FIESTA
Fiestas (fy[)e]s´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--
[Illustration: PILAR IN HER COSTUME]
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 (h[+a]-r[=a]th´), 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´d[+o]-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.
[Illustration: THE MOSQUE, CORDOBA]
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-l[=oo]-th[=e]´ä).
[Illustration: ANDALUSIAN HAT]
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´d[)a]l-kw[)i]v´[~e]r)
River, went the crowd of young people. They passed the Torre del Oro
(tôr´r[+a] d[)e]l [=o]´r[=o]) (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.
[Illustration: A FIELD NEAR CORDOBA]
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."
[Illustration: A DOUGHNUT STAND]
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 sell them to a dancing master, who paid handsomely
for antiques.
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."