Gellar, among jostling of popular acclaim, having to defend himself with his elbows on the eager hands reached the step of the carriage, being aided in their ascent by an enthusiasm that was stroking the back with violent contacts.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen said briefly to his crew.

He sat back, next to the stirrup, for all to behold, and smiled, answering with nods to the cries of some women and short ragged applause that started the little boys newsboys.

The carriage started with all the momentum of the brave mules, filling the streets of cheerful jingle. The crowd opened to make way for cattle, but many rushed into the carriage as if to fall under its wheels. Agitábanse hats and canes: a shiver of excitement ran through the crowd, one of those infections and waving to the masses go crazy at certain times, making everyone cry without knowing why:

– Brave men Olé! … Long live Spain!

Gellar, always pale and smiling, waving, repeating “many grasias” touched by the contagion of popular enthusiasm and proud of their worth, linking his name to the country.

A round of “bays” and shaggy little boys followed the car at full speed of his legs, as if at the end of the mad rush awaits extraordinary.