  Fiestas (fyes´tÄs) (festivals) and fairs are the joy of the Spanish people. Some are held upon saints' days. In Spain one celebrates the birthday of the saint for whom one is named. Tonight there was a fiesta in Triana, which is across the bridge from Seville. It is where the gypsies live. Pilar was on her way to Triana with a group of her friends. She was dressed in her dancing costume. She wanted to dance and use her magic castanets. This would be the last time she could do so. For of all her mother's souvenirs, only the castanets were now left. And tomorrow—
But Pilar did not like to think about that tomorrow. Juan had sold everything else out of the wooden chest. Everything else had gone, even the wooden chest itself—gone to pay for food and medicines. He had sold the very old bottle of sherry In this cellar there is a cluster of huge barrels, upon which are written noted names, such as the Prince of Wales' and our own President's. They contain wines made in the year of each person's birth. A family of well-trained mice lives in this cellar. When the attendant rings a bell and scatters bread upon the floor, these tiny creatures run out from behind the barrels. Juan had also sold the small dagger of Moorish design. It had come from the town of Cordoba (kÔr´do?-vÄ), once an important center. The famous Mosque of Cordoba, with its striped arches, was built by the Moors. But it has since been made into a Christian church. King Charles V is supposed to have said to the Christian builders, "You have built what can be found anywhere, but you have
Cordoba is a white city of twisting streets. There are golden knobs upon some of the doors; ragged beggars fill the streets; and children seem to grow in doorways. ANDALUSIAN HAT ANDALUSIAN HAT One sees in Cordoba those broad-brimmed hats which belong to that part of Spain called Andalucia (Än´dÄ-lo?o-the´Ä). A legend tells how Andalucia received its name. Every saint in heaven had been given a spot over which to rule—every one, except poor little Saint Lucia. So she searched the world for a country, but most of the world had already been taken by other saints. One day, however, she came to a land of sunshine and flowers, with which she was delighted. She asked if she might have it for her own, and a mysterious voice answered and said to her, "Anda, Lucia! (Go there, Lucia!)" And that is why, the legend tells, this sunny part of Spain is called Andalucia. Seville, too, is in Andalucia; and now let us go back to Seville and to Pilar. Tonight Pilar had left her grandfather for the first time in many evenings. A neighbor had kindly offered to stay with him while she went to the fiesta. Pilar's heart had been crying out for music and dancing. Across the bridge, over the Guadalquivir (gwÄ´dal-kwiv´?r) River, went the crowd of young people. They passed the Torre del Oro (tÔr´ra? del o´ro) (Tower of Gold), where treasure once was stored. In Triana there are many pottery shops; also there is a large American olive factory. It is said that the best olives are grown in sight of the Giralda Tower, which is in Seville.
At the fiesta, music and song filled the air. Shawls, laces, paintings, toys, and fans for sale. Merry-go-rounds, sideshows, dancing, and more dancing. Pilar and her friends whirled about, kicking their legs, pointing their toes, rolling their eyes, and rippling their castanets. At last, tired, but filled with rhythm and harmony, the group started for home. After Pilar had left the fiesta, however, somebody asked about her. That somebody was a great dancing master. He asked, "Who was that little beauty in the white costume trimmed with green? She played a pair of golden-voiced castanets. Where does she live? I should like to have her as my pupil."
But nobody in Triana knew where Pilar lived, and, of course, her name is a common one in Spain. On the way home, Pilar's spirits began to fall. She began to think of having to part with her precious castanets. How she wished that there might be some other way of—! Suddenly she remembered Tony—Tony, the boy who had played bullfight with Juan years ago. It was weeks now since Juan had sent the old red cape to America and had written to Tony. Juan had said that Tony was rich and generous and that he would help Pilar and her grandfather because he would remember Pilar's mother. But Pilar had begun to wonder whether Tony really would. When she reached home, all the excitement of the fiesta had worn away. She was very unhappy. Tomorrow she must give up the castanets. Juan had said that he could Pilar started to undress. She unpinned the brooch that fastened her costume at the throat. And all at once, her face lit up with a wonderful new idea. She would take this brooch to Juan tomorrow. It was her own, part of her dancing costume. But she would far rather part with it than with her mother's castanets. The brooch was a small painting called a miniature. It was the likeness of young Prince Alfonso, the brother of Queen Isabella of Spain. Pilar hurried off to bed. And while she sleeps, let us listen to the "Mystery of the Young Prince." |
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