D. John sent a second message saying she must throw it: and that he gave her his word to return it to her unhurt. On this, the bull, a very fierce one, black as night, called Caifas, entered the ring; and as luck would have it, after some turns came, snorting, to a standstill in front of the seat of Diana Falangola, fierce and holding his head high, casting wild eyes round the arena, as if seeking enemies to fight. D. John made repeated signs to Diana from his place, until the maiden stood up, threw and stuck with sure aim and great strength the "garrocha" in the back of the bull. The ring broke into applause which stopped at once: all saw D. John jump bravely alone into the arena, a naked sword in one hand, a scarlet cloak in the other. All held their breath and the silence was absolute; the bull was penned at one end bellowing and scraping the ground as if anxious to attack; D. John went straight up to him and at twenty steps called him, stamping on the ground. The bull dashed forward with violence, and D. John, throwing the cloak to the ground to the left, tore the "garrocha" out on the right, at the same time giving such a strong cut on the muzzle, that the animal withdrew from the man, and went and savagely laid hold of the red cloth with roars of pain and in clouds of dust. Meanwhile D. John quietly and slowly walked to Diana Falangola's seat, and cap in hand, on one knee, smilingly presented the "garrocha" to her, without a speck of blood to spoil it, or a stain to mar its feathers and ribbons. Antonio Falangola, touched and beside himself with joy, craved permission to wait with his wife and daughter on D. John the next day to show his gratitude. The day after D. John returned the visit, making rich gifts to Lucrecia and Diana, and soon afterwards Antonio Falangola set out for Puzzoli, of which he had been appointed Governor by Granvelle, leaving his wife and daughter at Naples: "To appear to know nothing about his shame," writes the spiteful author of the manuscript, "Fatti occorsi nella città di Napoli," in the national archives of that famous city. CHAPTER III This lapse of D. John did not last long; for in the middle of December Fr. Miguel Servia writes thus in his diary: