Echegaray continued to write plays, stimulated by the recognition and the honors of 1904. When the award was made, there was a popular demonstration in Madrid; the king presided and presented the prize, while speeches were made by Galdós, Valera, and Mendenez Palayo, who had once been his bitter critic. On this occasion Palayo said: “For thirty years Echegaray has been the dictator, arbiter and idol of the multitude, a position impossible to attain without the strength of genius, which triumphs in literature as everywhere.”[150] He was much honored in France and called “a second Victor Hugo.” It has not been easy for American students to interpret the plays by Echegaray; they fail to understand fully, especially on the stage, the situations and sentiments of the Spanish dramatist. Many of the keen, brilliant lines, both of analysis and wit, suffer in translation into English. For Drama League readings, or group study and discussion, his plays lend themselves to interpretation and study. This is true, not alone the longer and familiar dramas already noted but such short plays as _Always Ridiculous_, translated by T. W. Gilkyson,[151] and _The Street Singer_, translated by John Garrett Underhill[152] and included in Frank Shay’s _25 Short Plays_ of international selection (New York, 1925). Irony and wistfulness are mingled in this dramatic picture of the little beggar-girl, Suspiros, of Augustias, the street singer, and her lover, Pepe. Suspiros, sixteen and pretty but sickly, speaks to Coleta, a professional beggar of fifty years:[153] _Coleta._ You don’t know how to beg. _Suspiros._ Yes, sir, I know how to beg; the trouble is, people don’t know how to give. I say, “A penny for my poor mother who is sick.” And you ought to see how sick she is! She died two years ago. Well, I get nothing. Or else I say, “A penny for God’s sake, for my mother who is in the hospital, in the name of the Blessed Virgin! I have two baby brothers.” No one gives, either. _Coleta._ They don’t, eh? And how many brothers are you going to have to-night? _Suspiros._ Ay, Signor Coleta! I had two and nobody gave me anything. Last night I tried four and I got sixpence, so to-night I mean to have five and see what they give me, or whether I just get the cuff from my mother. _Coleta._ Just in the family, how many brothers have you, really? _Suspiros._ Really, I had two. But they died, like my mother. Ay! they died because of the way my stepmother treated them--as she does me--and I am dying! Listen! If I can make two or three dollars I am going to run away to Jativa, and live with my aunt.