We had been commended to Betánzos by Valentina, the waitress at Santiago. Betánzos was Valentina’s pueblo, and “a very gay place” (so said Valentina). Betánzos played up to its reputation by an improvised ball in the evening; and few set ballets in a theatre could provide so{109} pretty a sight. The Plaza is paved with cobbles, which are disadvantageous for dancing. But the fountain which stands in the centre acts as hub to a multitude of smooth flagged pathways; and up and down these, in to the centre and out again, the couples swung unwearyingly in a great vibrating star. The electric lamps (oh yes! they have electric lamps in Betánzos) only partially illuminated the area; and the patches of light and shadow gave an additional variety to the effect.
The Galician peasant woman’s costume is one of the prettiest in the Peninsula. As usual, it is very simple; a skirt and bodice, a kerchief tied over the head, and another crosswise over the shoulders. But the charm is in the colouring, and the Galician women wear the brightest of colours: brave reds and yellows for the kerchiefs, with something rather quieter for the skirt. They almost all go barefoot; a spendthrift use of commodities, but doubtless extremely convenient so long as the wear does not tell. The foot will grow coarsened in time; but the girls have not any misgivings,—and the beggar maid probably profited when she came before King Cophetua. It is rather humiliating to compare the square-toed natural foot with the narrow, artificially pointed{110} article which has been evolved for us by our boot-makers. Verily we have small cause to laugh at the fashions of the Chinese!
The men wear loose “white” shirts with dark-coloured breeches and stockings, and a cummerbund wrapped round the loins. Sometimes there happens to be a waistcoat, or a cloak slung over the shoulder; and the costume is usually completed by a battered broad-brimmed hat.
“Capital stuff, this,” cried Ferdinand the Catholic, with reference to the royal jerkin, “it has worn out three pairs of sleeves!” And his highness’s predilection for patching still appeals to the lieges of to-day. So piously do they practise his precept that it is often difficult to determine whether any part of their garments was original; and they all appear (justly enough) to have clung to a working hypothesis that the matching of colours is hazardous, but there is always safety in contrast. The picturesqueness of the result, however, is as obvious as its economy. Perhaps some day an English Ferdinand will revive the example for us.