BULLFIGHT IN MADRID
(A LEGEND OF THE CASTANETS)
In the opera, "Carmen," a girl who works in a cigarette factory of
Seville, is loved by a torero, or bullfighter.
The Carmen of this story did not work in a cigarette factory. She was a
dancer. But she, too, had an admirer who was a torero. His name was
Pedro.
In a few days Pedro was going to fight in a most important corrida, or
bullfight, in the city of Madrid. He was going to fight a very fierce
and savage bull. But, strange to say, Pedro did not want to kill that
bull.
Now, as a general rule, toreros would rather kill bulls than be killed
by them, for which you cannot blame the toreros.
In this case, however, it was different. Pedro's father had raised this
great bull, Rey, and Pedro was very fond of the animal. In a few days he
was expected to go into the arena and kill his pet.
Often Pedro took his little friend Carmen to visit Rey, who lived in a
field outside the city. Today they had come out for the last time before
the famous bullfight was to take place.
Both were very sad. Carmen, too, had grown to love Rey, and the big
creature seemed fond of her.
Sometimes the girl would practice upon her castanets out in the field.
And always when Rey heard the clicking song of the instruments, he would
come up close to the young couple and stand quietly listening.
Do you wonder that this was a sorrowful day in the lives of Carmen and
Pedro?
"If only we could think of some way to save him!" sighed Carmen.
She and Pedro sat upon a fence in the field. Around them rose mountains,
hazy in the sun. Small stone houses cuddled among old scrub oak trees.
Suddenly Pedro's eyes sparkled. "I have it!" he cried. "I have a plan!
Do you remember the bull whose life was saved during a bullfight,
because he came to his owner when he was called?"
Carmen nodded. She remembered well. All Spain had heard of it.
"Then why should not Rey, too, be given this chance?" asked Pedro. "Why
should he not be spared if he answers a call?"
"But who will call him?" asked Carmen.
"You," answered Pedro. "You, with your castanets."
"Like this," said Carmen, and she started to play.
Softly she played, then more and more loudly, until the great bull
appeared at the other end of the field. He stood looking at the boy and
the girl and, all at once, he started toward them, like a big, friendly
dog.
"You see!" exclaimed Pedro joyfully. "Now on Sunday, when I am fighting
with him in the arena, you, from the audience, will play your castanets
as you just did. If he turns and goes to you, I am sure that the judges
will spare his life."
"This is a wonderful plan, Pedro," smiled the lovely little Carmen. "And
I am certain that it will succeed, because, you see--" She hesitated for
a moment. Then she continued, "Because these castanets are enchanted!"
"Enchanted?" Pedro laughed. "That cannot be! Yet when you play them,
it is I who am enchanted, my Carmen!"
Carmen did not laugh, however. She looked down soberly at her castanets.
"Legends are told in our family," she said, "about the magic power of
these castanets. Whenever one of us has lost or sold or given them away,
misfortune has overtaken us."
Whereupon, she recited this verse:
"_Castanets, with magic spell,
Never lose or give or sell;
If you do, then grief and strife
Will follow you through all your life._"
"Then whatever happens, do not lose them before next Sunday," warned
Pedro, smiling.
As the young couple arose to go, Carmen gave a start.
"Did you see a figure sneak out from behind that tree and
disappear?" she asked Pedro.
"No, I did not," he answered. "And you are full of mystery today, little
Carmen!" He was laughing at her again. "Come. Let us go home now before
you see a ghost."
But Carmen had been right. There had indeed been a figure behind that
tree--someone with very sharp ears, who had listened to all they had
said.
He was no mystery--this figure--but a very real person. He was another
torero, jealous of Pedro, who had won the love of Carmen--jealous, too,
because Pedro had won popularity as a fighter, while he had not.
Carmen thought she recognized this man. Yet she was not altogether sure,
and on the way home, Pedro talked her out of her fears.
Happily they started toward Madrid, unaware of the terrible plan which
this jealous torero was beginning to lay.
[Illustration: MADRID]
On they drove through a flat land of many vineyards. They passed small
white houses with tiled hats on, and a village cut out of the landscape
by a lazy hand and colored carelessly. Soon they entered Madrid.
Madrid is a modern city of tram cars and toots and traffic. In the
summer time, Madrid is like a faded, old duchess, who clicks her fan and
squats in the sun. She is dressed in handsome plazas, fountains, and
parks.
But should you chance to walk into a narrow side street, you might catch
Madrid in her alley mood. Then she is a simple peasant.
Madrid is the capital, center, and heart of Spain. Pedro, the torero,
had lived there all his life. But little Carmen had only recently
arrived in the big city.
Upon the Sunday of Pedro's great bullfight, Carmen awoke early. Her
heart pounded with excitement. Today she and her magic castanets were to
try to save the life of Pedro's beloved Rey.
But suppose Rey would not listen to her? Suppose he would not come to
her when she played? The noisy arena would be far different from the
quiet fields where she was accustomed to calling him. He would be
frightened, furious, and fierce.
Bullfights do not start until four o'clock in the afternoon. Then the
sun is getting ready to go to bed, and Spaniards are getting up from
their siestas, or naps.
Carmen drove to the bullfight with Pedro's mother.
As they passed the Prado (prä´d[=o]), Madrid's beautiful art gallery,
Carmen thought, "This Prado is a heaven of art, while the corrida,
only a few blocks away, is a hades of suffering!"
She began to worry. And what girl would not have worried? For no matter
how brave a torero may be, it is never certain that he will come out of
the arena alive. Why, even Rey, his own pet, might today take Pedro's
life!
[Illustration: _From a Painting by Goya_
DOÑA ISABEL CORBO DE PORCEL]
Trough the many fine streets of Madrid they drove, and at last they
reached the bull ring. Crowds were swarming in through the gates of the
big, round arena. Carmen and Pedro's mother, silent and sad-faced, made
their way to their box.
The old lady wore a tall comb in her hair and a lace mantilla over it.
She opened her fan with a click and started to fan herself. Carmen did
the same, as, indeed, everyone else was doing. The sun had been very
slow about going to bed.
Over on the opposite side of the arena, the poor people sat in the sun,
because those seats were cheaper. There was an air of excitement. The
band played the "Toreador's (t[)o]r´[+e]-ä-dôr´) Song" from "Carmen,"
and then the fight began.
There were five toreros and five bulls before Pedro's turn came. Pedro
was to be last on the program.
Everything seemed to swim before Carmen's eyes during the performances
of these other men and bulls. The whole thing was a sea of fluttering
fans, sickly blue light, and waving red cloaks.
Then at last Pedro entered the ring. How big and handsome he looked in
his colorful costume! He carried the red cape with which he was going to
tease the bull.
But before that time, the bull would first be angered by men with sharp
sticks and by other men on horseback.
Look! The gate is swinging open now, and here is Rey! Snorting, rolling
his fine eyes, the magnificent creature gallops into the center of the
arena and stands, bewildered.
Suddenly Carmen cannot look to see her dear friend tortured. She hides
her eyes, her delicate little white hands held in front of her face.
But when she hears the crowd yelling, "Pedro! Pedro! Olé! Olé!" she
knows that she must uncover her eyes, for soon it will be her turn to
act.
A cry from the crowd. The bull has charged and has caught young Pedro by
the coat. But Pedro is quick. He finds his feet and twists himself to
safety. The crowd cheers loudly.
Backward and forward he dances like a graceful reed, playing with the
great beast, and the crowd are wild at his skill. Some throw their hats
into the ring.
But Carmen sees the fury and the pain in Rey's eyes. He is wounded. He
is frantic. She knows that now her turn has really come and she must
call to him with her castanets. There is no time to lose.
[Illustration: BULLFIGHT, MADRID]
Oh, will he remember those peaceful fields and come to her when she
plays? For if he does, it has been arranged that he shall live.
But should he not, the end must be the same with Rey as with every other
bull in every other fight. Pedro will have to plunge a dagger into the
head of his friend.
"Oh, let us win!" prays little Carmen, and she opens her bag where she
keeps her castanets.
The magic castanets are gone!
For a moment the world turns around in a crazy whirl. Fear clutches
sharply at Carmen's heart. The beast is blind with rage. Soon Pedro will
be obliged to make the final dagger thrust or--!
What must Pedro think? That she, his faithful little Carmen, has
betrayed him and Rey?
Where are the castanets? Carmen knows well that she brought them with
her. Someone has stolen them.
Suddenly Carmen remembers the figure she saw behind the tree that day in
the meadow.
Down there, close to the fence, she sees the same man! It is the jealous
torero.
He passes by, his set face wickedly content, and to Carmen's keen ears
comes a familiar sound. From the man's pocket, faint, yet unmistakable,
she hears the click of her castanets.
Carmen is out of her seat, past the guards, and inside that dangerous
arena. A gasp goes through the audience--a horrified shudder. But
Carmen, her black eyes snapping, is as dangerous now as any wild bull.
She has caught the man by the arm, swung him around, and snatched from
his pocket her castanets.
Now she stands very still. With her small body drawn up straight and
taut, she begins to play.
Pedro is fighting desperately. But everybody knows that soon it must be
man or beast. The torero must kill or be killed. The audience is
breathless.
Carmen's castanets sing shrilly, with a rolling trill, and, all at once,
Rey lifts his massive head and listens. The call is sweet. It speaks to
him of pleasant things.
What shall he do? Obey that call and follow? Or shall he stay and fight
it out with all his sharp-horned strength until the end?
A frenzied murmur issues from the crowd. Slowly the people rise together
in their seats, as if a mountain heaved. The bull has turned and now
begins to trot toward Carmen's side.
A woman shrieks. Another faints. But proudly Carmen stands, bringing
magic rhythm out of her magic castanets. And then she starts to walk
away, her wooden clappers coaxing like the Piper's reed and urging Rey
to follow her.
He does. The huge beast, like a docile dog, allows the girl with her
charm-sound, to lead him out of the arena--out of death and into life.
Little Carmen has won.
[Illustration: THE PRADO, MADRID]