SPANISH HOSPITALITY
THE great caves which stood each side the little beach to which the
girls often went were remarkable for more than one reason. They served
as bath houses, they were unique in construction and they suggested
tales of folk-lore in which Nan delighted. Through one of these
caverns, as through an arched passage, one could go to get a better
view of the stretch of sea beyond, while from the rocky hill above a
still better view was to be had. The way to the sea was rather rough,
and only the younger ones of the household cared to travel it often.
Mr. Pinckney declared it was too great an effort for his portly person,
and Doña Teresa said it was out of the question for her to attempt
it, so often but the three girls, Nan, Mary Lee and Mercedes, would
find their way there. They must first pass through one of the winding
streets, or roads, of the little village, then over a stony way leading
past the small chapel of Nuestra Señora del Henar, in the woods, and on
through shady paths till the sea was at hand.
A daily dip in the salt water was desirable, however, for Miss Dolores
who was not very strong, and therefore one morning the family was
surprised by the arrival of a stout little donkey and cart which Mr.
Pinckney explained he had bought for the use of the family. So in the
jouncing, bouncing cart thereafter the four went, the little donkey not
seeming to mind the load in the least. Often, nevertheless, Nan or Mary
Lee would insist upon getting out and walking up-hill to spare Master
Neddy, as they called him. It goes without saying that the lines of
this special donkey fell in pleasant places when Mr. Pinckney became
his purchaser.
In spite of the donkey, the girls often preferred to take long walks,
sometimes stopping at the house of a peasant to see something quaint
and old of which Mercedes had told them.
"Would you like to see an old, a very old loom, and some one weaving
linen?" she asked one day.
"We should be delighted," responded Nan.
"Then we will go. It is not far and perhaps my cousin Dolores would
like also to go. The old woman I know well, and she will be pleased to
welcome us. The house, too, is old, oh, so old, I do not know how many
years, hundreds, I think, and I am sure you will like to see it."
So the four started off up the long white _carretera_, passing on the
way first a creaking cow-cart loaded with hay, then a _viajante_ in
his wagon lolling back and singing a strange song ending in a weird
note, next a little shepherdess tending her two sheep which cropped the
herbage at the side of the road, then an old woman bending under a mass
of hay so great that the wizened face and bright eyes could scarcely be
discerned. All these gave a cheerful "_Adios_" or "_Buenas tardes_" as
they passed.
As the girls turned off the _carretera_ and entered a narrow winding
road, Mercedes said, "I want you to see the little chapel of Nuestra
Señora de Soledad. It is such a quiet little spot where it is. When I
am sad or unhappy I go there, for it seems as if it were nearer heaven
than some other places."
She led the way to where the tiny chapel stood at the meeting of two
paths. Truly "Our Lady of Solitude" could have no more fitting title.
The rustling of leaves on the great trees, the murmur of a little
stream, the song of a bird, the occasional creaking of a distant
cow-cart were the only sounds heard. The girls stepped up on the small
porch, without which is never a church or chapel in Spain, and looked
in through the iron grating at the unpretentious little figure in her
shrine, then they sat down on the porch to rest.
"How still it is," whispered Mary Lee to Miss Dolores. "I wonder how
long the 'Lady of Solitude' has been here."
"Many, many years, no doubt. The chapel is very old, as you see. Many
of these small churches and chapels were demolished, or at least abused
by the French in 1808, but this one has evidently escaped. It is
charming. I think I shall make a sketch of it for my cousin Teresa. She
will like it, for she has known and loved it always."
They left the little chapel and mounted higher, then making another
turn they came to an old gray house set in a _patio_. There was
an entrance to the lower floor from below, but a long flight of
crooked stone steps led up outside to the upper floor. A great tree
overshadowed the house; under it some white hens were picking around
industriously. Above, in the small windows, were set boxes of pinks and
geraniums--no house so poor but had its _clavel_. Mercedes mounted the
crooked steps, the others waiting below till an answer to the knock
should come. "Manuela is in," Mercedes announced. "Will you come up or
will you wait till she comes down to open the lower door? The loom is
below."
Miss Dolores decided that they would wait, although Nan and Mary Lee
were hoping they could see the inside of the old stone house.
"Perhaps we can go later," whispered Mary Lee to her sister.
Mercedes joined them, saying, "You will find it very dark and dingy,
but clean."
Here Manuela opened the door and they stepped into a room whose
blackened rafters were very near their heads. The earthen floor was
beaten down hard by the tread of those who had gone in and out for
centuries. A tiny window gave the only light, and under this was set
the great unwieldy loom which Manuela started going. The clumsy shuttle
clacked noisily as the weaving proceeded. A pile of coarse linen lay
near; it was such as the peasants had for household use, and was
literal homespun. Manuela, though quite overpowered by the sight of
these strange visitors, was, nevertheless, dignified and gracious, and
at Mercedes' suggestion offered to show the rest of the house.
Up through the narrowest of crooked stairs they groped their way to
the kitchen, a dark little place, but clean and orderly. There was no
stove in the great fireplace but only a stone platform which the girls
decided looked like an ancient altar, for it was on the top of this the
fire was kindled. In this primitive way all the cooking was done, and
so it was in most houses, even in those of the well-to-do. A shining
array of copper and brass utensils hung near the fireplace, and some
old blue and white plates stood a-row on a shelf. In the next room
there was but little furniture; a bed, a settle, an old chest, a small
mirror, a picture of "Our Lady of Covadonga," a few gaudily colored
prints of various saints. Though the rooms seemed small and dark they
were tidy and Manuela, in her black frock and with black handkerchief
tied over her head, was not an inartistic figure in the midst of the
setting. She offered them flowers, a pink _clavel_ and geranium to
each, and they took their leave. As they passed out of the _patio_
two women, bent under their loads of hay, came through the gateway to
deposit their burdens in the loft back of the kitchen.
"Now," said Mercedes, "if you can stand the walk, I should like to show
you my favorite view. It is a long climb, Cousin Dolores, but Antonio
said he would meet us with the cart at the foot of the last hill and he
will help you up to the top."
With this prospect Miss Dolores decided to undertake the walk. It was a
long one, but it was worth the effort to see from the top of the high
hill seven villages nestled at the foot of the mountains on one side,
and a semicircle of sea on the other.
"I never beheld anything more glorious," cried Nan enthusiastically.
"We have, of course, some greater and more magnificent scenery on our
Pacific coast, but this is unique. To see half the world mountains and
half sea from the top of a hill not a mile from home is not vouchsafed
everybody."
"I knew you would like," said Mercedes well pleased. "I think there is
no finer view in all Asturias."
At the foot of the hill they found Neddy and the cart, and went home
joyously, taking turns in the cart to spare Neddy.
It was rather late when they passed by the _plaza_ in the centre of the
village, and here they saw that something was going on, for a man was
setting up two poles, and some paraphernalia near by suggested that he
had intentions in other directions.
"A _comedia_!" cried Antonio.
Nan looked at Mercedes questioningly.
"A _comedia_, a little drama on the _plaza_ to-night. We must all come
to it, all of us."
"Is there a tent, or what?"
"It is in the open air. These are strolling players."
Nan marveled, but was very curious and eager to see the performance.
Supper was always a late meal, sometimes it was not served before ten
o'clock, but there was always a _merienda_, chocolate, tea or coffee
at five, so one did not mind. This evening the meal was hurried a
little so it was over by nine, yet even then the play had not begun,
though the performers were drumming up custom, as the roll of the drum
proclaimed some time before the party reached the spot. This kept up
for another half an hour, the crowd gathering slowly. But at last a
ring was formed around the centre of the _plaza_, some brought chairs,
others sat on the steps of surrounding houses, some squatted on the
ground, some stood up. In all the windows and balconies overlooking the
spot, spectators were gathered.
The two American girls were perhaps the most eager ones in the
audience, for this was a rare treat to them, and they were curious
enough to see the performance begin. It seemed long delayed, but at
last two men came out and did some acrobatic feats; these were followed
by a little play of which Nan and Mary Lee understood very little.
Then a small girl and a tiny boy walked a tight rope. Next came a mock
bull-fight in which the tiny boy took the part of a _toreador_, and
ran so precipitately from the pretended bull at each onslaught that
he brought forth shouts of laughter. At last the mock bull amiably
presented himself to be killed and the victorious _toreador_ retired
amid great applause.
"That is the only bull-fight I want to see," whispered Mary Lee to
Nan. "But I am glad to know how they do it. Nobody was hurt and the
youngster was too funny for words."
The next act on the programme was a pretty dance given by the little
girl, after which came a second farce in which a donkey appeared, and
then the hat was passed around. Mr. Pinckney declared that a _peseta_
apiece was none too much for such a novel performance, and thereupon
dropped a gold piece into the hat to the surprise and joy of the actors.
"You have seen real old-time play-acting," he told the Corners. "It
is the primitive method of performing dramas. So Shakespeare gave his
plays, and so the old Spanish dramatists, Lope de Vega and Calderon,
saw theirs played."
"It was great fun," the girls declared, "and we shall not forget it in
a hurry."
"What a country of surprises it is," said Nan. "It isn't a bit like any
other, and I am so glad we could come."
The crowd had dispersed, seeming actually to melt away, so quickly the
_plaza_ was deserted by all but two or three persons. Among these
was the little girl who had taken part in the show. It seemed to be a
family affair in which mamma beat the drum, papa and another younger
man took the principal parts, and the children fitted in wherever a
place could be made for them.
Nan stood watching the child, who, with a candle, was searching for
something. "What have you lost?" asked Nan in her best Spanish.
"My slippers," said the child, and Nan could see that she had been
crying.
"She has lost her slippers," said Nan to Mercedes. "Let us help her
look for them. I wonder if that is why she has been crying."
Mercedes put some questions. "It is not that," she told Nan, "but she
had to walk the tight rope, which is really a wire, without them, and
it cut her poor little feet badly."
"Dear me!" Nan was all sympathy and rushed off to tell the tale to Mr.
Pinckney, who, as usual, was moved to a better condition by a poultice
of money. He slipped a gold piece into the child's hand and she went
off happily, since she had now more than enough to make good the loss
of the slippers.
"Rather an expensive performance for you, grandfather," said Miss
Dolores smiling.
"Not so very," he replied, "when you consider what we pay for opera in
New York, and this was much more of a novelty."
"That is just like you, Mr. St. Nick," said Mary Lee. "You play Santa
Claus all the year round."
The time flew by till there were but three days left. One of these was
given to Covadonga which all were eager to see.
"I love the story of Pelayo," Miss Dolores told the girls.
"Who was Pelayo, anyhow?" asked Mary Lee.
"He was the son of Favila, a Goth of royal lineage. He commanded the
body-guard of Witiza, and his enthusiasm and influence roused his
compatriots to fight. The different tribes by this time, the fair
Goths, the Iberians of lofty stature, as well as the descendants of
the Romans, had become Asturians all and made common cause against the
Arabs. In those long ago days, when the Moors were trying to become
victors all over Spain, the Asturian mountains became the refuge of the
tribes who united against the Moors. They were headed by Pelayo. The
Berbers sent Al-Kaman to vanquish these spirited and defiant people.
Pelayo drew them into the great gorges at Covadonga and there they
were slain by thousands. Pelayo was then made king by his victorious
people. This was in 718, and so you see Asturias was the cradle of the
Spanish monarchy. You must see the cave where Pelayo and his followers
took refuge, and if you could stay till the early part of next month
you would be here when the great pilgrimage takes place. The figure of
our 'Lady of Covadonga' is much venerated."
"I have seen a number of pictures of it in the houses of the people
here," said Mary Lee.
"I should like to read about Pelayo," said Nan. "Is there anything
special that tells of him?"
"There is a wild poem and many legends. You can see Pelayo's tomb and
that of Alfonso I and his queen when you go to Covadonga. There is much
romantic history of this part of Spain."
"I would love to read it all," Nan declared, "and when I get a chance
I am going to study Spanish so as to get hold of what I should like to
know. One hears much more about Granada and Andalusia, but I am glad we
came here first."
The trip to Covadonga was the last one undertaken, and then the girls
set out upon their return trip which Mr. Pinckney and Miss Dolores were
to take with them, going on from Paris to Switzerland.
Mercedes actually shed tears at the thought of parting from her new
friends, and the reserved Don Antonio looked very solemn. He presented
each of the girls with a huge bouquet of flowers, while Doña Teresa
gave them a box of chocolate and a bottle of _anisado_, the latter
as a remedy against any ills which might befall digestion during the
journey. The two younger girls, Maria Isabel and Consuelo, gathered
ripe figs from their own tree to present to the travelers, and would
have added more flowers to those the girls already had, but were
told by Mercedes that no more could be carried. Mercedes bestowed
her favorite antique reliquary upon her cousin Dolores, gave Mary
Lee a tiny silver cross with a figure of San Roque upon it, while
Nan received a tambourine. Mercedes would have given them her entire
_aldeana_ costume as well, if they had not protested that they would
not be able to pack so much in their trunks.
"I have always heard," said Nan to her sister, "that you have but to
admire anything in Spain, be it great or small, to have it offered to
you, though one must not accept it."
"I am sure that Mercedes was quite sincere in wanting us to accept her
dress," returned Mary Lee.
"I am sure she was, and I think the people usually are. I never saw
such generosity as they all show, from the peasants up. I am sure I
know exactly how the dresses are made, and we have the photographs of
Mercedes in hers to remind us, so I think we shall have no trouble if
we ever want to make them for ourselves."
"And perhaps Mercedes will come over to see her cousin. We must be sure
to make her have a good time, Nan."
"Indeed we will do that. Isn't it nice to have a Spanish girl friend?
Won't the girls at home be interested when we tell them about her?"
"They will think we are great on having unusual friends," said Mary
Lee. "You remember how excited they were over Daniella at school last
year."
"Indeed I do. How long ago that seems, and how much we have seen since
then."
"And how much more we shall see before we get back."
"So far I like Spain best," decided Nan.
"I, too," returned Mary Lee.
Back again they traveled, leaving behind the creaking cow-carts, the
panniered donkeys, the towering mountains, the blue sea, and above all
the warm-hearted Spanish family with whom their month's stay had been
all too short.
"We shall never forget you," Nan assured Mercedes, "and some day we
shall meet again; I am sure of it."
Mercedes, with swimming eyes, declared she hoped so, and the whole
family having gone to the train with their guests, they waved farewells
from the platform of the station, the last thing they saw being Neddy's
gray ears as Mercedes and Maria Isabel drove him around the corner.
"Some day," remarked Mary Lee, as she settled back in her seat, "I
mean to come back to Spain. I shall take that nice little house that
Mercedes told me could be rented for forty dollars a year, for then
I shall be old enough to keep house. I shall hire a servant for two
dollars a month and I shall live on figs and chestnuts."
Miss Dolores laughed. "You would certainly need many doses of _anisado_
if you were to do that," she said.
"For all there is so much corn in this part of the country," remarked
Nan, "we didn't see any of our old home corn bread."
"No, and you never would see. The meal used by the peasants is poor
stuff compared to ours," Mr. Pinckney told her. "They make it into a
thick solid mass which is as unappetizing as it is unwholesome. Look
over there, Nan; there is that old monastery you are so fond of, and
the church attached to it. Pretty soon Mary Lee will see the town where
her San Roque was honored in _fiesta_."
"That was a great _fiesta_," said Nan reminiscently. "How Jack would
have enjoyed those funny fire balloons they sent up, the pigs and such
things, the _perigrinos_, too."
"And those great giant figures dancing the _jota_ all the time the
procession was moving," said Mary Lee.
"There was nothing very solemn about it, as there was at Celorio," Nan
went on. "To be sure, San Roque had a very serious expression, but
everything and everybody else were as gay as larks."
With such chat they beguiled their way till night brought them again to
Bilbao and the next afternoon saw them leaving San Sebastian and saying
farewell to Spain. "_Adios, España!_" cried Nan.
"You may say _Adios_, if you choose," said Mary Lee, "but I shall say
only _Hasta mañana_; for I mean to come back."
Miss Dolores smiled down at her, for she well knew that part of this
enthusiasm for Spain was due to Mary Lee's love for this señiorita for
whom she had always held a worshipful feeling.
There was no stop this time on the French side of the line, for they
took the express to Paris and arrived there after a heavy rain when
the French girls with their high heels and fluffy skirts were daintily
stepping across the puddles, and before the hour when the students of
the Latin quarter were ready to go forth to the restaurants and cafés
for the evening meal. A quick drive from the railway station and the
girls were again under their mother's wing, eager to tell of their
adventures in Spain.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VII
ACROSS THE CHANNEL]