Others held the animal's reins, putting a foot on its head to keep it on the ground. Its muzzle twitched with pain, and its teeth rattled together with the anguish of its torment, while its agonized squeals were smothered by the pressure on its head. The bloody hands of the workers endeavoured to replace the bowels in the empty cavity, but the gasping breathing of the unfortunate animal constantly blew out again the entrails the men were pushing in like bundles. At last they were all pushed back into the stomach, and the lads with the quickness of long habit sewed the sides of the wound together.

ith this barbarous promptitude, a pail of water was thrown over its head, its legs were freed from the ropes, and a few kicks and blows with a stick made it scramble on to its feet. Some only walked a few steps, falling down again, with torrents of blood rushing from the re-opened wound. This meant instantaneous death. Others stood up apparently[Pg 342] stronger, from their immense resources of animal vitality, and the lads after mending them up took them off to the courtyard to be "varnished." There their stomach and legs were cleansed by several pailsful of water thrown over them, which left their white or chestnut coats bright and shining, while streams of bloody water ran down their legs on to the ground.

They mended the horses just like old shoes, prolonging their agony and retarding their death, working their weakness up to the last possible moment. Fragments of their entrails which had been cut off to facilitate the repairing operation lay about the floor. Other fragments lay in the circus, covered with sand, till the death of the bull should permit of the attendants collecting the remains in their baskets. Very often these rough-and-ready practitioners supplied the horrible absence of the lost organs by handfuls of tow stuffed into the stomach. The chief thing was to keep these miserable animals on foot a few moments longer till the picadors should return to the arena, when the bull would soon take charge and finish the work.

Even here the noisy shouts of the invisible crowd reached Carmen. Sometimes they were exclamations of anxiety; an "Ay! Ay!" from thousands of voices that told of the flight of a banderillero closely pursued by the bull. Then there would be absolute silence. The man had again turned on the brute and the noisy applause broke out once more when he had skilfully fixed two more darts. Then the trumpets sounded, announcing that the time for the death stroke had come, and the applause rang out afresh.

Carmen wished to go away. Virgin of Hope! What was she doing there? She was ignorant of the routine that the matadors followed in their work. Possibly that blast indicated the moment when her husband had[Pg 343] to face the bull. And she was there, only a few steps away, and unable to see him! If she could only get away and escape from this torment.

Besides, the blood running over the courtyard sickened her, and the poor brutes' sufferings. Her womanly sensitiveness rose up against such tortures, and she put her handkerchief to her face, nauseated by the smell of the butcheries.