CHAPTER XI
DANCE OF THE SIX
(A LEGEND OF THE CASTANETS)
The chorus had been sung, and now they were dancing to the steady,clicking rhythm of their castanets. It was a dignified dance, done byyoung boys wearing silken pages' costumes and wide, plumed hats.
Everybody felt the solemn beauty of the ceremony, and a hushed reverencehad fallen over the cathedral. Two old people, a woman with a blackshawl thrown over her head and an old man with a tanned, leathery face,sat silently weeping.
Fernando, their son, moved among those graceful figures beneath thealtar. He was a part of the royal Dance of the Six, called theSevillana.
How proud were these old people of their son Fernando! How happy to knowthat, each year, he would take his place in this age-old ceremony oftheir forefathers, in the dance which had been performed for centuriesin Seville's cathedral!
For in the far distant past, the Pope, hearing about the Sevillana,wished to see for himself what sort of dance it was. In those days, itwould have been considered shocking for girls to dance before the Pope.So six boys were taught the steps of the Sevillana and taken to theVatican in Rome.
Here they danced, dressed in their beautiful silken costumes. The Popewas so well pleased that he granted permission to use this dance duringcertain ceremonies at the cathedral. But the privilege was to last onlyso long as the boys' costumes lasted.
DANCE OF THE SIX, SEVILLE CATHEDRAL]
Today these costumes are still in use. But what a deal of patching andmending must have taken place during those hundreds of years!
When the dance was over, Fernando went into his room and pulled off hisquaint, plumed hat. The reverent little dancer had changed to a furious,red-faced youth. He threw the hat down on the floor in a fit of anger.
"Never!" he cried. "Never will I dance it again!"
His sister Maria stood trembling at the door.
"Do not say that, Fernando," she begged. "Think of our parents. Youwould break their hearts were you never to dance in the cathedral again.These past three days have been for them the happiest of their lives."
"I shall never dance again," repeated Fernando firmly. "It is girls'work, and I am a boy. I shall run away and work with men--and be a man!"
Fernando picked up his castanets, which had fallen to the floor.
"Miguel will take my place in the chorus," he said. "I shall have nomore use for these castanets, and so I shall give them--"
"No! No!" cried Fernando's sister. She ran over to him and caught him bythe arm. "You must never give away those castanets. Surely you haveheard about their magic power and the legends attached to them. Ill luckto him who loses or gives away--"
"Nonsense!" scoffed Fernando. "I do not believe such tales. They are oldwomen's twaddle!"
"Perhaps," agreed his sister. "Yet remember what our grandmotheronce told us. She said that the castanets have always been a power forgood. And whenever we do things which we should not do, they bringmisfortune to us and to our family."
Then she recited:
"_Castanets, with magic spell, Never lose or give or sell; If you do, then grief and strife Will follow you through all your life._"
"Yes, I know," said Fernando shortly. "But," and he grinned, "I shallchange that verse to:
'_Castanets, you have no spell; If I lose or give or sell, I shall live in manly strife, Not be a sissy all my life!_'"
One night many years later, this same Fernando, now a man, glidedalong in a boat on a river near the border of France. With him wereseveral other men, and all of them were smugglers.
Fernando had long lived in the Pyrenees (p[)i]r'[+e]-n[=e]z) Mountains.He had joined a band of people who secretly smuggled forbidden goodsfrom Spain to France in the dead of night. They led a dangerous lifeand were always in fear of the customs men.
As their boat now moved gently along the water, Fernando's companionsslept. All night they had labored, and they were weary. But Fernandocould not sleep. Somehow his thoughts kept taking him to Seville, to hisparents and his sister Maria. What had become of them?
In all these years he had heard no word from them, and until now, he hadbarely given them a thought. But tonight--How strange that they shouldcreep into his mind!
A shot rang out hideously. The customs men were after them! Anothershot! And another and another! One by one, the smugglers in the littleboat crumpled where they sat. Then the small craft itself began tosink--down, down.
All was silent upon the surface of the water. All was silent for a longtime, and then Fernando, holding to a floating board, slowly raised hishead.
The morning had begun to dawn over the Spanish Pyrenees. A hoarse churchbell rang out. Fernando looked about him. The customs' men had gone backto France. The smugglers, too, had gone, but not to France; to thebottom of the river.
Fernando swam to shore, and the next day he set off for Seville. He hadone aim: to find his family and to try to make up for the heartache hehad caused them.
But Fernando was never to see his parents again. Long since the oldpeople had died, and only his sister Maria remained. He found her livingin a poor and squalid alley. Yet when he walked into her shabby room,she did not seem in the least surprised to see him.
"I knew that you would come back, Fernando," she said quietly. "Iexpected you."
Puzzled, he started to speak, but she silenced him.
Then thrusting her hand inside her blouse, she drew out the magiccastanets, saying, "They were brought back to me, Fernando!"
Fernando stood fixed to the spot, his eyes upon the old clappers, whichhe had given away so many years ago in a fit of boyish rage. Then asudden curious idea occurred to him.
"When were they returned to you?" he asked Maria.
She told him, and he knew then that it had been upon the very same nightwhen his life had been spared, out there upon those dangerouswaters--the very same night when he had been thinking so earnestly ofhis family.
His sister listened while he told her of his many adventures as asmuggler. He promised to give it all up, to help her, and to become anhonest man.
"For," he ended, laughing, "there is an old Basque saying, 'If asmuggler is an honest man, then legends are the truth.'"
"But surely, Fernando," said his sister, "you must believe in thelegends of the castanets after what has happened to us."
Fernando shook his head.
"I believe only in the power for good," he replied.
Some years later, Fernando had a little son of his own who danced inthe cathedral of Seville. And do you see those two old people who sitthere watching, solemn-eyed and happy?
They are Fernando and his wife, and they are very proud that their boyis taking his place in this age-old ceremony of their forefathers.