“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 fashionably-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 passed 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.