“‘Let the priest out and the thing will go faster,’ some one shouted.
“‘Let out the priest.’
“‘We’ve had three thieves, let us have the priest.’
“‘Two thieves,’ a short peasant said to the man who had shouted. ‘It was two thieves with Our Lord.’
“‘Whose Lord?’ the man said, his face angry and red.
“‘In the manner of speaking it is said Our Lord.’
“‘He isn’t my Lord; not in joke,’ said the other. ‘And thee hadst best watch thy mouth if thou dost not want to walk between the lines.’
“‘I am as good a Libertarian Republican as thou,’ the short peasant said. ‘I struck Don Ricardo across the mouth. I struck Don Federico across the back. I missed Don Benito. But I say Our Lord is the formal way of speaking of the man in question and that it was two thieves.’
“‘I obscenity in the milk of thy Republicanism. You speak of Don this and Don that.’
“‘Here are they so called.’
“‘Not by me, the cabrones. And thy Lord– Hi! Here comes a new one!’
“It was then that we saw a disgraceful sight, for the man who walked out of the doorway of the Ayuntamiento was Don Faustino Rivero, the oldest son of his father, Don Celestino Rivero, a land owner. He was tall and his hair was yellow and it was freshly combed back from his forehead for he always carried a comb in his pocket and he had combed his hair now before coming out. He was a great annoyer of girls, and he was a coward, and he had always wished to be an amateur bullfighter. He went much with gypsies and with builfighters and with bull raisers and delighted to wear the Andalucian costume, but he had no courage and was considered a joke. One time he was announced to appear in an amateur benefit fight for the old people’s home in Avila and to kill a bull from on horseback in the Andalucian style, which he had spent much time practising, and when he had seen the size of the bull that had been substituted for him in place of the little one, weak in the legs, he had picked out himself, he had said he was sick and, some said, put three fingers down his throat to make himself vomit.
“When the lines saw him, they commenced to shout, ‘Hola, Don Faustino. Take care not to vomit.’
“‘Listen to me, Don Faustino. There are beautiful girls over the cliff.’
“‘Don Faustino. Wait a minute and we will bring out a bull bigger than the other.’
“And another shouted, ‘Listen to me, Don Faustino. Hast thou ever heard speak of death?’
“Don Faustino stood there, still acting brave. He was still under the impulse that had made him announce to the others that he was going out. It was the same impulse that had made him announce himself for the bullfight. That had made him believe and hope that he could be an amateur matador. Now he was inspired by the example of Don Ricardo and he stood there looking both handsome and brave and he made his face scornful. But he could not speak.
“‘Come, Don Faustino,’ some one called from the line. ‘Come, Don Faustino. Here is the biggest bull of all.’
“Don Faustino stood looking out and I think as he looked, that there was no pity for him on either side of the line. Still he looked both handsome and superb; but time was shortening and there was only one direction to go.
“‘Don Faustino,’ some one called. ‘What are you waiting for, Don Faustino?’
“‘He is preparing to vomit,’ some one said and the lines laughed.
“‘Don Faustino,’ a peasant called. ‘Vomit if it will give thee pleasure. To me it is all the same.’
“Then, as we watched, Don Faustino looked along the lines and across the square to the cliff and then when he saw the cliff and the emptiness beyond, he turned quickly and ducked back toward the entrance of the Ayuntamiento.
“All the lines roared and some one shouted in a high voice, ‘Where do you go, Don Faustino? Where do you go?’