"It was a relief when the trumpet blew its fatal blast, and the _espada_ came forward, bowed to the president, threw off his cap, and displayed his crimson flag. It was Cuchares--the great Cuchares himself: the theatre rang with applause. The Toledo steel, bright as a mirror, flashed in his practised hand, dexterously he felt his ground; he eyed the bull, and in a moment--a critical moment for him--perceived by tests his experience suggested to him the nature of the animal he had to deal with, and the mode in which he must be treated . . . and . . . despatched. All the other _toreros_ had retired, and he stood alone, as an executioner, face to face with his foredoomed victim. It was a supreme moment, and the attention of the amphitheatre seemed breathlessly concentrated into a single point. "There is a wonderful power of fascination in perfection of any kind, and, notwithstanding the nature of the act in which it was to be displayed, we felt ourselves insensibly drawn under its influence. "The _matador_ began his operations by dallying with the bull: possessing all the qualifications of a first-rate _espada_, the confidence he had in the accuracy of his eye and the steadiness of his hand was apparent in every gesture; the group formed a singular _tableau_, and the attitudes supplied a series of excitements. Every head was stretched forward with an eagerness which offered each individual character without disguise, to be read like the page of a book. The interest was intensified by a sudden and unexpected plunge on the part of the bull; it was vigorous, but it was his last; the poor beast was received with masterly self-possession on the point of the sword, which entered deep, deep into the shoulder, just above the blade, and with a fearful groan, the huge and bloody form fell, an inert mass, to the ground.