THE LITTLE
SPANISH DANCER
[Illustration: A STREET IN SEVILLE]
_The_ LITTLE
SPANISH DANCER
BY
MADELINE BRANDEIS
_Photographic Illustrations_
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
_by arrangement with the A. Flanagan Company_
COPYRIGHT, 1936, BY A. FLANAGAN COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
AN INTERNATIONAL DEDICATION
TO
AILEEN
MY "PARISIAN" SISTER, HER "RUMANIAN" HUSBAND, AND THE MEMORY OF THE
"RUSSIAN" BALLET DANCING WHICH SHE USED TO DO IN "AMERICA" WHEN SHE
WAS THE AGE OF LITTLE "SPANISH" PILAR!
* * * * *
NOTE
The photographs in this book were taken in Spain by the author.
The character of "The Little Spanish Dancer" is portrayed by Pilar
Herrera, of Seville, a charming little girl, whom we wish to thank
for helping to decorate this book.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Chapter I
The Magic Castanets 9
Chapter II
An Old Red Cape 20
Chapter III
In Old Cadiz (A Legend of the Castanets) 32
Chapter IV
The Souvenirs Speak 44
Chapter V
In Old Granada (A Legend of the Castanets) 61
Chapter VI
Another Visit to Juan 71
Chapter VII
Four Old Paintings 77
Chapter VIII
Fiesta 89
Chapter IX
The Mystery of the Young Prince 100
Chapter X
A Stout Sweetheart 115
Chapter XI
Dance of the Six (A Legend of the Castanets) 123
Chapter XII
Pilar's Grandfather Remembers 134
Chapter XIII
Bullfight in Madrid (A Legend of the Castanets) 138
Chapter XIV
Where Is Pilar? 156
Chapter XV
A Stranger Arrives 163
Pronouncing Vocabulary 175
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A STREET IN SEVILLE 2
THE LITTLE SPANISH DANCER 8
DANCING IN A PUBLIC SQUARE, SEVILLE 11
WHEN PILAR WAS LITTLE 14
PILAR KNELT DOWN BESIDE THE CHEST 17
GIRALDA TOWER, SEVILLE 19
STREET OF THE SERPENTS 21
ALCAZAR GARDENS, SEVILLE 25
JUAN, THE SHOPKEEPER 27
SEVILLE 29
CADIZ 33
STREET OF THE SERPENTS 36
ALCAZAR GARDENS, SEVILLE 40
SEVILLE 43
HOW COULD SHE GIVE THEM UP? 46
PUERTO DEL SOL, TOLEDO 49
BARCELONA 51
TOMB OF THE CHILDREN, EL ESCORIAL 54
PILAR LOOKED AT THE FAN 56
GYPSIES, GRANADA 60
GENERALIFE GARDENS, ALHAMBRA 62
BOABDIL SURRENDERING TO FERDINAND 66
GRANADA 68
POTTERY SHOP, TRIANA 74
COURT OF DOLLS, ALCAZAR 76
PILAR 78
SALAMANCA 82
ST. TERESA CONVENT, AVILA 84
PILAR IN HER COSTUME 90
THE MOSQUE, CORDOBA 92
ANDALUSIAN HAT 93
A FIELD NEAR CORDOBA 95
A DOUGHNUT STAND 97
AVILA 103
PARK IN MADRID, STATUE OF KING ALFONSO 107
BURGOS CATHEDRAL 109
MIRAFLORES MONASTERY, BURGOS 112
TOMBS OF FERDINAND AND ISABELLA, GRANADA CATHEDRAL 114
GIRL-DRAPED BALCONIES 117
GIBRALTAR 120
ALHAMBRA 122
DANCE OF THE SIX, SEVILLE CATHEDRAL 125
BOYS PLAYING BULLFIGHT 136
BULLFIGHT, MADRID 137
MADRID 144
_From a Painting by Goya_ DOÑA ISABEL CORBO DE
PORCEL 147
BULLFIGHT, MADRID 151
THE PRADO, MADRID 155
TOLEDO 159
TRIANA BRIDGE, SEVILLE 162
A NET MAKER, SEVILLE 166
TOLEDO 169
PILAR AND HER GRANDFATHER 172
[Illustration: THE LITTLE SPANISH DANCER]
The Little Spanish Dancer
CHAPTER I
THE MAGIC CASTANETS
Pilar was dancing in the Murillo (m[+u]-r[)i]l´[=o]) Garden. It was a
beautiful public garden named after the great Spanish painter, Murillo,
who died in a house near by.
Pilar had been born ten years ago in this old city of Seville
(s[+e]-v[)i]l´). If you had asked Pilar, "Where is New York?" she would
doubtless have laughed with her lovely dark eyes and inquired, "Is it in
Seville?" Because, to Pilar, as to most of her friends, there was only
one world, and that world was Seville.
Now a terrible thing was happening at Pilar's home this evening. But
Pilar did not know it because she was dancing in the garden. Every
night, after her grandfather went to bed, she ran off and danced with
her friends to the music of a hurdy-gurdy.
But tonight, after Pilar had left, her grandfather had been taken very
ill. The neighbors had sent for a doctor, who shook his head gravely
over the poor old man.
Pilar knew nothing about this as she clicked her castanets and whirled
about in the dance they call the Sevillana.
She was one of the best dancers in her group. And why not? Her mother
had been a dancer; her grandmother, too, yes, and her great-grandmother
and her great-great--oh, ever so many great-grandmothers! They had all
been dancers.
Pilar's parents had died when she was a baby. She lived alone with her
grandfather, and they struggled to keep the wolf named Hunger from
their door. Her grandfather was a shoemaker, but he worked slowly these
days because his hands were old.
[Illustration: DANCING IN A PUBLIC SQUARE, SEVILLE]
Once when Pilar was very little, someone had asked her what pleasures
she enjoyed most. She had answered, "The pleasures I enjoy most
are--dancing!"
Now this could easily be the answer of every little girl in southern
Spain. For while Italy sings, France designs, and Switzerland skates,
Spain dances. Why, it is even possible that little girls in Seville
would rather dance than go to moving picture shows!
Yet everyone in Seville does not feel that way, for the many open air
theaters all over the city are crowded. And what the people seem to like
best are the American comedies.
It was growing late, but Pilar seldom went to bed before midnight. She
would have told you that evening was the time to live and to laugh and
to dance. Then it was cool, while during the day the sun beat down
cruelly and people slept for hours.
Through the narrow streets Pilar made her way home at last. She heard
little snatches of song from the throats of strollers.
Everyone strolls in Seville; there is no hurry. Nearly everyone sings;
there is no worry. Hurry and worry are as much out of place in this city
as a woman's hat shop. For white flowers and black lace shawls take the
place of hats in Seville.
Pilar hummed to herself as she walked along. Some day she would grow up
to be a great dancer like her mother and--
What was that? A light in her house? She looked through the window and
saw the doctor bending over her grandfather's bed.
Pilar caught her breath. Then she rushed indoors and ran straight to her
grandfather's bedside. Sinking down on her knees, she burst into tears.
"Oh, Grandfather!" she cried. "You are ill! Dear Grandfather, what is
the matter?"
The doctor smoothed her soft, black hair and raised her to her feet.
"There, now, my child," he said. "You must not cry. You will only make
your grandfather worse. He will get well if you will do what I tell
you."
[Illustration: WHEN PILAR WAS LITTLE]
"What--what is that, doctor?" Poor Pilar was trembling.
"You must buy and cook good, nourishing food for him," said the doctor.
"And give him the medicines which I order."
Now Pilar's eyes were full of terror. "But, oh, doctor," she cried. "I
cannot do that. We have no money."
"No money?" The doctor looked at her pityingly.
"We live by what Grandfather makes when he can work," said Pilar. "Now
that he cannot work, there will be no money."
The doctor said, "Um-m" and stroked his beard. Then he asked, "Have you
nothing which you might sell?"
"Only--" And Pilar gazed into her tiny cubbyhole of a room next door.
"Only an old wooden chest filled with souvenirs, left to me by my
mother." She added in a whisper, "I could not sell them!"
The doctor was silent for a moment. Then he said, "I am afraid you must
sell them, Pilar, if you wish your grandfather to live."
When the doctor was gone, Pilar went into her room and looked at the
precious wooden chest. In it were the souvenirs which her mother had
collected throughout her interesting life as a dancer.
The doctor had given her grandfather medicine, and now he slept. But
what would happen in the morning?
Pilar shuddered. She was only a little girl, and she was afraid. The
doctor had said that her grandfather must have the best of everything,
or maybe he would die.
A tear splashed down upon the old, carved chest. There was only one
thing to do. Tomorrow she would go into town and sell one of her
mother's souvenirs so that she might buy medicine and food.
She brushed away the tears and began to look through her treasures.
There were a tall, graceful comb; a faded, but elegant fan; a richly
decorated old bonnet; oh, such lovely things! How could she ever part
with them?
She pulled out a pair of castanets (k[)a]s´-t[.a]-n[)e]ts´). Now, in
Spain, it seems that every baby is born with a pair of castanets in its
hand. Of course, I only said, "It seems." Yet some of the tiniest tots
are taught to click these wooden clappers to the rhythm of the
traditional Spanish songs and dances.
Castanets are shaped very much like chestnuts. They say that this is why
they are called castanuellos, which means "chestnuts" in Spanish.
[Illustration: PILAR KNELT DOWN BESIDE THE CHEST]
But those which had belonged to Pilar's mother were no ordinary
castanets. Indeed, they were said to possess some wonderful and
dangerous power.
Mysterious legends had passed from mother to daughter down through
Pilar's family. Each legend told of trouble caused by the loss of these
castanets. For whenever they had been lost, given, stolen, or sold,
misfortune had come to their owners.
A bit of verse, composed, no doubt, by the first ancestor who had used
them, warned thus:
"_Castanets, with magic spell,
Never lose or give or sell;
If you do, then grief and strife
Will follow you through all your life._"
But Pilar had never heard the old rime. Nor had her grandfather ever
told her the strange legends. He did not want to frighten her. Besides,
he realized that modern, educated people would have called such beliefs
very foolish.
So Pilar did not know about the power of the magic castanets, and she
fell asleep that night with these words going through her head: "Which
souvenir shall I sell tomorrow? Which one shall it be?"
[Illustration: GIRALDA TOWER, SEVILLE]