And once more, the shock of amazement almost made her lose consciousness. She heard the confused small applause of amusement from the mob. And that Pole, to whom Owen had introduced her, leaned over and said to her, in horrible English:
"Now, Miss Leslie, you are seeing Life! Now you will have something to write about, in your letters to England."
She looked at his unwholesome face in complete repulsion, and wished Owen would not introduce her to such sordid individuals.
She looked at Owen. His nose had a sharp look, like a little boy who may make himself sick, but who is watching at the shambles with all his eyes, knowing it is forbidden.
Villiers, the younger generation, looked intense and abstract, getting the sensation. He would not even feel sick. He was just getting the thrill of it, without emotion, coldly and scientifically, but very intent.
And Kate felt a real pang of hatred against this Americanism which is coldly and unscrupulously sensational.
"Why doesn't the horse move? Why doesn't it run away from the bull?" she asked in repelled amazement, of Owen.
Owen cleared his throat.
"Didn't you see? It was blindfolded," he said.
"But can't it smell the bull?" she asked.
"Apparently not.—They bring the old wrecks here to finish them off.—I know it's awful, but it's part of the game."
How Kate hated phrases like "part of the game." What do they mean, anyhow! She felt utterly humiliated, crushed by a sense of human indecency, cowardice of two-legged humanity. In this "brave" show she felt nothing but reeking cowardice. Her breeding and her natural pride were outraged.
The ring servants had cleaned away the mess and spread new sand. The toreadors were playing with the bull, unfurling their foolish cloaks at arm's length. And the animal, with the red sore running on his shoulder, foolishly capered and ran from one rag to the other, here and there.
For the first time, a bull seemed to her a fool. She had always been afraid of bulls, fear tempered with reverence of the great Mithraic beast. And now she saw how stupid he was, in spite of his long horns and his massive maleness.
