how human the tragic hero, Juan Gallardo, is made, and how he appears not only in the light of a brave heart but also of a sacrifice to popular brutality. For to Blasco Ibañez the real beast is not the bull who is goaded to death by the red flag, but the sweating, yelling blood-lusting mob that assembled to satisfy a primitive instinct of cruelty. It is characteristic of the author that while he gives you a love tale which moves forward on its own power, so to speak, he presents you with a thorough study of one aspect of this wonderful, versatile people. And lest you are misled into a notion of your own superiority, he reminds you that we have sports no less cruel, if less spectacular. Blood and Sand! Red and Yellow: the national colors of Spain and the colors of a national disgrace that stains the noble banner. Such is the bull fight as a great fighter himself views it. It is not the horror of a timid soul at the sight of blood; there is no timidity in Blasco Ibañez; it is the disgust of a robust spirit who beholds nobler fields of activity for his people and for the world.
La Bodega (The Fruit of the Vine) is of double timeliness; it attacks two problems which are to-day uppermost in the minds of all thinking people: social revolution and drink. And the attack is as direct as vehement purpose and volcanic language can make it. Drink, especially in the form of Spain's wine, is here portrayed as the enemy of society; it intoxicates the wealthy few with a false sense of power; it befogs the mind of the poor many and deadens them to a sense of their misery and a realization of their own strength to end their wretched lot and inaugurate a better day. Drink leads to the seduction of the heroine by a worthless scion of the upper crust and paves the way to the murderous vengeance inflicted upon by the brother of the wronged woman. There is more love in La Bodega (The Fruit of
