follows, and the waiting continues. Suddenly the stillness
is broken by tinkling bells, the oxen; and immediately there is a tramp
of rushing hoofs. Three men on horseback gallop through the entrance,
and on their heels the cattle; the riders turn sharply round, a door is
swung to behind them, and the oxen, with the bulls in their midst, pound
through the ring.

* * *

The doors are opened two hours before the performance. Through the
morning the multitude has trooped to the Plaza San Fernando to buy
tickets, and in the afternoon all Seville wends its way towards the
ring. The road is thronged with people, they walk in dense crowds,
pushing one another to get out of the way of broken-down shays that roll
along filled with enthusiasts. The drivers crack their whips, shouting:
'_Un real, un real a los Toros!_'{a} The sun beats down and the sky is
intensely blue. It is very hot, already people are blowing and panting,
boys sell fans at a halfpenny each. '_Abanicos a perra chica!_'{b}

When you come near the ring the din is tremendous; the many vendors
shout their wares, middlemen offer tickets at double the usual price,
friends call to one another. Now and then is a quarrel, a quick exchange
of abuse as one pushes or treads upon his neighbour; but as a rule all
are astonishingly good-natured. A man, after a narrow escape from being
run over, will shout a joke to the driver, who is always ready with a
repartee. And they surge on towards the entrance. Every one is expectant
and thrilled, the very air seems to give a sense of exhilaration. The
people crowd in like ants. All things are gay and full of colour and
life.

A _picador_ passes on horseback in his uncouth clothes, and all turn to
look at him.

And in the ring itself the scene is marvellous. On one side the sun
beats down with burning rays, and there, the seats being cheaper,
notwithstanding the terrific heat people are closely packed. There is a
perpetual irregular movement of thousands of women's fans fluttering to
and fro. Opposite, in the shade, are nearly as many persons, but of
better class. Above, in the boxes sit ladies in _mantillas_, and when a
beautiful woman appears she is often greeted with a burst of applause,
which she takes most unconcernedly. When at last the ring is full, tier
above tier crammed so that not a place is vacant, it gives quite an
extraordinary emotion. The serried masses cease then to be a collection
of individuals, but gain some