The Little Spanish Dancer

CHAPTER V

IN OLD GRANADA

Catalina was the many-times-great-granddaughter of Lira, the plump little girl of ancient Cadiz. And to Catalina now belonged the magic castanets.

The Moors had taken Spain away from the savage Visigoths and had built wonderful cities, palaces, and fortresses. One of these palaces was the magnificent Alhambra, set high upon a hill above the city of Granada.

It was here that Catalina danced before Boabdil (bō´äb-dēl´), Arab ruler of the great Alhambra. And to the romantic young girl this beautiful "Red Castle" spelled fairy-land.

She loved its sheltered courts, its walls of brightly colored tiles, its patios of cypress trees and tinkling fountains. She loved the stately arches, the graceful columns, and she also loved a handsome young Moor named Hamet. He was a soldier in Boabdil's army.

But while Catalina lived in a dream of happiness, all was not so perfect with the Moorish ruler, Boabdil. The Christian monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, had reconquered the kingdom of Granada.

One night after Catalina had danced in one of the great halls, she met Hamet in the Court of the Myrtles. The moon shone down upon a crystal clear pool, and birds flew about the court like fluttering ghosts.

The two young people lowered their voices as they spoke. Hamet told Catalina of desperate battles in which the Moors were being overthrown by the Christians. He seemed much disturbed.

Finally he said, "Let us go where none can hear us. I have something strange and terrible to tell you."

He led her out upon a balcony where they stood looking down upon the city of Granada. Its little white, square fairy cubicles seemed to be lit up with stars that fell down from the sky.

"It has been said," began Hamet in a low tone, "that the court astrologer predicted the downfall of the kingdom under the reign of Boabdil!"

Catalina shrank back. What if her Hamet were to be taken away from her? This was all she could think of, and the thought tortured her. She did not consider the fate of her people. She considered only herself and what she would do, were Hamet to leave her.

A short time later, Granada did indeed fall before the Christian rulers. And upon that fateful day when the palace was seized, Hamet was obliged to ride away from Granada with Boabdil, his leader.

Outside of the city, the vanquished Boabdil handed the keys of Granada to King Ferdinand. Then he and his followers rode off into the hills. The story goes that as they reached a certain hill, Boabdil stopped to gaze down upon his beloved "Red Castle," which he would never see again. And the Moor wept.

His mother chided him, saying, "You do well to weep like a woman for what you failed to defend like a man."

The hill upon which this happened is still known as "The Last Sigh of the Moor."

But to go back to Catalina at the palace. Left alone without Hamet, she did not sigh, nor did she weep. Oh, but she did storm and rage and stamp her feet.

Catalina's temper was well known in the palace. When a servant came to summon her to dance before the new rulers, his knees shook with fright.

"Fair d-dancer," he began, "w-will you c-come – ?"

"I will not!" screamed Catalina, and threw her shoe at him.

Then the miserable girl sank down upon her couch and fell into a fit of weeping.

At twilight, Catalina stood upon that same balcony where Hamet had told her what the court astrologer had predicted. All had come true, and the conquest of Granada marked the end of Moorish power in Spain.

To Catalina came the voice of the town below. The Sierra Nevada Mountains raised their snowy tips, and the smell of little donkeys mingled with mountain perfumes.

One star shone, Moor-like, in the deep blue heaven. There was a fringe of orange light where the sun had just gone to bed, leaving his rosy night robe hanging on the sky.

But Catalina saw none of this beauty. Her eyes and her heart were blind with unreasonable rage. Fleeing from the balcony, she ran into the Myrtle Court.

Raising her pale little face to the fast-darkening sky, she cried, "I shall never, never, never dance again!"

With that, she threw her castanets into the deep pool in the center of the court. They sank quickly to the bottom, down, down in a black circle. The magic castanets!

Not until several days later, when Catalina's temper had cooled, did she suddenly remember the old verse which her grandmother had taught her:

What had she done? How could she have thrown away the magic castanets?

Quickly Catalina returned to the Myrtle Court. A palace attendant promised to search the pool for her. But when he did, the castanets were nowhere to be found.

The story goes that not until Catalina became a very old lady did she recover the castanets. And then nobody rightly knows how it came about.

But what we do know is that never again did Catalina see her sweetheart. For a year after he had left her, Hamet was killed in the wars.

If Catalina had not lost her temper, she would not have lost the magic castanets. And if she had not lost the magic castanets – well, would her story, perhaps, have been different?

CHAPTER VI

ANOTHER VISIT TO JUAN

Several days passed before Pilar was able to leave her house and go to Juan's shop – several anxious days. Because that night, her grandfather had grown worse, and she had been obliged to call the doctor.

The doctor had been coming every day since then, and Pilar could not leave her grandfather's side. Neighbors had been kind, helping with food and attentions.

Now that her grandfather was better, Pilar realized that she must repay those good neighbors. So this morning, as soon as the burning Spanish sun arose, Pilar arose, too.

She prepared her grandfather's breakfast and made him comfortable in his bed. Then she drank her thick, sweet chocolate, and off she went to Juan's shop, taking along the old wooden chest.

Juan could not help smiling when he saw her enter, weighed down by her huge burden. It looked to Juan as if the big chest should really have been carrying the little girl.

"Good morning, Señorita Pilar," he laughed. "And where is the chest taking you today?"

Pilar did not smile. Resting the chest upon the counter, she said, "Grandfather has been very ill since last I saw you, Señor Juan."

"Ah, I am sorry, child," said Juan.

"But now he is much better," added Pilar more cheerfully, "And I have brought you what I promised."

"The castanets?" asked Juan, looking at her shrewdly.

"More than the castanets, Señor Juan," answered the little girl. "For they alone will not pay you for all the money I now need."

She started to open the chest, and Juan started to shake his head. But Pilar caught his arm, and her large, dark eyes pleaded pitifully.

"Oh, take them, please, Señor Juan!" she cried. "For I need a great deal of money! The doctor says that Grandfather will not be able to work for a long time."

She pulled out of the chest the Damascene knife from Toledo, the tall comb from Barcelona, the faded fan from Valladolid, the ancient clock from El Escorial, and the saucy bonnet from Segovia.

"Here, take them, please, señor," she said. "And also – " She put her hand inside the chest and drew out the magic castanets. "These, too," she whispered, "for I promised."

Juan looked at the old wooden clappers. Then he looked at Pilar. And quite abruptly he turned around to the strong box where he kept his money. He unlocked it and took out some paper bills.

"Here, little Pilar," he said. "Here is the money for you and your grandfather. I shall keep the knife and the clock and the fan, the comb, and the bonnet. But – " He pushed away her hand which held the castanets. "Keep those, since you love them so much."

Pilar clasped the castanets to her heart and her face lit up like a thousand candles.

"Oh, Señor Juan!" she sighed. "You are so good!"

Juan patted her shoulder.

"It is all right, my child," he said. "And if, later on, you are in need of more money, bring me the castanets. I can sell them to a dancing master who would like to buy them. He is very fond of such antiques."

Pilar did not answer right away. Then she said in a sober voice, "Before I give up the castanets, Señor Juan, I shall first bring you all the rest of my souvenirs. The castanets will be the very last to go. And how I hope that I shall never, never have to part with them!"

CHAPTER VII

FOUR OLD PAINTINGS

The Moors said, "Three times three things a woman must have: white skin, white teeth, and white hands; black eyes, black brows, and black lashes; rosy lips, rosy cheeks, and rosy nails."

Little Pilar had all of these. She was a Spanish beauty. But she was not only beautiful; she was also useful. She could sew and cook and take care of a house.

If you had asked Pilar how she had learned to sew and to cook and to take care of a house, she would have shrugged her shoulders and answered, "I did not learn. I just knew."

She just knew, as she knew how to dance.

But poor Pilar had not been able to join her dancing companions in the gardens or the squares for many a day now. Her grandfather's health had not improved very much, and Pilar could seldom leave him.

As time went on, Pilar watched the money which Juan had given her gradually disappear, and at last there was no more left. But fortunately there were still souvenirs left in the chest, and these Pilar took to Juan. Four of the remaining souvenirs were old paintings.

When Juan saw them, he remarked, "These paintings are of four famous people. Let me tell you their stories."

These are the stories he told:

In the Middle Ages, when the University of Salamanca (săl´ȧ-măng´kȧ) was one of the finest in Europe, there lived a man named Luis de Leon. He was a friar. He was also one of Spain's great poets and a professor at the university.

One day as Fray Luis de Leon was teaching his class, he was seized and thrown into prison. This was during the time of the inquisition, when people were arrested for their religious beliefs.

Fray Luis remained in prison for many years. When he returned to Salamanca, everybody welcomed him, and all the important townspeople came to the university to hear him make a speech.

But Fray Luis did not make a speech. He faced the schoolroom full of his pupils and others who had come to hear him, and, taking up the daily lesson, he remarked simply, "As we were saying yesterday – " just as if he had never been away!

Salamanca sits upon the banks of the River Tormes (tôr´mās) across an old Roman bridge. It is a city of domes and spires, of quiet memories of art and culture.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived in the town of Avila (ä´vē̍-lä) a little girl named Teresa. Often Teresa would read stories to her brother. These stories were not about fairies, kings, and queens, nor even robbers. They were about saints.

Little Teresa wished very much to become a saint and to live in heaven. So one day she and her brother set off for the country of the Moors. Their reason for doing this was because they thought that they might be beheaded.

But this great pleasure was to be denied them. An uncle found them on the road and brought them home. It is a blessing that he did and that young Teresa was allowed to grow up. For she became a very holy woman, who did much good in the world.

The city of Avila seems to breathe the holiness of St. Teresa. It is surrounded by a treeless desert and giant rocks. Its perfect Roman walls clasp it tightly as if to safeguard its mystery and charm.

Do you hear the ding-donging bells of the many churches? They carry one off to dreamland. Do you hear the clink-clinking hoofs of the tiny donkeys? They carry hens and roosters to market in crates upon their backs. Avila is an old-fashioned town.

"Godfather, please give me a colt. You have so many. You will never miss one."

Rodrigo de Bivar (rō̍-drē´gō de bevär´) stood in the paddock beside his godfather, Don Pedro, a priest of Burgos (bo͞or´gōs). They were watching the horses, mares, and their colts running wild. How free and beautiful they were, with their lovely manes flowing in the breeze!

"You may choose the best for yourself, godson," said Don Pedro.

Young Rodrigo's keen eyes followed each graceful young horse as it passed. But he said nothing. He said nothing until an ugly, shaggy little animal came by.

Then he cried out, "This is the one I want, godfather!"

His godfather gave him a look of disgust.

"Babieca! (babie´ca) (Foolish one!)" he scolded. "This is indeed a stupid choice!"

Rodrigo was not dismayed. Smiling, he said, "Babieca shall be my horse's name!"

It was this same Babieca, or Booby, who carried Rodrigo de Bivar through his many famous battles. It was Babieca, too, who is supposed to have wept over his master when the great warrior-lord died.

For young Rodrigo became Spain's most celebrated hero, the Cid, about whom songs have been sung and tales have been spun. Many of these are, of course, only romance and legend. But the Cid did indeed live and triumph.

One of his greatest victories was the conquest of that rich and beautiful city, Valencia (vȧ-lĕn´shĭ-ȧ), which is still called Valencia del Cid.

"Please, a little food and shelter. We are very hungry and tired!"

The man was Christopher Columbus, and the child, Diego, his son. Weary and discouraged, they had arrived at the monastery of La Rabita.

For a long time, Christopher Columbus had been trying to interest the Spanish court in his scheme to sail across the unknown ocean. He thought that by sailing west he would reach Asia.

But the King and Queen were busy with their struggles against the Moors, and they would not listen to him.

The kind monks at the monastery of La Rabita sheltered Columbus and his little son. They also gave heed to his eager hopes and plans, and at last Prior Perez of the monastery wrote a letter to Queen Isabella.

As we well know, Queen Isabella made it possible for Christopher Columbus to sail across the ocean and discover America. But nobody yet has really discovered Christopher Columbus.

Where was he born? Some say in Italy, others, in northern Spain. Perhaps Columbus was a Jew who changed his religion and nationality. This could well have been, because at that time the Jews in Spain were being tortured and sent away from their country.

When Columbus returned from his famous voyage, he was received in Barcelona by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. They made him Lord High Admiral of the Ocean Sea and Hereditary Viceroy of the New World.

But after the death of the Queen, Columbus was badly treated by King Ferdinand, and he died in poverty and despair at a miserable inn.

When Juan had finished telling the stories about the four paintings, Pilar asked, "Will you buy them from me, Señor Juan?"

Juan answered, "Yes, if you really must sell them, Pilar. But I wish that you might keep them, for they are very fine."

"I need the money," said Pilar simply.

"Then why not let me sell those ugly castanets?" inquired Juan. "The dancing master will willingly pay for them."

"No, no!" cried Pilar. "They shall be the last to go."

So Juan took the four paintings and gave Pilar money for them. And now there remained in the wooden chest only three souvenirs. One was a bottle of old wine, one a small dagger, and one the magic castanets.

CHAPTER VIII

FIESTA

Fiestas (fyĕs´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 wine, which had come from a well-known cellar of Jerez (hā̍-rāth´), once called Scheriz.

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´dō̍-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 spoiled what cannot be found anywhere else.

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.

One sees in Cordoba those broad-brimmed hats which belong to that part of Spain called Andalucia (än´dä-lo͞o-thē´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´dăl-kwĭv´ẽr) River, went the crowd of young people. They passed the Torre del Oro (tôr´rā̍ dĕl ō´rō) (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. Lanterns were strung from poles. Booths lined the square. Nuts and fruits and cakes were sold. There were small wagons where men fried long, golden cakes like the doughnut.

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.