So, twisting, plunging, rearing, he was worked down the arena.

As he came opposite a box in which sat a tall young man in evening clothes the latter rose and shouted: "Bravo!" The fury of the stallion, searching on all sides for a vent but distracted from one torment to another, centred suddenly on this slender figure.

He swerved and rushed for the barrier with ears flat back and bloodshot eyes.

There he reared and struck at the wood with his great front hoofs; the boards splintered and shivered under the blows.
As for the youth in the box, he remained quietly erect before this brute rage.

A fleck of red foam fell on the white front of his shirt.