CHAPTER IV
THE SOUVENIRS SPEAK
Pilar was on her way to Juan's shop on the Street of the Serpents. Inher hand were those magic castanets. She was taking them to Juan. Shewas going to sell them.
She passed the lovely Alcazar (ael-kae'thaer) Gardens, from which came theperfume of flowers and blossoms. She heard the soft voice of bells fromthe Giralda, a prayer tower which had belonged to an ancient Moorishmosque (m[)o]sk).
In a little square, some of Pilar's friends were dancing to the music ofa hurdy-gurdy. Pilar stopped. How she longed to join them in theirdance!
The thought came to her that she had never tried her mother'scastanets. She wondered how they would sound. She fixed them on herfingers and began to play.
Their beauty astonished her. They spoke. They sang. They cried out toher feet and she danced. She danced until she was breathless and thehurdy-gurdy had gone away. So had the children--gone to their homes.
Pilar was alone. She stood in the center of the little court, its white,balconied houses all around, and its ancient fountain squatting in thecenter.
But to Pilar, time had not passed. She had been in a dream of music. Thecastanets had drawn her into a dream of music and dance.
Now she slowly unloosed them from her fingers. Never had she known thatsuch beautiful sound could come from two wooden clappers. Why, her ownlittle cheap ones were hideous and shrill beside these speaking marvels.
HOW COULD SHE GIVE THEM UP?]
How could she give them up? How could she take them to Juan to be sold?No, no! She must keep them. She must keep them and dance every day totheir rippling music.
But Juan had given her money, for which she had promised to bring himthe castanets. And it would never do to give Juan her own instead, forthat would be cheating.
But there were other lovely souvenirs in her chest at home. Perhaps Juanwould as soon have one of these!
Pilar went home, and once again she knelt down beside the wooden chest.Out came each precious souvenir. Which should she take to Juan in placeof the castanets?
If those souvenirs could have spoken, what strangely wonderful storiesthey could have told!
Pretend, for fun, that they can speak, and let us listen to theirancient voices.
_The Sharp Knife From Toledo_
"I am a knife--a very sharp knife. I was made in Toledo, which is saidto be the oldest town in Spain.
"Toledo sits proudly upon a granite throne, like some weatherbeatenqueen. The River Tagus (t[=a]'g[)u]s) laps about her feet as though towash away the dust of ages.
"There are Arab stories in the ancient streets of Toledo. Once it was animportant center of the Romans, the Goths, and then the Moors.
"The cathedral is supposed to be the richest in the world. It contains aroom with massive doors, to which six keys must be used before one mayenter. In this room are the priceless jewels of the Madonna.
"I am made of the celebrated Damascus (d[.a]-m[)a]s'k[)u]s) steel. Ihave a beautiful design worked into my handle. Ages ago, this art, whichis called Damascene (d[)a]m'[.a]-s[=e]n) work, was brought from thecity of Damascus.
PUERTO DEL SOL, TOLEDO]
"I have a very dangerous temper and when I am angered, I bite. So becareful, for I am a very sharp knife."
_The Proud Comb From Barcelona_
"I am a tall, elegant comb, and my home is Barcelona(baer's[)e]-l[=o]'n[.a]), the most important city in Spain. Oh, dear!There goes Madrid, howling at me again! Whenever I say that Barcelonais more important, the city of Madrid creates the most frightful row.
"It is jealousy, of course. For even if she is the capital of Spain, sheis not so wonderful as Barcelona. At least, that is what we who livehere think. And perhaps I can convince you, too, if you will go for awalk with me.
"Just think! I am honoring you by inviting you to walk with me throughBarcelona, Spain's most important--oh, all right, then, Spain's mostmodern city!
"Shall we start from the harbor? It is the chief port of Spain. Do yousee that fine monument of Christopher Columbus over there?
BARCELONA]
"Now we shall stroll along the celebrated Rambla. Is this not a handsomepromenade, with its flowers and trees? Would you like to sit here at alittle table and sip some chocolate?
"They say that Barcelona has more sidewalk cafes than any other city itssize in Europe. You see, we know how to enjoy ourselves. Yet we are notlazy. No, indeed! We are most active. Why, Barcelona never sleeps.
"We are situated on the blue Mediterranean Sea. Not far fromthe city, there is a wonderful monastery called Montserrat(m[)o]nt's[)e]-r[)a]t'). It is perched high up amid a mysticforest of stony crags.
"Montserrat is the shrine of the Black Virgin, a sacred carving. Thestory goes that when the Moors held Spain, this carving was hidden in acave. Many years later, it was found by shepherds who heard weird musicnear by.
"They tried to move the Black Virgin, but could not, and so a church wasbuilt to hold it. Today great crowds swarm up the mountain to see thesacred carving.
"But now I shall have to leave you. I could show you much more, ofcourse, but there might be an objection if I did. You ask why? Because acertain city I know would be afraid that you might agree with me thatBarcelona is more important than she is!"
_The Lazy Clock From El Escorial_
"I am an old clock. I used to sit upon a shelf in one of the mostcurious castles in Spain--El Escorial ([)e]l [)e]s-k[=o]'r[)i]-[)a]l).It was built by King Philip II.
TOMB OF THE CHILDREN, EL ESCORIAL]
"King Philip built El Escorial as his tomb. Today, it stands a gray andgloomy monument upon a barren hill, and in its vaults are buried thekings and queens of Spain.
"Among the marble tombs, there is one which looks like a round, whitebirthday cake. It is the tomb of the children--young princes andprincesses.
"King Philip watched the building of this immense palace from a rockyseat on a hill above. And later when he was very ill, he used to lie inhis bedroom next to the chapel and listen to the church services.
"Ho, hum! I am a sleepy, lazy old clock. But then, all clocks in Spaingrow lazy, for we are seldom used. Everybody is always late.
"Yet here is a funny thing. I have been told that Spain produces morequicksilver than any other country. Think of that! Quicksilver!"
PILAR LOOKED AT THE FAN]
_The Faded Fan From Valladolid_
"I am a fan. I belonged to a lady who lived in the town of Valladolid(vael'yae-th[+o]-l[=e]th'). It was built by a Moor named Olid, and wascalled Valle de Olid, Valley of Olid.
"The names of many important men are connected with Valladolid. KingPhilip II was born there. The Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella,were married there. Cervantes (s[~e]r-v[)a]n't[=e]z), the author of 'DonQuixote' (d[+o]n k[+e]-h[=o]'t[+a]), that famous Spanish romance,lived there; and Christopher Columbus died there."
_The Saucy Bonnet From Segovia_
"I am a bonnet, and I am very proud of myself because I am a beautifulcreation. I am also very proud to think that I was born in the marvelouscity of Segovia (s[+a]-g[=o]'vyae).
"Segovia has a Roman aqueduct which is one of the most remarkable of itskind in the world. It is sometimes called the Devil's Bridge, because alegend tells that Satan built it in a single night.
"There is also the famous Alcazar, an ancient castle set high upon asharp cliff. It was built in the eleventh century by King Alfonso VI.Besides these marvels, Segovia has many fine churches and castles andcathedrals.
"How do I, a mere bonnet, know all these things? Ah, let me tell youthis: I am not only very handsome; I am extremely wise."
* * * * *
Next day Pilar brought Juan these souvenirs. But it was of no use. Juanwould not have any of them. He shook his head and told Pilar that hecould not rob her of her wonderful treasures.
"You must bring me the old castanets, child," he said. "They are allthat I will take."
Pilar
begged and coaxed, but Juan was very stubborn.
"No, child," he repeated, "These are too fine and valuable to sell.Bring me the battered old castanets, for they have little value."
Poor Pilar! She now sat weeping in her room--weeping silently so as notto disturb her sick grandfather, who slept a great part of the day.
She held the castanets in her hands and looked at them tenderly. Juanhad said that they possessed little value. Oh, but they did possessvalue to Pilar, for she loved them.
As to their real value, neither Pilar nor Juan could possibly guess. Forthough the other souvenirs might bring more in money, the castanetsmight well bring joy or grief to their owner. Or, at least, so it hadseemed to Pilar's ancestors.
However, Pilar had given her word to Juan that she would bring them tohis shop tomorrow, and so she must. If only Juan had heard the terribletale of the castanets in old Granada (gr[.a]-nae'd[.a]), he would nothave held Pilar to her promise.
GYPSIES, GRANADA]