He snorted, shrugging tolerantly. The bull whose horns have once made contact with the solidity behind the phantom cloth that for fifteen or twenty minutes has been teasing them tends to have learned its lesson, and to jab not at the lure but at the living flesh wielding it. We were paraded to our seats.
"Basta, " he finally admonished, brushing the dancer from his lapels as though he were dandruff. Cheek is answered with cheek, and a cara dura is the reply of mortified natures to a hierarchic world that is forever censorious, and against which there is no other defense. There was nothing of the challenger in the downcast eyes and the hunched shoulders of Antonio Ordoñez as he walked slowly away from his brother-in-law and toward the burladeros, clamping the collar of his cape between his teeth, folding the cerise-and-yellow serge with his hands, his face demonstrably the more pallid with concern. "A single cartridge? His wound was the more serious; they discounted it. Almost instantly, J—— pranced out of the shadows. And during fights, when they were particularly dazzled by the matador's performance, spectators would wave their hands in protest before the kill – pleading that the bull's death be delayed a few minutes for the sake of entertainment. The black, wavy hair is no longer so lustrous, and no longer so thick, receding at the temples to a pronounced widow's peak. Music to a matador's ears crosswords. It was a revelation. "Tell them I'm here, " he instructed the waiter, "that I have guests. " People began to praise his graciousness with rivals. Twice Ordoñez killed recibiendo, an extravagantly perilous method whereby the matador stands in place, cites the bull, and invites it to impale itself on the blade by its own inertia.
All walls buckle under the weight of big-game trophies. It may lack casta, denoting verve and style as well as conformation. There was never an excrescence. Music to a matador's ears crossword solver. The dancers on stage, male and female, blew kisses at Luis Miguel, and almost at once, a Gypsy girl with a Michelin bosom and dark, chatoyant eyes sprang from her cane-bottomed chair and began stomping out a fandango de Huelva. He desires a suicidal end to the man he can no longer live with; and it is this, I believe, that he wants recorded. Anything slightly above the first and lower than the second tends to brassy impertinence.
The beast is lethal. They have all the tolerance of people who are dust under the feet of society, who have to cheat and steal for a living. Then, while engaging his second bull, Dominguín was tossed. I believe no roar, no accolade, ever developed. "I'm going to cape a buffalo. Hemingway once wrote that "there are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing and mountaineering. "
And while they come in a variety of colors, the crowd at Plaza Monumental seemed particularly fond of the white ones, which best accentuate the blood. There is always, somewhere on the horizon, a challenger. PEOPLE remained seated on the concrete rows well after the fight was over. That movement pained him. But on my way out, I passed one of the picadors' horses, which was still wearing the blindfold that prevented it from panicking and the padding that spared it from disembowelment. Never did he permit himself a cheap play for vulgar emotions. He asked a nearby camarero, "Where are Carlitos and J——? Music to a matador's ears crossword puzzles. " I can circle it for another try. "I'm decentrado" he replied.
He was no longer playing for the fickle affections of a particular plaza, but for history. HE WAS in an expansive mood when we joined in an autumn partridge shoot. You must place your bullet directly between the animal's eyes. They may come to loathe bulls, black nightmares that toss them nightly into agues. Then out of the toril trotted "Islero, " Manolete's second bull. "It's like watching a ballet, " retired matador Daniel Chavez said through an interpreter. Cynics at once began mumbling, "Ah, he's faking, it's come out at last, he can't keep up this pace and wants to quit. " Alas for bull and breeder, many a young animal may never be fit for the arena. But I remember their sneers at Dominguín. She raised dust off the floorboards, pink and orange.
He has turned to you in the din of a party at Villa Paz, the ranch seventy miles out of Madrid to which he periodically retreats. "I don't think so — I doubt there's an animal on earth that compares to our bulls. He retired once more, now definitively, the undefeated champion. Walking back to the hotel, Hemingway said, "He's a brave man and a beautiful matador.
Say it doesn't weigh over 350 pounds. He had grown into an overwhelming domador, who could take any bull, the biggest, the most recalcitrant, the most perilous, and forge it on the anvil of his will into an implement with which he completed passes that for a lesser matador would have signified disaster. By coming back (as he surely must have realized), Dominguín had exposed himself. "Watch the fox use it as an excuse! " He turned to me, and in a thoughtful and nearly pedantic tone said, "For years, people have been whispering that J —— and I are lovers. In the middle of his beer run, he had bought two of them as souvenirs. "What else is there? " And of Belmonte's suicide at least, Dominguín's analysis may be correct. Seven women watched him spellbound. Stuccoed, they ricochet polysyllabic patter — melodious masculine French, shrill female Spanish, and dulcet Italian. The animal emerged from under the muleta, ran a few yards, wheeled, and faced him again. Now when he dismissed his helpers, reaching for cape and sword, there was silence. Dominguín did not budge. His eyes slid toward the American executives, whose faces were plainly scarlet — Scarsdale and New Rochelle, Grosse Pointe and Back Bay — who did not know whether to notice, who were caught with frozen half-smiles.
Appearing on five occasions, Antonio Ordoñez displayed a dramatic, delirious, and erotic style that crushed out of the tightest throats groans of ecstasy. Dominguín stiffened, dropped the crimson cloth unfurling in front of him, and accepted the fury of that rush with an indolent, architectural naturale — when properly performed, the most difficult, the most classical, one of the most dangerous and commendable of passes. Nine years have gone by. He acquired dominion over himself. Supporters of Ordoñez whooped it up. Dominguín was aware of the humiliation and worse that these people were wishing on him. They are commonly shaped like the two-tined wooden pitchforks one still secs on Spanish farms. News commentators abused him with every pejorative word in the Spanish dictionary; and as we know, many of the most knowledgeable foreign aficionados have echoed the accusations. His skill in the arena gained dimension. And then there was 16-year-old Chula Vista resident Alberto Flores, who explained that his preference in watching a bullfight over a baseball game stemmed from "the art of it. The event regularly lures thousands of fans into the arena known as "Bullring by the Sea" and dozens of protesters to its gates.
But during this summer, he exploded on the world of the fiesta, fighting with a passionate involvement that had the crustiest critics comparing him to Manolete. The crowd was aware that he was unable to run from trouble.