Part 31 (1/2)
”A few of these men, as Cogan looked on, stood out from the others; and after a time from among those few stood one by himself. From the first Cogan had noticed that he was very fast and clever--and strong, yes. It was his quickness and skill, even more than his strength, which counted.
He used the bull's strength against the bull himself. He wasn't much more than medium height or weight, but beautifully developed--they were all finely developed men--and behind his muscular power was all kinds of nervous energy. And a great way of doing things, not an extra motion of any kind--no wasteful flourishes or posings. Not that he didn't have style. Style!--he had so much of it that he didn't seem to be half trying. Everything and everybody seemed to be playing into his hands--even the bull. And he was such a human kind, laughing and joking as he bounded and ran about! And he must have said many funny things, they all laughed so; and he took a lot of trouble to coach some of them in their practice.
”Cogan later saw him in the dressing-room. He came off the field before the others, and while they were yet practising he had had his bath. He was now dressing and Cogan saw that he wore fine linen and fas.h.i.+onably-cut clothes. He had a room to himself off the main dressing-room, and two attendants jumped to serve him. From time to time, standing at the door of his dressing-room putting on a collar or adjusting his tie, he would sweep a glance at Cogan. His eyes were friendly. They were also of good size and deep-set, Cogan now had a chance to see; but they had also an absent, wistful expression which made Cogan wonder, for at this young fellow's age, and he the star of the troupe, it's little in life should have been bothering him.
”By and by the others came in, and with their coming Cogan's favorite was again lively and laughing. Soon he was ready for the street. And all dressed up he was a great swell. As he pa.s.sed out those in his way skipped to one side, while those in the corners ran forward to catch his eye and smile at him. 'Torellas, Torellas,' Cogan heard again and again in the most admiring and affectionate tones.
”After he had gone out the door, Cogan asked one of the bull-fighters who he was. But his 'Spanish Without A Master' didn't seem to be working very well, and the man he questioned called out 'Ferrero--Oh, Ferrero!'
saying to Cogan 'Ferrero spik the Ingliss--O fine-a--good-a Ingliss.'
”A man that Cogan recognized as one of the liveliest performers in the ring, though somewhat older than the others, came over and bowed politely.
”'Senor, if you will tell me--who is Torellas?' asked Cogan in English.
”'Torellas'--Ferrero pointed toward the door--'he departed only one moment ago.'
”'Senor, I saw, and thank you. But who is he?'
”'Torellas? Who ees Torellas?' Not only Ferrero, but every bull-fighter in the place took a peek at Cogan. Ferrero looked around the room to make sure the others had heard. 'He asks me'--or so Cogan guessed he said, for now he was speaking Spanish--'he asks me who is Torellas!' at which they all craned their necks to get another peek at Cogan, and there was a lot of sputtering talk among them. Cogan guessed that they were saying many very funny things about the man who did not know who Torellas was. Ferrero turned to Cogan, now in English, 'Sir, a stranger?' And Cogan said, 'Si, senor, a stranger--from the United States.'
”And Ferrero said, 'Ah-h--Americano--cer-tain-ly,' in the most charitable tone. 'Senor, I speak your language a leetla bit. It is true I lived one time in your contry--a fine contry is U-ni-ted Stat-es--two years--yes, sir, surely. Listen, please. Torellas, sir, he ees born here, in thees very city, a Peruvian. We are proud of him. The prodeegious skill, the strength, the light foot, the stroke of the espada, the sword of Torellas--a descending thunderbolt it ees--but oh, he ees not to be descripsheeoned. Some day you shall see--you shall not depart until you have seen. Even now he ees in Peru--yes, sir--in all South America the supreme matador. Soon--we have the a.s.surance of it, senor--he shall go to Spain, to Madrid, and in the great bull-ring there he shall kill his bulls before the king and queen, and, have no fear, senor, Spain shall also proclaim his superiority. Already, if he so desires, fifty, seventy-five thousand--truly, sir--dollars gold in the year--shall be his for his splendid genius. Yes, sir--and renown without death. We are proud of him. Even now he ees with us--how shall I say it?--ah, senor, even now, but at twenty years of age he ees with us as the great John L. Sullivano was in United Stat-es when I lived there a leetle boy--in New Yorrik--twenty years ago.'
”And Cogan said to himself--'This Torellas person must surely be some cla.s.s.'
”'And, senor--surely'--Ferrero had only stopped to get his breath--'it would be criminal not to view Torellas in all his splendor--not as you have viewed him this mor-rn-ing--that was play--but in the full strength of his science, his art--deliverin-g, senor, the final stroke to the ferocious bull.'
”Cogan also began to see that it would be a crime not to view the great man in action, and he was also told that even more than Torellas the matador they loved Torellas the man, the good comrade.
”Cogan became quite friendly with the bull-fighters. He inquired further of Ferrero, who in the ring was a banderillo--that is, one of the people who stick the decorated stakes in the bull's neck--possibly Senor Ferrero knew of a mounted capeador by the name of Juan Roca.
”'Juan? Who does not? Yes, sir. Very much, sir,' and went on to tell Cogan that Juan, the best mounted capeador in all South America, was that very morning breaking in a new horse on the ranch of Don Vicente Guillen outside the city.
”Ferrero was a most friendly person, and invited Cogan to eat with him, and Cogan went. Ten or a dozen bull-fighters boarded in one place near the bull-ring--a large, square, two-story adobe house; a grand house, with walls painted in colors and splendid high rooms arranged around a patio inside.
”It was now high noon, and warm enough in the sunny streets outside, but in the patio it was cool, with a breeze from the Pacific, and after lunch the bull-fighters sat around there and smoked cigarettes and played stringed instruments, all but a few wild ones who went leaping and springing about the garden walks. Cogan could not hide his interest in this jumping exercise, and Ferrero, seeing it, invited him to join in, which Cogan did, and beat everybody there jumping. He did so well that Ferrero asked him if he could jump over a horse, and he said he'd try it. So they went out and got a horse, and Cogan jumped over it. And then they brought in another and placed the two side by side, and Cogan jumped over the pair of them, at which they all shouted 'Bueno, bueno, Americano!' and Ferrero slapped him on the back and told him he must stay with them and practice bull-fighting.
”Cogan had another question. Was not the mounted capeador Juan Roca a brother of Luis Roca, the hat dealer? And he was told that he was, and that Luis Roca was now engaged in an enormous hat business with the United States, and had grown very wealthy, thanks to the increase of trade since the American occupation of the Isthmus. And Cogan inquired further--was there a daughter who would be now about eighteen? 'A daughter? Blood of a bull--surely.' And beautiful? Beautee-full! the Senorita Roca beautee-full? Mother of G.o.d!' If he wished, he could post himself on the Pasada that very afternoon--any afternoon--and see her driving with her jolly good father or her proud mother, or it might be with Senor Lorenzo de Guavera. 'And,' added Ferrero, 'you will meet Juan there also--if he ees returned from the ranch.'
”In the cool of the afternoon they went to the Pasada, which is where everybody in Lima who has a pair of horses and a coachman goes driving of an afternoon. They pace up one side and down the other. Cogan never saw so many fine horses and beautiful women in such a short time. And he saw the hat dealer--the same lively, good-humored Grand Duke man to look at, dressed in the same style of white ducks and big Panama hat, with the same great beard down on his chest. Beside him was a stately, beautiful girl. Cogan stared. He could see the resemblance right away.
'That must be an elder sister,' he thought, 'and that must be her mother.' The mother was beautiful, too; but also she knew it. There was also a well-set-up, well-dressed, well-groomed, distinguished looking man.
”Cogan was staring after the carriage, when he heard a voice in his ear.
Ferrero was speaking to him. 'Ah-h, you know heem, Luis, Juan's brother, yes? And the senora?--and the Senorita Valera?'
”'Valera? But that is not the little girl--'
”'Leetle girl?'
”'Has she not--the senorita--a younger sister?'
”'Sister? There ees no sister--only herself.'
”And so his little Valera had grown into that stately, self-possessed young lady. Cogan felt sad.