Don Enrique when he heard where we were from, spoke to us in English. He appeared to be a well-educated, gentlemanly sort of person.
"And you go to see the bullfight to-morrow, yes?" he asked the Doctor pleasantly.
"Certainly not," said John Dolittle firmly. "I don't like bullfights-- cruel, cowardly shows."
Don Enrique nearly exploded. I never saw a man get so excited.
He told the Doctor that he didn't know what he was talking about.
He said bullfighting was a noble sport and that the matadors were the bravest men in the world.
"Oh, rubbish!" said the Doctor. "You never give the poor bull a chance. It is only when he is all tired and dazed that your precious matadors dare to try and kill him."
I thought the Spaniard was going to strike the Doctor he got so angry. While he was still spluttering to find words, the bed-maker came between them and took the Doctor aside. He explained to John Dolittle in a whisper that this Don Enrique Cardenas was a very important person; that he it was who supplied the bulls--a special, strong black kind-- from his own farm for all the bullfights in the Capa Blancas. He was a very rich man, the bed-maker said, a most important personage. He mustn't be allowed to take offense on any account.
I watched the Doctor's face as the bed-maker finished, and I saw a flash of boyish mischief come into his eyes as though an idea had struck him. He turned to the angry Spaniard.
"Don Enrique," he said, "you tell me your bullfighters are very brave men and skilful. It seems I have offended you by saying that bullfighting is a poor sport. What is the name of the best matador you have for to-morrow's show?"