s,
who circulate in the corridor of the bull-ring, and offer their wares to
the spectators at the end of long sticks.

"Senorita, will you accept some comfits?" said Andres, with an engaging
smile to his beautiful neighbour, offering her the open box.

The young girl turned quickly round, and looked at him with an air of
uneasy surprise.

"They are lemon and mint," said he, as if to decide her.

Militona, suddenly making up her mind, plunged her little fingers into
the box, and took a pinch of the lozenges.

"Luckily Juancho has his back turned," muttered a _majo_ who stood just
by, "or there would be blood on his knife to-night."

"Will this lady take some?" continued Andres in a tone of exquisite
politeness, holding out the box to the horrible old woman, who was so
disconcerted by this piece of audacity that in her confusion she took
every one of the sugar-plums. Nevertheless, whilst emptying the box into
the palm of her hand, black as that of a mummy, she cast a furtive and
frightened glance at the circus, and heaved an enormous sigh.

At that moment the orchestra sounded the death: it was Juancho's turn to
kill. He approached the municipal box, made the usual salutation and
demand, and threw his montero into the air in right cavalier style. The
audience, usually so tumultuous, became profoundly silent. The bull
Juancho had to kill was of formidable breed; seven horses, stretched
lifeless upon the sand, their bowels protruding from hideous wounds,
told of his fury and vigour. The two picadores had left the arena,
sorely bruised and crippled by numerous falls, and the supernumerary
waited in the corridor, foot in stirrup and lance in fist, ready to
replace them. The chulos prudently kept themselves in the vicinity of
the palisade, one foot on the wooden ledge which aids them to leap it in
case of danger; and the victorious bull ranged the circus--stained here
and there by large puddles of blood, which the attendants dared not
approach to scatter with sawdust--striking the doors with his horns, and
tossing the dead horses into the air. Juancho approached the monstrous
beast with that firm and deliberate step before which lions themselves
retreat. The bull, astonished at sight of a fresh adversary, paused,
uttered a deep roar, shook the slaver from his muzzle, scratched the
earth with his hoof, lowered his head two or three times, and made a few
paces backwards. Juancho was magnificent to behold: his countenance