e groups making a circle about the house doors, in the middle
of which were dancing two girls in bright-coloured clothes, with roses
in their hair. A man seated on a broken chair was twanging a guitar, the
surrounders beat their hands in time and the dancers made music with
their castanets. Sometimes on a feast-day I came across a little band,
arrayed in all its best, that had come into the country for an
afternoon's diversion, and sat on the grass in the shade of summer or in
the wintry sun. Whenever Andalusians mean to make merry some one will
certainly bring a guitar, or if not the girls have their castanets; and
though even these are wanting and no one can be induced to sing, a
rhythmical clapping of hands will be sufficient accompaniment, and the
performers will snap their fingers in lieu of castanets.

It is charming then to see the girls urge one another to dance; each
vows with much dramatic gesture that she cannot, calling the Blessed
Virgin to witness that she has strained her ankle and has a shocking
cold. But some youth springs up and volunteers, inviting a particular
damsel to join him. She is pushed forward, and the couple take their
places. The man carefully puts down his cigarette, jams his
broad-brimmed hat on his head, buttons his short coat and arches his
back! The spectators cry: '_Ole!_' The girl passes an arranging hand
over her hair. The measure begins. The pair stand opposite one another,
a yard or so distant, and foot it in accordance with one another's
motions. It is not a thing of complicated steps, but, as one might
expect from its Moorish origin, of movements of the body. With much
graceful swaying from side to side the executants approach and retire,
and at the middle of the dance change positions. It finishes with a
great clapping of hands, the maiden sinks down among her friends and
begins violently to fan herself, while her partner, with a great
affectation of nonchalance, takes a seat and relights his cigarette.

And in the music-halls the national dances are, with the national songs,
the principal attraction. Seville possesses but one of these
establishments; it is a queer place, merely the _patio_ of a private
house, with a stage at one end, in which chairs and tables have been
placed. On holiday nights it is crammed with students, with countrymen
and artisans, with the general riff-raff of the town, and with women of
no particular reputation. Now and then appears a gang of soldiers,