During the whole day preparations had been making for the approaching display. All the streets leading to the Plaza were strongly barricadoed with bullock-cars, mule-carts, and every thing that could serve to enclose the arena, and prevent the escape of the bulls. Four of them were imprisoned in a den at one end of the square, where they were undergoing a process of torture, being goaded by steel pikes through holes in the roof, to rouse them to the requisite pitch of madness and ferocity. It was a beautiful sunny evening, and about four o’clock the people began to collect; at six the Plaza was crowded to excess,—the balconies, roofs, and windows were all taken possession of, and hundreds of pennons, streamers, and garlands flaunted from the houses; while the bands of the 28th and the 6th Portuguese caçadores filled the air with strains of music, and delight shone in every Spanish eye at the amusement promised by their favourite national pastime. The guests of the duke occupied the large balcony, which extended along the front of his house. It was covered with a piece of tapestry, and the ladies were seated in front, while their cavaliers stood behind. Here Stuart missed the condé, who had been by Donna Olivia’s side all day. He was about to inquire for him, when Balthazzar suddenly appeared in the arena, arrayed in a very singular garb. A small velvet cap was on his head, fully displaying his short curly hair and fine features. He wore a close-fitting doublet of black cloth, slashed with white; a mantle of a bright orange colour hung on his left arm, and in his right hand he carried a short pike about five feet long, the head of which was of sharp and bright steel. Three other cavaliers, similarly accoutered, made their appearance in the arena, and the people raised a cry of "_Viva Baltazar, el valiente soldado! Viva el gracios caballero Ascasibur Yñürritegui_! Here are the bulls! Here are the bulls!" Balthazzar kissed his hand to Donna Olivia, who threw him a flower from her breast, and he placed it in his cap. "Beware, my poor condé," said she, "and be not over rash. Remember that your foes are bulls from the Xamara." "Are they different from any other bulls, Donna Virginia?" asked Louis. "Oh! have you not heard? They are the very fiercest in Spain,—perhaps in the world. When once aroused, nothing tames them but being slain." "And to these the condé is about to oppose himself. Are you not concerned for his safety, senoras?" "Balthazzar has a sharp pike and a sure heel," answered Olivia, fanning herself, "and I have no fears for him." "Have you ever seen any one killed in the arena?" "Yes. A bull of Xamara tossed our poor cousin, the Condé Estremera, into the air, and he came down dead." "And still you like this sport?" said Cameron, "sport which our Scottish ladies would shudder to look upon." "Yes, senor. _O viva Santissima!_" answered all the ladies at once, clapping their white hands, "here come the bulls!"