you."
"If I wear my best Spanish gown next Sunday, will you do so?"
"I shall be unable to do otherwise," the matador replied.
It was a delightful dinner, candle-lit and opulent. In the course of it Don Alfonso explained that he had come to Mexico thirty-eight years ago and had made his fortune importing goods from Liverpool. At first he had tried living in Mexico City, but had found it oppressive and lacking in culture: "It's so damned Mexican!" Then he had come to Toledo and had stumbled upon this old house that had been built by one of the Palafox men. "Here I have been happy."
"May I visit you during the coming week?" Leal asked.
"We would be desolate if you did not," Don Alfonso replied.
"On Friday I must visit the Palafox bull ranch to supervise the testing of some cows," Leal explained. Then, turning to Raquel, he said, "I would be flattered beyond words if you could accompany our party."
"We will be most happy to accept," the girl's mother quickly replied, having no intention of leaving her daughter alone with any man prior to marriage. And after the pleasant visit to the ranch the young matador dallied in our city and it became apparent that Raquel would marry him and that he would move to Toledo and live in the big Spanish house.
Mexico City; 13 December 1903. As a matador's wife, Dona Raquel was unusual in that she was willing to attend her husband's fights, and she was sitting in the old plaza in Mexico City on the day in 1903 when Bernardo Leal gave a gallant performance. Her eldest son, Justo, eleven at the time, was with her in the seats by the barrier when her husband took the second bull of the afternoon, a wiry, quick Palafox animal, and dominated the beast pretty much as he wished.
Dona Raquel feared all bulls and appreciated their lethal power, but she was also fascinated by her husband's poetic grace, which no other fighter could match. There was something in the manner in which Bernardo worked that projected a sensation of grave danger linked to exquisite art, and the capacity to accomplish this was rare. She thought proudly, Not even Mazzantini displayed a finer grace than my husband, but when Bernardo finally killed the Palafox beast she closed her eyes and covered her ears as if in surrender to her hitherto repressed fears.
Little Justo, a serious child dedicated to protecting his father's reputation, did not cover his ears at such moments but stayed alert to catch the shouts of "Leal! Leal!" But on this afternoon some of the rowdies seated in the sunny section expressed contempt for the size of the Palafox bull that Bernardo had killed and instead of cheering the matador they jeered him and continued to do so even when the other matador, a famous Mexican, had started to fight the third bull. "Show him how a real Mexican fights real bulls," someone in the crowd shouted.
"Spaniards are always brave with little bulls," another added.
"Liar!" Justo screamed in a high childish treble. Bernardo, leaning against the barrier, looked up at his son and laughed.
Senora Leal did not consider the incident amusing. "Justo!" she whispered.
"I could cut their throats," the boy muttered, not bothering to watch the fight of the second matador.
Dona Raquel slapped her son's hand sharply and said, "No more of that."
"But Father can do it with big bulls, too," her son protested, and breaking from his mother's grasp he dashed to the iron grillwork that separated the good seats from the inexpensive and shouted: "Swine! My father can fight bulls as big as boxcars."
With much embarrassment Dona Raquel recovered her son and the incident might have ended there except that one of Bernardo Leal's partisans in the sunny section bellowed, "The boy's right! Leal is better than any Mexican!"
This challenge was calculated to launch a riot, and it did. Soon the sunny section was a melee with men flying through the air as they dived from the higher tiers to revenge themselves upon enemies seated below. Then, as quickly
"If I wear my best Spanish gown next Sunday, will you do so?"
"I shall be unable to do otherwise," the matador replied.
It was a delightful dinner, candle-lit and opulent. In the course of it Don Alfonso explained that he had come to Mexico thirty-eight years ago and had made his fortune importing goods from Liverpool. At first he had tried living in Mexico City, but had found it oppressive and lacking in culture: "It's so damned Mexican!" Then he had come to Toledo and had stumbled upon this old house that had been built by one of the Palafox men. "Here I have been happy."
"May I visit you during the coming week?" Leal asked.
"We would be desolate if you did not," Don Alfonso replied.
"On Friday I must visit the Palafox bull ranch to supervise the testing of some cows," Leal explained. Then, turning to Raquel, he said, "I would be flattered beyond words if you could accompany our party."
"We will be most happy to accept," the girl's mother quickly replied, having no intention of leaving her daughter alone with any man prior to marriage. And after the pleasant visit to the ranch the young matador dallied in our city and it became apparent that Raquel would marry him and that he would move to Toledo and live in the big Spanish house.
Mexico City; 13 December 1903. As a matador's wife, Dona Raquel was unusual in that she was willing to attend her husband's fights, and she was sitting in the old plaza in Mexico City on the day in 1903 when Bernardo Leal gave a gallant performance. Her eldest son, Justo, eleven at the time, was with her in the seats by the barrier when her husband took the second bull of the afternoon, a wiry, quick Palafox animal, and dominated the beast pretty much as he wished.
Dona Raquel feared all bulls and appreciated their lethal power, but she was also fascinated by her husband's poetic grace, which no other fighter could match. There was something in the manner in which Bernardo worked that projected a sensation of grave danger linked to exquisite art, and the capacity to accomplish this was rare. She thought proudly, Not even Mazzantini displayed a finer grace than my husband, but when Bernardo finally killed the Palafox beast she closed her eyes and covered her ears as if in surrender to her hitherto repressed fears.
Little Justo, a serious child dedicated to protecting his father's reputation, did not cover his ears at such moments but stayed alert to catch the shouts of "Leal! Leal!" But on this afternoon some of the rowdies seated in the sunny section expressed contempt for the size of the Palafox bull that Bernardo had killed and instead of cheering the matador they jeered him and continued to do so even when the other matador, a famous Mexican, had started to fight the third bull. "Show him how a real Mexican fights real bulls," someone in the crowd shouted.
"Spaniards are always brave with little bulls," another added.
"Liar!" Justo screamed in a high childish treble. Bernardo, leaning against the barrier, looked up at his son and laughed.
Senora Leal did not consider the incident amusing. "Justo!" she whispered.
"I could cut their throats," the boy muttered, not bothering to watch the fight of the second matador.
Dona Raquel slapped her son's hand sharply and said, "No more of that."
"But Father can do it with big bulls, too," her son protested, and breaking from his mother's grasp he dashed to the iron grillwork that separated the good seats from the inexpensive and shouted: "Swine! My father can fight bulls as big as boxcars."
With much embarrassment Dona Raquel recovered her son and the incident might have ended there except that one of Bernardo Leal's partisans in the sunny section bellowed, "The boy's right! Leal is better than any Mexican!"
This challenge was calculated to launch a riot, and it did. Soon the sunny section was a melee with men flying through the air as they dived from the higher tiers to revenge themselves upon enemies seated below. Then, as quickly
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