It could not last long.

The bear was enraged.

Its movements became swifter, its vicious teeth and lips were covered with froth, which dripped to the floor, and sometimes spattered Ferrol's clothes as he ran past.

No matador ever played with the horns of a mad bull as Ferrol played his deadly game with Michael, the dancing bear.

His breath was becoming shorter and shorter; he had a stifling sensation, a terrible tightness across his chest.