Part 2 (1/2)

”What are you doing with the castanets, Pilly?” he asked in his weak voice.

”I am going to sell them to Juan Sanchez,” answered Pilar, smoothing his pillow. ”Then I shall buy a little chicken and cook it for your dinner.”

”No, no!” The old man tried to sit up in bed. ”Do not sell the cast--”

But Pilar interrupted him. ”Please, Grandfather,” she said. ”You must not talk. You must rest while I am gone.”

She made him lie down again and he sank back wearily, closing his eyes.

He was too weak to say any more, but his lips began to move.

”Castanets, with--magic--spell--” he muttered to himself.

The words were m.u.f.fled. Pilar could not understand them.

She patted his hand gently and said, ”Go to sleep, dear Grandfather. Do not worry. Pilar will take good care of you.”

Then she sang a little song which sounded like a Moorish chant. And perhaps it was, for Spain once was ruled by the Moors, who left much of their art and music behind them when they were driven out.

Pilar's soothing voice soon lulled her grandfather to sleep. And so it was that he did not finish the verse about the castanets.

It was a pity, too, as you will agree when you have heard the legend of the castanets in old Cadiz (k[)a]d'[)i]z).

CHAPTER III

IN OLD CADIZ

(A LEGEND OF THE CASTANETS)

Before the Moors came into Spain, Cadiz, or Gadir, as it was then called, had become famous for its dancers. Throughout the land they were known for their grace and beauty.

Now there lived at this time one who had grown too old to dance any more. So she wished to teach her little daughter the steps she had once loved so well.

But strangely enough, she was afraid to do this--afraid, because a savage race called the Visigoths (v[)i]z'[)i] g[)o]ths) were sweeping through Spain and were trying to destroy the art of the people. They were overrunning the country, smas.h.i.+ng great statues and burning fine books.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CADIZ]

What would they do if they were to discover that women were secretly teaching their children to carry on the art of dancing?

Although she feared the Visigoths, this mother, who had once been a dancer, used to take her daughter to a cave far from the city. And here she would attempt to instruct the little girl.

But young Lira did not want to learn to dance. She was plump and lazy.

She disliked to exercise, except with a knife and fork. For eating was the only thing she really enjoyed.

One day when the sun shone fiercely, Lira felt very sorry for herself.

She was hot and twice as lazy as usual--which, I a.s.sure you, was dreadfully lazy!

She decided that she would not take her dancing lesson. Yet how was she to escape it? Soon her mother would be leading her off to the cave and making her work.