At first, I can’t understand how the title fits into the story. The title points out to a main character in the story – the mother. In the beginning of the. Free Essay: MAGNIFICENCE by Estrella Alfon There was nothing to fear, for the man was always so gentle, so kind. At night when the little girl. A Freudian Psychological Literary Analysis By: Patrick Mercado The story “ Magnificence”, written by Estrella Alfon, portrays a family who has.
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There was nothing to fear, for the man was always so gentle, so kind. At night when the little girl and her brother were bathed in the light of the big shaded bulb that hung over the big study table in the downstairs hall, the man would knock gently on the door, and come in.
The little girl and her brother would look up at him where they sat at the big table, their eyes bright in the bright light, and watch him come fully into the light, but his voice soft, his manner slow. It was not always that he came. They could remember perhaps two weeks when he remarked to their mother that he had never seen two children looking so smart.
The praise had made their mother look over them as they stood around listening to the goings-on at the meeting of the neighborhood association, of which their mother was president. Two children, one a girl of seven, and a boy of eight.
They were both very tall for their age, and their legs were the long gangly legs of fine spirited colts. Their mother saw them with eyes that held pride, and then to partly gloss over the maternal gloating she exhibited, she said to the man, in answer to his praise, But their homework. And the man said, I have nothing to do in the evenings, let me help them. Mother nodded her head and said, if you want to bother yourself.
And the thing rested there, and the man came in the evenings therefore, and he helped solve fractions for the boy, and write correct phrases in language for the little girl. In those days, the rage was for pencils. School children always have rages going at one time or another. Sometimes for paper butterflies that are held on sticks, and whirr in the wind. The Japanese bazaars promoted a rage for those.
Sometimes it is for little lead toys found in the folded waffles that Japanese confection-makers had such light hands with. At this particular time, it was for pencils. They were all of five centavos each, and one pencil was not at all what one had ambitions for. In rages, one kept a collection. And for the little girl who he said was very bright and deserved more, ho would get the biggest pencil he could find.
One evening he did bring them. The evenings of waiting had made them look forward to this final giving, and when they got the pencils they whooped with joy. The little boy had tow pencils, one green, one blue. And the third pencil, a jumbo size pencil really, was white, and had been sharpened, and the little girl jumped up and down, and shouted with glee. Until their mother called from down the stairs. What are you shouting about?
And they told her, shouting gladly, Vicente, for that was his name.
Vicente had brought the pencils he had promised them. Thank him, their mother called.
ESTRELLA D. ALFON | Magnificence
The little boy smiled and said, Thank you. And the little girl smiled, and said, Thank you, too. But the man said, Are you not going to kiss me for those pencils? They both came forward, the little girl and the little boy, and they both made to kiss him but Vicente slapped the boy smartly on his lean hips, and said, Boys do not kiss magnlficence.
And the little boy laughed and scampered away, and then ran back and kissed him anyway. The little girl went up to the man shyly, put her arms about his magnifucence as he crouched to receive her embrace, and kissed him on the cheeks.
The next evening, he came around again. All through that day, they had been very proud in school showing off their brand new pencils.
All the little girls and boys had been envying them. Their mother said, Oh stop it, zlfon will you do with so many pencils, you can only write with one at a time.
And this observation their mother said to their father, who was eating his evening meal between paragraphs of the book on masonry rites that he was reading. It is a pity, said their mother, People like those, they make friends with people like us, and they feel it is nice to give us gifts, or the children toys and things. The father grunted, and said, the man probably needed a new job, and was softening his way through to him by going at the children like that.
The father grunted again, and did estrellw pay any further attention. Vicente was earlier than usual that evening. The children immediately put their lessons down, telling him of the envy of their schoolmates, and would he buy them more please?
Vicente said to the little boy, Go and ask if you can let me have a glass maagnificence water. And the little boy ran away to comply, saying behind him, But buy us mavnificence more pencils, huh, buy us edtrella pencils, and then went up to stairs to their mother.
Vicente took the girl up lightly in his arms, holding her under the armpits, and held her to sit down on his lap and he said, still gently, What are your lessons for tomorrow?
And the little girl turned to the paper on the table where she had been writing with the jumbo estrelal, and she told him that that was her lesson but it was easy. Then go ahead and write, and I will watch you. The man shook his head, and said nothing, but held her on magnificnce lap just the same. The little girl kept squirming, for somehow she felt uncomfortable to be held thus, her mother and father always treated her like a big girl, she was always told never to act like a baby.
She looked around at Vicente, interrupting her careful writing to twist around. His face was estrellq in sweat, and his eyes alton very strange, and he indicated to her that she must turn around, attend to the homework she was writing.
She stood looking at him, feeling that queer frightened feeling, not knowing what to do. By and by, in a very short while her mother came down the stairs, holding in her hand a glass of sarsaparilla, Vicente.
But Vicente had jumped up too soon as the little girl had jumped from his lap. The mother looked at him, stopped in her tracks, and advanced into the light. She had been in the shadow. Her voice had been like a bell of safety to the little girl. The little girl looked at magnificecne mother, and saw the beloved face transfigured by some sort of glow.
[Magnificence] by Estrella Alfon
The mother kept coming into the light, and when Vicente made as if to move away into the shadow, she said, very low, but very heavily, Do magnificencw move. She put the glass of soft drink down on the table, where in the light one could watch the little bubbles go up allfon down in the dark liquid. The mother said to the boy, Oscar, finish your lessons. And turning to the little girl, she said, Come here. The little girl went to her, and the mother knelt down, for she was esrtella tall woman and she said, Turn around.
Go upstairs, she said. The mother went to the cowering man, and marched him with a glance out of the circle of light that held the little boy.
Once in the shadow, she extended her hand, and without any opposition took away the papers that Vicente was holding to himself.
She stood there saying nothing as the man fumbled with his hands and with his fingers, and she waited until he had finished. She was going to open her mouth but she glanced at the boy and closed it, and with a look and an inclination of the head, she bade Vicente go up the stairs. The man said nothing, for she said nothing either.
Up the stairs went the man, and the mother followed behind. When they had reached the upper landing, the woman called down to her son, Son, come up and go to your room. The little boy did as he was told, asking no questions, for indeed he was feeling sleepy already.
As soon as the boy was gone, the mother turned on Vicente. There was a pause. Finally, the woman raised her estella and slapped him full hard in the face. Her retreated down one tread of the stairs with the force of the blow, but the mother followed him. With her other hand she slapped him on the other side of the face again. Alternately she lifted her right hand and made him retreat before her until they reached the eshrella landing.
He made no resistance, offered no defense. Before the silence and the grimness of her attack he cowered, retreating, until out of his mouth issued something like a whimper.
The mother thus shut his mouth, and with those hard forceful slaps she escorted him right to the other door. As soon as the cool air of the free night wstrella him, he recovered enough to turn away and run, into the shadows that ate him up.
The woman looked after him, and closed the door. She turned off the blazing light over the study table, and went slowly up the stairs and out into the dark night. When her mother reached her, the woman, held her hand out to the child.
Always also, with the terrible indelibility that one associated with estrrella, the girl was to remember the touch of that hand on her shoulder, heavy, kneading at her flesh, the woman herself stricken almost dumb, but her eyes eloquent with that angered fire. Hush, the mother said. Magnifkcence a bath quickly. Her mother presided alfoj the bath the little girl took, scrubbed her, and soaped her, and then wiped her gently eetrella over and changed her into new clothes that smelt of the clean fresh smell of clothes that had hung in the light of the sun.
The clothes that she had taken off the little girl, she bundled into a tight wrenched bunch, which she threw into the kitchen range. Take also the pencils, said the mother to the watching newly bathed, newly changed child.
Take them and throw them into the fire. But when the girl turned to comply, the mother said, No, tomorrow will do.