Not until the surgeon said, 'You will live,
but your bull-fighting days are done,' did he lose his nerve. He had
been pale, but he went paler then. The globes of sweat collected on his
forehead. 'Oh, no, no, doctor!' he cried and fainted.
"That night Cogan slipped away from a party of American blue-jackets who
wanted to paint Lima in high colors for him, and went down to see
Torellas, who had been taken to his home, a fine, large house on a wide
street. A crowd was in the street, waiting for word of his condition.
"Ferrero met him at the door. 'They wait for you, good friend.'
"'They? Who?'
"'Oh, you shall see.' And he led Cogan to the second floor, to where a
fine suite of rooms opened from the wide hall. Her father and Juan were
in the outer room.
"These two clasped him to their bosoms. 'You brave one,' said her
father--and 'Bueno Americano!'--said Uncle Juan, and patted him on the
head as if he were a son. 'He will live--Oh, be sure of that. But never
will he fight bulls again. Never, never. And that is sad. But we have
him. Let us not mourn. And you'--Juan raised both hands high--'you and
Torellas--I love you both.'
"Cogan thought he heard her voice, the voice which never in his life he
had heard, and hesitated. 'Proceed,' said her father, and pushed him
toward the door of the middle room. 'She is there. And Tina--you
remember Tina--that night in Colon? She is also there.
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