Juanito's brother, Lorenzo. just dismounting from his horse, was not overjoyed to see the two men together. He, too, fought the bulls. He was not yet acclaimed as famous, but he was progressing, and his name would soon be featured alongside his brother's-maybe even before his brother's. Lorenzo was angry-not because he was not to display his skill with a bull today, but because he wanted now what his brother Juanito was sure of possessing this young man, the fascinating Señor Manuel Rodriguez. Lorenzo stamped his booted foot in anger, jangling the spur.

The grounds of the Mission and hospice, once considered sacred by the Padres, were being trampled by a careless crowd. A tequila bottle was smashed against the fallen-down fence of the old cemetery where Padres and Indians rested together. A drunken peon pissed on the hospice wall. The aroma of cooking beans and tortillas was carried by the breezes into the ruined interior of the chapel, where the sounds of glorious hymns once vibrated.

As if in retaliation, the spell of the Mission San Fernando Rey de España was weaving four threads into a pattern of love and death. On the first thread hung a famous, love-sick bullfighter named Juanito; on the second, a much desired Spaniard named Manuel Rodriguez; on the third thread, a jealous brother named Lorenzo and on the fourth and final thread, a black bull, soon to be made mad.

"After I kill el toro and when we leave here, we are to be guests in the home of Pio Pico." Juanito, final preparations being made upon him by the valet, spoke lovingly to Manuel.

"That pig!"

"How you talk, Manuel. You sound as if you despise him.”

"I do. He reminds me of a pig. a gluttonous pig, filthy rich and not knowing what to do with his money. He has to buy up all the Missions for his own greedy pleasure and then he lets them fall into ruins like this one."

"He is the governor, remember, do not speak too harshly of him. Besides. he leased this land to his brother Andres."

"Then why doesn't he take better care of it?"

"Andres used it for a summer residence not too long ago," interrupted the valet. "Now that he has departed from here they plan to make it into a hog farm."

"That's just fine!" Manuel said. "They couldn't make this place any lower!" "It's only an old ruined Mission. mi amor, why do you concern yourself so?" "That's just it, because it was once a place to worship God, what they do to it now is sacriledge. I hate to see this happen, I hate to be here. Why did we have to come here, Juanito, why couldn't we have stayed in Mexico City?"

"Is Mexico City your whole world? I thought you were ambitious like me. I intend to go soon to Spain and to fight in the arenas there. And it is planned for you to go with me. I came here because my public asked me to, though I admit, I have fought in far better places than this."

"Well... let us not speak of it anymore. You know that I will follow wherever you go."

"Oh, mi amor, mi amor." He went to Manuel.

Lorenzo swatted angrily at the flies buzzing about his head. Between swallows of warm Mexican beer, he watched a señorita with clicking castinets dancing impetuously on a small raised platform. Each member of the little band supplying the music seemed to be playing a different tune, but the whole seemed.

11