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He
said
this
with
considerable
pride
.
"
He
wasn
’
t
much
of
a
matador
,
"
one
of
the
brothers
at
the
table
said
looking
at
Pilar
’
s
back
where
she
stood
in
front
of
the
stove
.
"
No
?
"
Pilar
said
,
turning
around
and
looking
at
the
man
.
"
He
wasn
’
t
much
of
a
matador
?
"
Standing
there
now
in
the
cave
by
the
cooking
fire
she
could
see
him
,
short
and
brown
and
sober
-
faced
,
with
the
sad
eyes
,
the
cheeks
sunken
and
the
black
hair
curled
wet
on
his
forehead
where
the
tight
-
fitting
matador
’
s
hat
had
made
a
red
line
that
no
one
else
noticed
.
She
saw
him
stand
,
now
,
facing
the
five
-
year
-
old
bull
,
facing
the
horns
that
had
lifted
the
horses
high
,
the
great
neck
thrusting
the
horse
up
,
up
,
as
that
rider
poked
into
that
neck
with
the
spiked
pole
,
thrusting
up
and
up
until
the
horse
went
over
with
a
crash
and
the
rider
fell
against
the
wooden
fence
and
,
with
the
bull
’
s
legs
thrusting
him
forward
,
the
big
neck
swung
the
horns
that
searched
the
horse
for
the
life
that
was
in
him
.
She
saw
him
,
Finito
,
the
not
-
so
-
good
matador
,
now
standing
in
front
of
the
bull
and
turning
sideways
toward
him
.
She
saw
him
now
clearly
as
he
furled
the
heavy
flannel
cloth
around
the
stick
;
the
flannel
hanging
blood
-
heavy
from
the
passes
where
it
had
swept
over
the
bull
’
s
head
and
shoulders
and
the
wet
streaming
shine
of
his
withers
and
on
down
and
over
his
back
as
the
bull
raised
into
the
air
and
the
banderillas
clattered
.
She
saw
Finito
stand
five
paces
from
the
bull
’
s
head
,
profiled
,
the
bull
standing
still
and
heavy
,
and
draw
the
sword
slowly
up
until
it
was
level
with
his
shoulder
and
then
sight
along
the
dipping
blade
at
a
point
he
could
not
yet
see
because
the
bull
’
s
head
was
higher
than
his
eyes
.
He
would
bring
that
head
down
with
the
sweep
his
left
arm
would
make
with
the
wet
,
heavy
cloth
;
but
now
he
rocked
back
a
little
on
his
heels
and
sighted
along
the
blade
,
profiled
in
front
of
the
splintered
horn
;
the
bull
’
s
chest
heaving
and
his
eyes
watching
the
cloth
.
She
saw
him
very
clearly
now
and
she
heard
his
thin
,
clear
voice
as
he
turned
his
head
and
looked
toward
the
people
in
the
first
row
of
the
ring
above
the
red
fence
and
said
,
"
Let
’
s
see
if
we
can
kill
him
like
this
!
"
She
could
hear
the
voice
and
then
see
the
first
bend
of
the
knee
as
he
started
forward
and
watch
his
voyage
in
onto
the
horn
that
lowered
now
magically
as
the
bull
’
s
muzzle
followed
the
low
swept
cloth
,
the
thin
,
brown
wrist
controlled
,
sweeping
the
horns
down
and
past
,
as
the
sword
entered
the
dusty
height
of
the
withers
.
She
saw
its
brightness
going
in
slowly
and
steadily
as
though
the
bull
’
s
rush
plucked
it
into
himself
and
out
from
the
man
’
s
hand
and
she
watched
it
move
in
until
the
brown
knuckles
rested
against
the
taut
hide
and
the
short
,
brown
man
whose
eyes
had
never
left
the
entry
place
of
the
sword
now
swung
his
sucked
-
in
belly
clear
of
the
horn
and
rocked
clear
from
the
animal
,
to
stand
holding
the
cloth
on
the
stick
in
his
left
hand
,
raising
his
right
hand
to
watch
the
bull
die
.
She
saw
him
standing
,
his
eyes
watching
the
bull
trying
to
hold
the
ground
,
watching
the
bull
sway
like
a
tree
before
it
falls
,
watching
the
bull
fight
to
hold
his
feet
to
the
earth
,
the
short
man
’
s
hand
raised
in
a
formal
gesture
of
triumph
.
She
saw
him
standing
there
in
the
sweated
,
hollow
relief
of
it
being
over
,
feeling
the
relief
that
the
bull
was
dying
,
feeling
the
relief
that
there
had
been
no
shock
,
no
blow
of
the
horn
as
he
came
clear
from
it
and
then
,
as
he
stood
,
the
bull
could
hold
to
the
earth
no
longer
and
crashed
over
,
rolling
dead
with
all
four
feet
in
the
air
,
and
she
could
see
the
short
,
brown
man
walking
tired
and
unsmiling
to
the
fence
.
She
knew
he
could
not
run
across
the
ring
if
his
life
depended
on
it
and
she
watched
him
walk
slowly
to
the
fence
and
wipe
his
mouth
on
a
towel
and
look
up
at
her
and
shake
his
head
and
then
wipe
his
face
on
the
towel
and
start
his
triumphant
circling
of
the
ring
.
She
saw
him
moving
slowly
,
dragging
around
the
ring
,
smiling
,
bowing
,
smiling
,
his
assistants
walking
behind
him
,
stooping
,
picking
up
cigars
,
tossing
back
hats
;
he
circling
the
ring
sad
-
eyed
and
smiling
,
to
end
the
circle
before
her
.
Then
she
looked
over
and
saw
him
sitting
now
on
the
step
of
the
wooden
fence
,
his
mouth
in
a
towel
.
