In the jampacked Plaza de Toros at Tampico, Mexico, 5,000 aficionados sat stock-still one afternoon last week. In the centre of the ring, glistening in the sunlight, a wisp of a girl stood directly in the path of a charging bull, heels together, her sword poised ready for the kill. With one businesslike thrust over his horns and between the shoulder blades, the bull crumpled to the sand, shuddered, lay dead.
From the boxes on the shady side, elegant ladies waved their lace handkerchiefs. In the sol (sunny side), two-peso fans whistled and yelled, tossed their hats into the ring. Conchita had...
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