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Chapter 14

           Hesaidthiswithconsiderablepride.

           "Hewasn’tmuchofamatador,"oneofthebrothersatthetablesaidlookingatPilar’sbackwhereshestoodinfrontofthestove.

           "No?"Pilarsaid,turningaroundandlookingattheman."Hewasn’tmuchofamatador?"

           Standingtherenowinthecavebythecookingfireshecouldseehim,shortandbrownandsober-faced,withthesadeyes,thecheekssunkenandtheblackhaircurledwetonhisforeheadwherethetight-fittingmatador’shathadmadearedlinethatnooneelsenoticed.Shesawhimstand,now,facingthefive-year-oldbull,facingthehornsthathadliftedthehorseshigh,thegreatneckthrustingthehorseup,up,asthatriderpokedintothatneckwiththespikedpole,thrustingupandupuntilthehorsewentoverwithacrashandtheriderfellagainstthewoodenfenceand,withthebull’slegsthrustinghimforward,thebigneckswungthehornsthatsearchedthehorseforthelifethatwasinhim.Shesawhim,Finito,thenot-so-goodmatador,nowstandinginfrontofthebullandturningsidewaystowardhim.Shesawhimnowclearlyashefurledtheheavyflannelclotharoundthestick;theflannelhangingblood-heavyfromthepasseswhereithadsweptoverthebull’sheadandshouldersandthewetstreamingshineofhiswithersandondownandoverhisbackasthebullraisedintotheairandthebanderillasclattered.ShesawFinitostandfivepacesfromthebull’shead,profiled,thebullstandingstillandheavy,anddrawtheswordslowlyupuntilitwaslevelwithhisshoulderandthensightalongthedippingbladeatapointhecouldnotyetseebecausethebull’sheadwashigherthanhiseyes.Hewouldbringthatheaddownwiththesweephisleftarmwouldmakewiththewet,heavycloth;butnowherockedbackalittleonhisheelsandsightedalongtheblade,profiledinfrontofthesplinteredhorn;thebull’schestheavingandhiseyeswatchingthecloth.

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