yard. Lavinia gave a short exclamation; she was cold with fear. Orsi looked on without any emotion visible on his heavy face. Anna Mantegazza leaned forward, tense with interest. "Bravo!" she called.
Gheta Sanviano smiled.
The bull did not see Mochales at first, then the man cried tauntingly. The bull turned and stood with a lowered slowly-moving head, an uneasy tail. The Spaniard found a small milking stool and, carrying it to the middle of the yard, sat and comfortably rolled another cigarette. He was searching for a match when the bull moved forward a pace; he had found and was striking it when the bull increased his pace; he was guarding the flame about the cigarette's end when the animal broke into a charging run.
The Flower of Spain inhaled a deep breath of smoke, which he expelled in deliberate globes.
"Oh, don't! Oh" Lavinia exclaimed, an arm before her eyes.
Mochales shifted easily from his seat and apparently in the same instant the bull crushed the stool to splinters.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Anna Mantegazza called again, and the man bowed until his extended hat rested on the ground.
He straightened slowly; the bull whirled about and flung himself forward. Abrego y Mochales now had one of the discarded poles; and, waiting until the horns had almost encircled him, he vaulted lightly and beautifully over the running animal's shoulder. He waited again, avoiding the infuriated charge by a scant step; and, when the bull stopped he had Mochales' hat placed squarely upon his horns.
