallardo's manager, with his aggressive and noisy enthusiasm, rather disturbed the social gravity. They endured it as he was an old friend, and ended by laughing at his flights. But it was impossible for sensible men to discuss the merits of the various toreros quietly with Don José. Often when they alluded33 to Gallardo as "a very brave fellow, but without much art" they would look timorously34 towards the door.
[Pg 152]
"Hush35! Pepe[85] is coming," and Pepe would enter waving a telegram above his head.
"Is that news from Santander?"... "Yes! here it is: Gallardo, two estocades ... two bulls ... and the ear of the second. Just what I said! The first man in the world."
The telegrams to the "Forty-Five" often differed, but Don José would pass it over with a gesture of contempt, breaking out into noisy protests.
"Lies! All envy! My wire is the true one. What is in yours is only envy because 'my lad' has lowered so many chignons."
All the members laughed at Don José, lifting a finger to their foreheads and joking about the first man in the world, and his kind manager.
Little by little Gallardo had succeeded, as an unheard-of privilege, in introducing himself into this society. The torero would come at first under pretext36 of looking for his manager, and ended by sitting down among the gentlemen, although there were many who were no friends to him and who had chosen other matadors37 from among his rivals.
The decoration of the house, according to Don José, was full of "character." The lower part of the walls were covered with Moorish38 tiles, and on the immaculately white walls hung announcements of ancient corridas, stuffed bulls' heads, of animals celebrated39 either for the number of horses they had killed, or for having wounded some celebrated torero; together with procession capes40 and rapiers presented by espadas who had "cut off their pigtails" and retired42 from the profession.
Servants in dress coats served the gentlemen in their country clothes, or possibly in their shirt sleeves, during the hot summer evenings. During the Holy Week and[Pg 153] other great holidays in Seville, when illustrious enthusiasts43 from every part of Spain came and paid their respects to the "Forty-Five," the servants wore knee breeches and powdered wigs44, donned the royal livery of red and yellow, and dressed thus, like servants of the royal household, handed glasses of Manzanilla to these wealthy gentlemen, many of whom had even dispensed45 with their ties.
In the evenings when the doyen, the illustrious Marquis de Moraima, came in, the members in big arm-chairs formed a circle round him, and the famous breeder in a chair higher than the others presided over the conversation. For the most part they began by talking of the weather. Most of them were great breeders or wealthy landed proprietors46, whose living depended on the necessities of the earth, and the variations of the weather. The Marquis explained the observations that his wisdom had gathered, during interminable rides over the lonely Andalusian plains, so immense and solitary47, with wide horizons, like the sea, on which the bulls, slowly moving among the waves of verdure, seemed like basking48 sharks. He could generally see some piece of paper blown about the street which served as a basis to his predictions. The drought, that cruel scourge49 of the Andalusian plains, gave them conversation for a whole afternoon, and when after weeks of anxious expectation the overcast50 sky would discharge a few big hot drops, the great country gentlemen would smile, rubbing their hands, and the Marquis would say sententiously, as he looked at the great round splashes on the pavement:
"Glory be to God!... Each drop of this is worth a five duro piece."
When they were not anxious about the weather, cattle was the subject of their conversation, and especially bulls, of whom they spoke tenderly, almost as if there[Pg 154] were some relationship between them. The other breeders listened with deference51 to the Marquis's opinions, on account of the advantage given him by his large fortune. The simple "aficionados52" who never left the town admired his skill in producing fierce animals. What this man knew!... He himself, as he spoke of the extreme care required by the bulls, seemed quite convinced of the importance of his occupation. Out of ten calves53, at least eight or nine were fit only for the butcher, after they had been tried to judge of their fierceness. Only one or two who had shown themselves brave and ready to charge against the iron of the garrocha were judged fit to pass as fighting animals; thenceforward these lived apart, with every sort of care. And what care!
"A breeding establishment of wild bulls ought not to be a business," said the Marquis. "It is an expensive luxury. It is true we are paid four or five times as much for a fighting bull as for the others, but then, see what it costs to rear!"
They must be watched constantly, their food and water considered, moved from one place to another, according to variations of temperature, in fact every bull costs more than the maintenance of a family, and when at last they were brought to the highest pitch, they had still to be carefully watched up to the last moment, in order that they should not disgrace themselves in the circus, but be fit to do honour to the badge of the herd54 which hung round their necks.
In certain Plazas55 the Marquis had even fought with the managers and the authorities, refusing to hand over his animals, because a band was stationed just over the bulls' entrance. The noise of the instruments bewildered the noble animals, robbing them of their bravery and their calmness as they entered the Plaza56.
[Pg 155]
"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, galloping57 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 muzzle58 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 imposing59 respect on his companions with his fiery60 eyes. If any one, more venturesome than his comrades, approached to sniff61 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?"
[Pg 156]
As he spoke he pointed62 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 mound63, 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 grunts64 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 hesitation66, 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 gallantly67 into the arena68, 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 pricked70 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 disarray71, as if a branding[87] had been going[Pg 157] on. The audience clamoured for more horses, while Coronel stood in the middle of the Plaza waiting to turn and rend72 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 grandeur73 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.
The animal did not move, but he raised his head, as though these shouts reminded him of the pastures he might never see again. "Coronel!"... Till, turning his head he saw a man leaning over the barrier calling him, and rushed straight to attack him. But he stopped half way in his wild rush, then came on slowly till he rubbed his horns against the arms stretched out to him. He came with his chest splashed with the streams of blood from the darts75 fixed76 in his neck, and his skin torn by the wounds which showed the blue muscles beneath.... "Coronel! My son!..." And the bull, as if he understood these tender words, raised his muzzle and rubbed the breeder's white whiskers. "Why have you brought me here?" his fierce blood-shot eyes seemed[Pg 158] to say; and the Marquis, no longer knowing what he did, kissed the beast's nostrils77, wet with his furious snorting, again and again.
"Do not kill him!" some kind soul shouted from the seats, and as though these words reflected the thoughts of the whole audience, an explosion of voices shook the Plaza, and thousands of handkerchiefs waved like white doves. "Do not kill him!" And at that moment the crowd, seized with a vague tenderness, despised their own amusement, abhorred78 the torero in his showy dress with his useless heroism79, and admired the bravery of the brute80, to whom they felt themselves inferior; and recognised that among those thousands of reasoning beings, nobility and affection were alone represented by this poor animal.
"I took him away," said the Marquis, almost sobbing81. "I returned the manager his two thousand pesetas. I would have given him my whole fortune. After a month on the pasture there was not the vestige82 of a scar on his neck.... I should have wished him to die of old age, but it is not always the good who prosper83 in this world. A sulky bull, who would not have dared to look him in the face, killed him treacherously84 with a blow of his horn."
The Marquis and his fellow-breeders soon forgot their tender sympathy for the animals in the pride they felt at their fierceness. You should have seen the contempt with which they spoke of the enemies of bull-fighting, and of those who clamoured against this art in the name of the protection of animals.
"Follies85 of foreigners," "Ignorant errors," which confound a butcher's ox with a fighting bull! The Spanish bull is a wild animal: the bravest wild beast in the world. And he recalled several fights between bulls and felines,[Pg 159] which had always ended triumphantly87 for the national beast.
The Marquis laughed as he remembered another of his animals. A fight was arranged in a certain Plaza between a bull, and a lion and a tiger belonging to a celebrated tamer. The breeder sent Barrabas, a vicious animal, which had to be kept apart at the farm, because he had fought with and killed several of his companions.
"I saw this myself," said the Marquis. "There was a huge iron cage in the middle of the circus and inside it was Barrabas. They loosed the lion first, and this accursed feline86, taking advantage of a bull being unsuspicious, sprung upon his hind74 quarters and began to tear him with teeth and claws. Barrabas bounded furiously in order to dislodge him and get him within reach of the horns, which are his defence. At last he succeeded in throwing the lion in front of him and then ... caballeros! it was just like a game of ball!... He tossed him from one horn to another, shaking him like a marionette88, till at last, as if he despised him, he threw him on one side, and there lay the so-called king of animals, rolled into a ball, and lying like a cat who has just been beaten.... The second affair was much shorter. As soon as the tiger appeared Barrabas caught him, tossed him in the air, and after shaking him well, threw him into the corner like the other.... Then Barrabas, being an evil-minded beast, trotted90 up and down, with every indecent display of triumph over his fallen foes91."
These anecdotes92 always drew shouts of laughter from the "Forty-Five." The Spanish bull!... The finest wild animal!... It seemed as if the arrogant93 bravery of the national animal established the superiority of the country and the race over all others.
When Gallardo began to frequent the club, a fresh[Pg 160] topic of conversation had arisen to interrupt the endless talk of bulls and field work.
The "Forty-Five," like every one else in Seville, were talking of the exploits of Plumitas, a brigand94, celebrated for his audacity95, to whom the useless efforts of his pursuers daily gave fresh fame. The papers spoke of his kindly96 disposition97, as if he were a national personage. The Government, who were questioned in the Cortes, promised a speedy capture, which was never realized. The civil guard were concentrated, and a perfect army was mobilized to follow and catch him, while Plumitas, always alone, with no other help but his carbine and his horse, slipped through those who were following him like a ghost; he would turn on them, when they were few in numbers, and stretch many lifeless, but he was reverenced98 and helped by all the poor peasantry, wretched slaves of the enormous landed interest, who looked upon the bandit as the avenger99 of the starving, a just but cruel justiciary, after the fashion of the ancient armour100-clad knights102 errant. He exacted money from the rich, and then with the manner of an actor before an immense audience, he would assist some poor old woman, or some labourer with a large family. These generosities103 were greatly exaggerated by the gossip of the rural population, who always had the name of Plumitas on their lips, but who became both blind and dumb when any enquiries were made by the Government soldiers.
He went from one province to another like one perfectly104 acquainted with the country, and the landed proprietors of Seville and Cordova contributed largely to his support.... Whole weeks passed and nothing would be heard of him, then suddenly he would appear in some farm or village, utterly105 regardless of danger.
They had direct news of him in the "Forty-Five," precisely106 as if he had been a matador.
[Pg 161]
"Plumitas was at my farm the day before yesterday," a rich farmer would say. "The overseer gave him thirty duros, and he went away after breakfasting."
They paid this contribution contentedly107, and gave no information except to friends. Giving information meant making declarations, and every sort of annoyance108. And for what? The civil guard sought him without success, and had he become incensed109 against the informers, their goods and property would have been at his mercy, without any protection whatever from his vengeance110.
The Marquis spoke of Plumitas and his exploits without being in the least scandalized by them, and treated them as though they were a natural and inevitable111 calamity112.
"They are poor fellows who have had some misfortune, and have taken to the road. My father (who rests in peace) knew the famous José Maria, and had twice breakfasted with him. I have run against several of lesser113 fame, who went about the neighbourhood doing evil deeds. They are just the same as bulls, noble and simple creatures. They only attack when goaded114, and their evil deeds increase with punishment."
He had given orders to all the overseers at his farms and in all his shepherds' hovels to give Plumitas whatever he asked for; consequently, as the overseers and cowherds related, the bandit, with the respect of a country peasant for a kind and generous master, spoke of him with the greatest gratitude115, offering to kill anyone who offended the "Zeno Marque" in the very slightest degree. Poor fellow! For the wretched little sums which he demanded, when he made his appearance, wearied and starving, it was not worth while drawing down on oneself his anger and revenge.
The breeder, who was constantly galloping alone over[Pg 162] the plains where his bulls grazed, suspected that he had several times come across Plumitas. He was probably one of those poor-looking horsemen whom he met in the solitary plains without so much as a village on the horizon, who would raise his hand to his greasy116 sombrero, and say with respectful civility:
"Go with God, Zeno Marque."
The lord of Moraima, when he spoke of Plumitas, looked often at Gallardo, who declaimed with the vehemence117 of a novice118, against the authorities for being unable to protect property.
"Some fine day he will turn up at La Rincona, my lad," said the Marquis, with his grave Andalusian drawl.
"Curse him!... But that would not please me, Zeno Marque! God alive! Is it for this I pay such heavy taxes?"
No, indeed. It would not please him to run against the bandit during his excursions at La Rinconada. He was a brave man killing bulls, and in a Plaza regardless of his own life; but this profession of killing men inspired him with all the uneasiness of the unknown.
His family were at the farm. Se?ora Angustias enjoyed a country life, after the miseries119 of an existence spent in town hovels. Carmen also enjoyed it, and the saddler's children required a change, so Gallardo had sent his family to La Rincona, promising120 soon to join them. He, however, postponed121 the journey by every sort of pretext, living a bachelor's life (with no other companion than Garabato), which left him complete liberty as to his relations with Do?a Sol.
He thought this the happiest time of his life, and he often quite forgot La Rinconada and its inhabitants.
He and Do?a Sol rode together, mounted on spirited horses, dressed much the same as on the day when they first met, generally alone, but sometimes with Don José,[Pg 163] whose presence was a sop122 to people's scandalized feelings. They would go to see bulls in the pastures round Seville, or to try calves at the Marquis's dairies, and Do?a Sol, always eager for danger, was delighted when, as he felt the prick69 of the garrocha, a young bull would turn and attack her, and Gallardo had to come to her assistance.
At other times they would go to the station of Empalme, if a boxing of bulls was announced for the different Plazas which were giving special corridas at the end of the winter.
Do?a Sol examined this place, which was the most important centre of exportation of the taurine industry, with great interest. There were large enclosures alongside the railway siding, and dozens of huge boxes on wheels with movable doors. The bulls who were to be entrained, arrived, galloping along a dusty road edged with barbed wire. Many came from distant provinces, but on getting close to Empalme they were sent on with a rush, in order to get them into the enclosures with greater ease.
In front galloped123 the overseers and shepherds with their lances on their shoulders, and behind them the prudent124 "cabestros" covering the men with their huge horns. After these came the fighting bulls, well rounded up by tame bulls who prevented them straying from the road, and followed by strong cowherds ready to sling125 a stone at any wandering pair of horns.
Arrived at the enclosures the foremost riders drew to either side, leaving the gateway126 open, and the whole herd, an avalanche127 of dust, pawings, snortings and bells, rushed in like an overwhelming torrent128 and the gate was immediately closed after the last animal.
They tore through the first enclosure without noticing that they were trapped, the "cabestros," taught by [Pg 164]experience and obedient to the shepherds, stood aside to let them pass into the second, where the herd only stopped on finding a blank wall before them.
Now the boxing began. One by one they were driven, by shouts, waving cloths, and blows from garrochas, into a narrow lane, at the end of which stood the travelling box, with both its side doors lowered. It looked like a small tunnel, through which the brutes129 could see a field beyond, with animals quietly grazing. The suspicious bulls guessed some danger in this small tunnel, and had to be driven on by clappings and whistlings and pricks130. Finally they would make a dash for the quiet pasture beyond, making the sloping platform leading to the box shake as they rushed up it, but as soon as they had mounted this, the door in front of them was suddenly closed, and then equally quickly the one behind, and the bull was caught in a cage where he could only just stand up or lie down comfortably. The box was then wheeled into the railway, and another one took its place, till all the herd were successfully entrained.
When the first intoxication131 of Gallardo's good fortune had passed off, he looked at Do?a Sol with the utmost astonishment132, wondering in the hours of their greatest intimacy133 if all great ladies were like this one. The caprices and fickleness134 of her character bewildered him. He had never dared to address her as "tu," indeed she had never invited him to such a familiarity, and on the one occasion when with slow and hesitating tongue he had attempted it, he had seen in her golden eyes such a gleam of anger and surprise, that he had drawn back ashamed, and had returned to the former mode of speech.
She, on the other hand, spoke to him as "tu," but only in the hours of privacy. If she had to write to him asking him not to come, or saying she was going out[Pg 165] with her relations, she always used the ceremonious "uste" and there were no expressions of affection, only the cold courtesies that might be written to a friend of an inferior class.
"Oh! that gachi," murmured Gallardo, disheartened; "it seems as if she had always lived with rascals136 who showed her letters to every one. One would think she cannot believe me to be a gentleman because I am a matador."
Some of her eccentricities137 left the torero frowning and sad. Sometimes on going to the house one of the magnificent servants would coldly bar his way. "The Se?ora was not at home," or "The Se?ora had gone out," and he knew that it was a lie, feeling the presence of Do?a Sol a short distance from him, the other side of the curtained doors.
"The fuel is spent!" said the espada to himself, "I will not return. That gachi shall not laugh at me."
But when he did return, she received him with open arms, clasping him close in her firm white hands, with her eyes wide open and vague, and a strange light in them which seemed to speak of mental derangement138.
"Why do you perfume yourself?" she said, as if she perceived the most unpleasant smells. "It is unworthy of you. I should like you to smell of bulls, of horses. Those are fine scents140! Don't you love them? Say yes, Juanin, my animal."
One night in the soft twilight141 of Do?a Sol's bedroom, Gallardo felt something very like fear, hearing her speak, and watching her eyes.
"I should like to run on all fours. I should like to be a bull, and that you should stand before me rapier in hand. Fine gorings I would give you! Here ... and here!"
And with her clenched143 fist, to which her excitement[Pg 166] gave fresh strength, she planted several blows on the matador's chest only covered by his thin silk vest. Gallardo drew back, not wishing to admit that a woman could possibly hurt him.
"No, not a bull. I should like to be a dog ... a shepherd's dog ... one of those with long fangs144, to come out and bark at you. Do you see that fine fellow who kills bulls, and who the public say is so brave? Well, I shall bite him. I shall bite him like this! Aaaam!"
And with hysterical145 delight she fixed her teeth in the matador's arm, punishing his swelling146 biceps. Exasperated147 by the pain the matador swore a big oath, shaking the beautiful half-dressed woman from him, whose snake-like golden hair stood up round her head like that of a drunken bacchante.
Do?a Sol seemed suddenly to awake.
"Poor fellow! I have hurt you. And it was I!... I who am sometimes mad! Let me kiss the bite to cure it. Let me kiss all your glorious scars. My poor little brute, it made you cry out!"
And the beautiful fury suddenly became tender and gentle, purring round the torero like a kitten.
One evening, finding her inclined to be confidential148, and feeling some curiosity as to her past, he questioned her as to the kings and other great personages, whom report said had crossed her path.
With a cold stare in her eyes she replied to his curiosity:
"What does it matter to you? Are you by any chance jealous?... And if it were true ... what then?"
She remained silent a long while, with a strange look in her eyes, the look of madness, which was always accompanied by extravagant149 thoughts.
"You must have struck many women," she said, looking at him curiously150; "do not deny it, it interests me[Pg 167] greatly! No, not your wife, I know she is very good, but all those that toreros mix with; women who love better when they are beaten. No? Say truly, have you never struck any one?"
Gallardo protested with the dignity of a brave man, incapable151 of hurting those weaker than himself. Do?a Sol showed a certain disbelief in his asseverations.
"One day you will have to beat me.... I should like to know what it is" ... she said resolutely152....
But her expression darkened, she frowned, and a steely gleam lit up the golden light in her eyes.
"No, my brute, pay no attention to me, and do not attempt it. You would be the loser."
The advice was just, and Gallardo had cause to remember it. One day, in a moment of intimacy, a somewhat rough caress153 from his fighting hand was enough to rouse this woman's fury, who was attracted by the man, and yet hated him at the same time.
"Take that." And with a fist as hard as a club she gave him a blow on the jaw154 from below upwards155 with a precision, which seemed inspired by a knowledge of the rules of boxing.
Gallardo remained bewildered by pain and shame, while the lady, as if she suddenly realized her unprovoked aggression156, endeavoured to justify157 herself with cold hostility158.
"It is to teach you better. I know what you toreros are. If I were to let myself be trampled159 on once, for ever after you would shake me like a gipsy of Triana. I am glad I did it. You must keep your distance."
One evening in early spring, they were returning from a trial of calves at one of the farms belonging to the Marquis, who with some other friends was riding home along the road.
Do?a Sol, followed by the espada, turned her horse[Pg 168] into the fields, delighting in the soft sward under their hoofs160, which at this season was carpeted with spring flowers.
The setting sun dyed everything with crimson161, lengthening162 indefinitely the shadows of the riders with their long lances over their shoulders, and the broad river half hidden among the vegetation rolled along one side of the meadows.
Do?a Sol looked at Gallardo with imperious eyes.
"Put your arm round my waist."
The espada obeyed, and so they rode on, their horses close together, the woman watching their shadows thrown as one by the setting sun on the grass.
"It seems as though we were living in another world," she murmured,—"a legendary163 world, something like one sees on the tapestries164, the loving knight101 and the amazon travelling together, their lances on their shoulders in search of adventures and dangers. But you do not understand all this—dunce of my heart. Answer truly, you do not understand me?"
The torero smiled, showing his beautiful strong teeth of luminous165 whiteness. She, as if attracted by his rough ignorance, drew closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, shivering as she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
They rode on in silence. Do?a Sol seemed to have fallen asleep on the torero's shoulder. Suddenly her eyes opened, flashing with that strange light which was always the precursor166 of the most extraordinary questions.
"Say! Have you never killed a man?"
Gallardo started, and in his astonishment disengaged himself from Do?a Sol. Who! He?... Never. He had been a good fellow who had followed his profession without doing harm to anyone. He had scarcely even fought with his companions at the "capeas," when they[Pg 169] held on to the peace because they were the strongest. He had exchanged a few blows with others of his profession, or fought a round in a café, but the life of a man inspired him with deep respect. Bulls were another affair.
"So that you have never felt the slightest wish to kill a man?... And I who thought that toreros...."
The sun had set, and the landscape, which before had seemed so brilliant, now looked dull and grey; even the river had disappeared, and Do?a Sol spurred on her horse without saying another word, or even appearing to notice if the espada were following her.
Before the Holy Week holidays Gallardo's family returned to Seville. The espada was to fight at the Easter corrida. It was the first time he would kill in Do?a Sol's presence since he had come to know her, and it made him doubtful of his powers.
Besides, he never could fight in Seville without a certain disquietude. He could accept an unlucky mischance in any other Plaza in Spain, thinking he would probably not return there for some time. But in his own native town, where his greatest enemies lived!...
"We must see you distinguish yourself," said Don José. "Think of those who will be watching you. I expect you to remain the first man in the world."
On the Saturday of "Gloria,"[88] during the small hours of the night, the enclosing of the cattle for the following day's corrida was to take place, and Do?a Sol wished to assist as picqeur at the operation, which presented the further delight of taking place in the dark. The bulls had to be brought from the pastures of Tablada to the enclosures at the Plaza.
In spite of Gallardo's wish to accompany Do?a Sol[Pg 170] he was unable to do so; his manager opposed it, alleging167 the necessity of his keeping himself fresh and vigorous for the following afternoon. At midnight the road leading from the pastures to the Plaza was as lively as a fair. In the country villas168 the windows were lighted up, and shadows passed before them, dancing to the sound of pianos. In the little inns, whose open doors threw broad streaks169 of light across the road, the tinkling170 of guitars, the clinking of glasses, and shouts and laughter let it be known that wine was circulating freely.
About one in the morning a rider passed along the road at a slow trot89. He was "el aviso,"[89] a rough shepherd, who stopped before the taverns171 and gay country houses, warning them that the herd would pass in less than a quarter of an hour, so that lights might be extinguished and everything be quiet.
This order, given in the name of the national sport, was obeyed with far more alacrity172 than any one given by the authorities. The houses remained in darkness, the whiteness of their walls confounded with the shadowy mass of trees. The invisible people, assembled behind the barred and spiked173 window gratings, were silent in the expectation of something extraordinary. In the walks alongside the river the gas lamps were extinguished one by one as the shepherd advanced shouting the coming of the herd.
Everything was absolutely silent. Above the trees the stars were shining, and below on the ground only the slightest rustle174; the faintest murmur135 betrayed in the darkness the presence of crowds of people. The wait seemed very long, till at last in the far distance, the faint sound of deep bells was heard. "They are coming! They will soon be here!"...
The clangour of the bells became louder and at last[Pg 171] deafening175, accompanied by a confused galloping which shook the ground. First of all passed several riders, with lances over their shoulders, who appeared gigantic in the darkness, their horses at full stretch. These were the shepherds. Then came a group of amateur garrochists, among whom galloped Do?a Sol, delighted at this mad ride through the darkness, in which the single false step of a horse, or a fall, meant certain death from trampling176 beneath the hard hoofs of the fierce herd rushing blindly on behind in their furious career.
The herd bells rang wildly; the open mouths of the spectators, hidden by the darkness, swallowed large gulps177 of dust, and the furious mob of cattle rushed by like a nightmare of shapeless monsters of the night, heavy but at the same time agile178, giving horrible snorts, goring142 at the shadows with their horns, terrified and irritated by the shouts of the young shepherds following on foot, and by the galloping of the riders closing the cavalcade179 who drove them on with their pikes.
The transit180 of this ponderous181 and noisy troupe182 only lasted an instant. There was nothing more to be seen ... and the populace, satisfied by this fleeting183 spectacle, came out of their hiding places, and many of the enthusiasts ran after the herd, hoping to see their entrance into the enclosures.
When they arrived near the Plaza the foremost riders drew on one side, making way for the animals, who, from the impetus184 of their rush, and their habit of following the "cabestros," engaged themselves in "la manga,"[90] a narrow lane formed of palisades leading to the Plaza.
The amateur garrochists congratulated themselves on the good management of the enclosing. The herd had[Pg 172] been well rounded up without a single bull being able to stray, or giving work to picqeurs or peons. They were all well-bred animals, the best from the Marquis' breeding farms, and a good day might confidently be expected on the morrow. In this hope the riders and peons soon dispersed185. An hour afterwards the surroundings of the Plaza were completely deserted186, and the fierce brutes, safe in their enclosures, lay down to enjoy their last sleep.
On the following morning Juan Gallardo rose early. He had slept badly, with an anxiety that peopled his dreams with nightmares.
Why did they make him fight in Seville? In other towns he forgot his family for the moment; he lived as a bachelor in a room in an hotel completely strange to him, that contained nothing dear to him, and that reminded him of nothing. But here—to put on his fighting costume in his own bedroom, where everything about on the table reminded him of Carmen, to go out and face the danger from the house that he himself had built, and which contained all that was dearest to him in life, disconcerted him, and awoke in him as much trepidation187 as if he were going to kill his first bull. Besides, he was afraid of his fellow-townsmen, with whom he had to live, and whose opinion was more important to him than that of all the rest of Spain. Ay! and that terrible moment of leaving, after Garabato had put on his gala dress, and he descended188 into the silent courtyard.
The little children came to look at him, frightened by his brilliant clothes, touching189 him admiringly, but not daring to speak. His mustachioed sister kissed him with a look of terror, as if he were being taken off to die. His mother hid herself in the darkest room. No, she did not wish to see him; she felt ill. Carmen, deathly pale,[Pg 173] was a little braver, biting her lips white with emotion, blinking her eyes nervously190 to keep back the tears, but when she saw him in the courtyard she immediately raised her handkerchief to her eyes, her whole frame shaking with the sobs191 she tried to suppress, and her sister-in-law and other women had to support her lest she should fall to the ground.
It was enough to make a coward of even the real Roger de Flor!
"Curse it all! Come along, man," said Gallardo. "I would not fight in Seville for all the gold in the world, were it not to give pleasure to my fellow-townsmen, and to prevent evil speakers from saying I am afraid of the public in my own town."
After rising, the espada had wandered about the house, a cigarette in his mouth, stretching himself to see if his muscular arms still retained their suppleness192. He went into the kitchen and drank a glass of Cazalla, where his mother, active in spite of years and stoutness193, was superintending the servants, and looking after the proper ordering of the house.
Gallardo went out into the patio25, so fresh and bright, the birds were singing gaily194 in their gilded195 cages, a flood of sunshine swept over the marble pavement, and on to the fountain surrounded by plants where the gold fish swam in the basin.
The espada saw kneeling on the ground a woman's figure in black, with a pail by her side, washing the marble floor. She raised her head.
"Good-day, Se?or Juan," she said, with the affectionate familiarity that all popular heroes inspire, and she fixed on him admiringly the glance of her solitary eye. The other was lost in a multiplicity of deep wrinkles which seemed to meet in the hollow black socket196.
[Pg 174]
The Se?or Juan made no reply, but turned away nervously into the kitchen, calling out to his mother:
"Little mother, who is that one-eyed woman who is washing the patio?"
"Who should she be, son? A poor woman with a large family. Our own charwoman is ill, so I called her in."
The torero was uneasy, and his look showed both anxiety and fear. Curse it! Bulls in Seville, and the first person he met face to face was a one-eyed woman! Certainly those things did not happen to any one else. Nothing could be of worse augury197. Did they want his death?
The poor woman, shocked by his dismal198 prognostications and by his vehement199 anger, tried to exculpate200 herself. How could she think of that? The poor woman wanted to earn a peseta for her children. He must pick up a good heart and thank God, who had so often remembered them and delivered them from similar misery201....
Gallardo was softened by her allusion202 to their former poverty, which always made him very tolerant to the good woman. All right, let the one-eyed one remain, and let what God willed happen. And crossing the patio with his back turned to her so as not to see that terrible eye, the matador took refuge in his office close to the vestibule.
The white walls, panelled with Moorish tiles to the height of a man, were hung with announcements of corridas printed on silks of different colours and diplomas of charitable societies with pompous203 titles, recording204 corridas in which Gallardo had fought gratuitously205 for the benefit of the poor. Innumerable portraits of himself, on foot, seated, spreading his cape41, squaring himself to kill, testified to the care with which the papers [Pg 175]reproduced the gestures and divers206 positions of the great man. Above the doorway207 was a portrait of Carmen in a white mantilla, which made her eyes appear darker than ever, with a bunch of carnations208 fastened in her black hair. On the opposite wall, above the arm-chair by the writing bureau, was the enormous head of a black bull, with glassy eyes, highly varnished209 nostrils, a spot of white hair on the forehead, and enormous horns tapering210 to the finest point, white as ivory at the base and gradually darkening to inky blackness at the tips. Potaje, the picador, always broke out into poetic211 rhapsodies as he looked at those enormous wide-spreading horns, saying that a blackbird might sing on the point of one horn, without being heard from the point of the other.
Gallardo sat down by the beautiful table covered with bronzes, where nothing seemed out of place save the thick coating of several days' dust. On the writing bureau, which was of immense size, the ink bottles ornamented212 by two metal horses, were clean and empty; the handsome pen tray, supported by dogs' heads, was also empty, the great man had no occasion to write, for Don José, his manager, brought him all contracts and other professional papers to the club in the Calle de las Sierpes, where on a small table the espada slowly and laboriously213 affixed214 his signature.
On one side of the room stood the library, a handsome bookcase of carved oak, through the never-opened glass doors of which could be seen imposing rows of volumes remarkable215 for their size and the brilliance216 of their bindings.
When Don José began to call Gallardo "the torero of the aristocracy," the latter felt he must live up to this distinction, educating himself so that his rich friends should not laugh at his ignorance, as had happened to[Pg 176] sundry217 of his comrades. So one day he entered a book shop with a determined218 air.
"Send me three thousand pesetas' worth of books."
When the librarian looked slightly bewildered, as if he did not understand, the torero proceeded energetically.
"Books. Don't you understand me? The biggest books, and if you have no objection, I should like them gilt219."
Gallardo was quite pleased with the look of his library. When anything was spoken of at the club which he did not understand, he smiled knowingly, and said to himself:
"That must be in one of the books I have in the study."
One rainy afternoon when he felt rather poorly, after wandering listlessly about the house, not knowing what to do, he had opened the bookcase and taken out a book, the largest of all. But after a few lines he gave up the reading, and turned over the pages, looking at the prints like a child who wants to amuse itself. Lions, elephants, wild horses with flowing manes and fiery eyes, donkeys striped in colours, regular as if done by rule.... The torero turned them all over carelessly, till his eyes fell on the painted rings of a snake. Ugh! The beast! The nasty beast! And he closed convulsively the two middle fingers of his hand, throwing out the index and little finger like horns, to exorcise the evil eye. He went on a little, but all the prints represented horrible reptiles220, till at last with shaking hands he shut the book and returned it to the bookcase, murmuring: "Lizard221, lizard," to dispel222 the impression of this evil encounter, and the key of the bookcase remained thenceforward in a drawer of the bureau, covered with old papers.
That morning, the time he spent in his study only served to increase his anxieties and trepidation. Scarcely[Pg 177] knowing why, he had been considering the bull's head, and the most painful episode of his professional life had vividly223 recurred224 to his memory. What a sweating that brute had given him in the circus at Zaragoza! The bull was as intelligent as a man; motionless, and with eyes of diabolical225 maliciousness226, he waited for the matador to approach him, when, not deceived by the red cloth, he struck underneath227 it directly at the man's body. The rapiers were sent flying through the air by his charges without ever succeeding in wounding him. The populace became impatient, whistling at and insulting the torero. The latter came behind the bull, following his every movement from one side of the Plaza to the other, knowing full well that if he stood straight and square before the animal to kill, that he himself would be the one to die; until at last, perspiring228 and fatigued229, he took advantage of an opportunity to finish him by a treacherous[91] side blow, to the great scandal of the mob, who pelted231 him with bottles and oranges; a remembrance which made him hot with shame, and which, returning unluckily at this time, seemed to him of quite as evil augury as meeting the one-eyed woman, and seeing the snake.
He breakfasted alone and ate little as was his habit on the days of a corrida, and by the time he went up to dress the women had disappeared. Ay! how they hated that brilliant costume, kept so carefully wrapped up in linen232. Splendid tools which had built up the luxury of the family!
The farewells were, as usual, disconcerting and troubling for Gallardo. The flight of the women not to see him come down, Carmen's attempts at fortitude233, accompanying him as far as the door, the wondering curiosity of the little nephews, everything irritated the torero,[Pg 178] grown arrogant and hectoring as he saw the danger approaching.
"One would think I was being taken to the gibbet! Good-bye for the present. Calm yourselves. Nothing will happen."
And he got into the carriage, making way for himself through the friends and neighbours assembled in front of the house to wish "Se?or Juan" good luck.
The afternoons when the espada fought in Seville were the most agonizing234 for the family. When he fought away from home they were obliged to resign themselves patiently to wait for the evening telegram. Here, the danger being close at hand, a desperate anxiety for news awoke, and the necessity of hearing every few minutes how the corrida was going on.
The saddler, dressed as a gentleman, in a suit of light flannel235 and a silky white felt hat, offered to let the women know what was happening. After every bull that Juan killed he would send some urchin with news. All the same he was furious at the incivility of his illustrious brother-in-law, who had not even offered him a seat in the carriage with the cuadrilla to drive to the Plaza!
Gallardo knew the soil he was treading: it was familiar to him and was in a sense his own. The sand of the different Plazas exercised an influence on his superstitious236 temperament237. He recalled the large Plazas of Valencia and Barcelona, with their white sand, the dark sand of the northern Plazas, and the red sand of the huge circus in Madrid. But the sand in Seville was different from any other; drawn from the Guadalquivir it was a bright yellow, like pulverized238 ochre. The architecture of the buildings, too, had a certain influence over him, some built in Roman style, others again Moorish, but the Plaza of Seville was like a cathedral full of[Pg 179] memories. There the glorious inventors of different strokes had brought their art to perfection; the school of Ronda with its steady and dignified239 fighting, and the school of Seville with its light play and mobility240 which caught the public fancy; and it was there that he, too, this afternoon would be intoxicated241 by the applause, by the sun, by the roar of the crowd, possibly by the sight of a blue bodice and a white mantilla leaning over the edge of a box, and he felt capable of the most reckless hardihood.
Anxious to outshine his companions, and monopolize242 all the applause, Gallardo seemed to fill the circus with his agility243 and boldness. Never had he been in such form. Don José, after each one of his splendid strokes, stood up shouting, challenging invisible enemies hidden among the benches. "Who dares to say anything against him! The first man in the world!"
At Gallardo's order, El Nacional, by clever cloak-play brought his master's second bull in front of the box, where the blue bodice with the white mantilla was seated. It was Do?a Sol, accompanied by the Marquis and his two daughters.
Followed by the eyes of the audience Gallardo approached the barrier holding his rapier and the muleta in one hand. When he arrived opposite the box he stopped, took off his montera, and offered the bull as homage244 to the Marquis' niece. Many people smiled maliciously245. "Olé! the lad has good luck." He gave a half turn, threw his montera behind him when he had ended the "Brindis," and waited for the bull which the peons were bringing up to him by dexterous246 cloak-play.
Keeping the animal in a very limited space, he prevented it moving away from that spot, and successfully accomplished247 his task. He wanted to kill under Do?a Sol's eyes, so that she should see him close at the [Pg 180]moment when he defied danger. Every pass from his muleta drew forth248 exclamations249 of enthusiasm and cries of anxiety. The horn seemed to graze his chest; it seemed impossible that blood should not flow after the bull's attacks. Suddenly he squared himself, the rapier well in line forward, and before the public could give its advice, by shouts or counsels, he had thrown himself swiftly on the bull and for a few instants man and bull looked as one body.
When the man disengaged himself, the bull rushed forward with uncertain step bellowing250, its tongue hanging from its mouth, and the red pommel of the rapier scarcely visible on the crest251 of its bloody252 neck. After a few steps it fell, the spectators rose to their feet as one man and a hail of applause and furious shouting burst from all parts of the amphitheatre. There was no one in the world as brave as Gallardo! Had that man ever felt fear?
The espada saluted253 before the box, opening his arms with the rapier and muleta in either hand, while the white-gloved hands of Do?a Sol clapped feverish254 applause.
Then something small was passed down from spectator to spectator, from the box down to the barrier. It was the lady's handkerchief, the one which she had held in her hand, a small scented255 square of lawn and lace, passed through a diamond ring, which she presented to the torero in acknowledgment of his "brindis."
The applause broke out afresh on seeing this recognition, and the attention of the public, hitherto fixed on the matador, was now turned on Do?a Sol, many turning their backs on the circus to look at her, and extolling256 her beauty with the familiarity of Andalusian gallantry. Then a small hairy and still warm triangle was passed[Pg 181] up from hand to hand to the box. It was the bull's ear, sent by the matador in witness of his "brindis."
Before the fiesta was ended the news of Gallardo's great triumph had spread all over the town, and when the espada returned to his house half the neighbourhood had assembled to applaud him, as though they had all been at the corrida.
The saddler, forgetting his annoyance with the espada, admired him even more for his friendly relations with the nobility than for his exploits in the bull-ring. He had his eyes fixed on a certain appointment, and he made very little doubt about getting it, seeing his brother-in-law's intimacy with the best people in Seville.
"Show them the ring. My goodness, Encarnacion, what a present! It is worthy139 of Roger de Flor!"
The ring passed from hand to hand, with cries of admiration257 from the women. Carmen only pursed up her lips on seeing it. "Yes, it is very pretty," and she passed it on hurriedly to her brother-in-law, as if it burnt her fingers.
After this corrida, the travelling season began. Gallardo had more engagements than in any previous year. After the corridas in Madrid, he was to fight in every Plaza in Spain. His manager was nearly distracted over the railway time tables, making endless calculations for the future guidance of his matador.
Gallardo went from triumph to triumph. Never had he been in such good form! He seemed to have gained fresh strength. Before the corridas, cruel doubts overwhelmed him, tremors258 nearly akin19 to fear, such as he had never known in his early days, when he was only beginning to make his name; but as soon as he found himself in the arena, these fears vanished and an almost savage259 bravery possessed260 him, which was always accompanied by fresh laurels261.
[Pg 182]
When his work was over in some provincial262 town, and he returned to the hotel with his cuadrilla, for they all lived together, he would sit down perspiring, wearied with the pleasant fatigue230 of triumph, and before he could change his gala dress, all the wiseacres in the locality would come to congratulate him. He had been "colossal263." He was the first torero in the world! That estocada of the fourth bull!...
"Yes, indeed," said Gallardo, with almost childish pride. "Really I was not bad in that."
With the interminable verbosity264 of all conversations about bulls, the time passed without either the espada or his friends wearying of talking about the afternoon's corridas, or about those of previous years. Night fell, the lights were lit, but still the aficionados did not go. The cuadrilla, according to bull-fighting discipline, listened silently to all this babel of talk at the further end of the room. As long as the master had not given his permission, his "lads" could neither undress nor sup. The picadors, fatigued by the iron armour on their legs and the terrible bruises265 resulting from their falls from horseback, held their coarse beaver266 hats between their knees: the banderilleros, their skintight silk garments, wet with perspiration267, were all hungry after their afternoon's violent exercise; all were thinking the same thing and casting furious looks at these enthusiasts.
"When on earth will those tiresome268 idiots leave? Curse their hearts!"
At last the matador noticed them. "You may go," he said. And the cuadrilla escaped, pushing each other like school boys let loose, while the maestro continued listening to the praises of the connoisseurs269, and Garabato waited silently to undress him.
On his days of rest, the maestro, free from the excitements of danger and glory, turned his thoughts towards[Pg 183] Seville. Now and then one of those short little perfumed notes came for him, congratulating him on his triumphs. Ay! If only Do?a Sol were with him!
There were moments in which he felt compelled to confide65 his sadness to El Nacional with that irresistible270 impulse of confession271 which all feel who carry a heavy weight in their hearts.
Besides, now he was away from Seville, he felt a greater affection for the banderillero, a kind of reflected tenderness. Sebastian knew of his loves with Do?a Sol; he had seen her, though from afar, and she had often laughed when Gallardo told her of the picador's originalities.
Sebastian received his master's confidences with severe looks.
"What you have got to do, Juan, is to forget this lady. Family peace is worth more than anything to us who knock about the world, constantly exposed to danger and liable to be brought home any day feet foremost. See! Carmen knows a great deal more than you think. She is perfectly acquainted with everything, and she has even questioned me indirectly272 as to your relations with the Marquis' niece. Poor little thing! It is a shame to make her suffer!... She has a temper, and if you arouse it, it may give you some trouble."
But Gallardo, away from his family, and with his thoughts dominated by the remembrance of Do?a Sol, did not seem to understand the dangers of which El Nacional spoke, and shrugged273 his shoulders at these sentimental274 scruples275. He felt the need of speaking of his remembrances, of making his friend the confidant of his past happiness.
"You do not know what that woman is! You are an unlucky man, Sebastian, who does not know what is good. Take all the beautiful women in Seville together[Pg 184]—they are as nothing. See all those we meet on our travels—neither are they anything. There is only one—Do?a Sol, and when you know a woman like that, you do not want to know any others. If you only knew her as I do, gacho! Women of our class reek276 of health and clean linen, but this one!... Sebastian, this one!... Picture to yourself all the roses in the gardens of the Alcazar—No, something better still—jasmine, honeysuckle, all the bewildering perfumes of the gardens of Paradise, and those sweet scents seem to belong to her, not as if she put them on, but as if they were flowering in her veins277. Besides, she is not one of those who once seen are always the same. With her there is always something still to desire, something to hope for, something which is never attained278. I cannot, Sebastian, express myself better.... But you do not know what a great lady is; so don't preach any more, and shut your beak279."
Gallardo no longer received any letters from Seville. Do?a Sol was abroad. He saw her once when he was fighting in San Sebastian. The beautiful woman was staying in Biarritz and she came over with some French ladies who wished to know the torero. After that he heard very little of her; only from the few letters he got, and from the news his manager collected from the Marquis de Moraima.
She was at the seaside, then he heard she had gone to England, then to Germany, and Gallardo despaired of ever seeing her again.
This possibility saddened the torero, and revealed the ascendancy280 this woman had gained both over himself and his will. Never to see her again! Why then should he expose his life and become famous? Of what use was the applause of the populace?
His manager reassured281 him. She would return: he[Pg 185] was quite certain. Even if it were only for a year, for Do?a Sol, with all her mad caprices, was a very practical woman, and knew how to look after what belonged to her. She needed her uncle's assistance to disentangle the most involved affairs, both of her own and her late husband's fortune, produced by their long and expensive stay abroad.
The espada returned to Seville towards the end of the summer. He had still a good many corridas for the autumn, but he wanted to take advantage of a month's rest, during the absence of his family at the Baths of San Lucar.
Gallardo shivered with emotion when one day his manager announced the unexpected return of Do?a Sol.
He went to see her at once, but after the first few words felt intimidated282 by her cold amiability283 and the expression of her eyes.
She looked at him as if he were different. In her glance a certain surprise at his rough exterior284, at the difference between herself and this man, the matador of bulls, could be guessed.
He also felt this gulf285 which seemed opening between them. He looked at her as though she were another woman; a great lady of a different race and country.
They talked quietly. She seemed to have forgotten the past, and Gallardo did not dare to remind her of it, nor to make the slightest advance, fearing one of her outbursts of anger.
"Seville!" said Do?a Sol. "It is very beautiful ... very pleasant. But there is more in the world! I warn you. Gallardo, that some day I shall take flight for ever. I guess that I shall be bored to death. My Seville seems quite changed."
She no longer "tutoyed" him, and it was many days before the torero dared during his visits to make the[Pg 186] slightest allusion to the past. He confined himself to gazing at her in silence, with his moist and adoring Moorish eyes.
"I am bored. Some day I shall go away," she exclaimed at all these interviews.
Other times the imposing servant would receive the torero at the wicket and tell him the Se?ora was out, when he knew quite certainly that she was at home.
Gallardo told her one evening of a short excursion he was obliged to make to his farm of La Rinconada. He wanted to see some olive yards his manager had bought for him during his absence, and added to the property. He wanted also to look after the general work.
The idea of accompanying the espada on this expedition delighted Do?a Sol. To go to that grange where Gallardo's family spent the greater part of the year! To enter with the startling scandal of irregularity and sin into the quiet atmosphere of that country house, where the poor fellow lived with his belongings286!...
The absurdity287 of the wish decided288 her. She also would go. The idea of seeing La Rinconada interested her.
Gallardo felt afraid. He thought of all the farm people, of the gossips who would probably tell his family of this trip, but Do?a Sol's glance beat down all his scruples. Who could tell? ... possibly this trip might bring on a return of their former intimacy.
All the same he wished to oppose one obstacle to this wish.
"How about El Plumitas?... According to what I hear, he is wandering round La Rinconada."
"Ah! El Plumitas!" Do?a Sol's face, darkened by boredom289, seemed to light up with an inward flame.
"How curious! I should be so delighted if you could present him to me."
Gallardo arranged the journey. He had thought of[Pg 187] going alone, but Do?a Sol's company obliged him to seek an escort, fearing some evil encounter on the road.
He looked up Potaje, the picador. He was extremely rough, fearing nothing in the world but his gipsy wife, who when she was tired of being beaten would turn and bite him. There would be no need to give him any explanations, only wine in abundance. Alcohol and his atrocious falls in the arena seemed to keep him in a perpetual muddle290, as if his head were buzzing, and only permitted his few slow words and a cloudy vision of everything.
He ordered also El Nacional to accompany them, he would be one more, and was of tried discretion291.
The banderillero obeyed from subordination, but he grumbled292 when he knew Do?a Sol was going with them.
"By the life of the blue dove! To think of the father of a family mixing himself up in such ugly doings!... What will Carmen and the Se?ora Angustias say of me when they come to hear of it?"
But when he found himself in the open country, seated by the side of Potaje, in front of the espada and the great lady, his annoyance gradually vanished.
He could not see her well, wrapped up as she was in a large blue veil which covered her travelling cap, and falling over her yellow silk coat; but she was very beautiful.... And to hear them talk! What things she knew!
Before the journey was half over, El Nacional, in spite of his twenty-five years of conjugal293 fidelity294, forgave his master's weakness, and quite understood his infatuation.
If ever he found himself in a like situation he would do exactly the same!
Education!... It was a great thing, capable of infusing respectability even into the most heinous295 sins.
FOOTNOTES:
[85] Diminutive296 of José.
[86] Little wolf.
[87] Branding of young bulls on the thighs297 with a hot iron. An operation which is not conducted without some commotion298.
[88] Holy Saturday, so called from a religious ceremony in the Cathedral during which the "Gloria" is sung.
[89] The warner.
[90] The sleeve.
[91] This is looked upon as "hitting below the belt."
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1
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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2
centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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3
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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4
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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5
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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wrested
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| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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7
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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8
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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9
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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10
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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11
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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12
expedients
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| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
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13
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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14
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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15
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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16
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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17
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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18
undertakings
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| 企业( undertaking的名词复数 )； 保证； 殡仪业； 任务 | |
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19
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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20
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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21
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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22
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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23
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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24
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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25
patio
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| n.庭院，平台 | |
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26
matador
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| n.斗牛士 | |
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27
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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28
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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29
solidarity
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| n.团结；休戚相关 | |
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30
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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31
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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32
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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33
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
timorously
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| adv.胆怯地，羞怯地 | |
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35
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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36
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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37
matadors
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| n.斗牛士( matador的名词复数 ) | |
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38
moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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39
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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40
capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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41
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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42
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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43
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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44
wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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45
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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46
proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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47
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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48
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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49
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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50
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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51
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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52
aficionados
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| n.酷爱…者，…迷( aficionado的名词复数 )； 爱看斗牛的人 | |
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53
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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54
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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55
plazas
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| n.（尤指西班牙语城镇的）露天广场( plaza的名词复数 )；购物中心 | |
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56
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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57
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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58
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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59
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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60
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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61
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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62
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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63
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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64
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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65
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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66
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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67
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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68
arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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69
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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70
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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71
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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72
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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73
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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74
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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75
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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76
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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77
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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78
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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79
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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80
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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81
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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82
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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83
prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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84
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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85
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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86
feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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87
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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88
marionette
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| n.木偶 | |
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89
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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90
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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91
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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92
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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93
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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94
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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95
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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96
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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97
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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98
reverenced
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| v.尊敬，崇敬( reverence的过去式和过去分词 )；敬礼 | |
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99
avenger
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| n. 复仇者 | |
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100
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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101
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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102
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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103
generosities
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| n.慷慨( generosity的名词复数 )；大方；宽容；慷慨或宽容的行为 | |
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104
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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105
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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106
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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107
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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108
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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109
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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110
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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111
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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112
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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113
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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114
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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115
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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116
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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117
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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118
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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119
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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120
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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121
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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122
sop
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| n.湿透的东西，懦夫；v.浸，泡，浸湿 | |
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123
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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124
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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125
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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126
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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127
avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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128
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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129
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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130
pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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131
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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132
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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133
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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134
fickleness
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| n.易变；无常；浮躁；变化无常 | |
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135
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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136
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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137
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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138
derangement
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| n.精神错乱 | |
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139
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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140
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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141
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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142
goring
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的现在分词 ) | |
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143
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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145
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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146
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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147
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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148
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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149
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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150
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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151
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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152
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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153
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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154
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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155
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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156
aggression
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| n.进攻，侵略，侵犯，侵害 | |
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157
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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158
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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159
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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160
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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161
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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162
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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163
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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164
tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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165
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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166
precursor
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| n.先驱者；前辈；前任；预兆；先兆 | |
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167
alleging
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| 断言，宣称，辩解( allege的现在分词 ) | |
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168
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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169
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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170
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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171
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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172
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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173
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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174
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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175
deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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176
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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177
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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178
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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179
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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180
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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181
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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182
troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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183
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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184
impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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185
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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186
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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187
trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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188
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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189
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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190
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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191
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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192
suppleness
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| 柔软； 灵活； 易弯曲； 顺从 | |
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193
stoutness
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| 坚固，刚毅 | |
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194
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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195
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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196
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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197
augury
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| n.预言，征兆，占卦 | |
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198
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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199
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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200
exculpate
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| v.开脱，使无罪 | |
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201
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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202
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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203
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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204
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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205
gratuitously
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| 平白 | |
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206
divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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207
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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208
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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209
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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210
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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211
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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212
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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213
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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214
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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215
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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216
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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217
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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218
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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219
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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220
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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221
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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222
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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223
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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224
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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225
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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226
maliciousness
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| [法] 恶意 | |
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227
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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228
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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229
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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230
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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231
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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232
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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233
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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234
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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235
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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236
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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237
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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238
pulverized
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| adj.[医]雾化的，粉末状的v.将…弄碎( pulverize的过去式和过去分词 )；将…弄成粉末或尘埃；摧毁；粉碎 | |
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239
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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240
mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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241
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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242
monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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243
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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244
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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245
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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246
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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247
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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248
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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249
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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250
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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251
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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252
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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253
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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254
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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255
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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256
extolling
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| v.赞美( extoll的现在分词 )；赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的现在分词 ) | |
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257
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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258
tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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259
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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260
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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261
laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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262
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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263
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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264
verbosity
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| n.冗长，赘言 | |
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265
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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266
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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267
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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268
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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269
connoisseurs
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| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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270
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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271
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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272
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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273
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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274
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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275
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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276
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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277
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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278
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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279
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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280
ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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281
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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282
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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283
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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284
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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285
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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286
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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287
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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288
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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289
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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290
muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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291
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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292
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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293
conjugal
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| adj.婚姻的，婚姻性的 | |
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294
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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295
heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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296
diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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297
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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298
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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