One time there was a bull and his name was not Ferdinand and he cared nothing for flowers. He loved to fight and he fought with all the other bulls of his own age， or any age， and he was a champion.

His horns2） were as solid as wood and they were as sharply pointed as the quill3） of a porcupine4）. They hurt him， at the base， when he fought and he did not care at all. His neck muscles lifted in a great lump that is called in Spanish the morillo5） and this morillo lifted like a hill when he was ready to fight. He was always ready to fight and his coat was black and shining and his eyes were clear.

Anything made him want to fight and he would fight with deadly seriousness exactly as some people eat or read or go to church. Each time he fought he fought to kill and the other bulls were not afraid of him because they came of6） good blood and were not afraid. But they had no wish to provoke7） him. Nor did they wish to fight him.

He was not a bully8） nor was he wicked， but he liked to fight as men might like to sing or to be the King or the President. He never thought at all. Fighting was his obligation and his duty and his joy.

He fought on the stony， high ground. He fought under the cork-oak9） trees and he fought in the good pasture by the river. He walked fifteen miles each day from the river to the high， stony ground and he would fight any bull that looked at him. Still he was never angry.

That is not really true， for he was angry inside himself. But he did not know why， because he could not think. He was very noble and he loved to fight.

So what happened to him？ The man who owned him， if anyone can own such an animal， knew what a great bull he was and still he was worried because this bull cost him so much money by fighting with other bulls. Each bull was worth over one thousand dollars and after they had fought the great bull they were worth less than two hundred dollars and sometimes less than that.

So the man， who was a good man， decided that he would keep the blood of this bull in all of his stock10） rather than send him to the ring11） to be killed. So he selected him for breeding.

But this bull was a strange bull. When they first turned him into the pasture with the breeding cows， he saw one who was young and beautiful and slimmer and better muscled and shinier and more lovely than all the others. So， since he could not fight， he fell in love with her and he paid no attention to any of the others. He only wanted to be with her， and the others meant nothing to him at all.

The man who owned the bull ranch12） hoped that the bull would change， or learn， or be different than he was. But the bull was the same and he loved whom he loved and no one else. He only wanted to be with her， and the others meant nothing to him at all.

So the man sent him away with five other bulls to be killed in the ring， and at least the bull could fight， even though he was faithful. He fought wonderfully and everyone admired him and the man who killed him admired him the most. But the fighting jacket of the man who killed him and who is called the matador13） was wet through by the end， and his mouth was very dry.

"Que toro más bravo，" the matador said as he handed his sword to his sword handler14）. He handed it with the hilt15） up and the blade dripping with the blood from the heart of the brave bull who no longer had any problems of any kind and was being dragged out of the ring by four horses.

"Yes. He was the one the Marqués16） of Villamayor17） had to get rid of because he was faithful，" the sword handler， who knew everything， said.

"Perhaps we should all be faithful，" the matador said.

從前有一頭公牛，他不叫費(fèi)迪南德，也一點(diǎn)兒都不喜歡花。他好戰(zhàn)愛斗，他和其他所有的公牛斗，同齡不同齡的他都斗，是個常勝將軍。

他的犄角像木頭一樣結(jié)實(shí)，像豪豬的刺一樣尖銳無比。在打斗時，犄角根部頂?shù)盟?，他卻毫不在乎。他脖子上的肌肉隆起成一大塊，在西班牙語中這叫morillo，當(dāng)他準(zhǔn)備戰(zhàn)斗時，這團(tuán)肌肉就會高聳如山。他總是一副準(zhǔn)備好要戰(zhàn)斗的樣子，他的毛皮烏黑油亮，眼睛清澈通透。

無論是什么事兒挑起了他的戰(zhàn)斗欲望，他都會一本正經(jīng)地去斗，那股子較真勁兒就跟有些人吃飯、讀書或做禮拜一模一樣。每次打斗他都要置對手于死地，不過其他公牛并不怕他，因為他們都是血統(tǒng)高貴的公牛，所以不害怕。但他們決不想招惹他，也不想跟他斗。

他不會恃強(qiáng)凌弱，也沒有壞心眼，但他就是喜歡斗，就像男人可能喜歡唱歌或是喜歡當(dāng)國王或總統(tǒng)一樣。他從不思考。斗是他的責(zé)任，是他的本分，也是他的快樂。

他在山石嶙峋的高地上斗，在軟木橡樹下斗，在河邊美麗的牧場上斗。他每天走15英里，從河邊一直走到山石嶙峋的高地上，只要有哪頭公?？此谎?，他就要和人家干上一架。但他從不動怒。

這么說其實(shí)也不對，因為他內(nèi)心深處有一團(tuán)怒火。但他不知道為什么會這樣，因為他不會思考。他是一頭品格高尚的牛，他就愛斗。

那么他的命運(yùn)如何呢？這頭牛的主人（假如這樣的牛也能有主人的話）知道他是一頭了不起的牛，但主人依然很擔(dān)心，因為這頭牛成天找別的公牛斗，害他破費(fèi)不少。每頭公牛價值1000多美元，跟這頭了不起的牛斗過之后，就只值不到200美元，有時甚至更少。

于是他的主人——這個好心人——決定不把他送去斗牛場任人殘殺，而要把他的血統(tǒng)留下來，留在他的牛群里。所以他選了這頭公牛來配種。

但這是頭不尋常的公牛。當(dāng)他們第一次把他送到牧場，送到那些等待配種的母牛身邊時，他一眼就看中了一頭年輕、漂亮的母牛。這頭母牛比其他所有的母牛更苗條，肌肉更發(fā)達(dá)，毛皮更有光澤，看上去也更可愛。既然他不能斗了，于是他就愛上了她，對其他所有母牛都不理不睬。他只想和她在一起，其他母牛在他眼里根本什么都不是。

這位養(yǎng)牛的牧場主本來指望這頭公牛會有所改變，會開竅，或者不會像現(xiàn)在這樣。但這頭公牛始終如一，他一心一意地愛著他的愛人，眼里容不下其他母牛。他只想和她在一起，其他母牛在他眼里根本什么都不是。

于是他的主人把他和其他五頭公牛一起送進(jìn)了斗牛場，去接受死亡的命運(yùn)。盡管這頭公牛對他的愛人忠貞不二，但至少他可以酣暢淋漓地斗一場。他在這場對決中表現(xiàn)得非常出色，人人都對他贊譽(yù)有加，而最欽佩他的還是殺死他的那個人。但這個最終殺死他、被稱為“斗牛士”的人到對決結(jié)束時，身上的那件戰(zhàn)衣全都濕透了，嘴也干得厲害。

“這頭公牛真是勇敢極了。”斗牛士把劍交給他的助手時說。他遞劍時劍柄朝上，從那頭勇敢的公牛心臟里流出的血順著劍刃往下滴。這頭公牛如今什么煩惱都沒有了，這會兒正被四匹馬拖出斗牛場。

“沒錯。他就是比利亞邁奧爾侯爵的那頭牛，因為他太忠貞不渝了，所以侯爵不得不把他處理掉。” 那個助手說，他可是個無所不知的包打聽。

“或許我們都應(yīng)該忠貞不渝?！倍放Ｊ空f。