Dubliners
Dubliners
Dublineses
James Joyce
James Joyce
2006-02-14 00:00:00-08:00
14 de febrero de 2006 00:00:00-08:00
DUBLINERS
DUBLINESES
By James Joyce
Por James Joyce
THE SISTERS
LAS HERMANAS
THERE was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: "I am not long for this world," and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work.
ESTA vez no había esperanza para él: era el tercer ataque. Noche tras noche había pasado frente a la casa (eran vacaciones) y estudiado el cuadrado iluminado de la ventana; y noche tras noche lo había encontrado igual: una luz tenue y uniforme. Si estuviera muerto, pensé, vería el reflejo de las velas en la persiana cerrada, pues sabía que dos cirios debían colocarse a la cabecera del cadáver. A menudo me había dicho: «No quedaré mucho en este mundo», y yo había considerado sus palabras como un decir. Ahora sabía que eran ciertas. Cada noche, al contemplar la ventana, me repetía en voz baja la palabra parálisis. Siempre me había sonado extraño en los oídos, como la palabra gnomon en el libro de Euclides y simonía en el Catecismo. Pero ahora me parecía el nombre de algún ser maléfico y pecaminoso. Me llenaba de temor, y sin embargo ansiaba estar más cerca de él y contemplar su obra mortal.
Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his:
El viejo Cotter estaba sentado junto al fuego, fumando, cuando bajé a cenar. Mientras mi tía me servía el stirabout, dijo, como retomando un comentario anterior:
"No, I wouldn't say he was exactly... but there was something queer... there was something uncanny about him. I'll tell you my opinion...."
—No, no diría que era exactamente... pero había algo raro... algo siniestro en él. Les daré mi opinión....
He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him and his endless stories about the distillery.
Comenzó a chupar la pipa, sin duda ordenando sus ideas. ¡Viejo necio pesado! Al principio nos resultaba interesante, hablando de desmayos y gusanos; pero pronto me cansé de él y sus interminables historias sobre la destilería.
"I have my own theory about it," he said. "I think it was one of those... peculiar cases.... But it's hard to say...."
—Tengo mi propia teoría —dijo—. Creo que fue uno de esos... casos peculiares.... Pero es difícil afirmarlo....
He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory. My uncle saw me staring and said to me:
Volvió a chupar la pipa sin compartir su teoría. Mi tío, al verme mirarlo fijamente, me dijo:
"Well, so your old friend is gone, you'll be sorry to hear."
—Bueno, tu viejo amigo se ha ido. Sentirás saberlo.
"Who?" said I.
—¿Quién? —pregunté.
"Father Flynn."
—El padre Flynn.
"Is he dead?"
—¿Ha muerto?
"Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house."
—El señor Cotter nos lo acaba de decir. Pasaba por la casa.
I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the news had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter.
Sabía que me observaban, así que seguí comiendo como si la noticia no me interesara. Mi tío le explicó al viejo Cotter:
"The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him."
—El chico y él eran grandes amigos. El buen hombre le enseñó mucho, ¿sabe?; y dicen que tenía gran afecto por él.
"God have mercy on his soul," said my aunt piously.
—Dios tenga misericordia de su alma —dijo mi tía con devoción.
Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate.
El viejo Cotter me miró un rato. Sentí sus ojillos negros como cuentas examinándome, pero no le di el gusto de alzar la vista del plato. Volvió a su pipa y finalmente escupió con rudeza hacia la chimenea.
"I wouldn't like children of mine," he said, "to have too much to say to a man like that."
—No me gustaría que mis hijos —dijo— tuvieran demasiado trato con un hombre así.
"How do you mean, Mr. Cotter?" asked my aunt.
—¿Qué quiere decir, señor Cotter? —preguntó mi tía.
"What I mean is," said old Cotter, "it's bad for children. My idea is: let a young lad run about and play with young lads of his own age and not be... Am I right, Jack?"
—Quiero decir —contestó el viejo Cotter— que es malo para los niños. Mi idea es: dejar que un muchacho corra y juegue con chicos de su edad y no ande... ¿Verdad, Jack?
"That's my principle, too," said my uncle. "Let him learn to box his corner. That's what I'm always saying to that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that's what stands to me now. Education is all very fine and large.... Mr. Cotter might take a pick of that leg mutton," he added to my aunt.
—Ese es mi principio también —dijo mi tío—. Que aprenda a defenderse solo. Eso le digo siempre a ese rosacruz: haz ejercicio. ¡Vamos, cuando yo era rapaz, cada mañana de mi vida me daba un baño frío, invierno y verano! Y eso es lo que me mantiene firme. La educación está muy bien... Quizá al señor Cotter le apetezca un poco de pierna de cordero —añadió dirigiéndose a mi tía.
"No, no, not for me," said old Cotter.
—No, no, para mí no —dijo el viejo Cotter.
My aunt brought the dish from the safe and put it on the table.
Mi tía sacó la fuente de la despensa y la puso en la mesa.
"But why do you think it's not good for children, Mr. Cotter?" she asked.
—Pero ¿por qué cree que no es bueno para los niños, señor Cotter? —preguntó.
"It's bad for children," said old Cotter, "because their mind are so impressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it has an effect...."
—Es malo para los niños —dijo el viejo Cotter— porque sus mentes son tan impresionables. Cuando los niños ven cosas así, ya sabe, les afecta....
I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might give utterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile!
Me llené la boca de stirabout por temor a dejar escapar mi furia. ¡Viejo imbécil pesado de nariz roja!
It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured, and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me. It began to confess to me in a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiled continually and why the lips were so moist with spittle. But then I remembered that it had died of paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly as if to absolve the simoniac of his sin.
Me dormí tarde. Aunque estaba enfadado con el viejo Cotter por tratarme como a un niño, me devanaba los sesos buscando sentido en sus frases inconclusas. En la oscuridad de mi habitación, imaginé ver de nuevo el rostro gris y pesado del paralítico. Me cubrí con la manta e intenté pensar en Navidad. Pero el rostro gris seguía persiguiéndome. Murmuró, y comprendí que deseaba confesar algo. Sentí que mi alma retrocedía hacia una región placentera y viciosa; y allí lo encontré de nuevo, esperándome. Comenzó a confesarme en un murmullo y me pregunté por qué sonreía sin cesar y por qué sus labios estaban tan húmedos de saliva. Pero entonces recordé que había muerto de parálisis y sentí que yo también sonreía débilmente, como para absolver al simoníaco de su pecado.
The next morning after breakfast I went down to look at the little house in Great Britain Street. It was an unassuming shop, registered under the vague name of Drapery. The drapery consisted mainly of children's bootees and umbrellas; and on ordinary days a notice used to hang in the window, saying: Umbrellas Re-covered. No notice was visible now for the shutters were up. A crape bouquet was tied to the doorknocker with ribbon. Two poor women and a telegram boy were reading the card pinned on the crape. I also approached and read:
A la mañana siguiente, después del desayuno, bajé a ver la casita de Great Britain Street. Era una tienda modesta, registrada bajo el vago nombre de Mercería. La mercería consistía principalmente en botines infantiles y paraguas; y los días ordinarios colgaba un letrero en el escaparate: Paraguas Reforrados. Ahora no se veía letrero alguno, pues las contraventanas estaban cerradas. Un ramo de crespón atado con cinta colgaba del aldabón. Dos mujeres pobres y un telegramista leían la tarjeta prendida en el crespón. Me acerqué y leí:
July 1st, 1895 The Rev. James Flynn (formerly of S. Catherine's Church, Meath Street), aged sixty-five years. R. I. P.
1 de julio de 1895 El Reverendo James Flynn (antes de la Iglesia de Santa Catalina, Meath Street), de sesenta y cinco años de edad. Q. E. P. D.
The reading of the card persuaded me that he was dead and I was disturbed to find myself at check. Had he not been dead I would have gone into the little dark room behind the shop to find him sitting in his arm-chair by the fire, nearly smothered in his great-coat. Perhaps my aunt would have given me a packet of High Toast for him and this present would have roused him from his stupefied doze. It was always I who emptied the packet into his black snuff-box for his hands trembled too much to allow him to do this without spilling half the snuff about the floor. Even as he raised his large trembling hand to his nose little clouds of smoke dribbled through his fingers over the front of his coat. It may have been these constant showers of snuff which gave his ancient priestly garments their green faded look for the red handkerchief, blackened, as it always was, with the snuff-stains of a week, with which he tried to brush away the fallen grains, was quite inefficacious.
La lectura de la tarjeta me convenció de su muerte y me perturbó encontrarme en un callejón sin salida. De no estar muerto, habría entrado en la habitación oscura tras la tienda para encontrarlo sentado en su sillón junto al fuego, casi asfixiado por su abrigo. Quizá mi tía me habría dado un paquete de High Toast para él, y este regalo lo habría sacado de su estupor somnoliento. Siempre era yo quien vaciaba el paquete en su negra tabaquera, pues sus manos temblaban demasiado para hacerlo sin derramar la mitad del rapé en el suelo. Incluso cuando alzaba su grande y trémula mano hacia la nariz, pequeñas nubes de polvo se filtraban entre sus dedos sobre el frente de su abrigo. Quizá fueran estas constantes lloviznas de rapé las que daban a sus antiguas vestiduras sacerdotales ese aspecto verdoso y desvaído, pues el pañuelo rojo —ennegrecido, como siempre, por las manchas de rapé de toda una semana— con el que intentaba limpiar los granos caídos, resultaba bastante ineficaz.
I wished to go in and look at him but I had not the courage to knock. I walked away slowly along the sunny side of the street, reading all the theatrical advertisements in the shop-windows as I went. I found it strange that neither I nor the day seemed in a mourning mood and I felt even annoyed at discovering in myself a sensation of freedom as if I had been freed from something by his death. I wondered at this for, as my uncle had said the night before, he had taught me a great deal. He had studied in the Irish college in Rome and he had taught me to pronounce Latin properly. He had told me stories about the catacombs and about Napoleon Bonaparte, and he had explained to me the meaning of the different ceremonies of the Mass and of the different vestments worn by the priest. Sometimes he had amused himself by putting difficult questions to me, asking me what one should do in certain circumstances or whether such and such sins were mortal or venial or only imperfections. His questions showed me how complex and mysterious were certain institutions of the Church which I had always regarded as the simplest acts. The duties of the priest towards the Eucharist and towards the secrecy of the confessional seemed so grave to me that I wondered how anybody had ever found in himself the courage to undertake them; and I was not surprised when he told me that the fathers of the Church had written books as thick as the Post Office Directory and as closely printed as the law notices in the newspaper, elucidating all these intricate questions. Often when I thought of this I could make no answer or only a very foolish and halting one upon which he used to smile and nod his head twice or thrice. Sometimes he used to put me through the responses of the Mass which he had made me learn by heart; and, as I pattered, he used to smile pensively and nod his head, now and then pushing huge pinches of snuff up each nostril alternately. When he smiled he used to uncover his big discoloured teeth and let his tongue lie upon his lower lip—a habit which had made me feel uneasy in the beginning of our acquaintance before I knew him well.
Quise entrar a verlo pero no tuve valor de llamar. Caminé lentamente por el lado soleado de la calle, leyendo los anuncios teatrales en los escaparates. Me resultaba extraño que ni el día ni yo estuviéramos de luto, y hasta me molestó descubrir en mí una sensación de libertad, como si su muerte me hubiera liberado de algo. Me sorprendía esto, pues, como dijo mi tío la noche anterior, él me había enseñado mucho. Había estudiado en el colegio irlandés de Roma y me enseñó a pronunciar correctamente el latín. Me contó historias de las catacumbas y de Napoleón Bonaparte, y me explicó el significado de los distintos ritos de la Misa y de las vestiduras sacerdotales. A veces se divertía planteándome preguntas difíciles, interrogándome sobre qué hacer en ciertas circunstancias o si tales pecados eran mortales, veniales o simples imperfecciones. Sus cuestiones me revelaron la complejidad de instituciones eclesiásticas que yo consideraba actos sencillos. Los deberes del sacerdote hacia la Eucaristía y el secreto del confesionario me parecían tan graves que me preguntaba cómo alguien había encontrado el valor para asumirlos; y no me extrañó cuando me dijo que los padres de la Iglesia habían escrito libros tan gruesos como la guía de correos y con letra apretada como los avisos legales, elucidando estas complejidades. A menudo, ante mis respuestas titubeantes, él sonreía y asentía. A veces me hacía recitar las respuestas de la Misa que me hizo memorizar, y mientras balbuceaba, él sonreía melancólico, empujando con los dedos grandes porciones de rapé a cada ventana nasal. Al sonreír, dejaba al descubierto sus dientes descoloridos y apoyaba la lengua en el labio inferior—gesto que me inquietó al principio de nuestro trato.
As I walked along in the sun I remembered old Cotter's words and tried to remember what had happened afterwards in the dream. I remembered that I had noticed long velvet curtains and a swinging lamp of antique fashion. I felt that I had been very far away, in some land where the customs were strange—in Persia, I thought.... But I could not remember the end of the dream.
Mientras caminaba bajo el sol, recordé las palabras del viejo Cotter e intenté reconstruir el final del sueño. Recordaba cortinajes de terciopelo y una lámpara colgante antigua. Me sentí transportado a tierras de costumbres extrañas—Persia, pensé... Pero el desenlace se me escapaba.
In the evening my aunt took me with her to visit the house of mourning. It was after sunset; but the window-panes of the houses that looked to the west reflected the tawny gold of a great bank of clouds. Nannie received us in the hall; and, as it would have been unseemly to have shouted at her, my aunt shook hands with her for all. The old woman pointed upwards interrogatively and, on my aunt's nodding, proceeded to toil up the narrow staircase before us, her bowed head being scarcely above the level of the banister-rail. At the first landing she stopped and beckoned us forward encouragingly towards the open door of the dead-room. My aunt went in and the old woman, seeing that I hesitated to enter, began to beckon to me again repeatedly with her hand.
Al anochecer, mi tía me llevó a la casa mortuoria. Tras la puesta del sol, los ventanales occidentales reflejaban el oro parduzco de las nubes. Nannie nos recibió en el vestíbulo; como los gritos hubieran sido impropios, mi tía le estrechó la mano en silencio. La anciana señaló arriba con gesto interrogante y, ante el asentimiento, comenzó a subir la estrecha escalera, su joroba a la altura del pasamanos. En el primer descanso se detuvo, invitándonos con la mano a avanzar hacia la puerta abierta del cuarto mortuorio. Mi tía entró. La vieja, al ver mi vacilación, me hizo repetidas señas.
I went in on tiptoe. The room through the lace end of the blind was suffused with dusky golden light amid which the candles looked like pale thin flames. He had been coffined. Nannie gave the lead and we three knelt down at the foot of the bed. I pretended to pray but I could not gather my thoughts because the old woman's mutterings distracted me. I noticed how clumsily her skirt was hooked at the back and how the heels of her cloth boots were trodden down all to one side. The fancy came to me that the old priest was smiling as he lay there in his coffin.
Entré de puntillas. La habitación bañada en luz áurea por las persianas hacía palidecer las velas. Estaba en su ataúd. Nannie tomó la iniciativa y nos arrodillamos al pie del lecho. Fingí rezar, pero el murmullo de la anciana me distrajo. Observé su falda mal abrochada y los tacones de sus botas deformados. Me asaltó la idea de que el viejo sacerdote sonreía en su féretro.
But no. When we rose and went up to the head of the bed I saw that he was not smiling. There he lay, solemn and copious, vested as for the altar, his large hands loosely retaining a chalice. His face was very truculent, grey and massive, with black cavernous nostrils and circled by a scanty white fur. There was a heavy odour in the room—the flowers.
Pero no. Al acercarnos, vi su rostro austero y corpulento, revestido como para el altar, las grandes manos sosteniendo flojamente un cáliz. Su faz, gris y maciza, mostraba fosas nasales cavernosas, enmarcadas por una escasa barba blanca. Un olor pesado impregnaba el aire—las flores.
We crossed ourselves and came away. In the little room downstairs we found Eliza seated in his arm-chair in state. I groped my way towards my usual chair in the corner while Nannie went to the sideboard and brought out a decanter of sherry and some wine-glasses. She set these on the table and invited us to take a little glass of wine. Then, at her sister's bidding, she filled out the sherry into the glasses and passed them to us. She pressed me to take some cream crackers also but I declined because I thought I would make too much noise eating them. She seemed to be somewhat disappointed at my refusal and went over quietly to the sofa where she sat down behind her sister. No one spoke: we all gazed at the empty fireplace.
Nos persignamos y nos marchamos. En la habitación de abajo encontramos a Eliza sentada con aire solemne en su sillón. Yo busqué a tientas mi silla habitual en el rincón mientras Nannie fue al aparador y sacó una licorera de jerez y unas copas. Las colocó sobre la mesa y nos invitó a tomar una copita. Luego, por indicación de su hermana, sirvió el jerez y nos lo pasó. Me insistió en que tomara unas galletas de crema, pero rehusé pensando que haría demasiado ruido al comerlas. Pareció decepcionarse por mi negativa y se dirigió en silencio al sofá donde se sentó detrás de su hermana. Nadie habló: todos contemplábamos la chimenea vacía.
My aunt waited until Eliza sighed and then said:
Mi tía esperó hasta que Eliza suspiró para decir:
"Ah, well, he's gone to a better world."
—Bueno, al menos ha ascendido a un mundo mejor.
Eliza sighed again and bowed her head in assent. My aunt fingered the stem of her wine-glass before sipping a little.
Eliza volvió a suspirar y asintió con la cabeza inclinada. Mi tía jugueteó con el tallo de su copa antes de dar un sorbo.
"Did he... peacefully?" she asked.
—¿Fue... tranquilo? —preguntó.
"Oh, quite peacefully, ma'am," said Eliza. "You couldn't tell when the breath went out of him. He had a beautiful death, God be praised."
—Oh, muy tranquilo, señora —respondió Eliza—. Ni siquiera se notó cuándo exhaló el último aliento. Tuvo una hermosa muerte, loado sea Dios.
"And everything...?"
—¿Y todo estuvo...?
"Father O'Rourke was in with him a Tuesday and anointed him and prepared him and all."
—El padre O'Rourke vino el martes a ungirlo y prepararlo debidamente.
"He knew then?"
—¿Él lo supo entonces?
"He was quite resigned."
—Se resignó por completo.
"He looks quite resigned," said my aunt.
—Ciertamente parece resignado —dijo mi tía.
"That's what the woman we had in to wash him said. She said he just looked as if he was asleep, he looked that peaceful and resigned. No one would think he'd make such a beautiful corpse."
—Eso mismo dijo la mujer que vino a lavarlo. Comentó que parecía dormido, tan sereno y entregado se le veía. Nadie diría que haría un cadáver tan hermoso.
"Yes, indeed," said my aunt.
—Sí, en efecto —asintió mi tía.
She sipped a little more from her glass and said:
Bebió otro sorbo y añadió:
"Well, Miss Flynn, at any rate it must be a great comfort for you to know that you did all you could for him. You were both very kind to him, I must say."
—Bueno, señorita Flynn, al menos debe consolarles saber que hicieron todo lo posible por él. Debo decir que ambas fueron muy bondadosas.
Eliza smoothed her dress over her knees.
Eliza alisó su vestido sobre las rodillas.
"Ah, poor James!" she said. "God knows we done all we could, as poor as we are—we wouldn't see him want anything while he was in it."
—¡Ah, pobre James! —suspiró—. Dios sabe que dimos cuanto pudimos, pobres como somos. No le faltó de nada mientras estuvo entre nosotros.
Nannie had leaned her head against the sofa-pillow and seemed about to fall asleep.
Nannie había reclinado la cabeza contra el almohadón del sofá y parecía a punto de quedarse dormida.
"There's poor Nannie," said Eliza, looking at her, "she's wore out. All the work we had, she and me, getting in the woman to wash him and then laying him out and then the coffin and then arranging about the Mass in the chapel. Only for Father O'Rourke I don't know what we'd done at all. It was him brought us all them flowers and them two candlesticks out of the chapel and wrote out the notice for the Freeman's General and took charge of all the papers for the cemetery and poor James's insurance."
—Ahí tienen a la pobre Nannie —dijo Eliza mirándola—. Está rendida. Todo el trabajo que tuvimos: traer a la lavandera, amortajarlo, gestionar el ataúd, organizar la Misa en la capilla. De no ser por el padre O'Rourke, no sé qué habríamos hecho. Él nos trajo todas esas flores y los dos candelabros de la capilla, redactó el anuncio para el Freeman's General y se encargó de los trámites del cementerio y del seguro del pobre James.
"Wasn't that good of him?" said my aunt
—¡Qué amable de su parte! —comentó mi tía.
Eliza closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
Eliza cerró los ojos y movió lentamente la cabeza.
"Ah, there's no friends like the old friends," she said, "when all is said and done, no friends that a body can trust."
—Ah, no hay amigos como los viejos amigos —reflexionó—. Al final de cuentas, no hay amistades en las que uno pueda confiar.
"Indeed, that's true," said my aunt. "And I'm sure now that he's gone to his eternal reward he won't forget you and all your kindness to him."
—Ciertamente es verdad —asintió mi tía—. Y estoy segura de que ahora que recibe su recompensa eterna, no olvidará la bondad que ustedes le mostraron.
"Ah, poor James!" said Eliza. "He was no great trouble to us. You wouldn't hear him in the house any more than now. Still, I know he's gone and all to that...."
—¡Ah, pobre James! —repitió Eliza—. Nunca nos dio mayor problema. En la casa apenas se notaba su presencia. Aunque ahora que se ha ido...
"It's when it's all over that you'll miss him," said my aunt.
—Es cuando todo termina cuando más se le echará de menos —observó mi tía.
"I know that," said Eliza. "I won't be bringing him in his cup of beef-tea any me, nor you, ma'am, sending him his snuff. Ah, poor James!"
—Lo sé —dijo Eliza—. Ya no le llevaré su taza de caldo, ni usted, señora, le enviará su rapé. ¡Ah, pobre James!
She stopped, as if she were communing with the past and then said shrewdly:
Hizo una pausa, como rememorando el pasado, y luego continuó con perspicacia:
"Mind you, I noticed there was something queer coming over him latterly. Whenever I'd bring in his soup to him there I'd find him with his breviary fallen to the floor, lying back in the chair and his mouth open."
—Fíjese, noté algo extraño en él últimamente. Cada vez que le llevaba la sopa, lo encontraba con el breviario caído en el suelo, recostado en la silla y con la boca abierta.
She laid a finger against her nose and frowned: then she continued:
Apoyó un dedo en su nariz y frunció el ceño antes de proseguir:
"But still and all he kept on saying that before the summer was over he'd go out for a drive one fine day just to see the old house again where we were all born down in Irishtown and take me and Nannie with him. If we could only get one of them new-fangled carriages that makes no noise that Father O'Rourke told him about, them with the rheumatic wheels, for the day cheap—he said, at Johnny Rush's over the way there and drive out the three of us together of a Sunday evening. He had his mind set on that.... Poor James!"
"Pero aun así seguía diciendo que antes de que terminara el verano saldría a dar un paseo en un buen día solo para ver la vieja casa donde todos nacimos allá en Irishtown y llevarnos a mí y a Nannie con él. Si pudiéramos conseguir uno de esos carruajes modernos que no hacen ruido de los que el padre O'Rourke le habló, esos con ruedas reumáticas, para el día barato —decía— en lo de Johnny Rush al otro lado y llevarnos a los tres juntos un domingo al atardecer. Tenía la mente puesta en eso... ¡Pobre James!"
"The Lord have mercy on his soul!" said my aunt.
"¡El Señor tenga misericordia de su alma!" dijo mi tía.
Eliza took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes with it. Then she put it back again in her pocket and gazed into the empty grate for some time without speaking.
Eliza sacó su pañuelo y se enjugó los ojos. Luego lo guardó de nuevo en su bolsillo y contempló la chimenea vacía durante un rato sin hablar.
"He was too scrupulous always," she said. "The duties of the priesthood was too much for him. And then his life was, you might say, crossed."
"Siempre fue demasiado escrupuloso," dijo. "Las obligaciones del sacerdocio eran demasiado para él. Y su vida, podría decirse, estuvo cruzada."
"Yes," said my aunt. "He was a disappointed man. You could see that."
"Sí," dijo mi tía. "Era un hombre decepcionado. Eso se notaba."
A silence took possession of the little room and, under cover of it, I approached the table and tasted my sherry and then returned quietly to my chair in the comer. Eliza seemed to have fallen into a deep revery. We waited respectfully for her to break the silence: and after a long pause she said slowly:
Un silencio se apoderó de la pequeña habitación y, al amparo de él, me acerqué a la mesa, probé mi jerez y volví sigilosamente a mi silla en el rincón. Eliza parecía haber caído en un profundo ensimismamiento. Esperamos respetuosamente a que rompiera el silencio: tras una larga pausa, dijo lentamente:
"It was that chalice he broke.... That was the beginning of it. Of course, they say it was all right, that it contained nothing, I mean. But still.... They say it was the boy's fault. But poor James was so nervous, God be merciful to him!"
"Fue aquel cáliz que rompió... Eso fue el principio de todo. Claro, dicen que no pasó nada, que no contenía nada, quiero decir. Pero aún así... Dicen que fue culpa del monaguillo. ¡Pero el pobre James estaba tan nervioso, Dios sea misericordioso con él!"
"And was that it?" said my aunt. "I heard something...."
"¿Y fue por eso?" dijo mi tía. "Oí algo..."
Eliza nodded.
Eliza asintió.
"That affected his mind," she said. "After that he began to mope by himself, talking to no one and wandering about by himself. So one night he was wanted for to go on a call and they couldn't find him anywhere. They looked high up and low down; and still they couldn't see a sight of him anywhere. So then the clerk suggested to try the chapel. So then they got the keys and opened the chapel and the clerk and Father O'Rourke and another priest that was there brought in a light for to look for him.... And what do you think but there he was, sitting up by himself in the dark in his confession-box, wide-awake and laughing-like softly to himself?"
"Eso le afectó la mente," dijo. "Después de eso empezó a vaguear solo, sin hablar con nadie y deambulando por su cuenta. Así que una noche lo necesitaron para una visita y no lo encontraron en ningún lado. Buscaron por arriba y por abajo; y aún así no había rastro de él. Entonces al monaguillo se le ocurrió probar en la capilla. Consiguieron las llaves, abrieron la capilla y el monaguillo con el padre O'Rourke y otro cura que estaba allí entraron con una luz para buscarlo... ¿Y saben qué? Allí estaba, sentado solo en la oscuridad en su confesionario, completamente despierto y riéndose suavemente para sí."
She stopped suddenly as if to listen. I too listened; but there was no sound in the house: and I knew that the old priest was lying still in his coffin as we had seen him, solemn and truculent in death, an idle chalice on his breast.
Se detuvo de repente como escuchando. Yo también agucé el oído; pero no había sonido en la casa: y supe que el viejo sacerdote yacía quieto en su ataúd como lo habíamos visto, solemne y agresivo en la muerte, con un cáliz inútil sobre su pecho.
Eliza resumed:
Eliza continuó:
"Wide-awake and laughing-like to himself.... So then, of course, when they saw that, that made them think that there was something gone wrong with him...."
"Despierto y riéndose para sí... Claro, al ver eso, pensaron que algo le había fallado en la cabeza..."
AN ENCOUNTER
UN ENCUENTRO
IT WAS Joe Dillon who introduced the Wild West to us. He had a little library made up of old numbers of The Union Jack, Pluck and The Halfpenny Marvel. Every evening after school we met in his back garden and arranged Indian battles. He and his fat young brother Leo, the idler, held the loft of the stable while we tried to carry it by storm; or we fought a pitched battle on the grass. But, however well we fought, we never won siege or battle and all our bouts ended with Joe Dillon's war dance of victory. His parents went to eight-o'clock mass every morning in Gardiner Street and the peaceful odour of Mrs. Dillon was prevalent in the hall of the house. But he played too fiercely for us who were younger and more timid. He looked like some kind of an Indian when he capered round the garden, an old tea-cosy on his head, beating a tin with his fist and yelling:
FUE Joe Dillon quien nos introdujo al Lejano Oeste. Tenía una pequeña biblioteca compuesta de viejos ejemplares de The Union Jack, Pluck y The Halfpenny Marvel. Cada tarde después de la escuela nos reuníamos en su jardín trasero y organizábamos batallas indias. Él y su hermano gordo Leo, el holgazán, ocupaban el pajar del establo mientras intentábamos tomarlo al asalto; o librábamos batallas campales en el césped. Pero por bien que lucháramos, nunca ganábamos ningún sitio o batalla, y todos nuestros encuentros terminaban con la danza de guerra victoriosa de Joe Dillon. Sus padres iban a misa de ocho cada mañana a Gardiner Street y el olor pacífico de la señora Dillon impregnaba el vestíbulo de la casa. Pero jugaba demasiado feroz para nosotros, más jóvenes y tímidos. Parecía una especie de indio cuando saltaba por el jardín, con una vieja cubretetera en la cabeza, golpeando una lata con el puño y gritando:
"Ya! yaka, yaka, yaka!"
"¡Ya! yaka, yaka, yaka!"
Everyone was incredulous when it was reported that he had a vocation for the priesthood. Nevertheless it was true.
Nadie lo creyó cuando se dijo que tenía vocación para el sacerdocio. Sin embargo, era cierto.
A spirit of unruliness diffused itself among us and, under its influence, differences of culture and constitution were waived. We banded ourselves together, some boldly, some in jest and some almost in fear: and of the number of these latter, the reluctant Indians who were afraid to seem studious or lacking in robustness, I was one. The adventures related in the literature of the Wild West were remote from my nature but, at least, they opened doors of escape. I liked better some American detective stories which were traversed from time to time by unkempt fierce and beautiful girls. Though there was nothing wrong in these stories and though their intention was sometimes literary they were circulated secretly at school. One day when Father Butler was hearing the four pages of Roman History clumsy Leo Dillon was discovered with a copy of The Halfpenny Marvel.
Un espíritu de rebeldía se difundió entre nosotros y, bajo su influencia, las diferencias de educación y constitución se olvidaron. Formamos una banda, unos con audacia, otros en broma y algunos casi por miedo: y entre estos últimos, los indios reticentes que temían parecer estudiosos o faltos de vigor, yo era uno. Las aventuras relatadas en la literatura del Lejano Oeste eran ajenas a mi naturaleza, pero al menos abrían puertas de escape. Prefería algunas historias policiacas americanas surcadas de vez en cuando por chicas indómitas, feroces y hermosas. Aunque no había nada malo en esos relatos y aunque su intención era a veces literaria, circulaban en secreto en la escuela. Un día, mientras el Padre Butler repasaba las cuatro páginas de Historia Romana, descubrieron al torpe Leo Dillon con un ejemplar de The Halfpenny Marvel.
"This page or this page? This page Now, Dillon, up! 'Hardly had the day'... Go on! What day? 'Hardly had the day dawned'... Have you studied it? What have you there in your pocket?"
"¿Esta página o esta página? Esta página. ¡Arriba, Dillon! 'Apenas había amanecido el día'... ¡Continúa! ¿Qué día? 'Apenas había amanecido el día'... ¿Lo has estudiado? ¿Qué tienes ahí en el bolsillo?"
Everyone's heart palpitated as Leo Dillon handed up the paper and everyone assumed an innocent face. Father Butler turned over the pages, frowning.
Todos los corazones palpitaban cuando Leo Dillon entregó el papel y todos pusieron cara de inocencia. El Padre Butler hojeó las páginas, frunciendo el ceño.
"What is this rubbish?" he said. "The Apache Chief! Is this what you read instead of studying your Roman History? Let me not find any more of this wretched stuff in this college. The man who wrote it, I suppose, was some wretched fellow who writes these things for a drink. I'm surprised at boys like you, educated, reading such stuff. I could understand it if you were... National School boys. Now, Dillon, I advise you strongly, get at your work or..."
"¿Qué es esta basura?" dijo. "¡El Jefe Apache! ¿Es esto lo que lees en vez de estudiar tu Historia Romana? Que no vuelva a encontrarse esta miserable literatura en este colegio. El que lo escribió, supongo, sería algún pobre diablo que escribe estas cosas por un trago. Me sorprende de chicos como tú, educados, leyendo semejantes cosas. Lo entendería si fueran... alumnos de la Escuela Nacional. Ahora, Dillon, te aconsejo firmemente: aplícate al estudio o..."
This rebuke during the sober hours of school paled much of the glory of the Wild West for me and the confused puffy face of Leo Dillon awakened one of my consciences. But when the restraining influence of the school was at a distance I began to hunger again for wild sensations, for the escape which those chronicles of disorder alone seemed to offer me. The mimic warfare of the evening became at last as wearisome to me as the routine of school in the morning because I wanted real adventures to happen to myself. But real adventures, I reflected, do not happen to people who remain at home: they must be sought abroad.
Esta reprimenda durante las horas sobrias de la escuela desvaneció mucho del encanto del Lejano Oeste para mí, y la confusa cara hinchada de Leo Dillon despertó una de mis conciencias. Pero cuando la influencia restrictiva de la escuela estaba lejos, empecé a anhelar de nuevo sensaciones salvajes, el escape que solo aquellas crónicas del desorden parecían ofrecerme. La guerra fingida de la tarde se volvió al final tan tediosa como la rutina escolar de la mañana, porque quería que me sucedieran aventuras reales. Pero las aventuras reales, reflexioné, no les ocurren a quienes se quedan en casa: hay que buscarlas en el exterior.
The summer holidays were near at hand when I made up my mind to break out of the weariness of school-life for one day at least. With Leo Dillon and a boy named Mahony I planned a day's miching. Each of us saved up sixpence. We were to meet at ten in the morning on the Canal Bridge. Mahony's big sister was to write an excuse for him and Leo Dillon was to tell his brother to say he was sick. We arranged to go along the Wharf Road until we came to the ships, then to cross in the ferryboat and walk out to see the Pigeon House. Leo Dillon was afraid we might meet Father Butler or someone out of the college; but Mahony asked, very sensibly, what would Father Butler be doing out at the Pigeon House. We were reassured: and I brought the first stage of the plot to an end by collecting sixpence from the other two, at the same time showing them my own sixpence. When we were making the last arrangements on the eve we were all vaguely excited. We shook hands, laughing, and Mahony said:
Las vacaciones de verano estaban cerca cuando decidí escapar aunque fuera un día del hastío de la vida escolar. Con Leo Dillon y un chico llamado Mahony planeé una jornada de novillos. Cada uno ahorró seis peniques. Quedaríamos a las diez de la mañana en el Puente del Canal. La hermana mayor de Mahony escribiría una excusa para él, y Leo Dillon diría a su hermano que fingiera estar enfermo. Planeamos ir por Wharf Road hasta los barcos, cruzar en el ferry y caminar para ver el Pigeon House. Leo Dillon temía encontrarnos al Padre Butler o alguien del colegio; pero Mahony preguntó, con mucho sentido, qué haría el Padre Butler en el Pigeon House. Nos tranquilizamos: y yo concluí la primera fase del plan cobrando seis peniques a los otros dos, mostrando al mismo tiempo mis propios seis peniques. Al hacer los últimos preparativos la víspera, estábamos todos vagamente excitados. Nos dimos la mano riendo, y Mahony dijo:
"Till tomorrow, mates!"
"¡Hasta mañana, colegas!"
That night I slept badly. In the morning I was firstcomer to the bridge as I lived nearest. I hid my books in the long grass near the ashpit at the end of the garden where nobody ever came and hurried along the canal bank. It was a mild sunny morning in the first week of June. I sat up on the coping of the bridge admiring my frail canvas shoes which I had diligently pipeclayed overnight and watching the docile horses pulling a tramload of business people up the hill. All the branches of the tall trees which lined the mall were gay with little light green leaves and the sunlight slanted through them on to the water. The granite stone of the bridge was beginning to be warm and I began to pat it with my hands in time to an air in my head. I was very happy.
Esa noche dormí mal. Por la mañana fui el primero en llegar al puente, pues vivía más cerca. Escondí mis libros en la hierba alta cerca del cenicero al fondo del jardín, donde nadie iba, y me apresuré por la orilla del canal. Era una suave mañana soleada de principios de junio. Me senté en el pretil del puente admirando mis frágiles zapatos de lona que había embetunado diligentemente la noche anterior, y observando los dóciles caballos tirando de un tranvía cargado de gente de negocios cuesta arriba. Todas las ramas de los altos árboles que bordeaban el paseo estaban alegres con pequeñas hojas verde claro, y la luz del sol se filtraba entre ellos sobre el agua. La piedra granítica del puente empezaba a calentarse y comencé a palmearla al compás de una melodía en mi cabeza. Estaba muy feliz.
When I had been sitting there for five or ten minutes I saw Mahony's grey suit approaching. He came up the hill, smiling, and clambered up beside me on the bridge. While we were waiting he brought out the catapult which bulged from his inner pocket and explained some improvements which he had made in it. I asked him why he had brought it and he told me he had brought it to have some gas with the birds. Mahony used slang freely, and spoke of Father Butler as Old Bunser. We waited on for a quarter of an hour more but still there was no sign of Leo Dillon. Mahony, at last, jumped down and said:
Cuando llevaba sentado allí cinco o diez minutos, vi el traje gris de Mahony acercarse. Subió la colina, sonriendo, y se encaramó junto a mí en el puente. Mientras esperábamos, sacó la honda que le abultaba el bolsillo interior y explicó algunas mejoras que le había hecho. Le pregunté por qué la había traído y me dijo que para divertirse un rato con los pájaros. Mahony usaba jerga con soltura y se refería al Padre Butler como el Viejo Bunser. Esperamos un cuarto de hora más, pero aún no había señal de Leo Dillon. Mahony, al final, saltó y dijo:
"Come along. I knew Fatty'd funk it."
—Vámonos. Sabía que el Gordinflas se acobardaría.
"And his sixpence...?" I said.
—¿Y sus seis peniques...? —pregunté.
"That's forfeit," said Mahony. "And so much the better for us—a bob and a tanner instead of a bob."
—Quedan confiscados —dijo Mahony—. Y tanto mejor para nosotros: un chelín y seis peniques en lugar de un chelín.
We walked along the North Strand Road till we came to the Vitriol Works and then turned to the right along the Wharf Road. Mahony began to play the Indian as soon as we were out of public sight. He chased a crowd of ragged girls, brandishing his unloaded catapult and, when two ragged boys began, out of chivalry, to fling stones at us, he proposed that we should charge them. I objected that the boys were too small and so we walked on, the ragged troop screaming after us: "Swaddlers! Swaddlers!" thinking that we were Protestants because Mahony, who was dark-complexioned, wore the silver badge of a cricket club in his cap. When we came to the Smoothing Iron we arranged a siege; but it was a failure because you must have at least three. We revenged ourselves on Leo Dillon by saying what a funk he was and guessing how many he would get at three o'clock from Mr. Ryan.
Caminamos por North Strand Road hasta llegar a la Fábrica de Vitriolo y luego giramos a la derecha por Wharf Road. Mahony comenzó a hacer de indio en cuanto estuvimos fuera de la vista pública. Persiguió a un grupo de chicas harapientas, blandiendo su honda descargada, y cuando dos chicos harapientos comenzaron, por caballerosidad, a lanzarnos piedras, propuso que los cargáramos. Objeté que los chicos eran demasiado pequeños, así que seguimos caminando, mientras la tropa harapienta nos gritaba: «¡Swaddlers! ¡Swaddlers!», creyendo que éramos protestantes porque Mahony, de tez morena, llevaba la insignia plateada de un club de críquet en la gorra. Al llegar al Smoothing Iron, planeamos un asedio, pero fracasó porque se necesitan al menos tres. Nos vengamos de Leo Dillon diciendo qué cobarde era y especulando cuántas recibiría a las tres en punto del señor Ryan.
We came then near the river. We spent a long time walking about the noisy streets flanked by high stone walls, watching the working of cranes and engines and often being shouted at for our immobility by the drivers of groaning carts. It was noon when we reached the quays and as all the labourers seemed to be eating their lunches, we bought two big currant buns and sat down to eat them on some metal piping beside the river. We pleased ourselves with the spectacle of Dublin's commerce—the barges signalled from far away by their curls of woolly smoke, the brown fishing fleet beyond Ringsend, the big white sailing-vessel which was being discharged on the opposite quay. Mahony said it would be right skit to run away to sea on one of those big ships and even I, looking at the high masts, saw, or imagined, the geography which had been scantily dosed to me at school gradually taking substance under my eyes. School and home seemed to recede from us and their influences upon us seemed to wane.
Luego nos acercamos al río. Pasamos mucho tiempo recorriendo calles ruidosas flanqueadas por altos muros de piedra, observando el funcionamiento de grúas y máquinas, mientras los conductores de carretas que gemían nos gritaban por quedarnos inmóviles. Era mediodía cuando llegamos a los muelles y, como todos los obreros parecían estar almorzando, compramos dos bollos de grosellas y nos sentamos a comerlos en unos tubos metálicos junto al río. Nos deleitamos con el espectáculo del comercio dublinés: las gabarras anunciadas a lo lejos por sus rizos de humo lanudo, la flota pesquera marrón más allá de Ringsend, el gran velero blanco que descargaban en el muelle opuesto. Mahony dijo que sería una gran broma huir al mar en uno de esos barcos, y hasta yo, mirando los altos mástiles, vi (o imaginé) cómo la geografía escasamente dosificada en la escuela cobraba sustancia ante mis ojos. Escuela y hogar parecían alejarse, y su influencia sobre nosotros menguar.
We crossed the Liffey in the ferryboat, paying our toll to be transported in the company of two labourers and a little Jew with a bag. We were serious to the point of solemnity, but once during the short voyage our eyes met and we laughed. When we landed we watched the discharging of the graceful threemaster which we had observed from the other quay. Some bystander said that she was a Norwegian vessel. I went to the stern and tried to decipher the legend upon it but, failing to do so, I came back and examined the foreign sailors to see had any of them green eyes for I had some confused notion.... The sailors' eyes were blue and grey and even black. The only sailor whose eyes could have been called green was a tall man who amused the crowd on the quay by calling out cheerfully every time the planks fell:
Cruzamos el Liffey en la barcaza, pagando nuestro pasaje para viajar en compañía de dos obreros y un pequeño judío con una bolsa. Estábamos serios hasta la solemnidad, pero una vez, durante el breve trayecto, nuestras miradas se encontraron y reímos. Al desembarcar, observamos la descarga del elegante velero de tres mástiles que habíamos visto desde el otro muelle. Un transeúnte comentó que era un barco noruego. Fui a la popa e intenté descifrar la inscripción, pero al fracasar, regresé y examiné a los marineros extranjeros por si alguno tenía ojos verdes, pues tenía una vaga idea... Los ojos de los marineros eran azules, grises e incluso negros. El único marinero de ojos que podrían llamarse verdes era un hombre alto que divertía a la multitud del muelle gritando alegremente cada vez que caían las tablas:
"All right! All right!"
—¡Todo bien! ¡Todo bien!
When we were tired of this sight we wandered slowly into Ringsend. The day had grown sultry, and in the windows of the grocers' shops musty biscuits lay bleaching. We bought some biscuits and chocolate which we ate sedulously as we wandered through the squalid streets where the families of the fishermen live. We could find no dairy and so we went into a huckster's shop and bought a bottle of raspberry lemonade each. Refreshed by this, Mahony chased a cat down a lane, but the cat escaped into a wide field. We both felt rather tired and when we reached the field we made at once for a sloping bank over the ridge of which we could see the Dodder.
Cuando nos cansamos del espectáculo, vagamos lentamente hacia Ringsend. El día se había vuelto sofocante, y en los escaparates de las tiendas de ultramarinos, bizcochos rancios se blanqueaban al sol. Compramos galletas y chocolate que comimos con dedicación mientras recorríamos las calles sórdidas donde vivían las familias de los pescadores. Al no encontrar ninguna lechería, entramos en una tienda de baratijas y compramos una botella de limonada de frambuesa cada uno. Refrescados, Mahony persiguió a un gato por un callejón, pero el gato escapó a un campo abierto. Ambos nos sentíamos cansados, y al llegar al campo, nos dirigimos a un terraplén inclinado desde cuya cresta podíamos ver el Dodder.
It was too late and we were too tired to carry out our project of visiting the Pigeon House. We had to be home before four o'clock lest our adventure should be discovered. Mahony looked regretfully at his catapult and I had to suggest going home by train before he regained any cheerfulness. The sun went in behind some clouds and left us to our jaded thoughts and the crumbs of our provisions.
Era demasiado tarde y estábamos demasiado fatigados para cumplir nuestro plan de visitar el Pigeon House. Debíamos llegar a casa antes de las cuatro para que no descubrieran nuestra aventura. Mahony miró con nostalgia su honda, y yo tuve que sugerir volver en tren antes de que recuperara el buen humor. El sol se ocultó tras unas nubes, dejándonos con nuestros pensamientos agotados y las migajas de nuestras provisiones.
There was nobody but ourselves in the field. When we had lain on the bank for some time without speaking I saw a man approaching from the far end of the field. I watched him lazily as I chewed one of those green stems on which girls tell fortunes. He came along by the bank slowly. He walked with one hand upon his hip and in the other hand he held a stick with which he tapped the turf lightly. He was shabbily dressed in a suit of greenish-black and wore what we used to call a jerry hat with a high crown. He seemed to be fairly old for his moustache was ashen-grey. When he passed at our feet he glanced up at us quickly and then continued his way. We followed him with our eyes and saw that when he had gone on for perhaps fifty paces he turned about and began to retrace his steps. He walked towards us very slowly, always tapping the ground with his stick, so slowly that I thought he was looking for something in the grass.
No había nadie más en el campo. Tras yacer un rato en silencio en el terraplén, vi a un hombre acercarse desde el extremo opuesto. Lo observé con pereza mientras mordisqueaba uno de esos tallos verdes con los que las chicas leen la fortuna. Avanzaba lentamente junto al terraplén, con una mano en la cadera y en la otra un bastón con el que golpeaba suavemente el césped. Vestía con andrajos un traje verde negruzco y llevaba lo que solíamos llamar sombrero jerry de copa alta. Parecía bastante mayor, pues su bigote era gris ceniza. Al pasar frente a nosotros, nos lanzó una mirada rápida y siguió su camino. Lo seguimos con la vista y vimos que, tras caminar unos cincuenta pasos, se dio la vuelta y comenzó a retroceder. Se acercó muy lentamente, siempre golpeando el suelo con el bastón, tan despacio que creí que buscaba algo en la hierba.
He stopped when he came level with us and bade us goodday. We answered him and he sat down beside us on the slope slowly and with great care. He began to talk of the weather, saying that it would be a very hot summer and adding that the seasons had changed gready since he was a boy—a long time ago. He said that the happiest time of one's life was undoubtedly one's schoolboy days and that he would give anything to be young again. While he expressed these sentiments which bored us a little we kept silent. Then he began to talk of school and of books. He asked us whether we had read the poetry of Thomas Moore or the works of Sir Walter Scott and Lord Lytton. I pretended that I had read every book he mentioned so that in the end he said:
Se detuvo a nuestra altura y nos dio los buenos días. Respondimos y se sentó lentamente, con mucho cuidado, junto a nosotros en la pendiente. Empezó a hablar del tiempo, diciendo que sería un verano muy caluroso y añadiendo que las estaciones habían cambiado mucho desde su juventud, hacía mucho tiempo. Dijo que la época más feliz de la vida eran sin duda los días de colegial y que daría cualquier cosa por ser joven otra vez. Mientras expresaba estos sentimientos que nos aburrían un poco, guardamos silencio. Luego comenzó a hablar de la escuela y los libros. Nos preguntó si habíamos leído la poesía de Thomas Moore o las obras de Sir Walter Scott y Lord Lytton. Fingí haber leído todos los libros que mencionó, hasta que al final dijo:
"Ah, I can see you are a bookworm like myself. Now," he added, pointing to Mahony who was regarding us with open eyes, "he is different; he goes in for games."
—Ah, veo que eres un ratón de biblioteca como yo. Ahora —añadió, señalando a Mahony, que nos observaba con los ojos muy abiertos—, él es distinto; a él le gustan los juegos.
He said he had all Sir Walter Scott's works and all Lord Lytton's works at home and never tired of reading them. "Of course," he said, "there were some of Lord Lytton's works which boys couldn't read." Mahony asked why couldn't boys read them—a question which agitated and pained me because I was afraid the man would think I was as stupid as Mahony. The man, however, only smiled. I saw that he had great gaps in his mouth between his yellow teeth. Then he asked us which of us had the most sweethearts. Mahony mentioned lightly that he had three totties. The man asked me how many I had. I answered that I had none. He did not believe me and said he was sure I must have one. I was silent.
Dijo que tenía todas las obras de Sir Walter Scott y Lord Lytton en casa y que nunca se cansaba de leerlas. —Por supuesto —agregó—, hay obras de Lord Lytton que los chicos no pueden leer. Mahony preguntó por qué no, cuestión que me inquietó y apenó, pues temí que el hombre me creyera tan tonto como Mahony. Sin embargo, el hombre solo sonrió. Vi que tenía grandes huecos entre sus dientes amarillos. Luego nos preguntó cuál de nosotros tenía más novias. Mahony mencionó ligero que tenía tres chicas. El hombre me preguntó cuántas tenía yo. Respondí que ninguna. No me creyó y dijo que seguro tenía una. Guardé silencio.
"Tell us," said Mahony pertly to the man, "how many have you yourself?"
—Díganos —preguntó Mahony con descaro al hombre—, ¿cuántas tiene usted?
The man smiled as before and said that when he was our age he had lots of sweethearts.
El hombre sonrió como antes y dijo que a nuestra edad él tenía muchas novias.
"Every boy," he said, "has a little sweetheart."
—Todo chico —dijo— tiene una pequeña enamorada.
His attitude on this point struck me as strangely liberal in a man of his age. In my heart I thought that what he said about boys and sweethearts was reasonable. But I disliked the words in his mouth and I wondered why he shivered once or twice as if he feared something or felt a sudden chill. As he proceeded I noticed that his accent was good. He began to speak to us about girls, saying what nice soft hair they had and how soft their hands were and how all girls were not so good as they seemed to be if one only knew. There was nothing he liked, he said, so much as looking at a nice young girl, at her nice white hands and her beautiful soft hair. He gave me the impression that he was repeating something which he had learned by heart or that, magnetised by some words of his own speech, his mind was slowly circling round and round in the same orbit. At times he spoke as if he were simply alluding to some fact that everybody knew, and at times he lowered his voice and spoke mysteriously as if he were telling us something secret which he did not wish others to overhear. He repeated his phrases over and over again, varying them and surrounding them with his monotonous voice. I continued to gaze towards the foot of the slope, listening to him.
Su actitud sobre este punto me pareció extrañamente liberal para un hombre de su edad. En mi interior pensaba que lo que decía sobre los chicos y sus novias era razonable. Pero me desagradaban esas palabras en su boca y me preguntaba por qué tiritaba una o dos veces como si temiera algo o sintiera un repentino escalofrío. Mientras hablaba, noté que tenía buen acento. Empezó a hablarnos de las chicas, diciendo qué pelo más suave y bonito tenían y cómo no todas eran tan buenas como parecían si uno supiera mirar. Nada le gustaba más, decía, que contemplar a una joven agraciada, sus lindas manos blancas y su hermoso cabello sedoso. Me dio la impresión de que repetía algo aprendido de memoria o que, magnetizado por sus propias palabras, su mente giraba lentamente en la misma órbita. A veces hablaba como si aludiera a un hecho conocido por todos, y otras bajaba la voz con misterio, como si nos confiara un secreto que no deseaba que otros oyeran. Repetía sus frases una y otra vez, variándolas y rodeándolas con su voz monótona. Yo seguí mirando hacia la base de la pendiente, escuchándole.
After a long while his monologue paused. He stood up slowly, saying that he had to leave us for a minute or so, a few minutes, and, without changing the direction of my gaze, I saw him walking slowly away from us towards the near end of the field. We remained silent when he had gone. After a silence of a few minutes I heard Mahony exclaim:
Tras un largo rato, su monólogo cesó. Se levantó lentamente, diciendo que debía dejarnos un minuto, unos minutos, y, sin apartar la mirada, lo vi alejarse hacia el extremo cercano del campo. Permanecemos en silencio tras su partida. Después de unos minutos de calma, oí exclamar a Mahony:
"I say! Look what he's doing!"
—¡Oye! ¡Mira lo que está haciendo!
As I neither answered nor raised my eyes Mahony exclaimed again:
Como ni respondí ni alcé la vista, Mahony volvió a exclamar:
"I say... He's a queer old josser!"
—¡Oye...! ¡Es un viejo rarete!
"In case he asks us for our names," I said "let you be Murphy and I'll be Smith."
—Por si nos pregunta nuestros nombres —dije—, tú serás Murphy y yo Smith.
We said nothing further to each other. I was still considering whether I would go away or not when the man came back and sat down beside us again. Hardly had he sat down when Mahony, catching sight of the cat which had escaped him, sprang up and pursued her across the field. The man and I watched the chase. The cat escaped once more and Mahony began to throw stones at the wall she had escaladed. Desisting from this, he began to wander about the far end of the field, aimlessly.
No intercambiamos más palabras. Aún deliberaba si irme o no cuando el hombre regresó y se sentó nuevamente a nuestro lado. Apenas se hubo sentado cuando Mahony, al avistar al gato que se le había escapado, saltó y lo persiguió por el campo. El hombre y yo observamos la cacería. El gato volvió a escapar y Mahony empezó a arrojar piedras contra el muro que había escalado. Desistiendo de ello, comenzó a vagar sin rumbo por el extremo opuesto del campo.
After an interval the man spoke to me. He said that my friend was a very rough boy and asked did he get whipped often at school. I was going to reply indignantly that we were not National School boys to be whipped, as he called it; but I remained silent. He began to speak on the subject of chastising boys. His mind, as if magnetised again by his speech, seemed to circle slowly round and round its new centre. He said that when boys were that kind they ought to be whipped and well whipped. When a boy was rough and unruly there was nothing would do him any good but a good sound whipping. A slap on the hand or a box on the ear was no good: what he wanted was to get a nice warm whipping. I was surprised at this sentiment and involuntarily glanced up at his face. As I did so I met the gaze of a pair of bottle-green eyes peering at me from under a twitching forehead. I turned my eyes away again.
Tras un intervalo, el hombre me habló. Dijo que mi amigo era un chico muy grosero y preguntó si lo azotaban a menudo en la escuela. Iba a replicar indignado que no éramos alumnos de la Escuela Nacional para que nos azotaran, como él decía; pero me mantuve en silencio. Comenzó a disertar sobre el castigo corporal. Su mente, como magnetizada de nuevo por su discurso, parecía girar lentamente en torno a su nuevo centro. Opinaba que cuando los chicos eran de ese tipo, merecían azotes, y bien dados. Si un muchacho era tosco y rebelde, nada lo enderezaba como una buena paliza. Una bofetada en la mano o un coscorrón no servían: lo que necesitaba era un correctivo calentito. Aquella opinión me sorprendió, y sin querer levanté la vista hacia su rostro. Al hacerlo, encontré la mirada de unos ojos verde botella que me escudriñaban bajo una frente nerviosa. Aparté de nuevo la vista.
The man continued his monologue. He seemed to have forgotten his recent liberalism. He said that if ever he found a boy talking to girls or having a girl for a sweetheart he would whip him and whip him; and that would teach him not to be talking to girls. And if a boy had a girl for a sweetheart and told lies about it then he would give him such a whipping as no boy ever got in this world. He said that there was nothing in this world he would like so well as that. He described to me how he would whip such a boy as if he were unfolding some elaborate mystery. He would love that, he said, better than anything in this world; and his voice, as he led me monotonously through the mystery, grew almost affectionate and seemed to plead with me that I should understand him.
El hombre continuó su monólogo. Parecía haber olvidado su reciente liberalismo. Dijo que si pillaba a un chico hablando con chicas o teniendo una novia, lo azotaría sin piedad; así aprendería a no mezclarse con ellas. Y si un muchacho mentía sobre tener una enamorada, le daría una paliza como ninguna en este mundo. Confesó que nada le complacería más. Me describió cómo azotaría a tal chico como si desplegara un misterio elaborado. Lo amaría, dijo, más que nada en este mundo; y su voz, mientras me guiaba monótonamente a través del misterio, se tornó casi afectuosa, como suplicando que lo comprendiera.
I waited till his monologue paused again. Then I stood up abruptly. Lest I should betray my agitation I delayed a few moments pretending to fix my shoe properly and then, saying that I was obliged to go, I bade him good-day. I went up the slope calmly but my heart was beating quickly with fear that he would seize me by the ankles. When I reached the top of the slope I turned round and, without looking at him, called loudly across the field:
Esperé a que su monólogo cesara de nuevo. Entonces me levanté abruptamente. Para disimular mi agitación, me demoré unos instantes fingiendo ajustarme el zapato y, alegando que debía irme, lo despedí. Subí la pendiente con calma, pero el corazón me latía rápido, temiendo que me agarrara por los tobillos. Al llegar a la cima, me volví y, sin mirarlo, grité fuerte hacia el campo:
"Murphy!"
—¡Murphy!
My voice had an accent of forced bravery in it and I was ashamed of my paltry stratagem. I had to call the name again before Mahony saw me and hallooed in answer. How my heart beat as he came running across the field to me! He ran as if to bring me aid. And I was penitent; for in my heart I had always despised him a little.
Mi voz tenía un acento de valentía forzada, y me avergonzó mi mezquina estratagema. Tuve que repetir el nombre antes de que Mahony me viera y respondiera con un grito. ¡Cómo me latía el corazón mientras corría hacia mí a través del campo! Corría como si viniera a socorrerme. Y me arrepentí; pues en mi interior siempre lo había menospreciado un poco.
ARABY
ARABY
NORTH RICHMOND STREET being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.
NORTH RICHMOND STREET, siendo ciega, era una calle tranquila salvo a la hora en que la escuela de los Hermanos Cristianos liberaba a los alumnos. Una casa deshabitada de dos pisos se alzaba en el fondo sin salida, aislada de sus vecinas en un solar cuadrado. Las demás casas de la calle, conscientes de las vidas decorosas que albergaban, se contemplaban con rostros pardos e imperturbables.
The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.
El anterior inquilino de nuestra casa, un sacerdote, había muerto en el trastirador trasero. Un aire viciado por el prolongado encierro impregnaba todas las habitaciones, y el cuarto de los trastos, detrás de la cocina, estaba plagado de papeles viejos e inútiles. Entre ellos encontré algunos libros de cubiertas frágiles, con las páginas rizadas y húmedas: El Abad, de Walter Scott, El Devoto Comulgante y Las Memorias de Vidocq. El último me gustaba más porque sus hojas estaban amarillentas. El jardín salvaje tras la casa contenía un manzano central y unos cuantos arbustos dispersos, bajo uno de los cuales hallé la bomba de bicicleta oxidada del difunto inquilino. Había sido un sacerdote muy caritativo; en su testamento legó todo su dinero a instituciones y los muebles de su casa a su hermana.
When the short days of winter came dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.
Cuando llegaban los cortos días de invierno, el crepúsculo caía antes de que termináramos de cenar. Al encontrarnos en la calle, las casas ya se habían tornado sombrías. El espacio de cielo sobre nosotros tenía el color de un violeta cambiante, y hacia él alzaban sus débiles faroles las lámparas de la calle. El aire frío nos escocía, y jugábamos hasta que nuestros cuerpos ardían. Nuestros gritos resonaban en la calle silenciosa. El trayecto de nuestros juegos nos llevaba por los callejones oscuros y fangosos tras las casas, donde sorteábamos las embestidas de las rudos tribus de las cottages, hasta las puertas traseras de los jardines goteantes donde olores surgían de los muladares, hasta las establos oscuros y olorosos donde un cochero almohazaba el caballo o arrancaba música de los arneses abrochados. Al regresar a la calle, la luz de las ventanas de las cocinas había llenado los patios. Si veíamos a mi tío doblar la esquina, nos escondíamos en la sombra hasta verlo entrar. O si la hermana de Mangan salía al umbral a llamar a su hermano para el té, la observábamos desde nuestra sombra escudriñando la calle. Esperábamos para ver si se quedaba o entraba, y si se quedaba, abandonábamos nuestro escondite y subíamos resignados los escalones de Mangan. Ella nos esperaba, su figura recortada por la luz de la puerto entreabierta. Su hermano siempre la molestaba antes de obedecer, y yo me quedaba junto a la verja mirándola. Su vestido ondeaba al moverse, y la suave cuerda de su cabello se balanceaba de un lado a otro.
Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.
Cada mañana yacía en el suelo del salón delantero observando su puerta. La persiana estaba bajada a un centímetro del marco para que no me vieran. Cuando ella salía al umbral, mi corazón brincaba. Corría al vestíbulo, agarraba mis libros y la seguía. Mantenía su figura morena siempre a la vista y, al acercarnos al punto donde nuestros caminos divergían, aceleraba el paso y la adelantaba. Esto ocurría mañana tras mañana. Nunca le había hablado, salvo algunas palabras casuales, y sin embargo su nombre era como un conjuro para toda mi sangre insensata.
Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.
Su imagen me acompañaba incluso en los lugares más hostiles al romance. Los sábados por la tarde, cuando mi tía iba al mercado, yo tenía que cargar con algunos de los paquetes. Caminábamos por calles resplandecientes, empujados por hombres ebrios y mujeres regateadoras, entre maldiciones de obreros, letanías agudas de los muchachos de las tiendas que vigilaban los barriles de carrilladas de cerdo, y los cantos nasales de los cantantes callejeros que entonaban una canción populachera sobre O'Donovan Rossa o una balada de los conflictos en nuestra tierra natal. Estos ruidos convergían en una única sensación de vida para mí: imaginaba que portaba mi cáliz a salvo entre una multitud de enemigos. Su nombre brotaba en mis labios en momentos de extrañas plegarias y alabanzas que ni yo mismo comprendía. Mis ojos se llenaban a menudo de lágrimas (no sabía por qué) y a veces un torrente desde mi corazón parecía derramarse en mi pecho. Pensaba poco en el futuro. No sabía si alguna vez le hablaría o no, o, si lo hacía, cómo expresarle mi confusa adoración. Pero mi cuerpo era como un arpa y sus palabras y gestos como dedos que recorrían las cuerdas.
One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: "O love! O love!" many times.
Una tarde entré en el cuarto de dibujo trasero donde había muerto el sacerdote. Era un oscuro anochecer lluvioso y no había sonido alguno en la casa. A través de uno de los cristales rotos oí la lluvia golpear la tierra, las finas agujas incesantes del agua jugando en los macizos encharcados. Alguna lejana lámpara o ventana iluminada brillaba bajo mí. Me sentí agradecido de ver tan poco. Todos mis sentidos parecían querer velarse y, sintiendo que estaba a punto de escapar de ellos, apreté las palmas de mis manos hasta que temblaron, murmurando: «¡Oh amor! ¡Oh amor!» una y otra vez.
At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar, she said she would love to go.
Al fin me habló. Cuando me dirigió las primeras palabras, me sentí tan confundido que no supe qué responder. Me preguntó si iba a ARABY. Olvidé si contesté que sí o no. Sería un bazar espléndido, dijo que le encantaría ir.
"And why can't you?" I asked.
—¿Y por qué no puedes? —pregunté.
While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.
Mientras hablaba, giraba una pulsera de plata una y otra vez alrededor de su muñeca. No podía ir, dijo, porque esa semana habría un retiro en su convento. Su hermano y otros dos chicos estaban peleando por sus gorras y yo estaba solo en la verja. Ella sujetaba uno de los barrotes, inclinando la cabeza hacia mí. La luz de la lámpara frente a nuestra puerta capturó la curva blanca de su cuello, iluminó su cabello que allí reposaba y, al caer, alumbró la mano sobre la verja. Se posó sobre un lado de su vestido y atrapó el borde blanco de una enagua, apenas visible mientras ella permanecía relajada.
"It's well for you," she said.
—Tienes suerte —dijo.
"If I go," I said, "I will bring you something."
—Si voy —dije—, te traeré algo.
What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.
¡Qué innumerables locuras arrasaron mis pensamientos en vigilia y sueño después de aquella tarde! Deseaba aniquilar los tediosos días intermedios. Me irritaba ante el trabajo escolar. De noche en mi habitación y de día en clase, su imagen se interponía entre yo y la página que intentaba leer. Las sílabas de la palabra ARABY resonaban en mí a través del silencio donde mi alma se deleitaba, proyectando sobre mí un hechizo oriental. Pedí permiso para ir al bazar el sábado por la noche. Mi tía se sorprendió y esperó que no fuera algún asunto de logia masónica. Respondí pocas preguntas en clase. Observé el rostro de mi profesor pasar de la afabilidad a la severidad; esperaba que no empezara a holgazanear. No podía reunir mis pensamientos dispersos. Casi no tenía paciencia con las serias obligaciones de la vida que, ahora que se interponían entre mi deseo y yo, me parecían juegos infantiles, feos y monótonos juegos de niños.
On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:
El sábado por la mañana recordé a mi tío que quería ir al bazar esa noche. Él revoloteaba ante el perchero, buscando el cepillo para sombreros, y me respondió secamente:
"Yes, boy, I know."
—Sí, muchacho, lo sé.
As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I left the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.
Como estaba en el vestíbulo, no pude entrar al cuarto de adelante y tenderme junto a la ventana. Salí de casa de mal humor y caminé lentamente hacia la escuela. El aire era implacablemente cortante y ya mi corazón me daba malos presentimientos.
When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high cold empty gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.
Cuando regresé a casa para cenar, mi tío aún no había vuelto. Aunque todavía era temprano. Me senté un rato mirando fijamente el reloj y, cuando su tic-tac empezó a irritarme, abandoné la habitación. Subí la escalera hasta la parte alta de la casa. Las habitaciones frías, vacías y sombrías me liberaron, y fui de una a otra cantando. Desde la ventana del frente vi a mis compañeros jugando abajo en la calle. Sus gritos me llegaban débiles y confusos, y apoyando la frente contra el cristal frío, contemplé la casa oscura donde ella vivía. Quizá permanecí allí una hora, sin ver nada excepto la figura vestida de marrón que proyectaba mi imaginación, iluminada discretamente por la lámpara en el cuello curvado, en la mano sobre la verja y en el borde bajo el vestio.
When I came downstairs again I found Mrs. Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs. Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:
Cuando bajé de nuevo, encontré a la señora Mercer sentada junto al fuego. Era una vieja mujer locuaz, viuda de un prestamista, que coleccionaba sellos usados para algún fin piadoso. Tuve que soportar la charla de la mesa del té. La comida se prolongó más de una hora y mi tío aún no llegaba. La señora Mercer se levantó para irse: sentía no poder esperar más, pero eran pasadas las ocho y no le gustaba estar fuera tarde, pues el aire nocturno le sentaba mal. Cuando se hubo ido, empecé a pasear por la habitación apretando los puños. Mi tía dijo:
"I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord."
—Me temo que pospondrás el bazar en esta noche del Señor.
At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the halldoor. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.
A las nueve oí la llavin de mi tío en la puerta principal. Le oí hablar solo y oí el crujir del perchero al recibir el peso de su abrigo. Sabía interpretar esas señales. Cuando iba por la mitad de la cena, le pedí que me diera dinero para ir al bazar. Lo había olvidado.
"The people are in bed and after their first sleep now," he said.
—La gente ya está en la cama y después de su primer sueño —dijo.
I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:
No sonreí. Mi tía le dijo con energía:
"Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is."
—¿No puedes darle el dinero y dejar que se vaya? Ya lo has retrasado bastante.
My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He asked me where I was going and, when I had told him a second time he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.
Mi tío dijo que sentía mucho haberlo olvidado. Afirmó creer en el viejo dicho: «El que mucho trabaja sin divertirse acaba por embotarse». Me preguntó adónde iba y, cuando se lo repetí, me interrogó si conocía «El adiós del árabe a su corcel». Cuando salí de la cocina, estaba a punto de recitar los primeros versos del poema a mi tía.
I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous house and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.
Apretaba un florín en la mano mientras marchaba calle abajo por Buckingham Street hacia la estación. La visión de las calles abarrotadas de compradores y deslumbradas por el gas me recordó el propósito de mi viaje. Tomé asiento en un vagón de tercera clase de un tren desierto. Tras una demora insoportable, el tren salió lentamente de la estación. Avanzaba entre casas ruinosas y sobre el río centelleante. En la estación de Westland Row, una multitud se agolpó a las puertas de los vagones; pero los mozos los hicieron retroceder, diciendo que era un tren especial para el bazar. Yo permanecí solo en el vagón desnudo. A los pocos minutos, el tren se detuvo junto a una plataforma de madera improvisada. Salí a la calle y vi en el cuadrante iluminado de un reloj que eran las diez menos diez. Ante mí se alzaba un gran edificio que exhibía el nombre mágico.
I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girdled at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognised a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Cafe Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins.
No encontré ninguna entrada de seis peniques y, temiendo que el bazar estuviera cerrado, pasé rápidamente por un torno, entregando un chelín a un hombre de aspecto cansado. Me hallé en un gran salón rodeado a media altura por una galería. Casi todos los puestos estaban cerrados, y la mayor parte del salón estaba en tinieblas. Reconocí un silencio como el que impregna una iglesia después del oficio. Avancé con timidez hacia el centro del bazar. Unas pocas personas se congregaban alrededor de los puestos que seguían abiertos. Ante una cortina, sobre la que se leían las palabras Café Chantant en lámparas de colores, dos hombres contaban dinero en una bandeja. Escuché el tintineo de las monedas.
Remembering with difficulty why I had come I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation.
Recordando con dificultad el motivo de mi venida, me acerqué a uno de los puestos y examiné jarrones de porcelana y juegos de té florales. En la entrada del puesto, una joven hablaba y reía con dos caballeros. Noté sus acentos ingleses y escuché vagamente su conversación.
"O, I never said such a thing!"
—¡Oh, yo nunca dije semejante cosa!
"O, but you did!"
—¡Oh, pero sí lo hiciste!
"O, but I didn't!"
—¡Oh, pero no fue así!
"Didn't she say that?"
—¿No dijo eso?
"Yes. I heard her."
—Sí. Yo la oí.
"O, there's a... fib!"
—¡Oh, eso es... una patraña!
Observing me the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:
Al observarme, la joven se acercó y me preguntó si deseaba comprar algo. El tono de su voz no era alentador; parecía haberme hablado por sentido del deber. Miré humildemente las grandes vasijas que, como guardianes orientales, flanqueaban la entrada oscura al puesto y murmuré:
"No, thank you."
—No, gracias.
The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder.
La joven ajustó la posición de un jarrón y volvió con los dos hombres. Retomaron la misma conversación. Una o dos veces, la muchacha me lanzó miradas por encima del hombro.
I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.
Me demoré frente a su puesto, aunque sabía que era inútil, para fingir mayor interés en sus mercancías. Luego me alejé lentamente, caminando por el centro del bazar. Dejé que las monedas en mi bolsillo chocaran contra los seis peniques. Oí una voz al extremo de la galería anunciar que se había apagado la luz. La parte superior del salón quedó sumida en oscuridad.
Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.
Al contemplar la negrura, me vi como una criatura impulsada y burlada por la vanidad; mis ojos ardieron de angustia y rabia.
EVELINE
EVELINE
SHE sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.
Estaba sentada junto a la ventana, viendo cómo el atardecer invadía la avenida. Tenía la cabeza reclinada contra las cortinas y en sus narices persistía el olor a cretona polvorienta. Estaba cansada.
Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people's children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it—not like their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field—the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home.
Pocos pasaban. El hombre de la última casa caminaba hacia su hogar; oyó sus pasos resonar en la acera de concreto y luego crujir en el sendero de cenizas frente a las nuevas casas rojas. Antes allí hubo un campo donde jugaban cada tarde con hijos de vecinos. Luego un hombre de Belfast compró el terreno y construyó casas brillantes de ladrillo con techos relucientes. Los niños de la avenida solían jugar juntos allí: los Devine, los Waters, los Dunn, el pequeño Keogh el lisiado, ella y sus hermanos. Ernest, sin embargo, nunca jugaba: ya era muy mayor. Su padre los ahuyentaba del campo con su bastaje de espino; pero Keogh solía hacer de vigía y avisar cuando lo veía llegar. Aun así, aquellos tiempos parecían felices. Su padre no era tan severo entonces; además, su madre vivía. Hacía mucho de eso. Todos habían crecido; su madre había muerto. Tizzie Dunn también murió, los Waters volvieron a Inglaterra. Todo cambia. Ahora ella se iría, como los demás, abandonando su hogar.
Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided. And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word:
¡Hogar! Miró alrededor, repasando cada objeto familiar que había limpiado durante años, preguntándose de dónde venía tanto polvo. Quizá nunca volvería a ver esas cosas de las que jamás imaginó separarse. Y sin embargo, en todos esos años, nunca supo el nombre del sacerdote cuya foto amarillenta colgaba sobre el harmonio roto, junto al grabado de las promesas hechas a la beata Margarita María Alacoque. Había sido compañero de estudios de su padre. Cuando mostraba la foto a las visitas, su padre solía comentar:
"He is in Melbourne now."
—Ahora está en Melbourne.
She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life about her. O course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.
Ella había aceptado irse, dejar su hogar. ¿Era sabio? Intentó sopesar ambos lados. En casa al menos tenía refugio y comida; estaba rodeada de conocidos de toda la vida. Claro que debía trabajar duro, en casa y en el trabajo. ¿Qué dirían en los Almacenes al saber que huyó con un hombre? Quizá que era una tonta; su puesto se anunciaría. La señorita Gavan se alegraría. Siempre le había tenido tirria, sobre todo ante testigos.
"Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?"
—Señorita Hill, ¿no ve que estas señoras esperan?
"Look lively, Miss Hill, please."
—Ándese ligera, señorita Hill, por favor.
She would not cry many tears at leaving the Stores.
No lloraría mucho al dejar los Almacenes.
But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married—she, Eveline. People would treat her with respect then. She would not be treated as her mother had been. Even now, though she was over nineteen, she sometimes felt herself in danger of her father's violence. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations. When they were growing up he had never gone for her like he used to go for Harry and Ernest, because she was a girl but latterly he had begun to threaten her and say what he would do to her only for her dead mother's sake. And no she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was nearly always down somewhere in the country. Besides, the invariable squabble for money on Saturday nights had begun to weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages—seven shillings—and Harry always sent up what he could but the trouble was to get any money from her father. He said she used to squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn't going to give her his hard-earned money to throw about the streets, and much more, for he was usually fairly bad on Saturday night. In the end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention of buying Sunday's dinner. Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly in her hand as she elbowed her way through the crowds and returning home late under her load of provisions. She had hard work to keep the house together and to see that the two young children who had been left to her charge went to school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work—a hard life—but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.
Pero en su nuevo hogar, en un país lejano y desconocido, sería distinto. Allí sería una mujer casada: ella, Eveline. La tratarían con respeto. No como a su madre. Incluso ahora, a sus diecinueve años, a veces temía la violencia paterna. Sabía que eso le provocaba las palpitaciones. Al crecer, él no la maltrataba como a Harry y Ernest, por ser mujer, pero últimamente la amenazaba, diciendo lo que haría de no ser por su madre muerta. Y ahora no tenía a nadie que la protegiera. Ernest había muerto; Harry, dedicado a la decoración de iglesias, casi siempre estaba en el campo. Además, las riñas habituales por el dinero los sábados la hastiaban. Ella entregaba todo su salario—siete chelines—y Harry enviaba lo que podía, pero el problema era sacarle dinero a su padre. Decía que lo malgastaba, que no tenía juicio, que no daría su dinero sudado para que lo tirara a la calle, y más, pues los sábados solía estar de malas. Al final le daba el dinero y preguntaba si pensaba comprar la cena del domingo. Entonces debía salir aprisa, apretando su monedero de cuero negro entre la multitud, y volver tarde cargada de provisiones. Le costaba mantener la casa y velar por que los dos niños a su cargo fueran a la escuela y comieran. Era una vida dura, pero ahora que iba a dejarla, no le parecía del todo indeseable.
She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, open-hearted. She was to go away with him by the night-boat to be his wife and to live with him in Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting for her. How well she remembered the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward over a face of bronze. Then they had come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the Stores every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little. People knew that they were courting and, when he sang about the lass that loves a sailor, she always felt pleasantly confused. He used to call her Poppens out of fun. First of all it had been an excitement for her to have a fellow and then she had begun to like him. He had tales of distant countries. He had started as a deck boy at a pound a month on a ship of the Allan Line going out to Canada. He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the names of the different services. He had sailed through the Straits of Magellan and he told her stories of the terrible Patagonians. He had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come over to the old country just for a holiday. Of course, her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her to have anything to say to him.
Estaba por emprender otra vida con Frank. Frank era amable, varonil, franco. Iba a huir con él en el nocturno para ser su esposa y vivir en Buenos Aires, donde él tenía un hogar esperándola. Recordaba bien la primera vez que lo vio: vivía en una casa de la calle principal que ella solía visitar. Parecía cosa de semanas. Él estaba en la verja, la gorra hacia atrás y el cabello cayéndole sobre un rostro bronceado. Así se conocieron. Él la esperaba fuera de los Almacenes cada tarde y la acompañaba a casa. La llevó a ver *La gitana* y ella se sintió eufórica en aquella zona inusual del teatro. Le encantaba la música y cantaba un poco. Todos sabían que eran novios. Cuando él cantaba sobre la muchacha que amaba a un marinero, ella se ruborizaba. Él la llamaba "Poppens" en broma. Primero fue emoción tener un pretendiente; luego empezó a quererlo. Él contaba historias de países lejanos. Había empezado como grumete por una libra al mes en un barco de la Allan Line rumbo a Canadá. Le decía los nombres de los barcos y las rutas. Había navegado el Estrecho de Magallanes y le hablaba de los terribles patagones. En Buenos Aires le había ido bien, decía, y volvía de vacaciones. Claro, su padre descubrió el romance y le prohibió verlo.
"I know these sailor chaps," he said.
—Conozco a estos marineros—dijo.
One day he had quarrelled with Frank and after that she had to meet her lover secretly.
Un día riñó con Frank y desde entonces ella veía a su amante a escondidas.
The evening deepened in the avenue. The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct. One was to Harry; the other was to her father. Ernest had been her favourite but she liked Harry too. Her father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her. Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long before, when she had been laid up for a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made toast for her at the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive, they had all gone for a picnic to the Hill of Howth. She remembered her father putting on her mothers bonnet to make the children laugh.
La noche se profundizaba en la avenida. Las letras blancas de dos cartas en su regazo se volvían difusas. Una era para Harry; otra, para su padre. Ernest había sido su favorito, pero Harry también le agradaba. Últimamente notaba que su padre envejecía; la extrañaría. A veces podía ser amable. No hacía mucho, cuando ella estuvo enferma, le leyó un cuento de fantasmas y le hizo tostadas. Otro día, cuando su madre vivía, fueron de picnic a la Colina de Howth. Recordaba a su padre poniéndose el sombrero de su madre para hacer reír a los niños.
Her time was running out but she continued to sit by the window, leaning her head against the window curtain, inhaling the odour of dusty cretonne. Down far in the avenue she could hear a street organ playing. She knew the air Strange that it should come that very night to remind her of the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the home together as long as she could. She remembered the last night of her mother's illness; she was again in the close dark room at the other side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy. The organ-player had been ordered to go away and given sixpence. She remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:
Su tiempo se agotaba, pero continuó sentada junto a la ventana, apoyando la cabeza en la cortina, inhalando el olor a cretona polvorienta. En lo profundo de la avenida escuchó el sonido de un organillo callejero. Reconoció la melodía. ¡Extraño que llegara justo esa noche para recordarle la promesa a su madre, su juramento de mantener el hogar unido mientras pudiera! Recordó la última noche de la enfermedad materna: estaba nuevamente en aquel cuarto oscuro al otro lado del pasillo, mientras afuera resonaba una triste tonada italiana. Al organillero lo habían ahuyentado con seis peniques. Recordó a su padre pavoneándose de vuelta al cuarto de la enferma, exclamando:
"Damned Italians! coming over here!"
—¡Malditos italianos! ¿Viniendo aquí?
As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother's life laid its spell on the very quick of her being—that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness. She trembled as she heard again her mother's voice saying constantly with foolish insistence:
Mientras reflexionaba, la visión lastimosa de la vida de su madre ejerció su hechizo sobre lo más íntimo de su ser —esa existencia de sacrificios vulgares culminando en locura final. Temblorosa, volvió a escuchar la voz materna repitiendo con necia insistencia:
"Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!"
—¡Derevaun Seraun! ¡Derevaun Seraun!
She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But she wanted to live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to happiness. Frank would take her in his arms, fold her in his arms. He would save her.
Se levantó en un súbito impulso de terror. ¡Escapar! Debía escapar. Frank la salvaría. Él le daría vida, quizás también amor. Pero ella quería vivir. ¿Por qué ser infeliz? Tenía derecho a la felicidad. Frank la tomaría en sus brazos, la estrecharía. La salvaría.
She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. The station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be on the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.
Permaneció entre la multitud ondulante en la estación del North Wall. Él sostenía su mano y ella sabía que le hablaba, diciendo algo una y otra vez sobre la travesía. La estación bullía de soldados con sacos marrones. A través de las anchas puertas de los cobertizos vislumbró la masa negra del barco, apostado junto al muelle, con sus ojos de buey iluminados. No respondió. Sentía su mejilla pálida y fría, y en medio de un laberinto de angustia, rezó a Dios para que la guiara, para mostrarle su deber. El barco lanzó un prolongado silbido lúgubre hacia la niebla. Si partía, mañana estaría en el mar con Frank, navegando hacia Buenos Aires. Su pasaje estaba reservado. ¿Podría retractarse después de todo lo que él había hecho por ella? La congoja despertó náuseas en su cuerpo y movía los labios en muda oración ferviente.
A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:
Una campana retumbó en su corazón. Sintió que él le agarraba la mano:
"Come!"
—¡Ven!
All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron railing.
Todos los mares del mundo se agitaban en su pecho. Él la arrastraba hacia ellos: la ahogaría. Se aferró con ambas manos a la barandilla de hierro.
"Come!"
—¡Ven!
No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish.
¡No! ¡No! ¡No! Era imposible. Sus manos se aferraron frenéticas al metal. Entre las olas lanzó un grito de agonía.
"Eveline! Evvy!"
—¡Eveline! ¡Evvy!
He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition.
Él cruzó la barrera gritándole que lo siguiera. Le ordenaron avanzar, pero insistía en llamarla. Ella le mostró su rostro pálido, pasivo, como un animal indefenso. Sus ojos no dieron señal de amor, despedida ni reconocimiento.
AFTER THE RACE
DESPUÉS DE LA CARRERA
THE cars came scudding in towards Dublin, running evenly like pellets in the groove of the Naas Road. At the crest of the hill at Inchicore sightseers had gathered in clumps to watch the cars careering homeward and through this channel of poverty and inaction the Continent sped its wealth and industry. Now and again the clumps of people raised the cheer of the gratefully oppressed. Their sympathy, however, was for the blue cars—the cars of their friends, the French.
Los automóviles entraban veloces hacia Dublín, deslizándose uniformes como perdigones por el surco de la carretera de Naas. En la cima de la colina de Inchicore, grupos de curiosos se congregaban para ver los coches regresar, y a través de este canal de pobreza e inacción, el Continente vertía su riqueza e industria. De vez en cuando, los grupos alzaban vítores propios de los oprimidos agradecidos. Su simpatía, sin embargo, era para los autos azules —los coches de sus amigos, los franceses.
The French, moreover, were virtual victors. Their team had finished solidly; they had been placed second and third and the driver of the winning German car was reported a Belgian. Each blue car, therefore, received a double measure of welcome as it topped the crest of the hill and each cheer of welcome was acknowledged with smiles and nods by those in the car. In one of these trimly built cars was a party of four young men whose spirits seemed to be at present well above the level of successful Gallicism: in fact, these four young men were almost hilarious. They were Charles Segouin, the owner of the car; Andre Riviere, a young electrician of Canadian birth; a huge Hungarian named Villona and a neatly groomed young man named Doyle. Segouin was in good humour because he had unexpectedly received some orders in advance (he was about to start a motor establishment in Paris) and Riviere was in good humour because he was to be appointed manager of the establishment; these two young men (who were cousins) were also in good humour because of the success of the French cars. Villona was in good humour because he had had a very satisfactory luncheon; and besides he was an optimist by nature. The fourth member of the party, however, was too excited to be genuinely happy.
Los franceses, además, eran victoriosos en esencia. Su equipo había terminado de forma sólida: quedaron segundos y terceros, y el conductor del auto alemán ganador resultó ser belga. Cada automóvil azul recibió así una doble dosis de aplausos al coronar la colina, y cada saludo era correspondido con sonrisas y asentimientos desde su interior. En uno de estos coches impecables viajaban cuatro jóvenes cuyo ánimo superaba con creces el triunfalismo galo habitual; de hecho, casi rayaban en la hilaridad. Iban Charles Segouin, dueño del vehículo; André Rivière, joven electricista de origen canadiense; un húngaro corpulento llamado Villona y un pulcro muchacho llamado Doyle. Segouin estaba contento por haber recibido pedidos anticipados inesperados (planeaba abrir una empresa automotriz en París); Rivière, porque sería nombrado gerente del establecimiento; ambos primos celebraban además el éxito de los autos franceses. Villona disfrutaba de lo bien que había comido; además, era optimista por naturaleza. El cuarto miembro, sin embargo, estaba demasiado agitado para sentir genuina felicidad.
He was about twenty-six years of age, with a soft, light brown moustache and rather innocent-looking grey eyes. His father, who had begun life as an advanced Nationalist, had modified his views early. He had made his money as a butcher in Kingstown and by opening shops in Dublin and in the suburbs he had made his money many times over. He had also been fortunate enough to secure some of the police contracts and in the end he had become rich enough to be alluded to in the Dublin newspapers as a merchant prince. He had sent his son to England to be educated in a big Catholic college and had afterwards sent him to Dublin University to study law. Jimmy did not study very earnestly and took to bad courses for a while. He had money and he was popular; and he divided his time curiously between musical and motoring circles. Then he had been sent for a term to Cambridge to see a little life. His father, remonstrative, but covertly proud of the excess, had paid his bills and brought him home. It was at Cambridge that he had met Segouin. They were not much more than acquaintances as yet but Jimmy found great pleasure in the society of one who had seen so much of the world and was reputed to own some of the biggest hotels in France. Such a person (as his father agreed) was well worth knowing, even if he had not been the charming companion he was. Villona was entertaining also—a brilliant pianist—but, unfortunately, very poor.
Tenía unos veintiséis años, con un bigote suave de color marrón claro y ojos grises de apariencia inocente. Su padre, quien inició su vida como nacionalista radical, había moderado temprano sus posturas. Hizo fortuna como carnicero en Kingstown y, al abrir tiendas en Dublín y suburbios, multiplicó sus ganancias. También tuvo la suerte de obtener contratos policiales y finalmente alcanzó riqueza suficiente para que los periódicos dublineses lo llamaran príncipe mercante. Envió a su hijo a Inglaterra a educarse en un gran colegio católico y luego a la Universidad de Dublín a estudiar leyes. Jimmy no se aplicó mucho y por un tiempo siguió malos pasatiempos. Tenía dinero y popularidad, repartiendo su tiempo entre círculos musicales y automovilísticos. Luego lo enviaron a Cambridge un semestre para que "viera algo de vida". Su padre, reconviniéndolo pero secretamente orgulloso del exceso, pagó sus deudas y lo trajo de vuelta. Fue en Cambridge donde conoció a Segouin. Aunque aún no pasaban de conocidos, Jimmy disfrutaba de la compañía de alguien tan viajado y dueño de los mayores hoteles en Francia. Tal persona (como admitía su padre) valía la pena, aunque no hubiera sido el encantador compañero que era. Villona también resultaba entretenido —un pianista brillante— aunque, lamentablemente, muy pobre.
The car ran on merrily with its cargo of hilarious youth. The two cousins sat on the front seat; Jimmy and his Hungarian friend sat behind. Decidedly Villona was in excellent spirits; he kept up a deep bass hum of melody for miles of the road The Frenchmen flung their laughter and light words over their shoulders and often Jimmy had to strain forward to catch the quick phrase. This was not altogether pleasant for him, as he had nearly always to make a deft guess at the meaning and shout back a suitable answer in the face of a high wind. Besides Villona's humming would confuse anybody; the noise of the car, too.
El auto avanzaba alegre con su carga de juventud bulliciosa. Los primos iban delante; Jimmy y su amigo húngaro atrás. Villona entonaba un grave zumbido melódico durante millas. Los franceses arrojaban risas y palabras livianas por encima del hombro, y Jimmy a menudo debía inclinarse para captar sus frases rápidas. Esto no le resultaba del todo placentero, pues debía adivinar diestramente el significado y gritar una respuesta adecuada contra el viento. Además, el tarareo de Villona y el ruido del motor lo confundían.
Rapid motion through space elates one; so does notoriety; so does the possession of money. These were three good reasons for Jimmy's excitement. He had been seen by many of his friends that day in the company of these Continentals. At the control Segouin had presented him to one of the French competitors and, in answer to his confused murmur of compliment, the swarthy face of the driver had disclosed a line of shining white teeth. It was pleasant after that honour to return to the profane world of spectators amid nudges and significant looks. Then as to money—he really had a great sum under his control. Segouin, perhaps, would not think it a great sum but Jimmy who, in spite of temporary errors, was at heart the inheritor of solid instincts knew well with what difficulty it had been got together. This knowledge had previously kept his bills within the limits of reasonable recklessness, and if he had been so conscious of the labour latent in money when there had been question merely of some freak of the higher intelligence, how much more so now when he was about to stake the greater part of his substance! It was a serious thing for him.
El movimiento veloz por el espacio exalta; también la notoriedad; también el poseer dinero. Tres buenas razones para la agitación de Jimmy. Muchos amigos lo habían visto ese día con estos continentales. En el control, Segouin lo presentó a un competidor francés, y ante su confuso murmullo de elogio, el rostro cetrino del conductor mostró una hilera de dientes blancos. Tras aquel honor, resultaba grato regresar al mundo profano de espectadores entre codazos y miradas significativas. En cuanto al dinero —realmente manejaba una suma considerable. Segouin quizá no la considerara gran cosa, pero Jimmy, pese a sus errores temporales y siendo en el fondo heredero de instintos sólidos, sabía bien los esfuerzos tras reunirla. Este conocimiento había contenido sus gastos dentro de lo razonable, y si ya era consciente del trabajo latente en el dinero cuando se trataba de caprichos intelectuales, ¡cuánto más ahora que arriesgaba gran parte de su sustento! Era un asunto serio para él.
Of course, the investment was a good one and Segouin had managed to give the impression that it was by a favour of friendship the mite of Irish money was to be included in the capital of the concern. Jimmy had a respect for his father's shrewdness in business matters and in this case it had been his father who had first suggested the investment; money to be made in the motor business, pots of money. Moreover Segouin had the unmistakable air of wealth. Jimmy set out to translate into days' work that lordly car in which he sat. How smoothly it ran. In what style they had come careering along the country roads! The journey laid a magical finger on the genuine pulse of life and gallantly the machinery of human nerves strove to answer the bounding courses of the swift blue animal.
Por supuesto, la inversión era buena y Segouin había logrado dar la impresión de que era por un favor de amistad que la módica suma de dinero irlandés se incluiría en el capital del negocio. Jimmy respetaba la astucia comercial de su padre, y en este caso había sido su progenitor quien primero sugirió la inversión; había dinero que ganar en el negocio automotriz, montañas de dinero. Además, Segouin irradiaba el inconfundible aire de riqueza. Jimmy intentaba traducir en jornadas laborales aquel majestuoso coche en el que viajaba. Qué suavemente rodaba. ¡Con qué estilo habían cruzado los caminos rurales! El viaje posó un dedo mágico sobre el pulso genuino de la vida, y gallardamente la maquinaria de los nervios humanos se esforzaba por seguir el ritmo desbordante del veloz animal azul.
They drove down Dame Street. The street was busy with unusual traffic, loud with the horns of motorists and the gongs of impatient tram-drivers. Near the Bank Segouin drew up and Jimmy and his friend alighted. A little knot of people collected on the footpath to pay homage to the snorting motor. The party was to dine together that evening in Segouin's hotel and, meanwhile, Jimmy and his friend, who was staying with him, were to go home to dress. The car steered out slowly for Grafton Street while the two young men pushed their way through the knot of gazers. They walked northward with a curious feeling of disappointment in the exercise, while the city hung its pale globes of light above them in a haze of summer evening.
Condujeron por Dame Street. La calle bullía con un tráfico inusual, estruendosa por los cláxones de los automovilistas y los timbres de los tranviáticos impacientes. Cerca del Banco, Segouin detuvo el vehículo y Jimmy y su amigo descendieron. Un pequeño grupo se congregó en la acera para rendir pleitesía al motor resoplando. La cena en común sería esa noche en el hotel de Segouin, y entretanto, Jimmy y su amigo, que se hospedaba con él, irían a casa a vestirse. El coche se alejó lentamente hacia Grafton Street mientras los dos jóvenes se abrían paso entre el grupo de curiosos. Caminaron hacia el norte con una curiosa sensación de decepción en el acto, mientras la ciudad colgaba sus pálidos globos de luz sobre ellos en una bruma vespertina estival.
In Jimmy's house this dinner had been pronounced an occasion. A certain pride mingled with his parents' trepidation, a certain eagerness, also, to play fast and loose for the names of great foreign cities have at least this virtue. Jimmy, too, looked very well when he was dressed and, as he stood in the hall giving a last equation to the bows of his dress tie, his father may have felt even commercially satisfied at having secured for his son qualities often unpurchaseable. His father, therefore, was unusually friendly with Villona and his manner expressed a real respect for foreign accomplishments; but this subtlety of his host was probably lost upon the Hungarian, who was beginning to have a sharp desire for his dinner.
En casa de Jimmy, esta cena había sido declarada un acontecimiento. Cierto orgullo se mezclaba con el temor de sus padres, cierta ansiedad también por jugar a la aventura, pues los nombres de las grandes ciudades extranjeras tenían al menos esa virtud. Jimmy, además, se veía muy bien cuando se vestía de etiqueta, y mientras se hallaba en el vestíbulo dando el último ajuste al lazo de su corbatín, su padre quizás sintió incluso satisfacción comercial al haber asegurado para su hijo cualidades a menudo incomprables. Por ello, su padre fue inusualmente amable con Villona, y sus modales expresaban un genuino respeto por los logros foráneos; pero esta sutileza del anfitrión probablemente se perdió en el húngaro, quien empezaba a sentir un agudo deseo por su cena.
The dinner was excellent, exquisite. Segouin, Jimmy decided, had a very refined taste. The party was increased by a young Englishman named Routh whom Jimmy had seen with Segouin at Cambridge. The young men supped in a snug room lit by electric candle lamps. They talked volubly and with little reserve. Jimmy, whose imagination was kindling, conceived the lively youth of the Frenchmen twined elegantly upon the firm framework of the Englishman's manner. A graceful image of his, he thought, and a just one. He admired the dexterity with which their host directed the conversation. The five young men had various tastes and their tongues had been loosened. Villona, with immense respect, began to discover to the mildly surprised Englishman the beauties of the English madrigal, deploring the loss of old instruments. Riviere, not wholly ingenuously, undertook to explain to Jimmy the triumph of the French mechanicians. The resonant voice of the Hungarian was about to prevail in ridicule of the spurious lutes of the romantic painters when Segouin shepherded his party into politics. Here was congenial ground for all. Jimmy, under generous influences, felt the buried zeal of his father wake to life within him: he aroused the torpid Routh at last. The room grew doubly hot and Segouin's task grew harder each moment: there was even danger of personal spite. The alert host at an opportunity lifted his glass to Humanity and, when the toast had been drunk, he threw open a window significantly.
La cena fue excelente, exquisita. Segouin, decidió Jimmy, tenía un gusto muy refinado. El grupo se amplió con un joven inglés llamado Routh, a quien Jimmy había visto con Segouin en Cambridge. Los jóvenes cenaron en una acogedora sala iluminada por lámparas eléctricas simulando velas. Hablaron con locuacidad y poca reserva. Jimmy, cuya imaginación se encendía, concebía la juvenil vivacidad de los franceses entrelazada elegantemente sobre el firme entramado de los modales ingleses. Una imagen graciosa, pensó, y justa. Admiraba la destreza con que su anfitrión dirigía la conversación. Los cinco jóvenes tenían gustos variados y sus lenguas se habían soltado. Villona, con inmenso respeto, comenzó a revelar al levemente sorprendido inglés las bellezas del madrigal inglés, deplorando la pérdida de los instrumentos antiguos. Rivière, no del todo ingenuo, se encargó de explicar a Jimmy el triunfo de los mecánicos franceses. La voz resonante del húngaro estaba a punto de imponerse ridiculizando los laúdes espurios de los pintores románticos cuando Segouin condujo a su grupo hacia la política. Aquí todos hallaron terreno común. Jimmy, bajo influencias generosas, sintió despertar en él el celo sepultado de su padre: logró animar al torpe Routh al fin. La estancia se tornó asfixiante y la tarea de Segouin se complicó cada vez más: hasta hubo riesgo de rencillas personales. El alerta anfitrión, aprovechando una pausa, alzó su copa a la Humanidad y, tras brindar, abrió una ventana con gesto significativo.
That night the city wore the mask of a capital. The five young men strolled along Stephen's Green in a faint cloud of aromatic smoke. They talked loudly and gaily and their cloaks dangled from their shoulders. The people made way for them. At the corner of Grafton Street a short fat man was putting two handsome ladies on a car in charge of another fat man. The car drove off and the short fat man caught sight of the party.
Esa noche, la ciudad vestía la máscara de una capital. Los cinco jóvenes paseaban por Stephen's Green bajo una tenue nube de humo aromático. Hablaban alto y alegremente, con sus capas ondeando en los hombros. La gente les cedía el paso. En la esquina de Grafton Street, un hombre bajito y grueso ayudaba a dos damas elegantes a subir a un coche al cuidado de otro hombre corpulento. El coche partió y el hombre rechoncho divisó al grupo.
"Andre."
—¡André!
"It's Farley!"
—¡Es Farley!
A torrent of talk followed. Farley was an American. No one knew very well what the talk was about. Villona and Riviere were the noisiest, but all the men were excited. They got up on a car, squeezing themselves together amid much laughter. They drove by the crowd, blended now into soft colours, to a music of merry bells. They took the train at Westland Row and in a few seconds, as it seemed to Jimmy, they were walking out of Kingstown Station. The ticket-collector saluted Jimmy; he was an old man:
Siguió un torrente de palabras. Farley era estadounidense. Nadie entendía bien de qué hablaban. Villona y Rivière eran los más bulliciosos, pero todos estaban exaltados. Subieron a un coche, apiñándose entre risas. Atravesaron la multitud, ahora difuminada en colores suaves, al compás de una música de campanas alegres. Tomaron el tren en Westland Row y, en unos segundos, les pareció a Jimmy, salían de la estación de Kingstown. El revisor saludó a Jimmy; era un anciano:
"Fine night, sir!"
—Buenas noches, señor.
It was a serene summer night; the harbour lay like a darkened mirror at their feet. They proceeded towards it with linked arms, singing Cadet Roussel in chorus, stamping their feet at every:
Era una noche serena de verano; el puerto yacía a sus pies como un espejo ensombrecido. Avanzaron hacia él con los brazos entrelazados, cantando en coro el Cadete Roussel, golpeando el suelo al compás:
"Ho! Ho! Hohe, vraiment!"
—¡Ho! ¡Ho! ¡Hohe, vraiment!
They got into a rowboat at the slip and made out for the American's yacht. There was to be supper, music, cards. Villona said with conviction:
Subieron a un bote en el muelle y remaron hacia el yate del estadounidense. Habría cena, música, cartas. Villona declaró con convicción:
"It is delightful!"
—¡Es encantador!
There was a yacht piano in the cabin. Villona played a waltz for Farley and Riviere, Farley acting as cavalier and Riviere as lady. Then an impromptu square dance, the men devising original figures. What merriment! Jimmy took his part with a will; this was seeing life, at least. Then Farley got out of breath and cried "Stop!" A man brought in a light supper, and the young men sat down to it for form's sake. They drank, however: it was Bohemian. They drank Ireland, England, France, Hungary, the United States of America. Jimmy made a speech, a long speech, Villona saying: "Hear! hear!" whenever there was a pause. There was a great clapping of hands when he sat down. It must have been a good speech. Farley clapped him on the back and laughed loudly. What jovial fellows! What good company they were!
En la cabina había un piano de yate. Villona tocó un vals para Farley y Rivière, Farley haciendo de caballero y Rivière de dama. Luego un baile improvisado, inventando figuras originales. ¡Qué júbilo! Jimmy participó con entusiasmo; al menos esto era vivir la vida. Farley, sin aliento, gritó: "¡Basta!" Un criado sirvió una cena ligera, y los jóvenes se sentaron por formalidad. Sin embargo, bebieron: era bohemio. Brindaron por Irlanda, Inglaterra, Francia, Hungría, Estados Unidos de América. Jimmy pronunció un discurso largo; Villona exclamaba: "¡Oído!" en cada pausa. Al sentarse, hubo grandes aplausos. Debía de haber sido un buen discurso. Farley le dio una palmada en la espalda riendo a carcajadas. ¡Qué tipos más joviales! ¡Qué buena compañía!
Cards! cards! The table was cleared. Villona returned quietly to his piano and played voluntaries for them. The other men played game after game, flinging themselves boldly into the adventure. They drank the health of the Queen of Hearts and of the Queen of Diamonds. Jimmy felt obscurely the lack of an audience: the wit was flashing. Play ran very high and paper began to pass. Jimmy did not know exactly who was winning but he knew that he was losing. But it was his own fault for he frequently mistook his cards and the other men had to calculate his I.O.U.'s for him. They were devils of fellows but he wished they would stop: it was getting late. Someone gave the toast of the yacht The Belle of Newport and then someone proposed one great game for a finish.
¡Cartas! ¡Cartas! La mesa fue despejada. Villona volvió callado al piano y tocó improvisaciones. Los demás jugaron partida tras partida, lanzándose audazmente a la aventura. Brindaron por la Reina de Corazones y la Reina de Diamantes. Jimmy sintió vagamente la falta de público: el ingenio brillaba. Las apuestas subieron y empezaron a circular pagarés. Jimmy no sabía bien quién ganaba, pero sí que él perdía. Era culpa suya: confundía sus cartas y los demás debían calcular sus pagarés. Eran unos diablos, pero deseaba que parasen: se hacía tarde. Alguien brindó por el yate La Bella de Newport y luego propusieron una gran partida final.
The piano had stopped; Villona must have gone up on deck. It was a terrible game. They stopped just before the end of it to drink for luck. Jimmy understood that the game lay between Routh and Segouin. What excitement! Jimmy was excited too; he would lose, of course. How much had he written away? The men rose to their feet to play the last tricks. talking and gesticulating. Routh won. The cabin shook with the young men's cheering and the cards were bundled together. They began then to gather in what they had won. Farley and Jimmy were the heaviest losers.
El piano calló; Villona debió de subir a cubierta. Fue una partida terrible. Hicieron una pausa antes del final para beber por la suerte. Jimmy entendió que la partida estaba entre Routh y Segouin. ¡Qué emoción! Jimmy también estaba excitado; perdería, claro. ¿Cuánto había firmado ya? Los hombres se levantaron para jugar las últimas bazas, hablando y gesticulando. Routh ganó. La cabina vibró con los vítores y las cartas fueron amontonadas. Empezaron entonces a recoger sus ganancias. Farley y Jimmy fueron los que más perdieron.
He knew that he would regret in the morning but at present he was glad of the rest, glad of the dark stupor that would cover up his folly. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head between his hands, counting the beats of his temples. The cabin door opened and he saw the Hungarian standing in a shaft of grey light:
Sabía que lo lamentaría por la mañana, pero ahora se alegraba del descanso, de la oscura modorra que cubriría su necedad. Apoyó los codos en la mesa y sostuvo la cabeza entre las manos, contando los latidos de sus sienes. La puerta de la cabina se abrió y vio al húngaro en un haz de luz gris:
"Daybreak, gentlemen!"
—¡Amanece, caballeros!
TWO GALLANTS
DOS GALANES
THE grey warm evening of August had descended upon the city and a mild warm air, a memory of summer, circulated in the streets. The streets, shuttered for the repose of Sunday, swarmed with a gaily coloured crowd. Like illumined pearls the lamps shone from the summits of their tall poles upon the living texture below which, changing shape and hue unceasingly, sent up into the warm grey evening air an unchanging unceasing murmur.
La tibia tarde gris de agosto había descendido sobre la ciudad y un aire suave, reminiscencia del verano, circulaba por las calles. Las calles, cerradas por el reposo dominical, hormigueaban con una multitud de vivos colores. Como perlas iluminadas, las farolas brillaban desde lo alto de sus postes sobre el tejido viviente que, cambiando sin cesar de forma y matiz, elevaba al tibio aire gris del atardecer un murmullo constante e inmutable.
Two young men came down the hill of Rutland Square. On of them was just bringing a long monologue to a close. The other, who walked on the verge of the path and was at times obliged to step on to the road, owing to his companion's rudeness, wore an amused listening face. He was squat and ruddy. A yachting cap was shoved far back from his forehead and the narrative to which he listened made constant waves of expression break forth over his face from the corners of his nose and eyes and mouth. Little jets of wheezing laughter followed one another out of his convulsed body. His eyes, twinkling with cunning enjoyment, glanced at every moment towards his companion's face. Once or twice he rearranged the light waterproof which he had slung over one shoulder in toreador fashion. His breeches, his white rubber shoes and his jauntily slung waterproof expressed youth. But his figure fell into rotundity at the waist, his hair was scant and grey and his face, when the waves of expression had passed over it, had a ravaged look.
Dos jóvenes bajaban por la colina de Rutland Square. Uno de ellos acababa de concluir un largo monólogo. El otro, que caminaba al borde de la acera y a veces se veía obligado a pisar la calzada debido a la grosería de su compañero, lucía un rostro entretenido y atento. Era bajito y rubicundo. Una gorra de yate empujada hacia atrás desde la frente dejaba al descubierto las olas de expresión que surcaban su rostro desde las comisuras de la nariz, los ojos y la boca al escuchar el relato. Pequeños chorros de risa sibilante brotaban de su cuerpo convulso. Sus ojos, centelleantes de regodeo pícaro, se dirigían a cada instante hacia el rostro de su compañero. Una o dos veces se ajustó el impermeable ligero que llevaba colgado al hombro al estilo torero. Sus pantalones, sus zapatos de goma blancos y su desenfadado impermeable proclamaban juventud. Pero su figura se redondeaba en la cintura, su cabello era escaso y gris, y su rostro, cuando las olas de expresión lo abandonaban, adquiría un aspecto devastado.
When he was quite sure that the narrative had ended he laughed noiselessly for fully half a minute. Then he said:
Cuando estuvo seguro de que el relato había concluido, rió silenciosamente durante medio minuto. Luego dijo:
"Well!... That takes the biscuit!"
—¡Vaya!... Eso sí que se lleva la palma.
His voice seemed winnowed of vigour; and to enforce his words he added with humour:
Su voz parecía desprovista de vigor; y para enfatizar sus palabras añadió con humor:
"That takes the solitary, unique, and, if I may so call it, recherche biscuit!"
—Se lleva la solitaria, única y, permítaseme la expresión, exquisita palma.
He became serious and silent when he had said this. His tongue was tired for he had been talking all the afternoon in a public-house in Dorset Street. Most people considered Lenehan a leech but, in spite of this reputation, his adroitness and eloquence had always prevented his friends from forming any general policy against him. He had a brave manner of coming up to a party of them in a bar and of holding himself nimbly at the borders of the company until he was included in a round. He was a sporting vagrant armed with a vast stock of stories, limericks and riddles. He was insensitive to all kinds of discourtesy. No one knew how he achieved the stern task of living, but his name was vaguely associated with racing tissues.
Se volvió serio y callado tras pronunciar esto. Tenía la lengua cansada, pues había pasado toda la tarde charlando en una taberna de Dorset Street. Muchos consideraban a Lenehan un parásito, pero pese a su reputación, su destreza y elocuencia siempre habían evitado que sus amigos tomaran medidas contra él. Tenía un modo audaz de acercarse a un grupo en el bar, manteniéndose ágil en los márgenes de la compañía hasta que lo incluían en una ronda. Era un vagabundo pícaro armado con un vasto repertorio de historias, limericks y acertijos. Era insensible a todo tipo de descortesías. Nadie sabía cómo lograba la ardua tarea de vivir, aunque su nombre se asociaba vagamente con hojas de apuestas.
"And where did you pick her up, Corley?" he asked.
—¿Y dónde la pescaste, Corley? —preguntó.
Corley ran his tongue swiftly along his upper lip.
Corley pasó rápidamente la lengua por el labio superior.
"One night, man," he said, "I was going along Dame Street and I spotted a fine tart under Waterhouse's clock and said good-night, you know. So we went for a walk round by the canal and she told me she was a slavey in a house in Baggot Street. I put my arm round her and squeezed her a bit that night. Then next Sunday, man, I met her by appointment. We vent out to Donnybrook and I brought her into a field there. She told me she used to go with a dairyman.... It was fine, man. Cigarettes every night she'd bring me and paying the tram out and back. And one night she brought me two bloody fine cigars—O, the real cheese, you know, that the old fellow used to smoke.... I was afraid, man, she'd get in the family way. But she's up to the dodge."
—Una noche, hombre —dijo—, iba por Dame Street y vi a una fulana estupenda bajo el reloj de Waterhouse. Le dije buenas noches, ya sabes. Dimos un paseo por el canal y me contó que era sirvienta en una casa de Baggot Street. Esa noche le eché el brazo y la apretujé un poco. Luego, el domingo siguiente, hombre, quedé con ella. Fuimos a Donnybrook y la llevé a un campo. Me dijo que antes salía con un lechero... Estuvo bien, hombre. Todas las noches me traía cigarrillos y pagaba el tranvía de ida y vuelta. Una noche hasta me dio dos puros estupendos, ¡oh, de los de verdad, ya sabes, como los que fumaba el viejo!... Tenía miedo, hombre, de que se quedara preñada. Pero ella conoce el truco.
"Maybe she thinks you'll marry her," said Lenehan.
—Quizá cree que te casarás con ella —dijo Lenehan.
"I told her I was out of a job," said Corley. "I told her I was in Pim's. She doesn't know my name. I was too hairy to tell her that. But she thinks I'm a bit of class, you know."
—Le dije que estaba en el paro —contestó Corley—. Que trabajaba en Pim's. No sabe mi nombre. Era demasiado listo para decírselo. Pero cree que soy de clase, ya sabes.
Lenehan laughed again, noiselessly.
Lenehan volvió a reír, sin hacer ruido.
"Of all the good ones ever I heard," he said, "that emphatically takes the biscuit."
—De todas las buenas que he oído —dijo—, ésa sin duda se lleva la palma.
Corley's stride acknowledged the compliment. The swing of his burly body made his friend execute a few light skips from the path to the roadway and back again. Corley was the son of an inspector of police and he had inherited his father's frame and gut. He walked with his hands by his sides, holding himself erect and swaying his head from side to side. His head was large, globular and oily; it sweated in all weathers; and his large round hat, set upon it sideways, looked like a bulb which had grown out of another. He always stared straight before him as if he were on parade and, when he wished to gaze after someone in the street, it was necessary for him to move his body from the hips. At present he was about town. Whenever any job was vacant a friend was always ready to give him the hard word. He was often to be seen walking with policemen in plain clothes, talking earnestly. He knew the inner side of all affairs and was fond of delivering final judgments. He spoke without listening to the speech of his companions. His conversation was mainly about himself what he had said to such a person and what such a person had said to him and what he had said to settle the matter. When he reported these dialogues he aspirated the first letter of his name after the manner of Florentines.
La zancada de Corley aceptó el cumplido. El balanceo de su cuerpo fornido obligó a su amigo a hacer unos ligeros saltos del sendero a la calzada y viceversa. Corley era hijo de un inspector de policía y había heredado la complexión y las tripas de su padre. Caminaba con las manos a los costados, manteniéndose erguido y meciendo la cabeza de un lado a otro. Su cabeza era grande, globular y grasienta; sudaba en todo tipo de climas; y su gran sombrero redondo, colocado de lado, parecía un bulbo que hubiera brotado de otro. Siempre miraba fijamente al frente como si estuviera desfilando y, cuando quería seguir con la mirada a alguien en la calle, debía girar el cuerpo desde las caderas. Por entonces andaba vagando por la ciudad. Siempre que surgía algún trabajo disponible, un amigo estaba listo para darle una buena recomendación. A menudo se le veía caminando con policías de civil, conversando con seriedad. Conocía el lado oculto de todos los asuntos y le gustaba emitir juicios definitivos. Hablaba sin escuchar las palabras de sus compañeros. Su conversación giraba principalmente en torno a sí mismo: lo que le había dicho a tal persona, lo que tal persona le había respondido y cómo él había zanjado el asunto. Al relatar estos diálogos, aspirada la primera letra de su nombre al estilo florentino.
Lenehan offered his friend a cigarette. As the two young men walked on through the crowd Corley occasionally turned to smile at some of the passing girls but Lenehan's gaze was fixed on the large faint moon circled with a double halo. He watched earnestly the passing of the grey web of twilight across its face. At length he said:
Lenehan le ofreció un cigarrillo a su amigo. Mientras los dos jóvenes avanzaban entre la multitud, Corley ocasionalmente volteaba para sonreír a alguna chica que pasaba, pero la mirada de Lenehan estaba fija en la gran luna pálida rodeada por un doble halo. Observaba con atención el paso de la grisácea red del crepúsculo sobre su superficie. Al final dijo:
"Well... tell me, Corley, I suppose you'll be able to pull it off all right, eh?"
"Bueno... dime, Corley, supongo que podrás llevarlo a cabo sin problemas, ¿eh?"
Corley closed one eye expressively as an answer.
Corley cerró un ojo expresivamente como respuesta.
"Is she game for that?" asked Lenehan dubiously. "You can never know women."
"¿Ella está dispuesta para eso?", preguntó Lenehan con escepticismo. "Nunca se sabe con las mujeres."
"She's all right," said Corley. "I know the way to get around her, man. She's a bit gone on me."
"Ella está bien", dijo Corley. "Sé cómo manejarla, hombre. Está un poquito enamorada de mí."
"You're what I call a gay Lothario," said Lenehan. "And the proper kind of a Lothario, too!"
"Eres lo que yo llamo un donjuán alegre", dijo Lenehan. "¡Y de la mejor clase, además!"
A shade of mockery relieved the servility of his manner. To save himself he had the habit of leaving his flattery open to the interpretation of raillery. But Corley had not a subtle mind.
Un matiz de burla alivió la servilidad de sus modales. Para protegerse, tenía el hábito de dejar su adulación abierta a la interpretación de la burla. Pero Corley no tenía una mente sutil.
"There's nothing to touch a good slavey," he affirmed. "Take my tip for it."
"No hay nada como una buena sirvienta", afirmó. "Toma mi consejo."
"By one who has tried them all," said Lenehan.
"Palabra de quien las ha probado todas", dijo Lenehan.
"First I used to go with girls, you know," said Corley, unbosoming; "girls off the South Circular. I used to take them out, man, on the tram somewhere and pay the tram or take them to a band or a play at the theatre or buy them chocolate and sweets or something that way. I used to spend money on them right enough," he added, in a convincing tone, as if he was conscious of being disbelieved.
"Al principio solía salir con chicas, ya sabes", confesó Corley; "chicas del South Circular. Las llevaba, hombre, en el tranvía a algún lado y pagaba el pasaje o las llevaba a una banda o al teatro o les compraba chocolates y dulces o algo por el estilo. Gastaba dinero en ellas, de verdad", añadió en tono convincente, como si sintiera que no le creían.
But Lenehan could well believe it; he nodded gravely.
Pero Lenehan podía creerlo fácilmente; asintió con gravedad.
"I know that game," he said, "and it's a mug's game."
"Conozco ese juego", dijo, "y es un juego de tontos."
"And damn the thing I ever got out of it," said Corley.
"Y maldito lo que saqué de él", dijo Corley.
"Ditto here," said Lenehan.
"Lo mismo digo", dijo Lenehan.
"Only off of one of them," said Corley.
"Solo de una de ellas", dijo Corley.
He moistened his upper lip by running his tongue along it. The recollection brightened his eyes. He too gazed at the pale disc of the moon, now nearly veiled, and seemed to meditate.
Humedeció su labio superior pasándose la lengua por él. El recuerdo le brilló en los ojos. Él también contempló el pálido disco de la luna, ahora casi velado, y pareció meditar.
"She was... a bit of all right," he said regretfully.
"Era... toda una pieza", dijo con nostalgia.
He was silent again. Then he added:
Guardó silencio de nuevo. Luego añadió:
"She's on the turf now. I saw her driving down Earl Street one night with two fellows with her on a car."
"Ahora está en la calle. La vi una noche bajando por Earl Street con dos tipos en un coche."
"I suppose that's your doing," said Lenehan.
"Supongo que eso fue obra tuya", dijo Lenehan.
"There was others at her before me," said Corley philosophically.
"Hubo otros antes que yo", dijo Corley con filosofía.
This time Lenehan was inclined to disbelieve. He shook his head to and fro and smiled.
Esta vez Lenehan se inclinó a dudar. Movió la cabeza de un lado a otro y sonrió.
"You know you can't kid me, Corley," he said.
"Sabes que no puedes engañarme, Corley", dijo.
"Honest to God!" said Corley. "Didn't she tell me herself?"
"¡Te lo juro por Dios!", dijo Corley. "¿Acaso no me lo dijo ella misma?"
Lenehan made a tragic gesture.
Lenehan hizo un gesto trágico.
"Base betrayer!" he said.
"¡Traidor vil!", exclamó.
As they passed along the railings of Trinity College, Lenehan skipped out into the road and peered up at the clock.
Al pasar junto a las rejas de Trinity College, Lenehan saltó a la calzada y miró hacia el reloj.
"Twenty after," he said.
"Veinte minutos pasados", dijo.
"Time enough," said Corley. "She'll be there all right. I always let her wait a bit."
"Tiempo de sobra", dijo Corley. "Ella estará allí, seguro. Siempre la hago esperar un rato."
Lenehan laughed quietly.
Lenehan rió suavemente.
"Ecod! Corley, you know how to take them," he said.
"¡Caramba! Corley, sabes cómo manejarlas", dijo.
"I'm up to all their little tricks," Corley confessed.
—Conozco todos sus truquillos —confesó Corley.
"But tell me," said Lenehan again, "are you sure you can bring it off all right? You know it's a ticklish job. They're damn close on that point. Eh?... What?"
—Pero dime —insistió Lenehan—, ¿estás seguro de que podrás lograrlo? Sabes que es un asunto delicado. Son muy estrictos en ese punto. ¿Eh?... ¿Cómo?
His bright, small eyes searched his companion's face for reassurance. Corley swung his head to and fro as if to toss aside an insistent insect, and his brows gathered.
Sus pequeños ojos brillantes escudriñaron el rostro de su compañero buscando seguridad. Corley movió la cabeza de un lado a otro como para ahuyentar un insecto persistente, y frunció el ceño.
"I'll pull it off," he said. "Leave it to me, can't you?"
—Lo conseguiré —dijo—. Déjamelo a mí, ¿no puedes?
Lenehan said no more. He did not wish to ruffle his friend's temper, to be sent to the devil and told that his advice was not wanted. A little tact was necessary. But Corley's brow was soon smooth again. His thoughts were running another way.
Lenehan no dijo más. No quería alterar el humor de su amigo, que lo mandaría al diablo diciendo que sus consejos no servían. Era necesario un poco de tacto. Pero el ceño de Corley pronto se relajó. Sus pensamientos seguían otro rumbo.
"She's a fine decent tart," he said, with appreciation; "that's what she is."
—Es una fulana decente —dijo con aprecio—; eso es lo que es.
They walked along Nassau Street and then turned into Kildare Street. Not far from the porch of the club a harpist stood in the roadway, playing to a little ring of listeners. He plucked at the wires heedlessly, glancing quickly from time to time at the face of each new-comer and from time to time, wearily also, at the sky. His harp, too, heedless that her coverings had fallen about her knees, seemed weary alike of the eyes of strangers and of her master's hands. One hand played in the bass the melody of Silent, O Moyle, while the other hand careered in the treble after each group of notes. The notes of the air sounded deep and full.
Caminaron por Nassau Street y luego giraron hacia Kildare Street. No lejos del pórtico del club, un arpista se plantaba en la calzada, tocando para un pequeño círculo de oyentes. Punteaba las cuerdas distraídamente, lanzando miradas rápidas a cada recién llegado y, de vez en cuando, miradas cansinas al cielo. Su arpa, cuyas fundas habían caído hasta las rodillas, parecía hastiada tanto de las miradas ajenas como de las manos de su dueño. Una mano tocaba en el bajo la melodía de Silent, O Moyle, mientras la otra danzaba en el agudo tras cada grupo de notas. Las notas del aire sonaban profundas y llenas.
The two young men walked up the street without speaking, the mournful music following them. When they reached Stephen's Green they crossed the road. Here the noise of trams, the lights and the crowd released them from their silence.
Los dos jóvenes caminaron calle arriba sin hablar, seguidos por la música lúgubre. Al llegar a Stephen's Green, cruzaron la calle. Allí, el ruido de los tranvías, las luces y la multitud los liberaron de su silencio.
"There she is!" said Corley.
—¡Ahí está! —dijo Corley.
At the corner of Hume Street a young woman was standing. She wore a blue dress and a white sailor hat. She stood on the curbstone, swinging a sunshade in one hand. Lenehan grew lively.
En la esquina de Hume Street, una joven esperaba. Vestía un traje azul y un sombrero de marinero blanco. Permanecía en el bordillo, balanceando una sombrilla en una mano. Lenehan se animó.
"Let's have a look at her, Corley," he said.
—Déjame echarle un vistazo, Corley —dijo.
Corley glanced sideways at his friend and an unpleasant grin appeared on his face.
Corley miró de reojo a su amigo y una mueca desagradable apareció en su rostro.
"Are you trying to get inside me?" he asked.
—¿Quieres sonsacarme? —preguntó.
"Damn it!" said Lenehan boldly, "I don't want an introduction. All I want is to have a look at her. I'm not going to eat her."
—¡Demonios! —dijo Lenehan con audacia—. No quiero presentaciones. Solo quiero verla. No voy a comérmela.
"O... A look at her?" said Corley, more amiably. "Well... I'll tell you what. I'll go over and talk to her and you can pass by."
—Oh... ¿Verla? —dijo Corley, más afable—. Bueno... Te diré qué haré. Iré a hablar con ella y tú pasarás de largo.
"Right!" said Lenehan.
—¡De acuerdo! —dijo Lenehan.
Corley had already thrown one leg over the chains when Lenehan called out:
Corley ya había pasado una pierna sobre las cadenas cuando Lenehan gritó:
"And after? Where will we meet?"
—¿Y después? ¿Dónde nos encontramos?
"Half ten," answered Corley, bringing over his other leg.
—A las diez y media —respondió Corley, pasando la otra pierna.
"Where?"
—¿Dónde?
"Corner of Merrion Street. We'll be coming back."
—Esquina de Merrion Street. Volveremos por ahí.
"Work it all right now," said Lenehan in farewell.
—Que todo salga bien —dijo Lenehan a modo de despedida.
Corley did not answer. He sauntered across the road swaying his head from side to side. His bulk, his easy pace, and the solid sound of his boots had something of the conqueror in them. He approached the young woman and, without saluting, began at once to converse with her. She swung her umbrella more quickly and executed half turns on her heels. Once or twice when he spoke to her at close quarters she laughed and bent her head.
Corley no respondió. Cruzó la calle con paso indolente, balanceando la cabeza. Su corpulencia, su paso despreocupado y el sonido sólido de sus botas tenían algo de conquistador. Se acercó a la joven y, sin saludar, comenzó a conversar con ella. Ella agitó la sombrilla con más rapidez y giró media vez sobre los talones. Un par de veces, cuando él le habló muy cerca, rió e inclinó la cabeza.
Lenehan observed them for a few minutes. Then he walked rapidly along beside the chains at some distance and crossed the road obliquely. As he approached Hume Street corner he found the air heavily scented and his eyes made a swift anxious scrutiny of the young woman's appearance. She had her Sunday finery on. Her blue serge skirt was held at the waist by a belt of black leather. The great silver buckle of her belt seemed to depress the centre of her body, catching the light stuff of her white blouse like a clip. She wore a short black jacket with mother-of-pearl buttons and a ragged black boa. The ends of her tulle collarette had been carefully disordered and a big bunch of red flowers was pinned in her bosom stems upwards. Lenehan's eyes noted approvingly her stout short muscular body. Rank rude health glowed in her face, on her fat red cheeks and in her unabashed blue eyes. Her features were blunt. She had broad nostrils, a straggling mouth which lay open in a contented leer, and two projecting front teeth. As he passed Lenehan took off his cap and, after about ten seconds, Corley returned a salute to the air. This he did by raising his hand vaguely and pensively changing the angle of position of his hat.
Lenehan los observó unos minutos. Luego caminó rápidamente junto a las cadenas, manteniendo distancia, y cruzó la calle en diagonal. Al acercarse a la esquina de Hume Street, el aire le llegó cargado de perfume y sus ojos escrutaron con ansia la apariencia de la joven. Lucía sus galas domingueras. Su falda de sarga azul estaba ceñida por un cinturón de cuero negro. La gran hebilla plateada del cinturón parecía hundirle el centro del cuerpo, sujetando la tela ligera de su blusa blanca como una pinza. Llevaba una chaqueta corta negra con botones de nácar y una estola negra raída. Los extremos de su cuello de tul habían sido cuidadosamente desordenados, y un gran ramo de flores rojas le prendía el pecho con los tallos hacia arriba. Los ojos de Lenehan aprobaron su cuerpo fornido, bajo y musculoso. Una salud ruda irradiaba de su rostro, en sus mofletes rojos y gordos y en sus ojos azules desvergonzados. Sus facciones eran toscas. Tenía las fosas nasales anchas, una boca desdentada que se abría en una mueca satisfecha, y dos dientes frontales salientes. Al pasar, Lenehan se quitó la gorra y, unos diez segundos después, Corley devolvió el saludo al aire. Lo hizo alzando la mano vagamente y cambiando con aire pensativo la posición de su sombrero.
Lenehan walked as far as the Shelbourne Hotel where he halted and waited. After waiting for a little time he saw them coming towards him and, when they turned to the right, he followed them, stepping lightly in his white shoes, down one side of Merrion Square. As he walked on slowly, timing his pace to theirs, he watched Corley's head which turned at every moment towards the young woman's face like a big ball revolving on a pivot. He kept the pair in view until he had seen them climbing the stairs of the Donnybrook tram; then he turned about and went back the way he had come.
Lenehan caminó hasta el Shelbourne Hotel, donde se detuvo a esperar. Tras un breve tiempo, los vio acercarse y, cuando giraron a la derecha, los siguió, pisando ligero con sus zapatos blancos, por un lado de Merrion Square. Mientras caminaba lentamente, ajustando su paso al de ellos, observó la cabeza de Corley, que giraba hacia el rostro de la joven a cada instante como una gran bola girando sobre un pivote. Los mantuvo a la vista hasta verlos subir las escaleras del tranvía de Donnybrook; entonces se volvió y regresó por donde había venido.
Now that he was alone his face looked older. His gaiety seemed to forsake him and, as he came by the railings of the Duke's Lawn, he allowed his hand to run along them. The air which the harpist had played began to control his movements His softly padded feet played the melody while his fingers swept a scale of variations idly along the railings after each group of notes.
Ahora que estaba solo, su rostro pareció envejecer. Su alegría lo abandonó y, al pasar junto a la verja del Duke's Lawn, dejó que su mano rozara los barrotes. La melodía que el arpista había tocado comenzó a dominar sus movimientos. Sus pies amortiguados marcaron el compás mientras sus dedos deslizaban ociosamente variaciones sobre los barrotes tras cada grupo de notas.
He walked listlessly round Stephen's Green and then down Grafton Street. Though his eyes took note of many elements of the crowd through which he passed they did so morosely. He found trivial all that was meant to charm him and did not answer the glances which invited him to be bold. He knew that he would have to speak a great deal, to invent and to amuse and his brain and throat were too dry for such a task. The problem of how he could pass the hours till he met Corley again troubled him a little. He could think of no way of passing them but to keep on walking. He turned to the left when he came to the corner of Rutland Square and felt more at ease in the dark quiet street, the sombre look of which suited his mood. He paused at last before the window of a poor-looking shop over which the words Refreshment Bar were printed in white letters. On the glass of the window were two flying inscriptions: Ginger Beer and Ginger Ale. A cut ham was exposed on a great blue dish while near it on a plate lay a segment of very light plum-pudding. He eyed this food earnestly for some time and then, after glancing warily up and down the street, went into the shop quickly.
Caminó sin rumbo alrededor de Stephen's Green y luego bajó por Grafton Street. Aunque sus ojos registraban múltiples elementos de la multitud que lo rodeaba, lo hacían con morosidad. Todo lo que pretendía cautivarlo le resultó trivial, y no correspondió a las miradas que lo invitaban a ser osado. Sabía que tendría que hablar mucho, inventar y divertir, pero su cerebro y garganta estaban demasiado secos para tal tarea. El problema de cómo pasar las horas hasta reunirse con Corley lo inquietó un poco. No se le ocurrió otra forma que seguir caminando. Giró a la izquierda al llegar a la esquina de Rutland Square y se sintió más tranquilo en la calle oscura y silenciosa, cuyo aspecto sombrío concordaba con su estado de ánimo. Finalmente se detuvo ante el escaparate de un local modesto donde se leía "Bar de Refrescos" en letras blancas. En el cristal había dos inscripciones volanderas: Ginger Beer y Ginger Ale. Un jamón cortado reposaba en un gran plato azul, y cerca, en otro plato, había un trozo de pudín de ciruelas muy claro. Observó la comida con atención durante un rato y, tras mirar cautelosamente a ambos lados de la calle, entró rápidamente.
He was hungry for, except some biscuits which he had asked two grudging curates to bring him, he had eaten nothing since breakfast-time. He sat down at an uncovered wooden table opposite two work-girls and a mechanic. A slatternly girl waited on him.
Tenía hambre, pues, exceptuando unas galletas que había pedido a dos curas renuentes, no había comido nada desde el desayuno. Se sentó en una mesa de madera sin mantel, frente a dos obreras y un mecánico. Una muchacha desaliñada lo atendió.
"How much is a plate of peas?" he asked.
—¿Cuánto cuesta un plato de guisantes? —preguntó.
"Three halfpence, sir," said the girl.
—Tres medios peniques, señor —dijo la chica.
"Bring me a plate of peas," he said, "and a bottle of ginger beer."
—Tráigame un plato de guisantes —dijo— y una botella de ginger beer.
He spoke roughly in order to belie his air of gentility for his entry had been followed by a pause of talk. His face was heated. To appear natural he pushed his cap back on his head and planted his elbows on the table. The mechanic and the two work-girls examined him point by point before resuming their conversation in a subdued voice. The girl brought him a plate of grocer's hot peas, seasoned with pepper and vinegar, a fork and his ginger beer. He ate his food greedily and found it so good that he made a note of the shop mentally. When he had eaten all the peas he sipped his ginger beer and sat for some time thinking of Corley's adventure. In his imagination he beheld the pair of lovers walking along some dark road; he heard Corley's voice in deep energetic gallantries and saw again the leer of the young woman's mouth. This vision made him feel keenly his own poverty of purse and spirit. He was tired of knocking about, of pulling the devil by the tail, of shifts and intrigues. He would be thirty-one in November. Would he never get a good job? Would he never have a home of his own? He thought how pleasant it would be to have a warm fire to sit by and a good dinner to sit down to. He had walked the streets long enough with friends and with girls. He knew what those friends were worth: he knew the girls too. Experience had embittered his heart against the world. But all hope had not left him. He felt better after having eaten than he had felt before, less weary of his life, less vanquished in spirit. He might yet be able to settle down in some snug corner and live happily if he could only come across some good simple-minded girl with a little of the ready.
Habló con brusquedad para contradecir su aire de gentileza, pues su entrada había interrumpido la conversación. Su rostro estaba arrebolado. Para parecer natural, se echó la gorra hacia atrás y apoyó los codos en la mesa. El mecánico y las dos obreras lo escrutaron detenidamente antes de reanudar su charla en voz baja. La camarera le trajo un plato de guisantes calientes de la tienda, sazonados con pimienta y vinagre, un tenedor y su ginger beer. Comió con avidez, encontrándolo tan bueno que mentalmente apuntó la dirección del local. Al terminar, sorbió su bebida y se quedó pensando en la aventura de Corley. En su imaginación, vio a la pareja caminando por algún sendero oscuro, oyó la voz grave de Corley lanzando piropos enérgicos y revivió la mueca lasciva de la boca de la joven. Esta visión le hizo sentir agudamente su pobreza económica y espiritual. Estaba harto de vagabundear, de tirar del diablo por la cola, de ardides y maquinaciones. En noviembre cumpliría treinta y uno. ¿No conseguiría nunca un buen empleo? ¿No tendría nunca un hogar propio? Pensó en lo grato que sería sentarse junto a un fuego cálido y disfrutar de una cena decente. Había pateado calles suficientes con amigos y chicas. Sabía lo que valían esos amigos; también conocía a las mujeres. La experiencia había amargado su corazón contra el mundo. Pero no había perdido toda esperanza. Tras comer, se sentía mejor que antes, menos hastiado de la vida, menos derrotado en espíritu. Aún podría establecerse en algún rincón acogedor y vivir feliz si encontrase a alguna muchacha sencilla y bondadosa con algún ahorro.
He paid twopence halfpenny to the slatternly girl and went out of the shop to begin his wandering again. He went into Capel Street and walked along towards the City Hall. Then he turned into Dame Street. At the corner of George's Street he met two friends of his and stopped to converse with them. He was glad that he could rest from all his walking. His friends asked him had he seen Corley and what was the latest. He replied that he had spent the day with Corley. His friends talked very little. They looked vacantly after some figures in the crowd and sometimes made a critical remark. One said that he had seen Mac an hour before in Westmoreland Street. At this Lenehan said that he had been with Mac the night before in Egan's. The young man who had seen Mac in Westmoreland Street asked was it true that Mac had won a bit over a billiard match. Lenehan did not know: he said that Holohan had stood them drinks in Egan's.
Pagó dos peniques y medio a la camarera desaliñada y salió a reanudar su vagar. Entró en Capel Street y caminó hacia el Ayuntamiento. Luego torció por Dame Street. En la esquina de George's Street encontró a dos amigos y se detuvo a conversar. Se alegró de descansar de tanto caminar. Sus amigos le preguntaron si había visto a Corley y por las últimas novedades. Respondió que había pasado el día con él. Los amigos hablaron poco. Seguían con mirada vacía a algunas figuras de la multitud, haciendo ocasionalmente algún comentario crítico. Uno mencionó haber visto a Mac una hora antes en Westmoreland Street. Lenehan replicó que la noche anterior había estado con Mac en el bar de Egan. El joven que lo había visto en Westmoreland Street preguntó si era cierto que Mac había ganado algo en un billar. Lenehan no lo sabía: dijo que Holohan les había invitado a copas en Egan's.
He left his friends at a quarter to ten and went up George's Street. He turned to the left at the City Markets and walked on into Grafton Street. The crowd of girls and young men had thinned and on his way up the street he heard many groups and couples bidding one another good-night. He went as far as the clock of the College of Surgeons: it was on the stroke of ten. He set off briskly along the northern side of the Green hurrying for fear Corley should return too soon. When he reached the corner of Merrion Street he took his stand in the shadow of a lamp and brought out one of the cigarettes which he had reserved and lit it. He leaned against the lamp-post and kept his gaze fixed on the part from which he expected to see Corley and the young woman return.
Dejó a sus amigos a las diez menos cuarto y subió por George's Street. Giró a la izquierda en los mercados municipales y entró en Grafton Street. La multitud de jóvenes se había dispersado, y en su camino oyó a varios grupos despedirse con buenas noches. Llegó hasta el reloj del Colegio de Cirujanos: daban las diez en punto. Avanzó con brío por el lado norte de Stephen's Green, apresurándose por miedo a que Corley regresara demasiado pronto. Al llegar a la esquina de Merrion Street, se apostó bajo la sombra de una farola y sacó uno de los cigarrillos reservados. Apoyado en el poste, mantuvo la mirada fija en la dirección por donde esperaba ver regresar a Corley y a la joven.
His mind became active again. He wondered had Corley managed it successfully. He wondered if he had asked her yet or if he would leave it to the last. He suffered all the pangs and thrills of his friend's situation as well as those of his own. But the memory of Corley's slowly revolving head calmed him somewhat: he was sure Corley would pull it off all right. All at once the idea struck him that perhaps Corley had seen her home by another way and given him the slip. His eyes searched the street: there was no sign of them. Yet it was surely half-an-hour since he had seen the clock of the College of Surgeons. Would Corley do a thing like that? He lit his last cigarette and began to smoke it nervously. He strained his eyes as each tram stopped at the far corner of the square. They must have gone home by another way. The paper of his cigarette broke and he flung it into the road with a curse.
Su mente se activó de nuevo. Se preguntó si Corley lo habría logrado. Dudaba si ya le habría planteado el asunto o lo dejaría para el final. Sufría todas las angustias y emociones de su amigo junto a las propias. Pero el recuerdo del lento cabeceo de Corley lo calmó algo: estaba seguro de que lo conseguiría. De pronto, le asaltó la idea de que quizá Corley la hubiera acompañado por otro camino, dejándolo plantado. Escudriñó la calle: ni rastro de ellos. Sin embargo, seguro que hacía media hora desde que vio el reloj del Colegio. ¿Haría Corley algo así? Encendió su último cigarrillo y comenzó a fumarlo nervioso. Forzaba la vista cada vez que un tranvía se detenía en la esquina opuesta de la plaza. Debían haber regresado por otro camino. El papel del cigarrillo se rompió y lo arrojó a la calle con una maldición.
Suddenly he saw them coming towards him. He started with delight and keeping close to his lamp-post tried to read the result in their walk. They were walking quickly, the young woman taking quick short steps, while Corley kept beside her with his long stride. They did not seem to be speaking. An intimation of the result pricked him like the point of a sharp instrument. He knew Corley would fail; he knew it was no go.
De repente los vio acercarse. Se estremeció de alegría y, pegado a la farola, intentó leer el resultado en su caminar. Avanzaban rápido, ella con pasos menudos y él manteniendo el ritmo con su zancada larga. No parecían hablar. Un presentimiento del resultado lo punzó como la hoja de un instrumento afilado. Supo que Corley había fracasado; supo que no había funcionado.
They turned down Baggot Street and he followed them at once, taking the other footpath. When they stopped he stopped too. They talked for a few moments and then the young woman went down the steps into the area of a house. Corley remained standing at the edge of the path, a little distance from the front steps. Some minutes passed. Then the hall-door was opened slowly and cautiously. A woman came running down the front steps and coughed. Corley turned and went towards her. His broad figure hid hers from view for a few seconds and then she reappeared running up the steps. The door closed on her and Corley began to walk swiftly towards Stephen's Green.
Doblaron por Baggot Street y él los siguió de inmediato, tomando la acera contraria. Cuando se detuvieron, él también. Hablaron unos instantes; luego la joven bajó los escalones al sótano de una casa. Corley permaneció de pie al borde de la acera, a cierta distancia de la entrada. Pasaron unos minutos. Entonces la puerta principal se abrió lenta y cautelosamente. Una mujer bajó corriendo los escalones y tosió. Corley se volvió y se acercó a ella. Su ancha figura ocultó la de ella unos segundos hasta que reapareció subiendo corriendo. La puerta se cerró y Corley comenzó a caminar rápidamente hacia Stephen's Green.
Lenehan hurried on in the same direction. Some drops of light rain fell. He took them as a warning and, glancing back towards the house which the young woman had entered to see that he was not observed, he ran eagerly across the road. Anxiety and his swift run made him pant. He called out:
Lenehan se apresuró en la misma dirección. Unas gotas de lluvia fina cayeron. Las tomó como advertencia y, tras mirar hacia la casa que la joven había entrado para asegurarse de que no lo vigilaban, cruzó la calle con premura. La ansiedad y la carrera lo dejaron jadeante. Gritó:
"Hallo, Corley!"
—¡Eh, Corley!
Corley turned his head to see who had called him, and then continued walking as before. Lenehan ran after him, settling the waterproof on his shoulders with one hand.
Corley volvió la cabeza para ver quién lo llamaba y continuó caminando. Lenehan corrió tras él, ajustándose el impermeable con una mano.
"Hallo, Corley!" he cried again.
—¡Eh, Corley! —volvió a gritar.
He came level with his friend and looked keenly in his face. He could see nothing there.
Se puso a la altura de su amigo y escudriñó su rostro. No vio nada revelador.
"Well?" he said. "Did it come off?"
—¿Y? —dijo—. ¿Funcionó?
They had reached the corner of Ely Place. Still without answering, Corley swerved to the left and went up the side street. His features were composed in stern calm. Lenehan kept up with his friend, breathing uneasily. He was baffled and a note of menace pierced through his voice.
Habían llegado a la esquina de Ely Place. Sin responder, Corley viró a la izquierda por la calle lateral. Sus facciones mostraban una compostura severa. Lenehan lo siguió, respirando con dificultad. Estaba desconcertado y una nota de amenaza atravesó su voz.
"Can't you tell us?" he said. "Did you try her?"
—¿No vas a contarnos? —dijo—. ¿Lo intentaste?
Corley halted at the first lamp and stared grimly before him. Then with a grave gesture he extended a hand towards the light and, smiling, opened it slowly to the gaze of his disciple. A small gold coin shone in the palm.
Corley se detuvo bajo la primera farola y miró al frente con gravedad. Luego, con gesto solemne, extendió una mano hacia la luz y, sonriendo, la abrió lentamente ante su discípulo. Una pequeña moneda de oro brillaba en su palma.
THE BOARDING HOUSE
LA CASA DE HUÉSPEDES
MRS. MOONEY was a butcher's daughter. She was a woman who was quite able to keep things to herself: a determined woman. She had married her father's foreman and opened a butcher's shop near Spring Gardens. But as soon as his father-in-law was dead Mr. Mooney began to go to the devil. He drank, plundered the till, ran headlong into debt. It was no use making him take the pledge: he was sure to break out again a few days after. By fighting his wife in the presence of customers and by buying bad meat he ruined his business. One night he went for his wife with the cleaver and she had to sleep a neighbour's house.
La señora Mooney era hija de un carnicero. Una mujer capaz de guardar sus secretos: una mujer decidida. Se había casado con el capataz de su padre y abrió una carnicería cerca de Spring Gardens. Pero al morir su suegro, el señor Mooney comenzó a ir al demonio. Bebía, robaba la caja, se endeudaba sin freno. De nada servía hacerle prometer abstinencia: recaía a los pocos días. Al pelearse con su mujer ante los clientes y vender carne mala, arruinó el negocio. Una noche la amenazó con el cuchillo de carnicero y ella tuvo que dormir en casa de un vecino.
After that they lived apart. She went to the priest and got a separation from him with care of the children. She would give him neither money nor food nor house-room; and so he was obliged to enlist himself as a sheriff's man. He was a shabby stooped little drunkard with a white face and a white moustache white eyebrows, pencilled above his little eyes, which were veined and raw; and all day long he sat in the bailiff's room, waiting to be put on a job. Mrs. Mooney, who had taken what remained of her money out of the butcher business and set up a boarding house in Hardwicke Street, was a big imposing woman. Her house had a floating population made up of tourists from Liverpool and the Isle of Man and, occasionally, artistes from the music halls. Its resident population was made up of clerks from the city. She governed the house cunningly and firmly, knew when to give credit, when to be stern and when to let things pass. All the resident young men spoke of her as The Madam.
Desde entonces vivieron separados. Ella acudió al párroco y obtuvo la separación con custodia de los hijos. No le daba dinero, comida ni alojamiento, así que él tuvo que enrolarse como agente judicial. Era un hombrecillo andrajoso y encorvado, de rostro pálido, bigote canoso y cejas blancas que arqueaban sobre ojillos inyectados en sangre. Pasaba el día en la oficina del alguacil esperando asignaciones. La señora Mooney, que había retirado lo que quedaba de su capital y montado una casa de huéspedes en Hardwicke Street, era una mujer imponente. Su clientela fluctuaba entre turistas de Liverpool, la Isla de Man y, ocasionalmente, artistas de variedades. Los residentes fijos eran oficinistas. Gobernaba la casa con astucia y firmeza, sabiendo cuándo dar crédito, cuándo ser severa y cuándo dejar pasar las cosas. Todos los jóvenes residentes la llamaban La Madama.
Mrs. Mooney's young men paid fifteen shillings a week for board and lodgings (beer or stout at dinner excluded). They shared in common tastes and occupations and for this reason they were very chummy with one another. They discussed with one another the chances of favourites and outsiders. Jack Mooney, the Madam's son, who was clerk to a commission agent in Fleet Street, had the reputation of being a hard case. He was fond of using soldiers' obscenities: usually he came home in the small hours. When he met his friends he had always a good one to tell them and he was always sure to be on to a good thing-that is to say, a likely horse or a likely artiste. He was also handy with the mits and sang comic songs. On Sunday nights there would often be a reunion in Mrs. Mooney's front drawing-room. The music-hall artistes would oblige; and Sheridan played waltzes and polkas and vamped accompaniments. Polly Mooney, the Madam's daughter, would also sing. She sang:
Los jóvenes de la señora Mooney pagaban quince chelines a la semana por pensión completa (cerveza o cerveza negra en la cena excluidas). Compartían gustos y ocupaciones comunes, y por esta razón eran muy camaradas entre sí. Discutían entre ellos las posibilidades de los favoritos y los outsiders. Jack Mooney, el hijo de la Madama, que era empleado de un agente de comisiones en Fleet Street, tenía fama de ser un tipo duro. Le gustaba usar obscenidades de soldado: normalmente llegaba a casa al amanecer. Cuando se encontraba con sus amigos siempre tenía una buena historia que contarles y siempre estaba al tanto de un buen negocio, es decir, un caballo prometedor o un artista prometedor. También era hábil con los puños y cantaba canciones cómicas. Los domingos por la noche solía haber una reunión en el salón delantero de la señora Mooney. Los artistas de music-hall solían actuar; y Sheridan tocaba valses y polcas e improvisaba acompañamientos. Polly Mooney, la hija de la Madama, también cantaba. Cantaba:
I'm a... naughty girl.
Soy una... chica mala.
You needn't sham:
No finjas:
You know I am.
Sabes que lo soy.
Polly was a slim girl of nineteen; she had light soft hair and a small full mouth. Her eyes, which were grey with a shade of green through them, had a habit of glancing upwards when she spoke with anyone, which made her look like a little perverse madonna. Mrs. Mooney had first sent her daughter to be a typist in a corn-factor's office but, as a disreputable sheriff's man used to come every other day to the office, asking to be allowed to say a word to his daughter, she had taken her daughter home again and set her to do housework. As Polly was very lively the intention was to give her the run of the young men. Besides young men like to feel that there is a young woman not very far away. Polly, of course, flirted with the young men but Mrs. Mooney, who was a shrewd judge, knew that the young men were only passing the time away: none of them meant business. Things went on so for a long time and Mrs. Mooney began to think of sending Polly back to typewriting when she noticed that something was going on between Polly and one of the young men. She watched the pair and kept her own counsel.
Polly era una chica delgada de diecinueve años; tenía el cabello claro y suave, y una boca pequeña y carnosa. Sus ojos, de un gris con un matiz verdoso, tenían la costumbre de mirar hacia arriba cuando hablaba con alguien, lo que le daba el aspecto de una pequeña madona perversa. La señora Mooney había enviado primero a su hija a trabajar como mecanógrafa en una oficina de corredores de cereales, pero como un hombre deshonesto del alguacil solía ir cada dos días a la oficina, pidiendo permiso para hablar con su hija, la había llevado de vuelta a casa y la había puesto a hacer labores domésticas. Como Polly era muy vivaz, la intención era darle libertad con los jóvenes. Además, a los jóvenes les gusta sentir que hay una mujer cerca. Polly, por supuesto, coqueteaba con los jóvenes, pero la señora Mooney, que era una jueza astuta, sabía que los jóvenes solo estaban pasando el rato: ninguno de ellos iba en serio. Las cosas continuaron así durante mucho tiempo, y la señora Mooney comenzó a pensar en enviar a Polly de vuelta a la mecanografía cuando notó que algo estaba sucediendo entre Polly y uno de los jóvenes. Observó a la pareja y guardó silencio.
Polly knew that she was being watched, but still her mother's persistent silence could not be misunderstood. There had been no open complicity between mother and daughter, no open understanding but, though people in the house began to talk of the affair, still Mrs. Mooney did not intervene. Polly began to grow a little strange in her manner and the young man was evidently perturbed. At last, when she judged it to be the right moment, Mrs. Mooney intervened. She dealt with moral problems as a cleaver deals with meat: and in this case she had made up her mind.
Polly sabía que la estaban vigilando, pero aun así el persistente silencio de su madre no podía malinterpretarse. No había habido complicidad abierta entre madre e hija, ningún acuerdo explícito, pero, aunque la gente de la casa comenzó a hablar del asunto, la señora Mooney no intervino. Polly comenzó a comportarse de manera un poco extraña y el joven estaba evidentemente perturbado. Por fin, cuando consideró que era el momento adecuado, la señora Mooney intervino. Abordaba los problemas morales como un cuchillo aborda la carne: y en este caso había tomado una decisión.
It was a bright Sunday morning of early summer, promising heat, but with a fresh breeze blowing. All the windows of the boarding house were open and the lace curtains ballooned gently towards the street beneath the raised sashes. The belfry of George's Church sent out constant peals and worshippers, singly or in groups, traversed the little circus before the church, revealing their purpose by their self-contained demeanour no less than by the little volumes in their gloved hands. Breakfast was over in the boarding house and the table of the breakfast-room was covered with plates on which lay yellow streaks of eggs with morsels of bacon-fat and bacon-rind. Mrs. Mooney sat in the straw arm-chair and watched the servant Mary remove the breakfast things. She mad Mary collect the crusts and pieces of broken bread to help to make Tuesday's bread-pudding. When the table was cleared, the broken bread collected, the sugar and butter safe under lock and key, she began to reconstruct the interview which she had had the night before with Polly. Things were as she had suspected: she had been frank in her questions and Polly had been frank in her answers. Both had been somewhat awkward, of course. She had been made awkward by her not wishing to receive the news in too cavalier a fashion or to seem to have connived and Polly had been made awkward not merely because allusions of that kind always made her awkward but also because she did not wish it to be thought that in her wise innocence she had divined the intention behind her mother's tolerance.
Era una luminosa mañana de domingo a principios de verano, prometía calor, pero soplaba una brisa fresca. Todas las ventanas de la pensión estaban abiertas y las cortinas de encaje se inflaban suavemente hacia la calle bajo los marcos levantados. El campanario de la iglesia de George's emitía repiques constantes y los feligreses, solos o en grupos, atravesaban la pequeña plaza frente a la iglesia, revelando su propósito tanto por su porte reservado como por los libritos en sus manos enguantadas. El desayuno había terminado en la pensión y la mesa del comedor estaba cubierta de platos con restos amarillos de huevo y trozos de grasa y corteza de tocino. La señora Mooney se sentó en el sillón de mimbre y observó a la sirvienta Mary retirar los restos del desayuno. Hizo que Mary recogiera las migajas y trozos de pan para ayudar a hacer el budín de pan del martes. Cuando la mesa estuvo limpia, el pan roto recogido, el azúcar y la mantequilla bajo llave, comenzó a reconstruir la conversación que había tenido la noche anterior con Polly. Las cosas eran como había sospechado: ella había sido franca en sus preguntas y Polly había sido franca en sus respuestas. Ambas, por supuesto, se habían sentido algo incómodas. A ella le había incomodado no querer recibir la noticia con demasiada ligereza ni parecer cómplice, y a Polly le había incomodado no solo porque las alusiones de ese tipo siempre la ponían nerviosa, sino también porque no quería que pensaran que, en su sabia inocencia, había adivinado la intención detrás de la tolerancia de su madre.
Mrs. Mooney glanced instinctively at the little gilt clock on the mantelpiece as soon as she had become aware through her revery that the bells of George's Church had stopped ringing. It was seventeen minutes past eleven: she would have lots of time to have the matter out with Mr. Doran and then catch short twelve at Marlborough Street. She was sure she would win. To begin with she had all the weight of social opinion on her side: she was an outraged mother. She had allowed him to live beneath her roof, assuming that he was a man of honour and he had simply abused her hospitality. He was thirty-four or thirty-five years of age, so that youth could not be pleaded as his excuse; nor could ignorance be his excuse since he was a man who had seen something of the world. He had simply taken advantage of Polly's youth and inexperience: that was evident. The question was: What reparation would he make?
La señora Mooney miró instintivamente el pequeño reloj dorado de la repisa al percatarse, a través de su ensueño, de que las campanas de la iglesia de San Jorge habían dejado de repicar. Eran las once y diecisiete: tendría tiempo de sobra para zanjar el asunto con el señor Doran y luego llegar a la misa de doce en Marlborough Street. Estaba segura de ganar. Para empezar, contaba con todo el peso de la opinión social de su lado: era una madre ultrajada. Le había permitido vivir bajo su techo asumiendo que era un hombre de honor, y él simplemente había abusado de su hospitalidad. Tenía treinta y cuatro o treinta y cinco años, así que la juventud no podía esgrimirse como excusa; tampoco la ignorancia, pues era un hombre que había visto algo del mundo. Simplemente se había aprovechado de la juventud e inexperiencia de Polly: eso era evidente. La pregunta era: ¿Qué reparación haría?
There must be reparation made in such case. It is all very well for the man: he can go his ways as if nothing had happened, having had his moment of pleasure, but the girl has to bear the brunt. Some mothers would be content to patch up such an affair for a sum of money; she had known cases of it. But she would not do so. For her only one reparation could make up for the loss of her daughter's honour: marriage.
Debía haber una reparación en tales casos. Para el hombre está bien: puede seguir su camino como si nada hubiera pasado, tras haber tenido su momento de placer, pero la chica debe cargar con las consecuencias. Algunas madres se contentarían con arreglar el asunto a cambio de una suma de dinero; ella conocía casos así. Pero ella no lo haría. Solo una reparación podría compensar la pérdida del honor de su hija: el matrimonio.
She counted all her cards again before sending Mary up to Doran's room to say that she wished to speak with him. She felt sure she would win. He was a serious young man, not rakish or loud-voiced like the others. If it had been Mr. Sheridan or Mr. Meade or Bantam Lyons her task would have been much harder. She did not think he would face publicity. All the lodgers in the house knew something of the affair; details had been invented by some. Besides, he had been employed for thirteen years in a great Catholic wine-merchant's office and publicity would mean for him, perhaps, the loss of his job. Whereas if he agreed all might be well. She knew he had a good screw for one thing and she suspected he had a bit of stuff put by.
Repasó todas sus cartas nuevamente antes de enviar a Mary al cuarto de Doran para decir que deseaba hablar con él. Estaba segura de ganar. Era un joven serio, no libertino ni vociferante como los demás. De haber sido el señor Sheridan, el señor Meade o Bantam Lyons, su tarea habría sido mucho más difícil. No creía que se atreviera a enfrentar la publicidad. Todos los inquilinos de la casa sabían algo del asunto; algunos incluso habían inventado detalles. Además, había trabajado trece años en la oficina de un importante comerciante católico de vinos, y la publicidad significaría quizás la pérdida de su empleo. Mientras que si accedía, todo podría resolverse. Sabía que tenía un buen sueldo, para empezar, y sospechaba que había ahorrado algo de dinero.
Nearly the half-hour! She stood up and surveyed herself in the pier-glass. The decisive expression of her great florid face satisfied her and she thought of some mothers she knew who could not get their daughters off their hands.
¡Casi media hora! Se levantó y se contempló en el espejo de cuerpo entero. La expresión decidida de su rostro florido la satisfizo, y pensó en algunas madres que conocía, incapaces de deshacerse de sus hijas.
Mr. Doran was very anxious indeed this Sunday morning. He had made two attempts to shave but his hand had been so unsteady that he had been obliged to desist. Three days' reddish beard fringed his jaws and every two or three minutes a mist gathered on his glasses so that he had to take them off and polish them with his pocket-handkerchief. The recollection of his confession of the night before was a cause of acute pain to him; the priest had drawn out every ridiculous detail of the affair and in the end had so magnified his sin that he was almost thankful at being afforded a loophole of reparation. The harm was done. What could he do now but marry her or run away? He could not brazen it out. The affair would be sure to be talked of and his employer would be certain to hear of it. Dublin is such a small city: everyone knows everyone else's business. He felt his heart leap warmly in his throat as he heard in his excited imagination old Mr. Leonard calling out in his rasping voice: "Send Mr. Doran here, please."
El señor Doran estaba sumamente angustiado aquel domingo por la mañana. Había intentado afeitarse dos veces, pero su mano temblaba tanto que tuvo que desistir. Tres días de barba rojiza bordeaban sus mandíbulas, y cada dos o tres minutos una neblina empañaba sus lentes, obligándole a quitárselos y limpiarlos con su pañuelo. El recuerdo de su confesión de la noche anterior le causaba un dolor agudo; el sacerdote había sacado a relucir cada detalle ridículo del asunto y, al final, había magnificado tanto su pecado que casi se sintió agradecido por obtener una escapatoria de reparación. El daño estaba hecho. ¿Qué podía hacer ahora sino casarse con ella o huir? No podía salir del paso con descaro. El asunto sin duda se comentaría, y su empleador terminaría enterándose. Dublín es una ciudad tan pequeña: todos conocen los asuntos de los demás. Sintió el corazón latir con fuerza en su garganta al imaginar, en su excitación, al viejo señor Leonard llamando con su voz áspera: "Que venga el señor Doran, por favor".
All his long years of service gone for nothing! All his industry and diligence thrown away! As a young man he had sown his wild oats, of course; he had boasted of his free-thinking and denied the existence of God to his companions in public-houses. But that was all passed and done with... nearly. He still bought a copy of Reynolds's Newspaper every week but he attended to his religious duties and for nine-tenths of the year lived a regular life. He had money enough to settle down on; it was not that. But the family would look down on her. First of all there was her disreputable father and then her mother's boarding house was beginning to get a certain fame. He had a notion that he was being had. He could imagine his friends talking of the affair and laughing. She was a little vulgar; some times she said "I seen" and "If I had've known." But what would grammar matter if he really loved her? He could not make up his mind whether to like her or despise her for what she had done. Of course he had done it too. His instinct urged him to remain free, not to marry. Once you are married you are done for, it said.
¡Todos sus largos años de servicio perdidos para nada! ¡Todo su esfuerzo y diligencia tirados a la basura! De joven, claro, había sembrado sus wild oats; había alardeado de su librepensamiento y negado la existencia de Dios ante sus compañeros en las tabernas. Pero todo eso había quedado atrás... casi. Todavía compraba un ejemplar de Reynolds's Newspaper cada semana, pero cumplía con sus deberes religiosos y, nueve décimas partes del año, llevaba una vida ordenada. Tenía dinero suficiente para establecerse; no era eso. Pero su familia la menospreciaría. Primero estaba su padre de mala reputación, y luego la pensión de su madre empezaba a ganar cierta fama. Tenía la sensación de que lo estaban embaucando. Podía imaginar a sus amigos hablando del asunto y riéndose. Ella era un poco vulgar; a veces decía "yo visto" y "si hubiera he sabido". Pero ¿qué importaba la gramática si realmente la amaba? No podía decidir si admirarla o despreciarla por lo que había hecho. Claro que él también lo había hecho. Su instinto lo instaba a mantenerse libre, a no casarse. Una vez te casas, estás perdido, le decía.
While he was sitting helplessly on the side of the bed in shirt and trousers she tapped lightly at his door and entered. She told him all, that she had made a clean breast of it to her mother and that her mother would speak with him that morning. She cried and threw her arms round his neck, saying:
Mientras estaba sentado impotente al borde de la cama en camisa y pantalones, ella llamó suavemente a su puerta y entró. Se lo contó todo: que había hecho una confesión completa a su madre y que su madre hablaría con él esa mañana. Lloró y le echó los brazos al cuello, diciendo:
"O Bob! Bob! What am I to do? What am I to do at all?"
—¡Ay, Bob! ¡Bob! ¿Qué voy a hacer? ¿Qué voy a hacer?
She would put an end to herself, she said.
Pondría fin a su vida, dijo.
He comforted her feebly, telling her not to cry, that it would be all right, never fear. He felt against his shirt the agitation of her bosom.
Él la consoló débilmente, diciéndole que no llorara, que todo saldría bien, que no tuviera miedo. Sentía contra su camisa la agitación de su pecho.
It was not altogether his fault that it had happened. He remembered well, with the curious patient memory of the celibate, the first casual caresses her dress, her breath, her fingers had given him. Then late one night as he was undressing for she had tapped at his door, timidly. She wanted to relight her candle at his for hers had been blown out by a gust. It was her bath night. She wore a loose open combing-jacket of printed flannel. Her white instep shone in the opening of her furry slippers and the blood glowed warmly behind her perfumed skin. From her hands and wrists too as she lit and steadied her candle a faint perfume arose.
No había sido enteramente culpa suya lo ocurrido. Recordaba bien, con la curiosa memoria paciente del célibe, las primeras caricias casuales que le habían brindado su vestido, su aliento, sus dedos. Luego, una noche tardía, cuando se estaba desvistiendo, ella había llamado a su puerta, tímidamente. Quería volver a encender su vela con la de él, pues una ráfaga había apagado la suya. Era su noche de baño. Llevaba una holgada bata de franela estampada. Su empeine blanco relucía en la abertura de sus zapatillas peludas y la sangre ardía cálidamente tras su perfumada piel. De sus manos y muñecas también, mientras encendía y sostenía la vela, surgía un leve perfume.
On nights when he came in very late it was she who warmed up his dinner. He scarcely knew what he was eating feeling her beside him alone, at night, in the sleeping house. And her thoughtfulness! If the night was anyway cold or wet or windy there was sure to be a little tumbler of punch ready for him. Perhaps they could be happy together....
En las noches en que llegaba muy tarde, era ella quien le recalentaba la cena. Apenas sabía lo que comía, sintiéndola a su lado, sola, de noche, en la casa dormida. ¡Y su consideración! Si la noche era fría, húmeda o ventosa, seguro había un pequeño vaso de ponche listo para él. Quizás podrían ser felices juntos...
They used to go upstairs together on tiptoe, each with a candle, and on the third landing exchange reluctant goodnights. They used to kiss. He remembered well her eyes, the touch of her hand and his delirium....
Solían subir juntos las escaleras de puntillas, cada uno con una vela, y en el tercer rellano se despedían con renuencia. Solían besarse. Recordaba bien sus ojos, el tacto de su mano y su delirio...
But delirium passes. He echoed her phrase, applying it to himself: "What am I to do?" The instinct of the celibate warned him to hold back. But the sin was there; even his sense of honour told him that reparation must be made for such a sin.
Pero el delirio pasa. Repitió su frase, aplicándosela a sí mismo: —¿Qué voy a hacer?— El instinto del célibe le advertía que se contuviera. Pero el pecado estaba ahí; incluso su sentido del honor le decía que debía hacerse una reparación por tal pecado.
While he was sitting with her on the side of the bed Mary came to the door and said that the missus wanted to see him in the parlour. He stood up to put on his coat and waistcoat, more helpless than ever. When he was dressed he went over to her to comfort her. It would be all right, never fear. He left her crying on the bed and moaning softly: "O my God!"
Mientras estaban sentados juntos al borde de la cama, Mary llegó a la puerta y dijo que la señora quería verlo en el salón. Se levantó para ponerse el abrigo y el chaleco, más impotente que nunca. Cuando estuvo vestido, se acercó a ella para consolarla. Todo saldría bien, que no tuviera miedo. La dejó llorando en la cama y gimiendo suavemente: —¡Dios mío!—
Going down the stairs his glasses became so dimmed with moisture that he had to take them off and polish them. He longed to ascend through the roof and fly away to another country where he would never hear again of his trouble, and yet a force pushed him downstairs step by step. The implacable faces of his employer and of the Madam stared upon his discomfiture. On the last flight of stairs he passed Jack Mooney who was coming up from the pantry nursing two bottles of Bass. They saluted coldly; and the lover's eyes rested for a second or two on a thick bulldog face and a pair of thick short arms. When he reached the foot of the staircase he glanced up and saw Jack regarding him from the door of the return-room.
Al bajar las escaleras, sus gafas se empañaron tanto que tuvo que quitárselas y limpiarlas. Anhelaba ascender por el techo y huir a otro país donde nunca más oyera hablar de su problema, y sin embargo una fuerza lo empujaba escalón tras escalón. Los rostros implacables de su patrón y de la señora contemplaban su desazón. En el último tramo de escaleras pasó junto a Jack Mooney, que subía de la despensa con dos botellas de Bass. Se saludaron fríamente; y los ojos del amante se posaron un segundo en un rostro bulldog y unos brazos cortos y gruesos. Al llegar al pie de la escalera, miró hacia arriba y vio a Jack observándolo desde la puerta del cuarto trasero.
Suddenly he remembered the night when one of the music-hall artistes, a little blond Londoner, had made a rather free allusion to Polly. The reunion had been almost broken up on account of Jack's violence. Everyone tried to quiet him. The music-hall artiste, a little paler than usual, kept smiling and saying that there was no harm meant: but Jack kept shouting at him that if any fellow tried that sort of a game on with his sister he'd bloody well put his teeth down his throat, so he would.
De pronto recordó la noche en que una de las artistas del music-hall, una rubia londinense, había hecho una alusión algo libre a Polly. La reunión casi se había deshecho por la violencia de Jack. Todos intentaron calmarlo. La artista, más pálida de lo habitual, seguía sonriendo y diciendo que no había mala intención, pero Jack seguía gritando que si algún tipo jugaba así con su hermana, le rompería los malditos dientes, así sería.
Polly sat for a little time on the side of the bed, crying. Then she dried her eyes and went over to the looking-glass. She dipped the end of the towel in the water-jug and refreshed her eyes with the cool water. She looked at herself in profile and readjusted a hairpin above her ear. Then she went back to the bed again and sat at the foot. She regarded the pillows for a long time and the sight of them awakened in her mind secret, amiable memories. She rested the nape of her neck against the cool iron bed-rail and fell into a reverie. There was no longer any perturbation visible on her face.
Polly se sentó un rato al borde de la cama, llorando. Luego se secó los ojos y se acercó al espejo. Mojó la punta de la toalla en la jarra de agua y refrescó sus ojos con el agua fría. Se miró de perfil y reajustó una horquilla sobre la oreja. Luego volvió a la cama y se sentó a los pies. Contempló las almohadas largo rato, y su vista despertó en su mente recuerdos secretos y amables. Recostó la nuca en el frío barandal de hierro de la cama y cayó en un ensueño. Ya no había perturbación visible en su rostro.
She waited on patiently, almost cheerfully, without alarm, her memories gradually giving place to hopes and visions of the future. Her hopes and visions were so intricate that she no longer saw the white pillows on which her gaze was fixed or remembered that she was waiting for anything.
Esperó con paciencia, casi alegremente, sin alarma, sus recuerdos cediendo gradualmente a esperanzas y visiones del futuro. Sus esperanzas y visiones eran tan intrincadas que ya no veía las almohadas blancas que fijaban su mirada ni recordaba que esperaba algo.
At last she heard her mother calling. She started to her feet and ran to the banisters.
Al fin oyó que su madre la llamaba. Se levantó de un salto y corrió a la barandilla.
"Polly! Polly!"
—¡Polly! ¡Polly!
"Yes, mamma?"
—¿Sí, mamá?
"Come down, dear. Mr. Doran wants to speak to you."
—Baja, cariño. El señor Doran quiere hablar contigo.
Then she remembered what she had been waiting for.
Entonces recordó lo que había estado esperando.
A LITTLE CLOUD
UNA NUBECILLA
EIGHT years before he had seen his friend off at the North Wall and wished him godspeed. Gallaher had got on. You could tell that at once by his travelled air, his well-cut tweed suit, and fearless accent. Few fellows had talents like his and fewer still could remain unspoiled by such success. Gallaher's heart was in the right place and he had deserved to win. It was something to have a friend like that.
Ocho años antes había despedido a su amigo en el North Wall deseándole buen viaje. Gallaher había triunfado. Se notaba de inmediato en su aire viajado, su traje de tweed bien cortado y su acento desenvuelto. Pocos tenían su talento y menos aún permanecían sin corromper por tal éxito. Gallaher tenía buen corazón y merecía triunfar. Era algo tener un amigo así.
Little Chandler's thoughts ever since lunch-time had been of his meeting with Gallaher, of Gallaher's invitation and of the great city London where Gallaher lived. He was called Little Chandler because, though he was but slightly under the average stature, he gave one the idea of being a little man. His hands were white and small, his frame was fragile, his voice was quiet and his manners were refined. He took the greatest care of his fair silken hair and moustache and used perfume discreetly on his handkerchief. The half-moons of his nails were perfect and when he smiled you caught a glimpse of a row of childish white teeth.
Desde el almuerzo, Little Chandler no había pensado más que en su encuentro con Gallaher, en su invitación y en la gran ciudad de Londres donde vivía. Lo llamaban "Pequeño" Chandler porque, aunque apenas estaba por debajo de la estatura media, daba la impresión de ser un hombre menudo. Sus manos eran blancas y pequeñas, su complexión frágil, su voz suave y sus modales refinados. Cuidaba con esmero su rubio cabello sedoso y su bigote, y usaba perfume discretamente en su pañuelo. Las medias lunas de sus uñas eran perfectas, y al sonreír se veía una fila de dientes infantiles.
As he sat at his desk in the King's Inns he thought what changes those eight years had brought. The friend whom he had known under a shabby and necessitous guise had become a brilliant figure on the London Press. He turned often from his tiresome writing to gaze out of the office window. The glow of a late autumn sunset covered the grass plots and walks. It cast a shower of kindly golden dust on the untidy nurses and decrepit old men who drowsed on the benches; it flickered upon all the moving figures—on the children who ran screaming along the gravel paths and on everyone who passed through the gardens. He watched the scene and thought of life; and (as always happened when he thought of life) he became sad. A gentle melancholy took possession of him. He felt how useless it was to struggle against fortune, this being the burden of wisdom which the ages had bequeathed to him.
Sentado a su escritorio en los King's Inns, pensó en los cambios que esos ocho años habían traído. El amigo que había conocido en condiciones pobres y necesitadas se había convertido en figura destacada de la prensa londinense. A menudo apartaba la vista de su tediosa escritura para mirar por la ventana de la oficina. El resplandor de un atardecer otoñal cubría los parterres y paseos. Arrojaba una lluvia de polvo dorado sobre las enfermeras desaliñadas y los viejos decrépitos que dormitaban en los bancos; titilaba sobre las figuras en movimiento: los niños que corrían gritando por los caminos de grava y todos los que cruzaban los jardines. Observaba la escena y pensaba en la vida; y (como siempre al pensar en la vida) se entristecía. Una suave melancolía se apoderaba de él. Sentía lo inútil de luchar contra la fortuna, siendo esta la carga de sabiduría que los siglos le habían legado.
He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home. He had bought them in his bachelor days and many an evening, as he sat in the little room off the hall, he had been tempted to take one down from the bookshelf and read out something to his wife. But shyness had always held him back; and so the books had remained on their shelves. At times he repeated lines to himself and this consoled him.
Recordó los libros de poesía en los estantes de su casa. Los había comprado en sus días de soltero, y muchas tardes, sentado en la habitación junto al vestíbulo, había sentido la tentación de tomar uno y leer algo a su esposa. Pero la timidez siempre lo detuvo, y así los libros permanecieron en su lugar. A veces repetía versos para sí mismo, y esto lo consolaba.
When his hour had struck he stood up and took leave of his desk and of his fellow-clerks punctiliously. He emerged from under the feudal arch of the King's Inns, a neat modest figure, and walked swiftly down Henrietta Street. The golden sunset was waning and the air had grown sharp. A horde of grimy children populated the street. They stood or ran in the roadway or crawled up the steps before the gaping doors or squatted like mice upon the thresholds. Little Chandler gave them no thought. He picked his way deftly through all that minute vermin-like life and under the shadow of the gaunt spectral mansions in which the old nobility of Dublin had roystered. No memory of the past touched him, for his mind was full of a present joy.
Cuando sonó su hora, se levantó y se despidió meticulosamente de su escritorio y sus compañeros. Emergió bajo el arco feudal de los King's Inns, figura pulcra y modesta, y caminó rápidamente por Henrietta Street. El ocaso dorado menguaba y el aire se había vuelto cortante. Una multitud de niños mugrientos poblaba la calle. Estaban de pie o corrían por la calzada, trepaban los escalones ante las puertas abiertas o se agachaban como ratas en los umbrales. Little Chandler no les prestaba atención. Se abría paso diestramente entre esa vida diminuta y vermicular, bajo la sombra de las mansiones espectrales donde la antigua nobleza de Dublín había festejado. Ningún recuerdo del pasado lo tocaba, pues su mente estaba llena de un gozo presente.
He had never been in Corless's but he knew the value of the name. He knew that people went there after the theatre to eat oysters and drink liqueurs; and he had heard that the waiters there spoke French and German. Walking swiftly by at night he had seen cabs drawn up before the door and richly dressed ladies, escorted by cavaliers, alight and enter quickly. They wore noisy dresses and many wraps. Their faces were powdered and they caught up their dresses, when they touched earth, like alarmed Atalantas. He had always passed without turning his head to look. It was his habit to walk swiftly in the street even by day and whenever he found himself in the city late at night he hurried on his way apprehensively and excitedly. Sometimes, however, he courted the causes of his fear. He chose the darkest and narrowest streets and, as he walked boldly forward, the silence that was spread about his footsteps troubled him, the wandering, silent figures troubled him; and at times a sound of low fugitive laughter made him tremble like a leaf.
Nunca había estado en Corless's, pero conocía el valor de ese nombre. Sabía que la gente iba allí después del teatro a comer ostras y beber licores; y había oído que los camareros hablaban francés y alemán. Al pasar rápidamente de noche, había visto coches detenidos ante la puerta y damas elegantemente vestidas, escoltadas por caballeros, descender y entrar con premura. Llevaban vestidos llamativos y múltiples abrigos. Sus rostros empolvados alzaban los faldones al tocar el suelo, como Atalantas alarmadas. Siempre había pasado de largo sin volver la cabeza. Era su costumbre caminar velozmente incluso de día, y cuando se encontraba en la ciudad a altas horas, avanzaba con aprensión y excitación. Sin embargo, a veces buscaba los motivos de su miedo. Elegía las calles más oscuras y angostas, y mientras avanzaba con decisión, el silencio que envolvía sus pasos lo inquietaba, las figuras errantes y mudas lo perturbaban; y a veces un sonido de risa baja y furtiva lo hacía temblar como una hoja.
He turned to the right towards Capel Street. Ignatius Gallaher on the London Press! Who would have thought it possible eight years before? Still, now that he reviewed the past, Little Chandler could remember many signs of future greatness in his friend. People used to say that Ignatius Gallaher was wild Of course, he did mix with a rakish set of fellows at that time, drank freely and borrowed money on all sides. In the end he had got mixed up in some shady affair, some money transaction: at least, that was one version of his flight. But nobody denied him talent. There was always a certain... something in Ignatius Gallaher that impressed you in spite of yourself. Even when he was out at elbows and at his wits' end for money he kept up a bold face. Little Chandler remembered (and the remembrance brought a slight flush of pride to his cheek) one of Ignatius Gallaher's sayings when he was in a tight corner:
Giró a la derecha hacia la calle Capel. ¡Ignatius Gallaher en la prensa londinense! ¿Quién lo habría imaginado posible ocho años atrás? Aun así, al repasar el pasado, Little Chandler recordaba muchas señales de grandeza futura en su amigo. La gente solía decir que Ignatius Gallaher era un salvaje. Claro, entonces se juntaba con una pandilla de vividores, bebía sin medida y pedía dinero prestado por todas partes. Al final se había metido en un asunto turbio, una transacción de dinero: al menos, esa era una versión de su huida. Pero nadie le negaba talento. Siempre había cierto... algo en Ignatius Gallaher que impresionaba a pesar de uno. Incluso cuando estaba en la miseria y desesperado por dinero, mantenía la frente alta. Little Chandler recordaba (y el recuerdo le traía un leve rubor de orgullo a la mejilla) una de las frases de Ignatius Gallaher en un aprieto:
"Half time now, boys," he used to say light-heartedly. "Where's my considering cap?"
"Medio tiempo ahora, muchachos", solía decir con liviandad. "¿Dónde está mi gorro de pensar?"
That was Ignatius Gallaher all out; and, damn it, you couldn't but admire him for it.
Eso era Ignatius Gallaher en esencia; y, demonios, no podías menos que admirarlo por ello.
Little Chandler quickened his pace. For the first time in his life he felt himself superior to the people he passed. For the first time his soul revolted against the dull inelegance of Capel Street. There was no doubt about it: if you wanted to succeed you had to go away. You could do nothing in Dublin. As he crossed Grattan Bridge he looked down the river towards the lower quays and pitied the poor stunted houses. They seemed to him a band of tramps, huddled together along the riverbanks, their old coats covered with dust and soot, stupefied by the panorama of sunset and waiting for the first chill of night bid them arise, shake themselves and begone. He wondered whether he could write a poem to express his idea. Perhaps Gallaher might be able to get it into some London paper for him. Could he write something original? He was not sure what idea he wished to express but the thought that a poetic moment had touched him took life within him like an infant hope. He stepped onward bravely.
Little Chandler apresuró el paso. Por primera vez en su vida, se sintió superior a la gente que cruzaba. Por primera vez, su alma se rebeló contra la tosca inelegancia de la calle Capel. No había duda: si querías triunfar, debías irte. No podías hacer nada en Dublín. Al cruzar el Puente Grattan, miró el río hacia los muelles bajos y compadeció a las pobres casas raquíticas. Le parecieron una banda de vagabundos, apiñados junto a la ribera, sus viejos abrigos cubiertos de polvo y hollín, aturdidos por el panorama del ocaso y esperando que el primer frío de la noche les ordenara levantarse, sacudirse y desaparecer. Se preguntó si podría escribir un poema para expresar su idea. Quizá Gallaher podría publicarlo en algún periódico londinense. ¿Podría escribir algo original? No estaba seguro de qué idea quería expresar, pero el pensamiento de que un momento poético lo había rozado cobró vida en su interior como una esperanza infantil. Avanzó con valentía.
Every step brought him nearer to London, farther from his own sober inartistic life. A light began to tremble on the horizon of his mind. He was not so old—thirty-two. His temperament might be said to be just at the point of maturity. There were so many different moods and impressions that he wished to express in verse. He felt them within him. He tried weigh his soul to see if it was a poet's soul. Melancholy was the dominant note of his temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by recurrences of faith and resignation and simple joy. If he could give expression to it in a book of poems perhaps men would listen. He would never be popular: he saw that. He could not sway the crowd but he might appeal to a little circle of kindred minds. The English critics, perhaps, would recognise him as one of the Celtic school by reason of the melancholy tone of his poems; besides that, he would put in allusions. He began to invent sentences and phrases from the notice which his book would get. "Mr. Chandler has the gift of easy and graceful verse."... "wistful sadness pervades these poems."... "The Celtic note." It was a pity his name was not more Irish-looking. Perhaps it would be better to insert his mother's name before the surname: Thomas Malone Chandler, or better still: T. Malone Chandler. He would speak to Gallaher about it.
Cada paso lo acercaba más a Londres, más lejos de su vida sobria y poco artística. Una luz comenzó a titilar en el horizonte de su mente. No era tan viejo—treinta y dos años. Su temperamento podría decirse que estaba justo en el punto de madurez. Había tantos estados de ánimo e impresiones que deseaba expresar en verso. Los sentía dentro de sí. Intentó sopesar su alma para ver si era la de un poeta. La melancolía era la nota dominante de su temperamento, pensaba, pero una melancolía templada por recurrentes fe, resignación y alegría simple. Si lograba expresarlo en un libro de poemas, quizá los hombres escucharían. Nunca sería popular: lo veía claro. No podría mover a las masas, pero tal vez conectaría con un pequeño círculo de mentes afines. Los críticos ingleses, quizá, lo reconocerían como parte de la escuela celta por el tono melancólico de sus poemas; además, incluiría alusiones. Empezó a inventar frases y extractos de la reseña que recibiría su libro. "El señor Chandler posee el don del verso fácil y elegante"... "una tristeza nostálgica impregna estos poemas"... "La nota céltica". Era una lástima que su nombre no sonara más irlandés. Quizá sería mejor intercalar el apellido de su madre: Thomas Malone Chandler, o mejor aún: T. Malone Chandler. Hablaría con Gallaher al respecto.
He pursued his revery so ardently that he passed his street and had to turn back. As he came near Corless's his former agitation began to overmaster him and he halted before the door in indecision. Finally he opened the door and entered.
Persiguió su ensueño con tal ardor que pasó su calle y tuvo que regresar. Al acercarse a Corless's, su anterior agitación comenzó a dominarlo y se detuvo ante la puerta indeciso. Finalmente la abrió y entró.
The light and noise of the bar held him at the doorways for a few moments. He looked about him, but his sight was confused by the shining of many red and green wine-glasses The bar seemed to him to be full of people and he felt that the people were observing him curiously. He glanced quickly to right and left (frowning slightly to make his errand appear serious), but when his sight cleared a little he saw that nobody had turned to look at him: and there, sure enough, was Ignatius Gallaher leaning with his back against the counter and his feet planted far apart.
La luz y el bullicio del bar lo retuvieron en el umbral unos instantes. Miró alrededor, pero su vista se nubló por el brillo de las copas rojas y verdes. El lugar le pareció repleto de gente, y sintió que lo observaban con curiosidad. Oteó rápidamente a ambos lados (frunciendo levemente el ceño para dar seriedad a su misión), pero cuando su vista se aclaró un poco, vio que nadie se había vuelto a mirarlo: y allí, sin duda, estaba Ignatius Gallaher recostado contra la barra con los pies bien separados.
"Hallo, Tommy, old hero, here you are! What is it to be? What will you have? I'm taking whisky: better stuff than we get across the water. Soda? Lithia? No mineral? I'm the same Spoils the flavour.... Here, garcon, bring us two halves of malt whisky, like a good fellow.... Well, and how have you been pulling along since I saw you last? Dear God, how old we're getting! Do you see any signs of aging in me—eh, what? A little grey and thin on the top—what?"
"¡Hola, Tommy, viejo amigo, aquí estás! ¿Qué vas a tomar? ¿Qué quieres? Yo pido whisky: mejor que el que tenemos al otro lado del agua. ¿Soda? ¿Litinia? ¿Sin gaseosa? Yo igual. Arruina el sabor... Oye, garçon, tráiganos dos medias de whisky de malta, buen hombre... Bueno, ¿cómo te ha ido desde la última vez? Dios mío, ¡cómo envejecemos! ¿Ves señales de edad en mí—eh, qué? ¿Un poco canoso y escaso en la coronilla—no?"
Ignatius Gallaher took off his hat and displayed a large closely cropped head. His face was heavy, pale and cleanshaven. His eyes, which were of bluish slate-colour, relieved his unhealthy pallor and shone out plainly above the vivid orange tie he wore. Between these rival features the lips appeared very long and shapeless and colourless. He bent his head and felt with two sympathetic fingers the thin hair at the crown. Little Chandler shook his head as a denial. Ignatius Galaher put on his hat again.
Ignatius Gallaher se quitó el sombrero y exhibió una cabeza grande y rapada al ras. Su rostro era macizo, pálido y lampiño. Sus ojos, de un azul pizarra, contrastaban con su palidez enfermiza y relucían sobre la vívida corbata naranja. Entre estos rasgos rivales, los labios parecían largos, informes y descoloridos. Inclinó la cabeza y palpó con dos dedos comprensivos la escasa cabellera de la coronilla. Little Chandler negó con un movimiento de cabeza. Ignatius Gallaher se volvió a poner el sombrero.
"It pulls you down," he said. "Press life. Always hurry and scurry, looking for copy and sometimes not finding it: and then, always to have something new in your stuff. Damn proofs and printers, I say, for a few days. I'm deuced glad, I can tell you, to get back to the old country. Does a fellow good, a bit of a holiday. I feel a ton better since I landed again in dear dirty Dublin.... Here you are, Tommy. Water? Say when."
"Te consume", dijo. "La vida de prensa. Siempre corriendo, buscando material y a veces sin encontrarlo; y luego, tener siempre algo nuevo en tus textos. Malditas pruebas e imprentas, te digo, por unos días. Estoy endiabladamente contento, sabes, de volver a la tierra natal. Le hace bien a uno, unas vacaciones. Me siento mil veces mejor desde que pisé de nuevo el querido y sucio Dublín... Aquí tienes, Tommy. ¿Agua? Di cuándo."
Little Chandler allowed his whisky to be very much diluted.
Little Chandler permitió que su whisky fuera muy aguado.
"You don't know what's good for you, my boy," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I drink mine neat."
"No sabes lo que te conviene, muchacho", dijo Ignatius Gallaher. "Yo lo tomo puro."
"I drink very little as a rule," said Little Chandler modestly. "An odd half-one or so when I meet any of the old crowd: that's all."
"Bebo muy poco por regla general", dijo Little Chandler con modestia. "Alguna media pinta cuando encuentro a los viejos amigos: eso es todo."
"Ah well," said Ignatius Gallaher, cheerfully, "here's to us and to old times and old acquaintance."
"Ah, bueno", dijo Ignatius Gallaher jovialmente, "brindemos por nosotros, los viejos tiempos y las viejas amistades."
They clinked glasses and drank the toast.
Chocaron las copas y brindaron.
"I met some of the old gang today," said Ignatius Gallaher. "O'Hara seems to be in a bad way. What's he doing?"
"Hoy me encontré con algunos de la vieja banda", dijo Ignatius Gallaher. "O'Hara parece estar mal. ¿Qué hace?"
"Nothing," said Little Chandler. "He's gone to the dogs."
"Nada", dijo Little Chandler. "Se ha ido al perro."
"But Hogan has a good sit, hasn't he?"
—Pero Hogan tiene un buen puesto, ¿verdad?
"Yes; he's in the Land Commission."
—Sí, está en la Comisión de Tierras.
"I met him one night in London and he seemed to be very flush.... Poor O'Hara! Boose, I suppose?"
—Una noche lo encontré en Londres y parecía nadar en dinero... Pobre O'Hara. ¿La bebida, supongo?
"Other things, too," said Little Chandler shortly.
—Otras cosas también —dijo Little Chandler lacónicamente.
Ignatius Gallaher laughed.
Ignatius Gallaher se rio.
"Tommy," he said, "I see you haven't changed an atom. You're the very same serious person that used to lecture me on Sunday mornings when I had a sore head and a fur on my tongue. You'd want to knock about a bit in the world. Have you never been anywhere even for a trip?"
—Tommy —dijo—, veo que no has cambiado ni un ápice. Sigues siendo el mismo tipo serio que me sermoneaba los domingos por la mañana cuando tenía resaca y la lengua pastosa. Deberías moverte un poco por el mundo. ¿Nunca has viajado ni siquiera de paseo?
"I've been to the Isle of Man," said Little Chandler.
—He estado en la Isla de Man —dijo Little Chandler.
Ignatius Gallaher laughed.
Ignatius Gallaher soltó una carcajada.
"The Isle of Man!" he said. "Go to London or Paris: Paris, for choice. That'd do you good."
—¡La Isla de Man! —exclamó—. Ve a Londres o a París: a París, mejor. Eso te haría bien.
"Have you seen Paris?"
—¿Has visto París?
"I should think I have! I've knocked about there a little."
—¡Como para dudarlo! He correteado bastante por allí.
"And is it really so beautiful as they say?" asked Little Chandler.
—¿Y es realmente tan hermoso como dicen? —preguntó Little Chandler.
He sipped a little of his drink while Ignatius Gallaher finished his boldly.
Bebió un sorbo de su trago mientras Ignatius Gallaher vaciaba el suyo de un tirón.
"Beautiful?" said Ignatius Gallaher, pausing on the word and on the flavour of his drink. "It's not so beautiful, you know. Of course, it is beautiful.... But it's the life of Paris; that's the thing. Ah, there's no city like Paris for gaiety, movement, excitement...."
—¿Hermoso? —repitió Gallaher, deteniéndose en la palabra y en el regusto de su bebida—. No es que sea hermoso, sabes. Claro, tiene su belleza... Pero es la vida de París; eso es lo importante. Ah, no hay ciudad como París para la alegría, el movimiento, la excitación...
Little Chandler finished his whisky and, after some trouble, succeeded in catching the barman's eye. He ordered the same again.
Little Chandler terminó su whisky y, tras varios intentos, logró llamar la atención del barman. Pidió lo mismo.
"I've been to the Moulin Rouge," Ignatius Gallaher continued when the barman had removed their glasses, "and I've been to all the Bohemian cafes. Hot stuff! Not for a pious chap like you, Tommy."
—He estado en el Moulin Rouge —continuó Ignatius Gallaher cuando el barman retiró los vasos—, y en todos los cafés bohemios. ¡Cosas calientes! Nada para un tipo piadoso como tú, Tommy.
Little Chandler said nothing until the barman returned with two glasses: then he touched his friend's glass lightly and reciprocated the former toast. He was beginning to feel somewhat disillusioned. Gallaher's accent and way of expressing himself did not please him. There was something vulgar in his friend which he had not observed before. But perhaps it was only the result of living in London amid the bustle and competition of the Press. The old personal charm was still there under this new gaudy manner. And, after all, Gallaher had lived, he had seen the world. Little Chandler looked at his friend enviously.
Little Chandler guardó silencio hasta que el barman regresó con dos copas: entonces chocó ligeramente su vaso con el de su amigo y correspondió al brindis anterior. Empezaba a sentirse algo desilusionado. El acento y la forma de expresarse de Gallaher le desagradaban. Había algo vulgar en su amigo que no había notado antes. Pero quizá era solo el resultado de vivir en Londres, entre el bullicio y la competencia de la prensa. El antiguo encanto personal aún persistía bajo aquel nuevo y llamativo barniz. Y, después de todo, Gallaher había vivido, había visto mundo. Little Chandler miró a su amigo con envidia.
"Everything in Paris is gay," said Ignatius Gallaher. "They believe in enjoying life—and don't you think they're right? If you want to enjoy yourself properly you must go to Paris. And, mind you, they've a great feeling for the Irish there. When they heard I was from Ireland they were ready to eat me, man."
—Todo en París es alegre —dijo Ignatius Gallaher—. Creen en disfrutar la vida, ¿y no crees que tienen razón? Si quieres divertirte de verdad, debes ir a París. Y fíjate, tienen una gran simpatía por los irlandeses. Cuando oyeron que yo era de Irlanda, estaban dispuestos a comerme vivo, hombre.
Little Chandler took four or five sips from his glass.
Little Chandler bebió cuatro o cinco sorbos de su copa.
"Tell me," he said, "is it true that Paris is so... immoral as they say?"
—Dime —preguntó—, ¿es cierto que París es tan... inmoral como dicen?
Ignatius Gallaher made a catholic gesture with his right arm.
Ignatius Gallaher hizo un gesto amplio y católico con el brazo derecho.
"Every place is immoral," he said. "Of course you do find spicy bits in Paris. Go to one of the students' balls, for instance. That's lively, if you like, when the cocottes begin to let themselves loose. You know what they are, I suppose?"
—Todos los lugares son inmorales —dijo—. Claro que en París encuentras cosas picantes. Ve a uno de los bailes de estudiantes, por ejemplo. Eso sí que es animado, cuando las cocottes empiezan a desinhibirse. Sabes lo que son, ¿no?
"I've heard of them," said Little Chandler.
—He oído hablar de ellas —dijo Little Chandler.
Ignatius Gallaher drank off his whisky and shook his had.
Ignatius Gallaher apuró su whisky y sacudió la cabeza.
"Ah," he said, "you may say what you like. There's no woman like the Parisienne—for style, for go."
—Ah —dijo—, puedes decir lo que quieras. No hay mujer como la parisina: por estilo, por garbo.
"Then it is an immoral city," said Little Chandler, with timid insistence—"I mean, compared with London or Dublin?"
—Entonces es una ciudad inmoral —insistió tímidamente Little Chandler—, ¿quiero decir, comparada con Londres o Dublín?
"London!" said Ignatius Gallaher. "It's six of one and half-a-dozen of the other. You ask Hogan, my boy. I showed him a bit about London when he was over there. He'd open your eye.... I say, Tommy, don't make punch of that whisky: liquor up."
—¡Londres! —exclamó Ignatius Gallaher—. Son la misma cosa. Pregúntale a Hogan, muchacho. Yo le mostré un poco de Londres cuando estuvo allí. Te abriría los ojos... Oye, Tommy, no te andes con remilgos con ese whisky: tómatelo de un trago.
"No, really...."
—No, en serio...
"O, come on, another one won't do you any harm. What is it? The same again, I suppose?"
—Vamos, otro no te hará daño. ¿Lo mismo, supongo?
"Well... all right."
—Bueno... de acuerdo.
"Francois, the same again.... Will you smoke, Tommy?"
—François, lo mismo... ¿Fumas, Tommy?
Ignatius Gallaher produced his cigar-case. The two friends lit their cigars and puffed at them in silence until their drinks were served.
Ignatius Gallaher sacó su estuche de puros. Los dos amigos encendieron sus habanos y fumaron en silencio hasta que les sirvieron las bebidas.
"I'll tell you my opinion," said Ignatius Gallaher, emerging after some time from the clouds of smoke in which he had taken refuge, "it's a rum world. Talk of immorality! I've heard of cases—what am I saying?—I've known them: cases of... immorality...."
—Te diré mi opinión —dijo Ignatius Gallaher, emergiendo tras un rato de las nubes de humo donde se había refugiado—, este mundo es bien extraño. ¡Hablar de inmoralidad! He oído de casos... ¿qué digo? Los he conocido: casos de... inmoralidad...
Ignatius Gallaher puffed thoughtfully at his cigar and then, in a calm historian's tone, he proceeded to sketch for his friend some pictures of the corruption which was rife abroad. He summarised the vices of many capitals and seemed inclined to award the palm to Berlin. Some things he could not vouch for (his friends had told him), but of others he had had personal experience. He spared neither rank nor caste. He revealed many of the secrets of religious houses on the Continent and described some of the practices which were fashionable in high society and ended by telling, with details, a story about an English duchess—a story which he knew to be true. Little Chandler as astonished.
Ignatius Gallaher aspiró pensativamente su cigarro y luego, con tono de historiador sereno, procedió a esbozar para su amigo algunos cuadros de la corrupción rampante en el extranjero. Resumió los vicios de varias capitales y pareció inclinarse a otorgar la palma a Berlín. De algunas cosas no podía dar fe (amigos se lo habían contado), pero de otras tenía experiencia personal. No perdonó rango ni casta. Reveló secretos de casas religiosas en el Continente, describió prácticas de moda en alta sociedad y terminó narrando con detalles una historia sobre una duquesa inglesa —historia que sabía cierta. Little Chandler quedó pasmado.
"Ah, well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "here we are in old jog-along Dublin where nothing is known of such things."
—Bueno, bueno —dijo Ignatius Gallaher—, aquí estamos en la vieja y rutinaria Dublín, donde nada se sabe de estas cosas.
"How dull you must find it," said Little Chandler, "after all the other places you've seen!"
—¡Qué aburrido debe resultarte —dijo Little Chandler—, después de todos los lugares que has visto!
"Well," said Ignatius Gallaher, "it's a relaxation to come over here, you know. And, after all, it's the old country, as they say, isn't it? You can't help having a certain feeling for it. That's human nature.... But tell me something about yourself. Hogan told me you had... tasted the joys of connubial bliss. Two years ago, wasn't it?"
—Mira —contestó Ignatius Gallaher—, venir por aquí es un descanso, ¿sabes? Y al fin y al cabo, es la tierra natal, como dicen, ¿no? Uno no puede evitar sentir cierto apego. Es la naturaleza humana... Pero cuéntame de ti. Hogan me dijo que habías... probado las dichas conyugales. Hace dos años, ¿no?
Little Chandler blushed and smiled.
Little Chandler enrojeció y sonrió.
"Yes," he said. "I was married last May twelve months."
—Sí —dijo—. Me casé en mayo pasado, hace ya un año.
"I hope it's not too late in the day to offer my best wishes," said Ignatius Gallaher. "I didn't know your address or I'd have done so at the time."
—Espero no llegar tarde para desearte lo mejor —dijo Ignatius Gallaher—. No tenía tu dirección o lo habría hecho en su momento.
He extended his hand, which Little Chandler took.
Extendió su mano, que Little Chandler estrechó.
"Well, Tommy," he said, "I wish you and yours every joy in life, old chap, and tons of money, and may you never die till I shoot you. And that's the wish of a sincere friend, an old friend. You know that?"
—Bueno, Tommy —prosiguió—, te deseo a ti y a los tuyos toda felicidad en la vida, viejo amigo, montañas de dinero y que no mueras hasta que yo te dispare. Y este es el deseo de un amigo sincero, un viejo amigo. ¿Lo sabías?
"I know that," said Little Chandler.
—Lo sabía —dijo Little Chandler.
"Any youngsters?" said Ignatius Gallaher.
—¿Alguna criatura? —preguntó Ignatius Gallaher.
Little Chandler blushed again.
Little Chandler volvió a ruborizarse.
"We have one child," he said.
—Tenemos un hijo —dijo.
"Son or daughter?"
—¿Varón o hembra?
"A little boy."
—Un niño.
Ignatius Gallaher slapped his friend sonorously on the back.
Ignatius Gallaher dio una sonora palmada en la espalda a su amigo.
"Bravo," he said, "I wouldn't doubt you, Tommy."
—Bravo —exclamó—, no esperaba menos de ti, Tommy.
Little Chandler smiled, looked confusedly at his glass and bit his lower lip with three childishly white front teeth.
Little Chandler sonrió, miró su vaso con turbación y mordió su labio inferior con tres dientes frontales infantílmente blancos.
"I hope you'll spend an evening with us," he said, "before you go back. My wife will be delighted to meet you. We can have a little music and——"
—Espero que pases una velada con nosotros —dijo— antes de irte. Mi esposa estará encantada de conocerte. Podemos tener un poco de música y...
"Thanks awfully, old chap," said Ignatius Gallaher, "I'm sorry we didn't meet earlier. But I must leave tomorrow night."
—Mil gracias, viejo amigo —interrumpió Ignatius Gallaher—, lamento no habernos visto antes. Pero debo partir mañana por la noche.
"Tonight, perhaps...?"
—¿Esta noche quizá...?
"I'm awfully sorry, old man. You see I'm over here with another fellow, clever young chap he is too, and we arranged to go to a little card-party. Only for that..."
—Lo siento muchísimo, colega. Verás, vine con otro tipo, un joven listo donde los haya, y quedamos en ir a una tertulia de cartas. De no ser por eso...
"O, in that case..."
—Ah, en ese caso...
"But who knows?" said Ignatius Gallaher considerately. "Next year I may take a little skip over here now that I've broken the ice. It's only a pleasure deferred."
—Pero quién sabe —dijo Ignatius Gallaher con consideración—. El año que viene quizá me escape por aquí ahora que he roto el hielo. Solo será un placer pospuesto.
"Very well," said Little Chandler, "the next time you come we must have an evening together. That's agreed now, isn't it?"
—Muy bien —convino Little Chandler—, la próxima vez que vengas pasaremos una velada juntos. Queda acordado, ¿no?
"Yes, that's agreed," said Ignatius Gallaher. "Next year if I come, parole d'honneur."
—Sí, acordado —afirmó Ignatius Gallaher—. El año próximo si vengo, parole d'honneur.
"And to clinch the bargain," said Little Chandler, "we'll just have one more now."
—Y para sellar el pacto —propuso Little Chandler—, tomaremos otro trago.
Ignatius Gallaher took out a large gold watch and looked a it.
Ignatius Gallaher sacó un voluminoso reloj de oro y lo consultó.
"Is it to be the last?" he said. "Because you know, I have an a.p."
—¿Será el último? —preguntó—. Porque mira, tengo un compromiso.
"O, yes, positively," said Little Chandler.
—Oh sí, definitivamente —aseguró Little Chandler.
"Very well, then," said Ignatius Gallaher, "let us have another one as a deoc an doruis—that's good vernacular for a small whisky, I believe."
—Pues bien —concluyó Ignatius Gallaher—, tomemos otro como deoc an doruis —que es buen vernáculo para un whisky pequeño, creo.
Little Chandler ordered the drinks. The blush which had risen to his face a few moments before was establishing itself. A trifle made him blush at any time: and now he felt warm and excited. Three small whiskies had gone to his head and Gallaher's strong cigar had confused his mind, for he was a delicate and abstinent person. The adventure of meeting Gallaher after eight years, of finding himself with Gallaher in Corless's surrounded by lights and noise, of listening to Gallaher's stories and of sharing for a brief space Gallaher's vagrant and triumphant life, upset the equipoise of his sensitive nature. He felt acutely the contrast between his own life and his friend's and it seemed to him unjust. Gallaher was his inferior in birth and education. He was sure that he could do something better than his friend had ever done, or could ever do, something higher than mere tawdry journalism if he only got the chance. What was it that stood in his way? His unfortunate timidity He wished to vindicate himself in some way, to assert his manhood. He saw behind Gallaher's refusal of his invitation. Gallaher was only patronising him by his friendliness just as he was patronising Ireland by his visit.
Little Chandler pidió las bebidas. El rubor que había ascendido a su rostro unos momentos antes se estabilizaba. Una nimiedad lo sonrojaba en cualquier momento: y ahora se sentía acalorado y agitado. Tres pequeños whiskies lo habían mareado y el fuerte cigarro de Gallaher había confundido su mente, pues era una persona delicada y abstemia. La aventura de encontrarse con Gallaher después de ocho años, de verse con él en el Corless's rodeado de luces y bullicio, de escuchar las historias de Gallaher y de compartir por un breve espacio su vida vagabunda y triunfante, alteró el equilibrio de su naturaleza sensible. Percibía agudamente el contraste entre su propia vida y la de su amigo, y le parecía injusto. Gallaher era inferior a él en cuna y educación. Estaba seguro de que podría hacer algo mejor que lo que su amigo había hecho jamás, o podría hacer, algo más elevado que el periodismo ramplón si tan solo tuviera la oportunidad. ¿Qué era lo que se interponía en su camino? Su lamentable timidez. Deseaba vindicarse de algún modo, afirmar su hombría. Vislumbró tras el rechazo de Gallaher a su invitación. Gallaher solo lo estaba tratando con condescendencia mediante su amabilidad, tal como estaba tratando a Irlanda con su visita.
The barman brought their drinks. Little Chandler pushed one glass towards his friend and took up the other boldly.
El barman les llevó las bebidas. Little Chandler empujó un vaso hacia su amigo y tomó el otro con decisión.
"Who knows?" he said, as they lifted their glasses. "When you come next year I may have the pleasure of wishing long life and happiness to Mr. and Mrs. Ignatius Gallaher."
—Quién sabe —dijo, mientras alzaban sus vasos—. Cuando vuelvas el año que viene quizá tenga el placer de desear larga vida y felicidad al señor y la señora Ignatius Gallaher.
Ignatius Gallaher in the act of drinking closed one eye expressively over the rim of his glass. When he had drunk he smacked his lips decisively, set down his glass and said:
Ignatius Gallaher, en el acto de beber, cerró un ojo expresivamente sobre el borde de su vaso. Cuando hubo bebido, se relamió con decisión, dejó el vaso y dijo:
"No blooming fear of that, my boy. I'm going to have my fling first and see a bit of life and the world before I put my head in the sack—if I ever do."
—Ni por asomo, muchacho. Primero voy a divertirme y ver un poco de vida y mundo antes de meter la cabeza en el saco... si es que alguna vez lo hago.
"Some day you will," said Little Chandler calmly.
—Algún día lo harás —dijo Little Chandler con calma.
Ignatius Gallaher turned his orange tie and slate-blue eyes full upon his friend.
Ignatius Gallaher volvió su corbata naranja y sus ojos azul pizarra directamente hacia su amigo.
"You think so?" he said.
—¿Eso crees? —preguntó.
"You'll put your head in the sack," repeated Little Chandler stoutly, "like everyone else if you can find the girl."
—Meterás la cabeza en el saco —repitió Little Chandler con firmeza—, como todos los demás, si encuentras a la chica.
He had slightly emphasised his tone and he was aware that he had betrayed himself; but, though the colour had heightened in his cheek, he did not flinch from his friend's gaze. Ignatius Gallaher watched him for a few moments and then said:
Había acentuado ligeramente su tono y era consciente de haberse delatado; pero, aunque el color se había intensificado en su mejilla, no bajó la mirada ante la de su amigo. Ignatius Gallaher lo observó unos instantes y luego dijo:
"If ever it occurs, you may bet your bottom dollar there'll be no mooning and spooning about it. I mean to marry money. She'll have a good fat account at the bank or she won't do for me."
—Si llega a ocurrir, puedes apostar tu último centavo a que no habrá arrumacos ni melindres. Yo pienso casarme con dinero. Ella tendrá una buena cuenta gorda en el banco o no me servirá.
Little Chandler shook his head.
Little Chandler negó con la cabeza.
"Why, man alive," said Ignatius Gallaher, vehemently, "do you know what it is? I've only to say the word and tomorrow I can have the woman and the cash. You don't believe it? Well, I know it. There are hundreds—what am I saying?—thousands of rich Germans and Jews, rotten with money, that'd only be too glad.... You wait a while my boy. See if I don't play my cards properly. When I go about a thing I mean business, I tell you. You just wait."
—Pero, hombre de Dios —dijo Ignatius Gallaher con vehemencia—, ¿sabes una cosa? Solo tengo que decir la palabra y mañana mismo puedo tener a la mujer y el efectivo. ¿No me crees? Pues yo lo sé. Hay cientos —¿qué estoy diciendo?— miles de alemanas y judías ricas, podridas en dinero, que estarían encantadas... Espera un poco, muchacho. Ya verás si no juego bien mis cartas. Cuando me propongo algo, lo hago en serio, te lo aseguro. Solo espera.
He tossed his glass to his mouth, finished his drink and laughed loudly. Then he looked thoughtfully before him and said in a calmer tone:
Llevó el vaso a la boca de un trago, terminó su bebida y rió estentóreamente. Luego miró pensativamente al frente y dijo con tono más sereno:
"But I'm in no hurry. They can wait. I don't fancy tying myself up to one woman, you know."
—Pero no tengo prisa. Pueden esperar. No me hace gracia atarme a una sola mujer, sabes.
He imitated with his mouth the act of tasting and made a wry face.
Imitó con la boca el acto de probar algo y puso una mueca.
"Must get a bit stale, I should think," he said.
—Debe volverse algo rancio, me imagino —dijo.
Little Chandler sat in the room off the hall, holding a child in his arms. To save money they kept no servant but Annie's young sister Monica came for an hour or so in the morning and an hour or so in the evening to help. But Monica had gone home long ago. It was a quarter to nine. Little Chandler had come home late for tea and, moreover, he had forgotten to bring Annie home the parcel of coffee from Bewley's. Of course she was in a bad humour and gave him short answers. She said she would do without any tea but when it came near the time at which the shop at the corner closed she decided to go out herself for a quarter of a pound of tea and two pounds of sugar. She put the sleeping child deftly in his arms and said:
Little Chandler estaba sentado en la habitación contigua al vestíbulo, con un niño en brazos. Para ahorrar, no tenían sirvienta, pero la hermana pequeña de Annie, Mónica, venía una hora más o menos por la mañana y otra por la tarde para ayudar. Pero Mónica se había ido a casa hacía rato. Eran las nueve menos cuarto. Little Chandler había llegado tarde a la merienda y, además, había olvidado llevar a Annie el paquete de café de Bewley's. Naturalmente, ella estaba de mal humor y le daba respuestas cortantes. Dijo que prescindiría del té, pero cuando se acercó la hora de cierre de la tienda de la esquina, decidió salir ella misma a comprar un cuarto de libra de té y dos libras de azúcar. Puso al niño dormido con destreza en sus brazos y dijo:
"Here. Don't waken him."
—Toma. No lo despiertes.
A little lamp with a white china shade stood upon the table and its light fell over a photograph which was enclosed in a frame of crumpled horn. It was Annie's photograph. Little Chandler looked at it, pausing at the thin tight lips. She wore the pale blue summer blouse which he had brought her home as a present one Saturday. It had cost him ten and elevenpence; but what an agony of nervousness it had cost him! How he had suffered that day, waiting at the shop door until the shop was empty, standing at the counter and trying to appear at his ease while the girl piled ladies' blouses before him, paying at the desk and forgetting to take up the odd penny of his change, being called back by the cashier, and finally, striving to hide his blushes as he left the shop by examining the parcel to see if it was securely tied. When he brought the blouse home Annie kissed him and said it was very pretty and stylish; but when she heard the price she threw the blouse on the table and said it was a regular swindle to charge ten and elevenpence for it. At first she wanted to take it back but when she tried it on she was delighted with it, especially with the make of the sleeves, and kissed him and said he was very good to think of her.
Una pequeña lámpara con una pantalla de porcelana blanca reposaba sobre la mesa y su luz caía sobre una fotografía enmarcada en cuerno arrugado. Era la fotografía de Annie. Little Chandler la observó, deteniéndose en los delgados labios apretados. Ella llevaba la blusa azul pálido de verano que él le había regalado un sábado. Le había costado diez chelines y once peniques, ¡pero qué agonía de nervios le había provocado! Cuánto había sufrido ese día, esperando a la puerta de la tienda hasta que quedó vacía, de pie ante el mostrador tratando de parecer tranquilo mientras la dependiente apilaba blusas femeninas frente a él, pagando en la caja y olvidando recoger el penique suelto de su cambio, siendo llamado por la cajera, y finalmente, intentando ocultar su rubor al salir examinando el paquete para ver si estaba bien atado. Cuando llevó la blusa a casa, Annie lo besó y dijo que era muy bonita y elegante; pero al escuchar el precio, la arrojó sobre la mesa y dijo que era un verdadero robo cobrar diez y once. Al principio quiso devolverla, pero al probársela quedó encantada, especialmente con el corte de las mangas, y lo besó diciendo que era muy bueno al pensar en ella.
Hm!...
¡Hm!...
He looked coldly into the eyes of the photograph and they answered coldly. Certainly they were pretty and the face itself was pretty. But he found something mean in it. Why was it so unconscious and ladylike? The composure of the eyes irritated him. They repelled him and defied him: there was no passion in them, no rapture. He thought of what Gallaher had said about rich Jewesses. Those dark Oriental eyes, he thought, how full they are of passion, of voluptuous longing!... Why had he married the eyes in the photograph?
Miró fríamente a los ojos de la fotografía y estos le respondieron con frialdad. Ciertamente eran bonitos y el rostro en sí mismo era agraciado. Pero detectó algo mezquino en él. ¿Por qué era tan inconsciente y señoril? La compostura de los ojos lo irritaba. Lo repelían y desafiaban: no había pasión en ellos, ni éxtasis. Pensó en lo que Gallaher había dicho sobre las judías ricas. Aquellos ojos oscuros orientales, pensó, ¡cuán llenos están de pasión, de anhelos voluptuosos!... ¿Por qué se había casado con los ojos de esa fotografía?
He caught himself up at the question and glanced nervously round the room. He found something mean in the pretty furniture which he had bought for his house on the hire system. Annie had chosen it herself and it reminded hi of her. It too was prim and pretty. A dull resentment against his life awoke within him. Could he not escape from his little house? Was it too late for him to try to live bravely like Gallaher? Could he go to London? There was the furniture still to be paid for. If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him.
Se reprendió por la pregunta y miró nerviosamente alrededor de la habitación. Encontró algo vulgar en los muebles bonitos que había comprado para su casa a plazos. Annie los había elegido y se lo recordaban. También eran remilgados y bonitos. Un resentimiento apagado contra su vida despertó en él. ¿No podía escapar de su casita? ¿Era demasiado tarde para intentar vivir valientemente como Gallaher? ¿Podría ir a Londres? Aún quedaba por pagar los muebles. Si tan solo pudiera escribir un libro y publicarlo, quizás eso le abriera camino.
A volume of Byron's poems lay before him on the table. He opened it cautiously with his left hand lest he should waken the child and began to read the first poem in the book:
Un volumen de poemas de Byron yacía ante él en la mesa. Lo abrió con cuidado usando la mano izquierda para no despertar al niño y comenzó a leer el primer poema:
Hushed are the winds and still the evening gloom,
Hushed are the winds and still the evening gloom,
Not e'en a Zephyr wanders through the grove,
Not e'en a Zephyr wanders through the grove,
Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb
Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
He paused. He felt the rhythm of the verse about him in the room. How melancholy it was! Could he, too, write like that, express the melancholy of his soul in verse? There were so many things he wanted to describe: his sensation of a few hours before on Grattan Bridge, for example. If he could get back again into that mood....
Hizo una pausa. Sintió el ritmo del verso rodeándole en la habitación. ¡Qué melancólico era! ¿Podría él también escribir así, expresar en verso la melancolía de su alma? Había tantas cosas que quería describir: su sensación de unas horas antes en el Puente Grattan, por ejemplo. Si pudiera recuperar aquel estado de ánimo...
The child awoke and began to cry. He turned from the page and tried to hush it: but it would not be hushed. He began to rock it to and fro in his arms but its wailing cry grew keener. He rocked it faster while his eyes began to read the second stanza:
El niño despertó y comenzó a llorar. Apartó la vista de la página e intentó calmarlo, pero no hubo manera. Comenzó a mecerlo en sus brazos, pero el llanto se hizo más agudo. Lo meció más rápido mientras sus ojos leían la segunda estrofa:
Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,
Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,
That clay where once...
That clay where once...
It was useless. He couldn't read. He couldn't do anything. The wailing of the child pierced the drum of his ear. It was useless, useless! He was a prisoner for life. His arms trembled with anger and suddenly bending to the child's face he shouted:
Fue inútil. No podía leer. No podía hacer nada. El llanto del niño taladraba sus tímpanos. ¡Era inútil, inútil! Estaba prisionero de por vida. Sus brazos temblaban de rabia y, agachándose bruscamente hacia el rostro del niño, gritó:
"Stop!"
—¡Basta!
The child stopped for an instant, had a spasm of fright and began to scream. He jumped up from his chair and walked hastily up and down the room with the child in his arms. It began to sob piteously, losing its breath for four or five seconds, and then bursting out anew. The thin walls of the room echoed the sound. He tried to soothe it but it sobbed more convulsively. He looked at the contracted and quivering face of the child and began to be alarmed. He counted seven sobs without a break between them and caught the child to his breast in fright. If it died!...
El niño se detuvo un instante, tuvo un espasmo de miedo y comenzó a chillar. Se levantó de la silla y caminó apresuradamente por la habitación con el niño en brazos. Este comenzó a sollozar lastimeramente, perdiendo el aliento por cuatro o cinco segundos antes de estallar de nuevo. Las delgadas paredes reverberaban el sonido. Intentó calmarlo, pero los sollozos se hicieron más convulsivos. Miró el rostro contraído y tembloroso del niño y empezó a alarmarse. Contó siete sollozos seguidos y lo apretó contra su pecho, asustado. ¡Si se moría!...
The door was burst open and a young woman ran in, panting.
La puerta se abrió de golpe y una joven entró corriendo, jadeante.
"What is it? What is it?" she cried.
—¿Qué pasa? ¿Qué pasa? —gritó.
The child, hearing its mother's voice, broke out into a paroxysm of sobbing.
El niño, al oír la voz de su madre, prorrumpió en un paroxismo de sollozos.
"It's nothing, Annie... it's nothing.... He began to cry..."
—No es nada, Annie... no es nada... Empezó a llorar...
She flung her parcels on the floor and snatched the child from him.
Ella arrojó los paquetes al suelo y le arrebató al niño de los brazos.
"What have you done to him?" she cried, glaring into his face.
—¿Qué le has hecho? —gritó, clavándole una mirada feroz.
Little Chandler sustained for one moment the gaze of her eyes and his heart closed together as he met the hatred in them. He began to stammer:
Little Chandler sostuvo por un instante la mirada de esos ojos y sintió cómo se le encogía el corazón al enfrentarse al odio que había en ellos. Comenzó a balbucear:
"It's nothing.... He... he began to cry.... I couldn't... I didn't do anything.... What?"
—No es nada... Él... empezó a llorar... No pude... No hice nada... ¿Qué?
Giving no heed to him she began to walk up and down the room, clasping the child tightly in her arms and murmuring:
Sin hacerle caso, ella comenzó a pasearse por la habitación, apretando al niño contra su pecho y murmurando:
"My little man! My little mannie! Was 'ou frightened, love?... There now, love! There now!... Lambabaun! Mamma's little lamb of the world!... There now!"
—¡Mi hombrecito! ¡Mi pequeño hombrecito! ¿Te asustaste, amorcito?... Ya pasó, cielo. Ya pasó... ¡Corderito! ¡El corderito de mamá!... Ya pasó...
Little Chandler felt his cheeks suffused with shame and he stood back out of the lamplight. He listened while the paroxysm of the child's sobbing grew less and less; and tears of remorse started to his eyes.
Little Chandler sintió que las mejillas le ardían de vergüenza y retrocedió fuera del círculo de luz de la lámpara. Escuchó cómo los sollozos convulsivos del niño se iban apaciguando, y unas lágrimas de remordimiento asomaron a sus ojos.
COUNTERPARTS
CONTRAPARTIDAS
THE bell rang furiously and, when Miss Parker went to the tube, a furious voice called out in a piercing North of Ireland accent:
EL timbre sonó con furia y, cuando la señorita Parker acudió al tubo acústico, una voz iracunda gritó con agudo acento del Norte de Irlanda:
"Send Farrington here!"
—¡Que suba Farrington!
Miss Parker returned to her machine, saying to a man who was writing at a desk:
La señorita Parker volvió a su máquina de escribir y dijo a un hombre que estaba escribiendo en un escritorio:
"Mr. Alleyne wants you upstairs."
—El señor Alleyne lo requiere arriba.
The man muttered "Blast him!" under his breath and pushed back his chair to stand up. When he stood up he was tall and of great bulk. He had a hanging face, dark wine-coloured, with fair eyebrows and moustache: his eyes bulged forward slightly and the whites of them were dirty. He lifted up the counter and, passing by the clients, went out of the office with a heavy step.
El hombre masculló «¡Al diablo con él!» entre dientes y apartó la silla para levantarse. Era alto y de complexión maciza. Tenía un rostro colgante, de color vino tinto, con cejas y bigote rubios; los ojos le sobresalían ligeramente y las escleróticas estaban amarillentas. Levantó la barandilla del mostrador y, pasando junto a los clientes, salió de la oficina con paso pesado.
He went heavily upstairs until he came to the second landing, where a door bore a brass plate with the inscription Mr. Alleyne. Here he halted, puffing with labour and vexation, and knocked. The shrill voice cried:
Subió fatigosamente hasta el segundo descansillo, donde una puerta exhibía una placa de latón con la inscripción «Sr. Alleyne». Se detuvo allí, jadeante por el esfuerzo y la irritación, y llamó. Una voz estridente gritó:
"Come in!"
—¡Adelante!
The man entered Mr. Alleyne's room. Simultaneously Mr. Alleyne, a little man wearing gold-rimmed glasses on a cleanshaven face, shot his head up over a pile of documents. The head itself was so pink and hairless it seemed like a large egg reposing on the papers. Mr. Alleyne did not lose a moment:
El hombre entró en el despacho del señor Alleyne. Simultáneamente, el señor Alleyne, un hombrecillo de rostro lampiño y gafas doradas, alzó la cabeza de un montón de documentos. La cabeza, sonrosada y desprovista de pelo, parecía un huevo grande reposando sobre los papeles. El señor Alleyne no perdió tiempo:
"Farrington? What is the meaning of this? Why have I always to complain of you? May I ask you why you haven't made a copy of that contract between Bodley and Kirwan? I told you it must be ready by four o'clock."
—¿Farrington? ¿Qué significa esto? ¿Por qué siempre he de quejarme de usted? ¿Puedo preguntarle por qué no ha copiado el contrato entre Bodley y Kirwan? Se lo dije: debía estar listo para las cuatro.
"But Mr. Shelley said, sir——"
—Pero el señor Shelley dijo, señor...
"Mr. Shelley said, sir.... Kindly attend to what I say and not to what Mr. Shelley says, sir. You have always some excuse or another for shirking work. Let me tell you that if the contract is not copied before this evening I'll lay the matter before Mr. Crosbie.... Do you hear me now?"
—«El señor Shelley dijo, señor»... Hágame el favor de atender a lo que yo digo y no a lo que diga el señor Shelley. Siempre tiene alguna excusa para escaquearse. Le advierto que si el contrato no está copiado esta tarde, llevaré el asunto ante el señor Crosbie... ¿Me oye ahora?
"Yes, sir."
—Sí, señor.
"Do you hear me now?... Ay and another little matter! I might as well be talking to the wall as talking to you. Understand once for all that you get a half an hour for your lunch and not an hour and a half. How many courses do you want, I'd like to know.... Do you mind me now?"
—¿Me oye ahora?... ¡Ah, y otra cosilla! Daría lo mismo hablarle a la pared que hablarle a usted. Quédese bien claro que tiene media hora para comer, no hora y media. ¿Cuántos platos se cree que va a tomar?... ¿Está entendiendo?
"Yes, sir."
—Sí, señor.
Mr. Alleyne bent his head again upon his pile of papers. The man stared fixedly at the polished skull which directed the affairs of Crosbie Alleyne, gauging its fragility. A spasm of rage gripped his throat for a few moments and then passed, leaving after it a sharp sensation of thirst. The man recognised the sensation and felt that he must have a good night's drinking. The middle of the month was passed and, if he could get the copy done in time, Mr. Alleyne might give him an order on the cashier. He stood still, gazing fixedly at the head upon the pile of papers. Suddenly Mr. Alleyne began to upset all the papers, searching for something. Then, as if he had been unaware of the man's presence till that moment, he shot up his head again, saying:
El señor Alleyne volvió a inclinar la cabeza sobre sus papeles. El hombre clavó la mirada en la calva reluciente que dirigía los destinos de Crosbie & Alleyne, calculando su fragilidad. Un espasmo de rabia le atenazó la garganta durante unos instantes, dejando tras de sí una aguda sensación de sed. El hombre reconoció esa sensación y supo que necesitaría una buena borrachera nocturna. Mediado el mes, si terminaba la copia a tiempo, quizá el señor Alleyne le diera un vale de cobro. Permaneció inmóvil, contemplando fijamente aquella cabeza sobre los papeles. De pronto, el señor Alleyne comenzó a revolver los documentos, buscando algo. Luego, como si hasta ese momento no hubiera advertido la presencia del empleado, irguió la cabeza de nuevo:
"Eh? Are you going to stand there all day? Upon my word, Farrington, you take things easy!"
—¿Eh? ¿Va a quedarse ahí plantado todo el día? ¡Por todos los santos, Farrington, qué tranquilo se lo toma!
"I was waiting to see..."
—Esperaba ver si...
"Very good, you needn't wait to see. Go downstairs and do your work."
—Muy bien, no espere a ver nada. Baje y póngase a trabajar.
The man walked heavily towards the door and, as he went out of the room, he heard Mr. Alleyne cry after him that if the contract was not copied by evening Mr. Crosbie would hear of the matter.
El hombre caminó pesadamente hacia la puerta y, al salir de la habitación, oyó al señor Alleyne gritarle que si el contrato no estaba copiado para la noche, el señor Crosbie se enteraría del asunto.
He returned to his desk in the lower office and counted the sheets which remained to be copied. He took up his pen and dipped it in the ink but he continued to stare stupidly at the last words he had written: In no case shall the said Bernard Bodley be... The evening was falling and in a few minutes they would be lighting the gas: then he could write. He felt that he must slake the thirst in his throat. He stood up from his desk and, lifting the counter as before, passed out of the office. As he was passing out the chief clerk looked at him inquiringly.
Volvió a su escritorio en la oficina inferior y contó las hojas que faltaban por copiar. Tomó su pluma y la mojó en la tinta, pero siguió mirando estúpidamente las últimas palabras que había escrito: En ningún caso deberá el mencionado Bernard Bodley ser... Caía la tarde y en unos minutos encenderían el gas: entonces podría escribir. Sintió que debía apagar la sed en su garganta. Se levantó del escritorio y, levantando el mostrador como antes, salió de la oficina. Al pasar, el jefe de oficina lo miró inquisitivamente.
"It's all right, Mr. Shelley," said the man, pointing with his finger to indicate the objective of his journey.
—Todo está bien, señor Shelley —dijo el hombre, señalando con el dedo para indicar el objetivo de su travesía.
The chief clerk glanced at the hat-rack, but, seeing the row complete, offered no remark. As soon as he was on the landing the man pulled a shepherd's plaid cap out of his pocket, put it on his head and ran quickly down the rickety stairs. From the street door he walked on furtively on the inner side of the path towards the corner and all at once dived into a doorway. He was now safe in the dark snug of O'Neill's shop, and filling up the little window that looked into the bar with his inflamed face, the colour of dark wine or dark meat, he called out:
El jefe de oficina echó un vistazo al perchero, pero, al ver la fila completa, no hizo comentarios. Apenas estuvo en el rellano, el hombre sacó de su bolsillo una gorra de cuadros escoceses, se la colocó en la cabeza y bajó rápidamente las escaleras destartaladas. Desde la puerta de la calle, caminó furtivamente por el lado interior de la acera hacia la esquina y de repente se zambulló en un portal. Ahora estaba a salvo en el oscuro rincón de la taberna de O'Neill, y, acercando su rostro enrojecido —del color del vino tinto o la carne oscura— a la ventanilla que daba a la barra, exclamó:
"Here, Pat, give us a g.p.. like a good fellow."
—Oye, Pat, tráeme un g.p., como buen hombre.
The curate brought him a glass of plain porter. The man drank it at a gulp and asked for a caraway seed. He put his penny on the counter and, leaving the curate to grope for it in the gloom, retreated out of the snug as furtively as he had entered it.
El ayudante le sirvió un vaso de cerveza negra sencilla. El hombre se lo bebió de un trago y pidió una semilla de alcaravea. Dejó su penique en el mostrador y, dejando que el ayudante lo buscara a tientas en la penumbra, salió del rincón tan furtivamente como había entrado.
Darkness, accompanied by a thick fog, was gaining upon the dusk of February and the lamps in Eustace Street had been lit. The man went up by the houses until he reached the door of the office, wondering whether he could finish his copy in time. On the stairs a moist pungent odour of perfumes saluted his nose: evidently Miss Delacour had come while he was out in O'Neill's. He crammed his cap back again into his pocket and re-entered the office, assuming an air of absentmindedness.
La oscuridad, acompañada de una espesa niebla, ganaba terreno al crepúsculo de febrero, y las lámparas de Eustace Street ya estaban encendidas. El hombre subió junto a las casas hasta llegar a la puerta de la oficina, preguntándose si podría terminar su copia a tiempo. En las escaleras, un húmedo y punzante olor a perfumes le saludó: evidentemente, la señorita Delacour había llegado mientras él estaba en O'Neill's. Volvió a meter su gorra en el bolsillo y reingresó a la oficina adoptando un aire de distracción.
"Mr. Alleyne has been calling for you," said the chief clerk severely. "Where were you?"
—El señor Alleyne lo ha estado buscando —dijo el jefe de oficina con severidad—. ¿Dónde estaba?
The man glanced at the two clients who were standing at the counter as if to intimate that their presence prevented him from answering. As the clients were both male the chief clerk allowed himself a laugh.
El hombre miró a los dos clientes que estaban junto al mostrador, como para insinuar que su presencia le impedía responder. Al ser ambos hombres, el jefe de oficina se permitió una risita.
"I know that game," he said. "Five times in one day is a little bit... Well, you better look sharp and get a copy of our correspondence in the Delacour case for Mr. Alleyne."
—Conozco ese juego —dijo—. Cinco veces en un día es demasiado... Bueno, mejor apúrese y consiga una copia de nuestra correspondencia en el caso Delacour para el señor Alleyne.
This address in the presence of the public, his run upstairs and the porter he had gulped down so hastily confused the man and, as he sat down at his desk to get what was required, he realised how hopeless was the task of finishing his copy of the contract before half past five. The dark damp night was coming and he longed to spend it in the bars, drinking with his friends amid the glare of gas and the clatter of glasses. He got out the Delacour correspondence and passed out of the office. He hoped Mr. Alleyne would not discover that the last two letters were missing.
Esta reprimenda en presencia del público, su carrera escaleras arriba y la cerveza que había engullido tan rápidamente lo desconcertaron. Al sentarse en su escritorio para buscar lo requerido, comprendió lo imposible que era terminar la copia del contrato antes de las cinco y media. La noche húmeda y oscura se acercaba, y anhelaba pasarla en los bares, bebiendo con sus amigos entre el resplandor del gas y el traqueteo de los vasos. Sacó la correspondencia Delacour y salió de la oficina. Esperaba que el señor Alleyne no descubriera que faltaban las dos últimas cartas.
The moist pungent perfume lay all the way up to Mr. Alleyne's room. Miss Delacour was a middle-aged woman of Jewish appearance. Mr. Alleyne was said to be sweet on her or on her money. She came to the office often and stayed a long time when she came. She was sitting beside his desk now in an aroma of perfumes, smoothing the handle of her umbrella and nodding the great black feather in her hat. Mr. Alleyne had swivelled his chair round to face her and thrown his right foot jauntily upon his left knee. The man put the correspondence on the desk and bowed respectfully but neither Mr. Alleyne nor Miss Delacour took any notice of his bow. Mr. Alleyne tapped a finger on the correspondence and then flicked it towards him as if to say: "That's all right: you can go."
El húmedo y punzante perfume se extendía hasta el despacho del señor Alleyne. La señorita Delacour era una mujer de mediana edad con apariencia judía. Se decía que el señor Alleyne estaba encaprichado con ella o con su dinero. Visitaba la oficina con frecuencia y se quedaba mucho tiempo. Ahora estaba sentada junto a su escritorio en un aroma de perfumes, acariciando el mango de su sombrilla y moviendo la gran pluma negra de su sombrero. El señor Alleyne había girado su silla para enfrentarla y cruzado el pie derecho sobre su rodilla izquierda con aire gallardo. El hombre dejó la correspondencia sobre el escritorio e hizo una reverencia respetuosa, pero ni el señor Alleyne ni la señorita Delacour prestaron atención a su saludo. El señor Alleyne golpeó un dedo sobre la correspondencia y luego la lanzó hacia él como para decir: "Está bien: puede irse".
The man returned to the lower office and sat down again at his desk. He stared intently at the incomplete phrase: In no case shall the said Bernard Bodley be... and thought how strange it was that the last three words began with the same letter. The chief clerk began to hurry Miss Parker, saying she would never have the letters typed in time for post. The man listened to the clicking of the machine for a few minutes and then set to work to finish his copy. But his head was not clear and his mind wandered away to the glare and rattle of the public-house. It was a night for hot punches. He struggled on with his copy, but when the clock struck five he had still fourteen pages to write. Blast it! He couldn't finish it in time. He longed to execrate aloud, to bring his fist down on something violently. He was so enraged that he wrote Bernard Bernard instead of Bernard Bodley and had to begin again on a clean sheet.
El hombre regresó a la oficina inferior y se sentó de nuevo en su escritorio. Miró fijamente la frase incompleta: En ningún caso deberá el mencionado Bernard Bodley ser... y pensó en lo extraño que era que las últimas tres palabras comenzaran con la misma letra. El jefe de oficina comenzó a apurar a la señorita Parker, diciendo que nunca tendría las cartas mecanografiadas a tiempo para el correo. El hombre escuchó el tecleo de la máquina unos minutos y se puso a trabajar para terminar su copia. Pero su cabeza no estaba clara y su mente vagaba hacia el resplandor y el bullicio de la taberna. Era una noche para ponches calientes. Siguió luchando con su copia, pero cuando el reloj dio las cinco aún le quedaban catorce páginas. ¡Maldición! No podría terminarlo a tiempo. Deseó maldecir en voz alta, golpear algo violentamente con su puño. Estaba tan furioso que escribió "Bernard Bernard" en lugar de "Bernard Bodley" y tuvo que comenzar de nuevo en una hoja limpia.
He felt strong enough to clear out the whole office singlehanded. His body ached to do something, to rush out and revel in violence. All the indignities of his life enraged him.... Could he ask the cashier privately for an advance? No, the cashier was no good, no damn good: he wouldn't give an advance.... He knew where he would meet the boys: Leonard and O'Halloran and Nosey Flynn. The barometer of his emotional nature was set for a spell of riot.
Se sentía con fuerzas para desalojar toda la oficina él solo. Su cuerpo anhelaba hacer algo, salir corriendo y entregarse a la violencia. Todas las indignidades de su vida lo enfurecían... ¿Podría pedirle un adelanto al cajero en privado? No, el cajero no servía, maldita sea: no daría un adelanto... Sabía dónde encontraría a los muchachos: Leonard, O'Halloran y Nosey Flynn. El barómetro de su naturaleza emocional estaba listo para un estallido de desenfreno.
His imagination had so abstracted him that his name was called twice before he answered. Mr. Alleyne and Miss Delacour were standing outside the counter and all the clerks had turn round in anticipation of something. The man got up from his desk. Mr. Alleyne began a tirade of abuse, saying that two letters were missing. The man answered that he knew nothing about them, that he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitter and violent that the man could hardly restrain his fist from descending upon the head of the manikin before him:
Su imaginación lo había abstraído tanto que lo llamaron dos veces antes de responder. El señor Alleyne y la señorita Delacour estaban de pie frente al mostrador, y todos los empleados se habían girado esperando algo. El hombre se levantó de su escritorio. El señor Alleyne comenzó una diatriba de insultos, diciendo que faltaban dos cartas. El hombre respondió que no sabía nada de ellas, que había hecho una copia fiel. La diatriba continuó: era tan amarga y violenta que el hombre apenas pudo contener su puño de descender sobre la cabeza del hombrecillo frente a él:
"I know nothing about any other two letters," he said stupidly.
—No sé nada de otras dos cartas —dijo estúpidamente.
"You—know—nothing. Of course you know nothing," said Mr. Alleyne. "Tell me," he added, glancing first for approval to the lady beside him, "do you take me for a fool? Do you think me an utter fool?"
—Usted no sabe nada. Claro que no sabe nada —dijo el señor Alleyne—. Dígame —agregó, lanzando primero una mirada de aprobación a la dama a su lado—, ¿me toma por idiota? ¿Cree que soy un completo idiota?
The man glanced from the lady's face to the little egg-shaped head and back again; and, almost before he was aware of it, his tongue had found a felicitous moment:
El hombre miró alternativamente el rostro de la dama y la pequeña cabeza en forma de huevo, y, casi sin darse cuenta, su lengua encontró un momento feliz:
"I don't think, sir," he said, "that that's a fair question to put to me."
—No creo, señor —dijo—, que esa sea una pregunta justa que hacerme.
There was a pause in the very breathing of the clerks. Everyone was astounded (the author of the witticism no less than his neighbours) and Miss Delacour, who was a stout amiable person, began to smile broadly. Mr. Alleyne flushed to the hue of a wild rose and his mouth twitched with a dwarf s passion. He shook his fist in the man's face till it seemed to vibrate like the knob of some electric machine:
Hubo una pausa en la respiración misma de los empleados. Todos estaban atónitos (el autor de la ocurrencia tanto como sus compañeros), y la señorita Delacour, una mujer corpulenta y amable, comenzó a sonreír abiertamente. El señor Alleyne se ruborizó hasta el tono de una rosa silvestre y su boca se crispó con una pasión enana. Sacudió su puño en el rostro del hombre hasta que pareció vibrar como el pomo de una máquina eléctrica:
"You impertinent ruffian! You impertinent ruffian! I'll make short work of you! Wait till you see! You'll apologise to me for your impertinence or you'll quit the office instanter! You'll quit this, I'm telling you, or you'll apologise to me!"
—¡Granuja insolente! ¡Granuja insolente! ¡Acabaré con usted! ¡Ya verá! ¡O me pide disculpas por su insolencia o abandona la oficina al instante! ¡Abandone esto, se lo digo, o me pide disculpas!
He stood in a doorway opposite the office watching to see if the cashier would come out alone. All the clerks passed out and finally the cashier came out with the chief clerk. It was no use trying to say a word to him when he was with the chief clerk. The man felt that his position was bad enough. He had been obliged to offer an abject apology to Mr. Alleyne for his impertinence but he knew what a hornet's nest the office would be for him. He could remember the way in which Mr. Alleyne had hounded little Peake out of the office in order to make room for his own nephew. He felt savage and thirsty and revengeful, annoyed with himself and with everyone else. Mr. Alleyne would never give him an hour's rest; his life would be a hell to him. He had made a proper fool of himself this time. Could he not keep his tongue in his cheek? But they had never pulled together from the first, he and Mr. Alleyne, ever since the day Mr. Alleyne had overheard him mimicking his North of Ireland accent to amuse Higgins and Miss Parker: that had been the beginning of it. He might have tried Higgins for the money, but sure Higgins never had anything for himself. A man with two establishments to keep up, of course he couldn't....
Se apostó en un portal frente a la oficina, observando si el cajero saldría solo. Todos los empleados pasaron y finalmente el cajero apareció con el jefe de oficina. No servía de nada intentar hablarle estando con el superior. El hombre sintió que su situación era bastante desesperada. Había tenido que ofrecer una disculpa abyecta al señor Alleyne por su insolencia, pero sabía que la oficina sería un avispero para él. Recordaba cómo el señor Alleyne había acosado al pobre Peake para que dejara su puesto y así colocar a su sobrino. Se sentía salvaje, sediento y vengativo, molesto consigo mismo y con todos. El señor Alleyne no le daría ni un minuto de paz; su vida sería un infierno. Esta vez había quedado como un verdadero idiota. ¿No podía morderse la lengua? Pero nunca habían congeniado desde el principio, él y el señor Alleyne, desde aquel día en que el jefe lo sorprendió imitando su acento del Norte de Irlanda para divertir a Higgins y a la señorita Parker: ese había sido el inicio. Podría haber pedido dinero a Higgins, pero claro, Higgins nunca tenía un centavo. Un hombre con dos hogares que mantener, claro que no podía...
He felt his great body again aching for the comfort of the public-house. The fog had begun to chill him and he wondered could he touch Pat in O'Neill's. He could not touch him for more than a bob—and a bob was no use. Yet he must get money somewhere or other: he had spent his last penny for the g.p. and soon it would be too late for getting money anywhere. Suddenly, as he was fingering his watch-chain, he thought of Terry Kelly's pawn-office in Fleet Street. That was the dart! Why didn't he think of it sooner?
Sintió su corpachón anhelando de nuevo el consuelo de la taberna. La niebla empezaba a helarlo y se preguntó si podría sacarle algo a Pat en O'Neill's. No le prestaría más de un chelín, y un chelín no servía de nada. Aun así, debía conseguir dinero de algún modo: había gastado su último penique en el g.p. (vaso de cerveza negra) y pronto sería tarde para obtener fondos. De repente, al tantear su cadena del reloj, recordó la casa de empeños de Terry Kelly en Fleet Street. ¡Esa era la solución! ¿Por qué no lo había pensado antes?
He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar quickly, muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he was going to have a good night of it. The clerk in Terry Kelly's said A crown! but the consignor held out for six shillings; and in the end the six shillings was allowed him literally. He came out of the pawn-office joyfully, making a little cylinder, of the coins between his thumb and fingers. In Westmoreland Street the footpaths were crowded with young men and women returning from business and ragged urchins ran here and there yelling out the names of the evening editions. The man passed through the crowd, looking on the spectacle generally with proud satisfaction and staring masterfully at the office-girls. His head was full of the noises of tram-gongs and swishing trolleys and his nose already sniffed the curling fumes punch. As he walked on he preconsidered the terms in which he would narrate the incident to the boys:
Atravesó rápidamente el angosto callejón de Temple Bar, murmurando que se fueran todos al diablo porque él iba a pasarla en grande esa noche. El empleado de Terry Kelly's dijo "¡Una corona!", pero el cliente exigió seis chelines; al final, literalmente, le concedieron los seis chelines. Salió de la casa de empeños contento, haciendo rodar las monedas entre el pulgar y los dedos. En Westmoreland Street, las aceras bullían con jóvenes que volvían del trabajo y chiquillos harapientos correteaban gritando los nombres de los periódicos vespertinos. El hombre avanzó entre la multitud, contemplando el espectáculo con satisfacción orgullosa y lanzando miradas dominantes a las oficinistas. Su cabeza resonaba con los tranvías y su nariz ya olía los vapores del ponche. Mientras caminaba, ensayaba mentalmente cómo relataría el incidente a los muchachos:
"So, I just looked at him—coolly, you know, and looked at her. Then I looked back at him again—taking my time, you know. 'I don't think that that's a fair question to put to me,' says I."
"—Y entonces lo miré fijamente, ¿saben?, tranquilo, y después a ella. Volteé otra vez hacia él, tomándome mi tiempo. 'No creo que esa sea una pregunta justa para mí', le solté."
Nosey Flynn was sitting up in his usual corner of Davy Byrne's and, when he heard the story, he stood Farrington a half-one, saying it was as smart a thing as ever he heard. Farrington stood a drink in his turn. After a while O'Halloran and Paddy Leonard came in and the story was repeated to them. O'Halloran stood tailors of malt, hot, all round and told the story of the retort he had made to the chief clerk when he was in Callan's of Fownes's Street; but, as the retort was after the manner of the liberal shepherds in the eclogues, he had to admit that it was not as clever as Farrington's retort. At this Farrington told the boys to polish off that and have another.
Nosey Flynn estaba en su rincón habitual de la taberna de Davy Byrne's y, al oír la historia, le invitó a una media pinta, diciendo que era la salida más ingeniosa que había escuchado. Farrington correspondió con otra ronda. Al rato llegaron O'Halloran y Paddy Leonard, y se repitió el relato. O'Halloran pagó unos whiskies calientes para todos y contó su réplica al jefe de oficina cuando trabajaba en Callan's de Fownes's Street; pero como su ocurrencia seguía el estilo de los pastores liberales de las églogas, tuvo que admitir que no era tan brillante como la de Farrington. Ante esto, Farrington pidió que terminaran esas copas y pidieran otra.
Just as they were naming their poisons who should come in but Higgins! Of course he had to join in with the others. The men asked him to give his version of it, and he did so with great vivacity for the sight of five small hot whiskies was very exhilarating. Everyone roared laughing when he showed the way in which Mr. Alleyne shook his fist in Farrington's face. Then he imitated Farrington, saying, "And here was my nabs, as cool as you please," while Farrington looked at the company out of his heavy dirty eyes, smiling and at times drawing forth stray drops of liquor from his moustache with the aid of his lower lip.
Justo cuando elegían sus venenos, ¡quién llegaría sino Higgins! Por supuesto, se unió al grupo. Los hombres le pidieron su versión, y la relató con gran vivacidad pues la visión de cinco whiskies calientes lo estimulaba. Todos rieron a carcajadas cuando imitó al señor Alleyne agitando el puño frente a Farrington. Luego remedó a Farrington diciendo: "Y ahí estaba nuestro amigo, más fresco que una lechuga", mientras el aludido observaba al grupo con sus ojos pesados y turbios, sonriendo y aspirando de vez en cuando gotas de licor de su bigote con el labio inferior.
When that round was over there was a pause. O'Halloran had money but neither of the other two seemed to have any; so the whole party left the shop somewhat regretfully. At the corner of Duke Street Higgins and Nosey Flynn bevelled off to the left while the other three turned back towards the city. Rain was drizzling down on the cold streets and, when they reached the Ballast Office, Farrington suggested the Scotch House. The bar was full of men and loud with the noise of tongues and glasses. The three men pushed past the whining match-sellers at the door and formed a little party at the corner of the counter. They began to exchange stories. Leonard introduced them to a young fellow named Weathers who was performing at the Tivoli as an acrobat and knockabout artiste. Farrington stood a drink all round. Weathers said he would take a small Irish and Apollinaris. Farrington, who had definite notions of what was what, asked the boys would they have an Apollinaris too; but the boys told Tim to make theirs hot. The talk became theatrical. O'Halloran stood a round and then Farrington stood another round, Weathers protesting that the hospitality was too Irish. He promised to get them in behind the scenes and introduce them to some nice girls. O'Halloran said that he and Leonard would go, but that Farrington wouldn't go because he was a married man; and Farrington's heavy dirty eyes leered at the company in token that he understood he was being chaffed. Weathers made them all have just one little tincture at his expense and promised to meet them later on at Mulligan's in Poolbeg Street.
Cuando terminó esa ronda, hubo una pausa. O'Halloran tenía dinero, pero ninguno de los otros dos parecía tenerlo; así que todo el grupo abandonó el local con cierto pesar. En la esquina de Duke Street, Higgins y Nosey Flynn se desviaron hacia la izquierda, mientras los otros tres regresaron hacia la ciudad. La llovizna caía sobre las frías calles y, al llegar a la Ballast Office, Farrington sugirió el Scotch House. El bar estaba lleno de hombres y resonaba con el bullicio de voces y vasos. Los tres hombres se abrieron paso entre los insistentes vendedores de cerillas de la entrada y formaron un pequeño grupo en la esquina de la barra. Comenzaron a intercambiar historias. Leonard les presentó a un joven llamado Weathers que actuaba en el Tivoli como acróbata y artista cómico. Farrington invitó a una ronda. Weathers dijo que tomaría un pequeño whisky irlandés con Apollinaris. Farrington, que tenía ideas muy claras sobre lo que correspondía, preguntó a los muchachos si también querían un Apollinaris; pero estos pidieron que Tim les sirviera los suyos calientes. La conversación derivó hacia lo teatral. O'Halloran pagó una ronda y luego Farrington otra más, mientras Weathers protestaba diciendo que la hospitalidad era demasiado irlandesa. Prometió llevarlos entre bastidores y presentarles a algunas chicas agradables. O'Halloran dijo que él y Leonard irían, pero que Farrington no podría porque era un hombre casado; y los ojos pesados y turbios de Farrington miraron socarronamente al grupo, reconociendo que estaba siendo objeto de burla. Weathers los obligó a tomar una última "tincture" a su costa y prometió reunirse con ellos más tarde en Mulligan's de Poolbeg Street.
When the Scotch House closed they went round to Mulligan's. They went into the parlour at the back and O'Halloran ordered small hot specials all round. They were all beginning to feel mellow. Farrington was just standing another round when Weathers came back. Much to Farrington's relief he drank a glass of bitter this time. Funds were getting low but they had enough to keep them going. Presently two young women with big hats and a young man in a check suit came in and sat at a table close by. Weathers saluted them and told the company that they were out of the Tivoli. Farrington's eyes wandered at every moment in the direction of one of the young women. There was something striking in her appearance. An immense scarf of peacock-blue muslin was wound round her hat and knotted in a great bow under her chin; and she wore bright yellow gloves, reaching to the elbow. Farrington gazed admiringly at the plump arm which she moved very often and with much grace; and when, after a little time, she answered his gaze he admired still more her large dark brown eyes. The oblique staring expression in them fascinated him. She glanced at him once or twice and, when the party was leaving the room, she brushed against his chair and said "O, pardon!" in a London accent. He watched her leave the room in the hope that she would look back at him, but he was disappointed. He cursed his want of money and cursed all the rounds he had stood, particularly all the whiskies and Apolinaris which he had stood to Weathers. If there was one thing that he hated it was a sponge. He was so angry that he lost count of the conversation of his friends.
Cuando cerró el Scotch House, se dirigieron a Mulligan's. Entraron en el salón trasero y O'Halloran pidió "especiales calientes" para todos. Todos comenzaban a sentirse achispados. Farrington estaba a punto de pagar otra ronda cuando regresó Weathers. Para gran alivio de Farrington, esta vez bebió un vaso de bitter. Los fondos escaseaban, pero aún tenían suficiente para continuar. Poco después, dos jóvenes con grandes sombreros y un hombre trajeado a cuadros entraron y se sentaron en una mesa cercana. Weathers los saludó y explicó al grupo que venían del Tivoli. La mirada de Farrington vagaba constantemente hacia una de las jóvenes. Había algo llamativo en su apariencia. Un inmenso pañuelo de muselina azul pavo real rodeaba su sombrero y se anudaba en un gran lazo bajo su barbilla; llevaba guantes amarillos brillantes que le llegaban hasta el codo. Farrington contempló con admiración el regordete brazo que ella movía con frecuencia y mucha gracia; y cuando, tras un rato, ella correspondió a su mirada, admiró aún más sus grandes ojos castaño oscuro. La expresión oblicua y penetrante de esos ojos lo fascinó. Ella lo miró un par de veces y, al salir del salón, rozó su silla y dijo "¡Oh, perdón!" con acento londinense. Observó cómo abandonaba la sala esperando que volviera la vista atrás, pero se sintió decepcionado. Maldijo su falta de dinero y todas las rondas que había pagado, especialmente los whiskies y Apollinaris que había invitado a Weathers. Si había algo que odiaba, era un gorrón. Estaba tan furioso que perdió el hilo de la conversación de sus amigos.
When Paddy Leonard called him he found that they were talking about feats of strength. Weathers was showing his biceps muscle to the company and boasting so much that the other two had called on Farrington to uphold the national honour. Farrington pulled up his sleeve accordingly and showed his biceps muscle to the company. The two arms were examined and compared and finally it was agreed to have a trial of strength. The table was cleared and the two men rested their elbows on it, clasping hands. When Paddy Leonard said "Go!" each was to try to bring down the other's hand on to the table. Farrington looked very serious and determined.
Cuando Paddy Leonard lo llamó, se dio cuenta de que hablaban sobre pruebas de fuerza. Weathers mostraba sus bíceps al grupo y se jactaba tanto que los otros dos pidieron a Farrington que defendiera el honor nacional. Farrington se remangó y exhibió sus músculos ante todos. Ambos brazos fueron examinados y comparados, hasta que finalmente acordaron hacer una competencia de fuerza. Se despejó la mesa y los dos hombres apoyaron los codos en ella, entrelazando las manos. Cuando Paddy Leonard gritó "¡Ya!", cada uno intentaría llevar la mano del rival contra la mesa. Farrington lucía muy serio y decidido.
The trial began. After about thirty seconds Weathers brought his opponent's hand slowly down on to the table. Farrington's dark wine-coloured face flushed darker still with anger and humiliation at having been defeated by such a stripling.
La prueba comenzó. Tras unos treinta segundos, Weathers llevó lentamente la mano de su oponente contra la mesa. El rostro vinoso de Farrington se enrojeció aún más de ira y humillación por haber sido derrotado por un mocoso.
"You're not to put the weight of your body behind it. Play fair," he said.
—No hay que usar el peso del cuerpo. Juega limpio —dijo.
"Who's not playing fair?" said the other.
—¿Quién no juega limpio? —replicó el otro.
"Come on again. The two best out of three."
—Otra vez. El mejor de tres.
The trial began again. The veins stood out on Farrington's forehead, and the pallor of Weathers' complexion changed to peony. Their hands and arms trembled under the stress. After a long struggle Weathers again brought his opponent's hand slowly on to the table. There was a murmur of applause from the spectators. The curate, who was standing beside the table, nodded his red head towards the victor and said with stupid familiarity:
La prueba comenzó de nuevo. Las venas sobresalían en la frente de Farrington, y la palidez del cutis de Weathers se tornó color peonía. Sus manos y brazos temblaban bajo el esfuerzo. Tras una larga lucha, Weathers volvió a llevar lentamente la mano de su oponente sobre la mesa. Un murmullo de aprobación surgió entre los espectadores. El cura, que estaba de pie junto a la mesa, asintió con su cabeza pelirroja hacia el vencedor y dijo con una familiaridad estúpida:
"Ah! that's the knack!"
—¡Ah! ¡Ese es el truco!
"What the hell do you know about it?" said Farrington fiercely, turning on the man. "What do you put in your gab for?"
—¿Qué diablos sabes tú de esto? —dijo Farrington ferozmente, volviéndose hacia el hombre—. ¿Por qué te metes donde no te llaman?
"Sh, sh!" said O'Halloran, observing the violent expression of Farrington's face. "Pony up, boys. We'll have just one little smahan more and then we'll be off."
—¡Chist, chist! —intervino O'Halloran, observando la violenta expresión del rostro de Farrington—. Paguen, muchachos. Tomaremos una última copita y luego nos iremos.
A very sullen-faced man stood at the corner of O'Connell Bridge waiting for the little Sandymount tram to take him home. He was full of smouldering anger and revengefulness. He felt humiliated and discontented; he did not even feel drunk; and he had only twopence in his pocket. He cursed everything. He had done for himself in the office, pawned his watch, spent all his money; and he had not even got drunk. He began to feel thirsty again and he longed to be back again in the hot reeking public-house. He had lost his reputation as a strong man, having been defeated twice by a mere boy. His heart swelled with fury and, when he thought of the woman in the big hat who had brushed against him and said Pardon! his fury nearly choked him.
Un hombre de rostro hosco esperaba en la esquina del puente O'Connell el pequeño tranvía de Sandymount que lo llevaría a casa. Ardentía en cólera y deseos de venganza. Se sentía humillado e insatisfecho; ni siquiera estaba borracho; y solo tenía dos peniques en el bolsillo. Maldijo todo. Había arruinado su posición en la oficina, empeñado su reloj, gastado todo su dinero; y ni siquiera había logrado embriagarse. Empezó a sentir sed de nuevo y anheló regresar al sofocante calor de la taberna. Había perdido su reputación de hombre fuerte al ser derrotado dos veces por un mero muchacho. Su corazón se hinchó de furia y, al recordar a la mujer del gran sombrero que se había rozado con él diciendo ¡Perdón!, la ira casi lo ahogó.
His tram let him down at Shelbourne Road and he steered his great body along in the shadow of the wall of the barracks. He loathed returning to his home. When he went in by the side-door he found the kitchen empty and the kitchen fire nearly out. He bawled upstairs:
El tranvía lo dejó en Shelbourne Road y guió su corpachón por la sombra del muro del cuartel. Detestaba regresar a su hogar. Al entrar por la puerta lateral, encontró la cocina vacía y el fuego casi apagado. Rugió hacia el piso superior:
"Ada! Ada!"
—¡Ada! ¡Ada!
His wife was a little sharp-faced woman who bullied her husband when he was sober and was bullied by him when he was drunk. They had five children. A little boy came running down the stairs.
Su esposa era una mujer pequeña de rostro afilado que intimidaba a su marido cuando él estaba sobrio y era intimidada por él cuando estaba ebrio. Tenían cinco hijos. Un niño bajó corriendo las escaleras.
"Who is that?" said the man, peering through the darkness.
—¿Quién es? —preguntó el hombre, mirando a través de la oscuridad.
"Me, pa."
—Yo, papá.
"Who are you? Charlie?"
—¿Quién eres? ¿Charlie?
"No, pa. Tom."
—No, papá. Tom.
"Where's your mother?"
—¿Dónde está tu madre?
"She's out at the chapel."
—En la capilla.
"That's right.... Did she think of leaving any dinner for me?"
—Muy bien... ¿Se le ocurrió dejarme algo de cenar?
"Yes, pa. I—"
—Sí, papá. Yo...
"Light the lamp. What do you mean by having the place in darkness? Are the other children in bed?"
—Enciende la lámpara. ¿Qué significa tener la casa a oscuras? ¿Los otros niños están en cama?
The man sat down heavily on one of the chairs while the little boy lit the lamp. He began to mimic his son's flat accent, saying half to himself: "At the chapel. At the chapel, if you please!" When the lamp was lit he banged his fist on the table and shouted:
El hombre se sentó pesadamente en una silla mientras el niño encendía la lámpara. Comenzó a imitar el acento monótono de su hijo, murmurando para sí: "¡En la capilla. En la capilla, por favor!". Cuando la lámpara estuvo encendida, golpeó el puño sobre la mesa y gritó:
"What's for my dinner?"
—¿Qué hay para mi cena?
"I'm going... to cook it, pa," said the little boy.
—Voy a... prepararla, papá —dijo el niño.
The man jumped up furiously and pointed to the fire.
El hombre se levantó furioso y señaló el fuego.
"On that fire! You let the fire out! By God, I'll teach you to do that again!"
—¡En ese fuego! ¡Lo dejaste apagar! ¡Por Dios, te enseñaré a no hacerlo otra vez!
He took a step to the door and seized the walking-stick which was standing behind it.
Dio un paso hacia la puerta y agarró el bastón que estaba detrás.
"I'll teach you to let the fire out!" he said, rolling up his sleeve in order to give his arm free play.
—¡Te enseñaré a dejar apagar el fuego! —dijo, arremangándose para tener libertad de movimiento.
The little boy cried "O, pa!" and ran whimpering round the table, but the man followed him and caught him by the coat. The little boy looked about him wildly but, seeing no way of escape, fell upon his knees.
El niño gritó: "¡Ay, papá!" y corrió lloriqueando alrededor de la mesa, pero el hombre lo siguió y lo agarró por la chaqueta. El pequeño miró alrededor desesperado pero, al no ver escapatoria, cayó de rodillas.
"Now, you'll let the fire out the next time!" said the man striking at him vigorously with the stick. "Take that, you little whelp!"
—¡Ahora verás si dejas apagar el fuego otra vez! —dijo el hombre golpeándolo con fuerza—. ¡Toma eso, mocoso!
The boy uttered a squeal of pain as the stick cut his thigh. He clasped his hands together in the air and his voice shook with fright.
El niño lanzó un chillido de dolor cuando el bastón le cortó el muslo. Juntó las manos en el aire y su voz tembló de miedo.
"O, pa!" he cried. "Don't beat me, pa! And I'll... I'll say a Hail Mary for you.... I'll say a Hail Mary for you, pa, if you don't beat me.... I'll say a Hail Mary...."
—¡Ay, papá! —gimió—. ¡No me pegues, papá! Y yo... rezaré un Avemaría por ti... Rezaré un Avemaría por ti, papá, si no me pegas... Rezaré un Avemaría...
CLAY
BARRO
THE matron had given her leave to go out as soon as the women's tea was over and Maria looked forward to her evening out. The kitchen was spick and span: the cook said you could see yourself in the big copper boilers. The fire was nice and bright and on one of the side-tables were four very big barmbracks. These barmbracks seemed uncut; but if you went closer you would see that they had been cut into long thick even slices and were ready to be handed round at tea. Maria had cut them herself.
LA directora le había dado permiso para salir en cuanto terminara el té de las mujeres, y María esperaba con ansias su noche fuera. La cocina relucía de limpia: la cocinera decía que podías mirarte en los grandes calderos de cobre. El fuego ardía radiante, y en una de las mesas auxiliares había cuatro enormes barmbracks. Estos parecían intactos, pero al acercarse se veía que habían sido cortados en rebanadas largas, gruesas y uniformes, listas para servirse en el té. María los había cortado ella misma.
Maria was a very, very small person indeed but she had a very long nose and a very long chin. She talked a little through her nose, always soothingly: "Yes, my dear," and "No, my dear." She was always sent for when the women quarrelled Over their tubs and always succeeded in making peace. One day the matron had said to her:
María era una persona diminuta, pero con una nariz y una barbilla muy largas. Hablaba un tanto nasal, siempre con tono apaciguador: «Sí, querida» y «No, querida». Siempre la llamaban cuando las mujeres discutían junto a los tinares, y siempre lograba hacer las paces. Un día, la directora le había dicho:
"Maria, you are a veritable peace-maker!"
«María, eres una verdadera pacificadora».
And the sub-matron and two of the Board ladies had heard the compliment. And Ginger Mooney was always saying what she wouldn't do to the dummy who had charge of the irons if it wasn't for Maria. Everyone was so fond of Maria.
La subdirectora y dos de las señoras de la junta habían oído el elogio. Y Ginger Mooney solía decir lo que le haría a la muda que cuidaba las planchas si no fuera por María. Todas querían mucho a María.
The women would have their tea at six o'clock and she would be able to get away before seven. From Ballsbridge to the Pillar, twenty minutes; from the Pillar to Drumcondra, twenty minutes; and twenty minutes to buy the things. She would be there before eight. She took out her purse with the silver clasps and read again the words A Present from Belfast. She was very fond of that purse because Joe had brought it to her five years before when he and Alphy had gone to Belfast on a Whit-Monday trip. In the purse were two half-crowns and some coppers. She would have five shillings clear after paying tram fare. What a nice evening they would have, all the children singing! Only she hoped that Joe wouldn't come in drunk. He was so different when he took any drink.
Las mujeres tomarían su té a las seis, y ella podría marcharse antes de las siete. De Ballsbridge al Pillar, veinte minutos; del Pillar a Drumcondra, otros veinte; y veinte más para hacer las compras. Llegaría antes de las ocho. Sacó su monedero con cierres plateados y volvió a leer las palabras «Un recuerdo de Belfast». Le encantaba ese monedero porque Joe se lo había traído cinco años atrás, cuando él y Alphy fueron a Belfast un Lunes de Pentecostés. Dentro había dos medias coronas y algunos peniques. Le quedarían cinco chelines limpios tras pagar el tranvía. ¡Qué agradable velada tendrían, con los niños cantando! Solo esperaba que Joe no llegara borracho. Era tan distinto cuando bebía.
Often he had wanted her to go and live with them;-but she would have felt herself in the way (though Joe's wife was ever so nice with her) and she had become accustomed to the life of the laundry. Joe was a good fellow. She had nursed him and Alphy too; and Joe used often say:
Muchas veces él le había pedido que fuera a vivir con ellos, pero ella se habría sentido estorbo (aunque la esposa de Joe era muy amable con ella) y ya estaba acostumbrada a la vida en la lavandería. Joe era un buen tipo. Ella lo había criado a él y a Alphy, y Joe solía decir:
"Mamma is mamma but Maria is my proper mother."
«Mamá es mamá, pero María es mi verdadera madre».
After the break-up at home the boys had got her that position in the Dublin by Lamplight laundry, and she liked it. She used to have such a bad opinion of Protestants but now she thought they were very nice people, a little quiet and serious, but still very nice people to live with. Then she had her plants in the conservatory and she liked looking after them. She had lovely ferns and wax-plants and, whenever anyone came to visit her, she always gave the visitor one or two slips from her conservatory. There was one thing she didn't like and that was the tracts on the walks; but the matron was such a nice person to deal with, so genteel.
Tras la separación familiar, los chicos le consiguieron ese puesto en la lavandería Dublín a la Luz de las Lámparas, y a ella le gustaba. Antes tenía mala opinión de los protestantes, pero ahora creía que eran gente amable, un tanto reservada y seria, pero agradable para convivir. Tenía sus plantas en el invernadero y disfrutaba cuidándolas. Poseía helechos y plantas de cera preciosos, y cuando alguien la visitaba, siempre regalaba un esqueje de su invernadero. Lo único que no le gustaba eran los folletos religiosos en los pasillos, pero la directora era tan educada al tratarla.
When the cook told her everything was ready she went into the women's room and began to pull the big bell. In a few minutes the women began to come in by twos and threes, wiping their steaming hands in their petticoats and pulling down the sleeves of their blouses over their red steaming arms. They settled down before their huge mugs which the cook and the dummy filled up with hot tea, already mixed with milk and sugar in huge tin cans. Maria superintended the distribution of the barmbrack and saw that every woman got her four slices. There was a great deal of laughing and joking during the meal. Lizzie Fleming said Maria was sure to get the ring and, though Fleming had said that for so many Hallow Eves, Maria had to laugh and say she didn't want any ring or man either; and when she laughed her grey-green eyes sparkled with disappointed shyness and the tip of her nose nearly met the tip of her chin. Then Ginger Mooney lifted her mug of tea and proposed Maria's health while all the other women clattered with their mugs on the table, and said she was sorry she hadn't a sup of porter to drink it in. And Maria laughed again till the tip of her nose nearly met the tip of her chin and till her minute body nearly shook itself asunder because she knew that Mooney meant well though, of course, she had the notions of a common woman.
Cuando la cocinera le avisó que todo estaba listo, entró al cuarto de las mujeres y comenzó a tocar la campana. En minutos, las mujeres llegaron en grupos, secándose las manos húmedas en los delantales y ajustándose las mangas sobre los brazos enrojecidos. Se acomodaron frente a sus enormes tazas, que la cocinera y la muda llenaron de té caliente mezclado con leche y azúcar en latas. María supervisó la distribución de los barmbracks, asegurándose de que cada mujer recibiera cuatro rebanadas. Hubo muchas risas y bromas durante la comida. Lizzie Fleming dijo que María seguro conseguiría el anillo, y aunque llevaba años repitiéndolo cada Víspera de Todos los Santos, María soltó una risita y dijo que no quería ni anillo ni hombre. Al reír, sus ojos gris verdosos brillaban con timidez decepcionada, y la punta de su nariz casi rozaba la barbilla. Entonces Ginger Mooney alzó su taza y brindó por María, mientras las demás golpeaban las tazas contra la mesa, lamentando no tener cerveza negra para acompañar. María rio de nuevo hasta que su nariz y barbilla casi se tocaron, y su cuerpo minúsculo tembló de gozo, pues sabía que Mooney tenía buenas intenciones, aunque, claro, era de ideas vulgares.
But wasn't Maria glad when the women had finished their tea and the cook and the dummy had begun to clear away the tea-things! She went into her little bedroom and, remembering that the next morning was a mass morning, changed the hand of the alarm from seven to six. Then she took off her working skirt and her house-boots and laid her best skirt out on the bed and her tiny dress-boots beside the foot of the bed. She changed her blouse too and, as she stood before the mirror, she thought of how she used to dress for mass on Sunday morning when she was a young girl; and she looked with quaint affection at the diminutive body which she had so often adorned, In spite of its years she found it a nice tidy little body.
¡Cuánto se alegró María cuando terminaron el té y la cocinera y la muda empezaron a recoger! Entró a su pequeño cuarto y, recordando que al día siguiente era día de misa, ajustó la alarma de las siete a las seis. Luego se quitó la falda de trabajo y las botas, y tendió su mejor falda sobre la cama junto a sus diminutas botas de vestir. Al cambiarse la blusa frente al espejo, recordó cómo se arreglaba para misa de joven. Observó con cariño nostálgico su cuerpecillo menudo, que tantas veces había adornado. A pesar de los años, le parecía un cuerpecito pulcro y agradable.
When she got outside the streets were shining with rain and she was glad of her old brown waterproof. The tram was full and she had to sit on the little stool at the end of the car, facing all the people, with her toes barely touching the floor. She arranged in her mind all she was going to do and thought how much better it was to be independent and to have your own money in your pocket. She hoped they would have a nice evening. She was sure they would but she could not help thinking what a pity it was Alphy and Joe were not speaking. They were always falling out now but when they were boys together they used to be the best of friends: but such was life.
Afuera, las calles brillaban bajo la lluvia, y dio gracias por su viejo impermeable marrón. El tranvía iba lleno, y tuvo que sentarse en el taburete al final del vagón, frente a todos, con los pies apenas tocando el suelo. Organizó mentalmente sus tareas y pensó cuán mejor era ser independiente y llevar su propio dinero. Esperaba que tuvieran una velada agradable. Estaba segura, pero no podía evitar lamentar que Alphy y Joe no se hablaran. Ahora siempre estaban peleando, pero de niños eran inseparables: así era la vida.
She got out of her tram at the Pillar and ferreted her way quickly among the crowds. She went into Downes's cake-shop but the shop was so full of people that it was a long time before she could get herself attended to. She bought a dozen of mixed penny cakes, and at last came out of the shop laden with a big bag. Then she thought what else would she buy: she wanted to buy something really nice. They would be sure to have plenty of apples and nuts. It was hard to know what to buy and all she could think of was cake. She decided to buy some plumcake but Downes's plumcake had not enough almond icing on top of it so she went over to a shop in Henry Street. Here she was a long time in suiting herself and the stylish young lady behind the counter, who was evidently a little annoyed by her, asked her was it wedding-cake she wanted to buy. That made Maria blush and smile at the young lady; but the young lady took it all very seriously and finally cut a thick slice of plumcake, parcelled it up and said:
Bajó en el Pillar y se abrió paso entre la multitud. Entró a la pastelería Downes's, pero estaba tan llena que tardó en ser atendida. Compró una docena de pastelillos variados y salió cargada con una gran bolsa. Pensó qué más comprar: quería algo especial. Seguro habría manzanas y nueces, pero solo se le ocurrían pasteles. Decidió comprar pastel de ciruelas, pero el de Downes's tenía poco glaseado de almendras, así que fue a una tienda en Henry Street. Le costó decidirse, y la elegante dependienta, algo molesta, le preguntó si quería pastel de bodas. María enrojeció y le sonrió, pero la joven, seria, cortó una gruesa rebanada, la envolvió y dijo:
"Two-and-four, please."
«Dos y cuatro, por favor».
She thought she would have to stand in the Drumcondra tram because none of the young men seemed to notice her but an elderly gentleman made room for her. He was a stout gentleman and he wore a brown hard hat; he had a square red face and a greyish moustache. Maria thought he was a colonel-looking gentleman and she reflected how much more polite he was than the young men who simply stared straight before them. The gentleman began to chat with her about Hallow Eve and the rainy weather. He supposed the bag was full of good things for the little ones and said it was only right that the youngsters should enjoy themselves while they were young. Maria agreed with him and favoured him with demure nods and hems. He was very nice with her, and when she was getting out at the Canal Bridge she thanked him and bowed, and he bowed to her and raised his hat and smiled agreeably, and while she was going up along the terrace, bending her tiny head under the rain, she thought how easy it was to know a gentleman even when he has a drop taken.
Pensó que tendría que viajar de pie en el tranvía a Drumcondra, pues los jóvenes no la notaban, pero un caballero mayor le cedió el lugar. Era corpulento, con sombrero duro marrón, rostro cuadrado y rojizo, y bigo grisáceo. María lo encontró de aspecto militar y pensó en lo más educado que era comparado con los jóvenes que miraban al frente. El caballero charló con ella sobre la Víspera de Todos los Santos y el clima lluvioso. Supuso que la bolsa tenía golosinas para los niños y dijo que era bueno que los pequeños disfrutaran su juventud. María asentía con recato. Él fue muy amable, y al bajarse en el Canal Bridge, ella le dio las gracias con una reverencia, mientras él, sonriente, se descubría con el sombrero. Mientras caminaba bajo la lluvia, agachando su cabecita, pensó cuán fácil era reconocer a un caballero, incluso con una copa de más.
Everybody said: "O, here's Maria!" when she came to Joe's house. Joe was there, having come home from business, and all the children had their Sunday dresses on. There were two big girls in from next door and games were going on. Maria gave the bag of cakes to the eldest boy, Alphy, to divide and Mrs. Donnelly said it was too good of her to bring such a big bag of cakes and made all the children say:
Al llegar a casa de Joe, todos gritaron: «¡Ahí está María!». Joe, ya en casa, lucía su traje de trabajo, y los niños, sus vestidos dominicales. Había dos chicas vecinas, y los juegos estaban en marcha. María le dio la bolsa de pasteles a Alphy, el hijo mayor, para repartir. La señora Donnelly dijo que era muy amable traer tantos pasteles e hizo que los niños corearan:
"Thanks, Maria."
«Gracias, María».
But Maria said she had brought something special for papa and mamma, something they would be sure to like, and she began to look for her plumcake. She tried in Downes's bag and then in the pockets of her waterproof and then on the hallstand but nowhere could she find it. Then she asked all the children had any of them eaten it—by mistake, of course—but the children all said no and looked as if they did not like to eat cakes if they were to be accused of stealing. Everybody had a solution for the mystery and Mrs. Donnelly said it was plain that Maria had left it behind her in the tram. Maria, remembering how confused the gentleman with the greyish moustache had made her, coloured with shame and vexation and disappointment. At the thought of the failure of her little surprise and of the two and fourpence she had thrown away for nothing she nearly cried outright.
Pero María dijo que había traído algo especial para papá y mamá, algo que seguramente les gustaría, y comenzó a buscar su pastel de ciruelas. Buscó en la bolsa de Downes's, luego en los bolsillos de su impermeable y después en el perchero del vestíbulo, pero en ninguna parte lo encontraba. Entonces preguntó a los niños si alguno se lo había comido —por error, claro está—, pero todos dijeron que no y pusieron cara de que no les gustaba que los acusaran de robar pasteles. Todos tenían una solución para el misterio y la señora Donnelly dijo que era evidente que María lo había dejado en el tranvía. María, recordando lo confundida que la había puesto el caballero del bigote grisáceo, se sonrojó de vergüenza, irritación y decepción. Al pensar en el fracaso de su pequeña sorpresa y en los dos chelines y cuatro peniques que había tirado a la nada, estuvo a punto de llorar abiertamente.
But Joe said it didn't matter and made her sit down by the fire. He was very nice with her. He told her all that went on in his office, repeating for her a smart answer which he had made to the manager. Maria did not understand why Joe laughed so much over the answer he had made but she said that the manager must have been a very overbearing person to deal with. Joe said he wasn't so bad when you knew how to take him, that he was a decent sort so long as you didn't rub him the wrong way. Mrs. Donnelly played the piano for the children and they danced and sang. Then the two next-door girls handed round the nuts. Nobody could find the nutcrackers and Joe was nearly getting cross over it and asked how did they expect Maria to crack nuts without a nutcracker. But Maria said she didn't like nuts and that they weren't to bother about her. Then Joe asked would she take a bottle of stout and Mrs. Donnelly said there was port wine too in the house if she would prefer that. Maria said she would rather they didn't ask her to take anything: but Joe insisted.
Pero Joe dijo que no importaba y la hizo sentarse junto al fuego. Fue muy amable con ella. Le contó todo lo que ocurría en su oficina, repitiéndole una respuesta ingeniosa que le había dado al gerente. María no entendía por qué Joe se reía tanto de su propia réplica, pero dijo que el gerente debía de ser una persona muy autoritaria. Joe comentó que no era tan malo una vez que sabías cómo tratarlo, que era un tipo decente mientras no le llevaras la contraria. La señora Donnelly tocó el piano para los niños y estos bailaron y cantaron. Luego, las dos chicas de la casa de al lado repartieron las nueces. Nadie encontraba el cascanueces y Joe estaba a punto de enfadarse, preguntando cómo esperaban que María partiese nueces sin uno. Pero María dijo que no le gustaban las nueces y que no se molestaran por ella. Entonces Joe le ofreció una botella de cerveza negra, y la señora Donnelly añadió que también había vino de Oporto en la casa si lo prefería. María respondió que mejor no le ofrecieran nada, pero Joe insistió.
So Maria let him have his way and they sat by the fire talking over old times and Maria thought she would put in a good word for Alphy. But Joe cried that God might strike him stone dead if ever he spoke a word to his brother again and Maria said she was sorry she had mentioned the matter. Mrs. Donnelly told her husband it was a great shame for him to speak that way of his own flesh and blood but Joe said that Alphy was no brother of his and there was nearly being a row on the head of it. But Joe said he would not lose his temper on account of the night it was and asked his wife to open some more stout. The two next-door girls had arranged some Hallow Eve games and soon everything was merry again. Maria was delighted to see the children so merry and Joe and his wife in such good spirits. The next-door girls put some saucers on the table and then led the children up to the table, blindfold. One got the prayer-book and the other three got the water; and when one of the next-door girls got the ring Mrs. Donnelly shook her finger at the blushing girl as much as to say: O, I know all about it! They insisted then on blindfolding Maria and leading her up to the table to see what she would get; and, while they were putting on the bandage, Maria laughed and laughed again till the tip of her nose nearly met the tip of her chin.
Así que María cedió y se sentaron junto al fuego rememorando viejos tiempos. Ella pensó en meter una buena palabra por Alphy, pero Joe exclamó que Dios lo fulminase si volvía a dirigirle la palabra a su hermano, y María se disculpó por haber mencionado el tema. La señora Donnelly le reprochó a su marido que hablase así de su propia sangre, pero Joe dijo que Alphy no era hermano suyo y estuvieron a punto de discutir. Sin embargo, Joe declaró que no perdería los estribos en una noche como aquella y pidió a su esposa que abriera más cerveza. Las chicas de al lado organizaron juegos de la Víspera de Todos los Santos y pronto todo volvió a ser alegre. María se deleitaba viendo a los niños tan contentos y a Joe y su esposa de tan buen humor. Las vecinas colocaron unos platillos en la mesa y luego llevaron a los niños, con los ojos vendados. Una niña cogió el libro de oraciones y las otras tres, agua; y cuando una de las vecinas sacó el anillo, la señora Donnelly le señaló con el dedo a la muchacha ruborizada como diciendo: "¡Oh, ya me entero de todo!". Después insistieron en vendar los ojos a María y llevarla a la mesa para ver qué le tocaba; y, mientras le ponían la venda, María se reía sin parar hasta que la punta de su nariz casi rozaba la barbilla.
They led her up to the table amid laughing and joking and she put her hand out in the air as she was told to do. She moved her hand about here and there in the air and descended on one of the saucers. She felt a soft wet substance with her fingers and was surprised that nobody spoke or took off her bandage. There was a pause for a few seconds; and then a great deal of scuffling and whispering. Somebody said something about the garden, and at last Mrs. Donnelly said something very cross to one of the next-door girls and told her to throw it out at once: that was no play. Maria understood that it was wrong that time and so she had to do it over again: and this time she got the prayer-book.
La condujeron a la mesa entre risas y bromas, y ella extendió la mano en el aire como le indicaron. Movió la mano de aquí para allá y la posó sobre uno de los platillos. Sintió una sustancia blanda y húmeda con los dedos y le extrañó que nadie hablara ni le quitara la venda. Hubo una pausa de unos segundos; luego, mucho revuelo y susurros. Alguien mencionó algo sobre el jardín, y al final la señora Donnelly reprendió secamente a una de las vecinas y le ordenó que tirara aquello de inmediato: eso no era un juego. María comprendió que esa vez había salido mal y tuvo que repetirlo; en esta ocasión, le tocó el libro de oraciones.
After that Mrs. Donnelly played Miss McCloud's Reel for the children and Joe made Maria take a glass of wine. Soon they were all quite merry again and Mrs. Donnelly said Maria would enter a convent before the year was out because she had got the prayer-book. Maria had never seen Joe so nice to her as he was that night, so full of pleasant talk and reminiscences. She said they were all very good to her.
Después, la señora Donnelly tocó el reel de la señorita McCloud para los niños y Joe hizo que María tomara una copa de vino. Pronto todos estaban de nuevo muy alegres, y la señora Donnelly dijo que María entraría en un convento antes de que terminara el año, pues había sacado el libro de oraciones. María nunca había visto a Joe tan amable con ella como esa noche, tan lleno de conversación agradable y recuerdos. Dijo que todos habían sido muy buenos con ella.
At last the children grew tired and sleepy and Joe asked Maria would she not sing some little song before she went, one of the old songs. Mrs. Donnelly said "Do, please, Maria!" and so Maria had to get up and stand beside the piano. Mrs. Donnelly bade the children be quiet and listen to Maria's song. Then she played the prelude and said "Now, Maria!" and Maria, blushing very much began to sing in a tiny quavering voice. She sang I Dreamt that I Dwelt, and when she came to the second verse she sang again:
Al final, los niños se cansaron y les entró sueño, así que Joe le preguntó a María si no querría cantar una cancioncilla antes de irse, una de las viejas. La señora Donnelly dijo: "¡Hazlo, por favor, María!", y entonces María tuvo que levantarse y colocarse junto al piano. La señora Donnelly mandó a los niños callar y escuchar la canción de María. Luego tocó el preludio y dijo: "¡Ahora, María!", y María, ruborizándose mucho, comenzó a cantar con una vocecilla temblorosa. Cantó Soñé que habitaba, y cuando llegó al segundo verso, cantó de nuevo:
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls
Soñé que habitaba en mármoles salas
With vassals and serfs at my side,
Con siervos y vasallos a mi lado,
And of all who assembled within those walls
Y de cuantos allí se reunían en mis reales
That I was the hope and the pride.
Yo era el orgullo y el amado.
I had riches too great to count; could boast
Riquezas sin fin atesoraba además;
Of a high ancestral name,
De un linaje ilustre blasonaba,
But I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
Pero más me placía soñar, a la vez,
That you loved me still the same.
Que tú igual me seguías amando.
But no one tried to show her her mistake; and when she had ended her song Joe was very much moved. He said that there was no time like the long ago and no music for him like poor old Balfe, whatever other people might say; and his eyes filled up so much with tears that he could not find what he was looking for and in the end he had to ask his wife to tell him where the corkscrew was.
Pero nadie intentó señalarle su error; y cuando terminó su canción, Joe se conmovió profundamente. Dijo que no había época como los viejos tiempos ni música que igualara al pobre y viejo Balfe, sin importar lo que dijeran los demás; y sus ojos se llenaron de tantas lágrimas que no podía encontrar lo que buscaba, así que al final tuvo que pedirle a su esposa que le dijera dónde estaba el sacacorchos.
A PAINFUL CASE
UN DOLOROSO CASO
MR. JAMES DUFFY lived in Chapelizod because he wished to live as far as possible from the city of which he was a citizen and because he found all the other suburbs of Dublin mean, modern and pretentious. He lived in an old sombre house and from his windows he could look into the disused distillery or upwards along the shallow river on which Dublin is built. The lofty walls of his uncarpeted room were free from pictures. He had himself bought every article of furniture in the room: a black iron bedstead, an iron washstand, four cane chairs, a clothes-rack, a coal-scuttle, a fender and irons and a square table on which lay a double desk. A bookcase had been made in an alcove by means of shelves of white wood. The bed was clothed with white bedclothes and a black and scarlet rug covered the foot. A little hand-mirror hung above the washstand and during the day a white-shaded lamp stood as the sole ornament of the mantelpiece. The books on the white wooden shelves were arranged from below upwards according to bulk. A complete Wordsworth stood at one end of the lowest shelf and a copy of the Maynooth Catechism, sewn into the cloth cover of a notebook, stood at one end of the top shelf. Writing materials were always on the desk. In the desk lay a manuscript translation of Hauptmann's Michael Kramer, the stage directions of which were written in purple ink, and a little sheaf of papers held together by a brass pin. In these sheets a sentence was inscribed from time to time and, in an ironical moment, the headline of an advertisement for Bile Beans had been pasted on to the first sheet. On lifting the lid of the desk a faint fragrance escaped—the fragrance of new cedarwood pencils or of a bottle of gum or of an overripe apple which might have been left there and forgotten.
EL SEÑOR JAMES DUFFY vivía en Chapelizod porque deseaba residir lo más lejos posible de la ciudad de la que era ciudadano, y porque encontraba todos los demás suburbios de Dublín vulgares, modernos y pretenciosos. Vivía en una vieja casa sombría y desde sus ventanas podía mirar hacia la destilería abandonada o seguir el curso del río poco profundo sobre el que se alzaba Dublín. Las altas paredes de su habitación sin alfombra carecían de cuadros. Él mismo había comprado cada mueble de la estancia: una cama de hierro negro, un lavabo de hierro, cuatro sillas de mimbre, un perchero, una palangana para el carbón, un fuelle y utensilios de hierro, y una mesa cuadrada sobre la que reposaba un tintero doble. Una estantería de madera blanca ocupaba un hueco de la alcoba. La cama estaba vestida con blancos lienzos y una manta negra y escarlata cubría los pies. Un pequeño espejo de mano colgaba sobre el lavabo, y durante el día una lámpara con pantalla blanca era el único adorno de la repisa de la chimenea. Los libros en los estantes de madera blanca estaban ordenados de abajo arriba según su tamaño. Un Wordsworth completo se alzaba en un extremo del estante inferior y una copia del Catecismo de Maynooth, cosida dentro de la cubierta de tela de un cuaderno, ocupaba un extremo del estante superior. Los materiales de escritura siempre estaban sobre el escritorio. Dentro de este yacía una traducción manuscrita de Michael Kramer de Hauptmann, cuyas acotaciones escénicas estaban escritas en tinta púrpura, y un pequeño fajo de papeles sujetos por un alfiler de latón. En estas hojas se inscribía una oración de vez en cuando y, en un momento irónico, el titular de un anuncio de Bile Beans había sido pegado en la primera página. Al levantar la tapa del escritorio escapaba un tenue aroma—el aroma de lápices de cedro recién afilados, de un frasco de goma o de una manzana demasiado madura que quizás había sido dejada allí y olvidada.
Mr. Duffy abhorred anything which betokened physical or mental disorder. A mediaeval doctor would have called him saturnine. His face, which carried the entire tale of his years, was of the brown tint of Dublin streets. On his long and rather large head grew dry black hair and a tawny moustache did not quite cover an unamiable mouth. His cheekbones also gave his face a harsh character; but there was no harshness in the eyes which, looking at the world from under their tawny eyebrows, gave the impression of a man ever alert to greet a redeeming instinct in others but often disappointed. He lived at a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful side-glasses. He had an odd autobiographical habit which led him to compose in his mind from time to time a short sentence about himself containing a subject in the third person and a predicate in the past tense. He never gave alms to beggars and walked firmly, carrying a stout hazel.
El señor Duffy aborrecía cualquier cosa que denotara desorden físico o mental. Un médico medieval lo habría tachado de saturnino. Su rostro, que contaba toda la historia de sus años, tenía el tinte parduzco de las calles de Dublín. Sobre su cabeza larga y más bien grande crecía un pelo negro y reseco, y un bigote leonado no lograba cubrir del todo una boca desagradable. Sus pómulos también daban al rostro un carácter severo; pero no había severidad en los ojos que, observando el mundo desde bajo sus cejas leonadas, daban la impresión de un hombre siempre alerta para saludar un instinto redentor en los demás, aunque a menudo decepcionado. Vivía a cierta distancia de su propio cuerpo, contemplando sus actos con lentes laterales de duda. Tenía un extraño hábito autobiográfico que lo llevaba a componer mentalmente, de vez en cuando, una breve frase sobre sí mismo que contenía un sujeto en tercera persona y un predicado en tiempo pasado. Nunca daba limosna a los mendigos y caminaba con paso firme, llevando un robusto bastón de avellano.
He had been for many years cashier of a private bank in Baggot Street. Every morning he came in from Chapelizod by tram. At midday he went to Dan Burke's and took his lunch—a bottle of lager beer and a small trayful of arrowroot biscuits. At four o'clock he was set free. He dined in an eating-house in George's Street where he felt himself safe from the society o Dublin's gilded youth and where there was a certain plain honesty in the bill of fare. His evenings were spent either before his landlady's piano or roaming about the outskirts of the city. His liking for Mozart's music brought him sometimes to an opera or a concert: these were the only dissipations of his life.
Durante muchos años había sido cajero de un banco privado en Baggot Street. Cada mañana llegaba desde Chapelizod en tranvía. Al mediodía iba a Dan Burke's y tomaba su almuerzo: una botella de cerveza lager y una pequeña bandeja de galletas de arrurruz. A las cuatro en punto quedaba libre. Cenaba en un restaurante de George's Street donde se sentía a salvo de la sociedad de la juventud dorada de Dublín y donde había cierta honestidad llana en el menú. Sus tardes las pasaba ya sea ante el piano de su casera o vagando por las afueras de la ciudad. Su afición por la música de Mozart lo llevaba a veces a la ópera o a un concierto: estas eran las únicas disipaciones de su vida.
He had neither companions nor friends, church nor creed. He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when they died. He performed these two social duties for old dignity's sake but conceded nothing further to the conventions which regulate the civic life. He allowed himself to think that in certain circumstances he would rob his hank but, as these circumstances never arose, his life rolled out evenly—an adventureless tale.
No tenía compañeros ni amigos, iglesia ni credo. Vivía su vida espiritual sin comunión alguna con los demás, visitando a sus parientes en Navidad y acompañándolos al cementerio cuando morían. Cumplía estos dos deberes sociales por una antigua dignidad, pero no concedía nada más a las convenciones que regulan la vida cívica. Se permitía pensar que en ciertas circunstancias robaría su banco, pero como tales circunstancias nunca surgían, su vida transcurría uniforme: un relato sin aventuras.
One evening he found himself sitting beside two ladies in the Rotunda. The house, thinly peopled and silent, gave distressing prophecy of failure. The lady who sat next him looked round at the deserted house once or twice and then said:
Una tarde se encontró sentado junto a dos damas en la Rotunda. La sala, escasamente concurrida y silenciosa, auguraba un fracaso lamentable. La señora sentada a su lado miró alrededor del local desierto una o dos veces y luego dijo:
"What a pity there is such a poor house tonight! It's so hard on people to have to sing to empty benches."
—Qué lástima que haya tan poca gente esta noche. Es tan duro para los artistas tener que cantar ante butacas vacías.
He took the remark as an invitation to talk. He was surprised that she seemed so little awkward. While they talked he tried to fix her permanently in his memory. When he learned that the young girl beside her was her daughter he judged her to be a year or so younger than himself. Her face, which must have been handsome, had remained intelligent. It was an oval face with strongly marked features. The eyes were very dark blue and steady. Their gaze began with a defiant note but was confused by what seemed a deliberate swoon of the pupil into the iris, revealing for an instant a temperament of great sensibility. The pupil reasserted itself quickly, this half-disclosed nature fell again under the reign of prudence, and her astrakhan jacket, moulding a bosom of a certain fullness, struck the note of defiance more definitely.
Tomó el comentario como una invitación a conversar. Le sorprendió que ella mostrara tan poca timidez. Mientras hablaban, intentó fijarla permanentemente en su memoria. Al enterarse de que la joven a su lado era su hija, calculó que ella tendría un año o dos menos que él. Su rostro, que debió ser hermoso, conservaba inteligencia. Era un óvalo de rasgos marcados. Los ojos, de un azul muy oscuro, eran firmes. Su mirada comenzaba con un matiz desafiante, pero se turbaba por lo que parecía un desmayo deliberado de la pupila en el iris, revelando por un instante un temperamento de gran sensibilidad. La pupila se reafirmaba rápidamente, esta naturaleza semi-revelada volvía a caer bajo el dominio de la prudencia, y su chaqueta de astracán, que moldeaba un pecho de cierta plenitud, acentuaba definitivamente el aire de desafío.
He met her again a few weeks afterwards at a concert in Earlsfort Terrace and seized the moments when her daughter's attention was diverted to become intimate. She alluded once or twice to her husband but her tone was not such as to make the allusion a warning. Her name was Mrs. Sinico. Her husband's great-great-grandfather had come from Leghorn. Her husband was captain of a mercantile boat plying between Dublin and Holland; and they had one child.
La encontró nuevamente unas semanas después en un concierto en Earlsfort Terrace y aprovechó los momentos en que la atención de su hija se distraía para intimar. Ella aludió una o dos veces a su marido, pero su tono no sonó a advertencia. Se llamaba Mrs. Sinico. El tatarabuelo de su esposo había venido de Livorno. Su marido era capitán de un barco mercante que hacía la ruta entre Dublín y Holanda; tenían una hija.
Meeting her a third time by accident he found courage to make an appointment. She came. This was the first of many meetings; they met always in the evening and chose the most quiet quarters for their walks together. Mr. Duffy, however, had a distaste for underhand ways and, finding that they were compelled to meet stealthily, he forced her to ask him to her house. Captain Sinico encouraged his visits, thinking that his daughter's hand was in question. He had dismissed his wife so sincerely from his gallery of pleasures that he did not suspect that anyone else would take an interest in her. As the husband was often away and the daughter out giving music lessons Mr. Duffy had many opportunities of enjoying the lady's society. Neither he nor she had had any such adventure before and neither was conscious of any incongruity. Little by little he entangled his thoughts with hers. He lent her books, provided her with ideas, shared his intellectual life with her. She listened to all.
Al encontrarla por tercera vez por casualidad, reunió valor para concertar una cita. Ella acudió. Esta fue la primera de muchos encuentros; siempre se veían al anochecer y elegían los barrios más tranquilos para sus paseos. Mr. Duffy, sin embargo, sentía aversión por los métodos clandestinos y, al verse obligados a reunirse a escondidas, la forzó a invitarlo a su casa. El Captain Sinico aprobaba sus visitas, creyendo que se trataba del interés por la mano de su hija. Había relegado a su esposa tan sinceramente de su galería de placeres que no sospechaba que alguien más pudiera interesarse en ella. Como el marido viajaba a menudo y la hija daba lecciones de música, Mr. Duffy tuvo muchas oportunidades de disfrutar de la compañía de la dama. Ninguno de los dos había tenido antes semejante aventura y ninguno percibía incongruencia alguna. Poco a poco entretejió sus pensamientos con los de ella. Le prestaba libros, le proporcionaba ideas, compartía su vida intelectual. Ella lo escuchaba todo.
Sometimes in return for his theories she gave out some fact of her own life. With almost maternal solicitude she urged him to let his nature open to the full: she became his confessor. He told her that for some time he had assisted at the meetings of an Irish Socialist Party where he had felt himself a unique figure amidst a score of sober workmen in a garret lit by an inefficient oil-lamp. When the party had divided into three sections, each under its own leader and in its own garret, he had discontinued his attendances. The workmen's discussions, he said, were too timorous; the interest they took in the question of wages was inordinate. He felt that they were hard-featured realists and that they resented an exactitude which was the produce of a leisure not within their reach. No social revolution, he told her, would be likely to strike Dublin for some centuries.
A veces, en reciprocidad por sus teorías, ella revelaba algún hecho de su propia vida. Con casi solicitud maternal, lo instaba a dejar que su naturaleza se expandiera por completo: se convirtió en su confesora. Le contó que durante algún tiempo había asistido a reuniones de un Partido Socialista Irlandés donde se sentía una figura única entre una veintena de obreros sobrios en un desván iluminado por una lámpara de aceite ineficaz. Cuando el partido se dividió en tres facciones, cada una con su líder en su propio desván, había dejado de asistir. Las discusiones de los obreros, decía, eran demasiado tímidas; su interés en la cuestión salarial, desmesurado. Sentía que eran realistas de rostro adusto y que les molestaba una exactitud producto de un ocio inalcanzable para ellos. Ninguna revolución social, le dijo, afectaría a Dublín en varios siglos.
She asked him why did he not write out his thoughts. For what, he asked her, with careful scorn. To compete with phrasemongers, incapable of thinking consecutively for sixty seconds? To submit himself to the criticisms of an obtuse middle class which entrusted its morality to policemen and its fine arts to impresarios?
Ella le preguntó por qué no escribía sus pensamientos. ¿Para qué?, replicó él con un desdén calculado. ¿Para competir con farfulladores de frases, incapaces de pensar sesenta segundos seguidos? ¿Para someterse a las críticas de una clase media obtusa que confiaba su moralidad a los policías y sus bellas artes a los empresarios?
He went often to her little cottage outside Dublin; often they spent their evenings alone. Little by little, as their thoughts entangled, they spoke of subjects less remote. Her companionship was like a warm soil about an exotic. Many times she allowed the dark to fall upon them, refraining from lighting the lamp. The dark discreet room, their isolation, the music that still vibrated in their ears united them. This union exalted him, wore away the rough edges of his character, emotionalised his mental life. Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would ascend to an angelical stature; and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised as his own, insisting on the soul's incurable loneliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own. The end of these discourses was that one night during which she had shown every sign of unusual excitement, Mrs. Sinico caught up his hand passionately and pressed it to her cheek.
Frecuentaba su pequeña casa en las afueras de Dublín; muchas tardes las pasaban solos. Poco a poco, al entretejerse sus pensamientos, abordaban temas menos distantes. Su compañía era como tierra cálida para un exótico. A menudo ella permitía que la oscuridad los envolviera, absteniéndose de encender la lámpara. La discreta penumbra de la habitación, su aislamiento, la música que aún vibraba en sus oídos los unía. Esta unión lo exaltaba, pulía las asperezas de su carácter, impregnaba de emoción su vida mental. A veces se sorprendía escuchando el sonido de su propia voz. Creía que a sus ojos ascendería a estatura angélica; y, mientras ligaba cada vez más íntimamente el fervoroso carácter de su compañera al suyo, oía la extraña voz impersonal que reconocía como propia, insistiendo en la incurable soledad del alma. No podemos entregarnos, decía: somos nuestros. El fin de estos discursos fue que una noche, durante la cual ella había mostrado toda señal de inusual agitación, la señora Sinico tomó apasionadamente su mano y la apretó contra su mejilla.
Mr. Duffy was very much surprised. Her interpretation of his words disillusioned him. He did not visit her for a week, then he wrote to her asking her to meet him. As he did not wish their last interview to be troubled by the influence of their ruined confessional they meet in a little cakeshop near the Parkgate. It was cold autumn weather but in spite of the cold they wandered up and down the roads of the Park for nearly three hours. They agreed to break off their intercourse: every bond, he said, is a bond to sorrow. When they came out of the Park they walked in silence towards the tram; but here she began to tremble so violently that, fearing another collapse on her part, he bade her good-bye quickly and left her. A few days later he received a parcel containing his books and music.
El señor Duffy quedó muy sorprendido. Su interpretación de sus palabras lo desilusionó. No la visitó durante una semana, luego le escribió pidiéndole un encuentro. Para evitar que su última entrevista se viese turbada por la influencia de su confesionario derruido, se reunieron en una pequeña pastelería cerca de Parkgate. Era un frío día otoñal, pero a pesar del clima vagaron por los caminos del Parque durante casi tres horas. Acordaron romper su relación: todo vínculo, dijo él, es un vínculo con el dolor. Al salir del Parque caminaron en silencio hacia el tranvía; pero allí ella comenzó a temblar tan violentamente que, temiendo otro colapso de su parte, se despidió rápidamente y la dejó. Días después recibió un paquete con sus libros y partituras.
Four years passed. Mr. Duffy returned to his even way of life. His room still bore witness of the orderliness of his mind. Some new pieces of music encumbered the music-stand in the lower room and on his shelves stood two volumes by Nietzsche: Thus Spake Zarathustra and The Gay Science. He wrote seldom in the sheaf of papers which lay in his desk. One of his sentences, written two months after his last interview with Mrs. Sinico, read: Love between man and man is impossible because there must not be sexual intercourse and friendship between man and woman is impossible because there must be sexual intercourse. He kept away from concerts lest he should meet her. His father died; the junior partner of the bank retired. And still every morning he went into the city by tram and every evening walked home from the city after having dined moderately in George's Street and read the evening paper for dessert.
Pasaron cuatro años. El señor Duffy retomó su vida uniforme. Su habitación aún testimoniaba el orden de su mente. Nuevas partituras abarrotaban el atril en la habitación de abajo y en sus estantes reposaban dos volúmenes de Nietzsche: Así habló Zaratustra y El gay saber. Escribía poco en el fajo de papeles sobre su escritorio. Una de sus frases, escrita dos meses después de su última entrevista con la señora Sinico, rezaba: El amor entre hombre y hombre es imposible porque no debe haber relación sexual, y la amistad entre hombre y mujer es imposible porque debe haber relación sexual. Evitaba los conciertos por miedo a encontrarla. Su padre murió; el socio menor del banco se retiró. Y aún cada mañana iba a la ciudad en tranvía y cada tarde regresaba caminando tras cenar modestamente en George's Street y leer el periódico de postre.
One evening as he was about to put a morsel of corned beef and cabbage into his mouth his hand stopped. His eyes fixed themselves on a paragraph in the evening paper which he had propped against the water-carafe. He replaced the morsel of food on his plate and read the paragraph attentively. Then he drank a glass of water, pushed his plate to one side, doubled the paper down before him between his elbows and read the paragraph over and over again. The cabbage began to deposit a cold white grease on his plate. The girl came over to him to ask was his dinner not properly cooked. He said it was very good and ate a few mouthfuls of it with difficulty. Then he paid his bill and went out.
Una tarde, cuando estaba a punto de llevarse un bocado de carne salada con repollo a la boca, su mano se detuvo. Sus ojos se fijaron en un párrafo del periódico vespertino que había apoyado contra la garrafa de agua. Devolvió el bocado al plato y leyó el párrafo con atención. Luego bebió un vaso de agua, apartó el plato, dobló el diario frente a él entre sus codos y repasó el texto una y otra vez. El repollo comenzó a depositar una fría grasa blanquecina en su plato. La mesera se acercó a preguntar si su cena no estaba bien cocida. Dijo que estaba muy buena y comió unos bocados con dificultad. Pagó la cuenta y salió.
He walked along quickly through the November twilight, his stout hazel stick striking the ground regularly, the fringe of the buff Mail peeping out of a side-pocket of his tight reefer overcoat. On the lonely road which leads from the Parkgate to Chapelizod he slackened his pace. His stick struck the ground less emphatically and his breath, issuing irregularly, almost with a sighing sound, condensed in the wintry air. When he reached his house he went up at once to his bedroom and, taking the paper from his pocket, read the paragraph again by the failing light of the window. He read it not aloud, but moving his lips as a priest does when he reads the prayers Secreto. This was the paragraph:
Caminó rápidamente bajo el crepúsculo novembrino, su robusto bastón de avellano golpeando el suelo con regularidad, el fleco del periódico buff Mail asomando del bolsillo lateral de su ajustado abrigo marinero. En el solitario camino que va de Parkgate a Chapelizod aminoró el paso. Su bastón golpeaba el suelo con menos énfasis y su aliento, escapando irregularmente casi con un suspiro, se condensaba en el aire invernal. Al llegar a casa subió directamente a su dormitorio y, sacando el periódico del bolsillo, releyó el párrafo a la menguante luz de la ventana. No lo leyó en voz alta, pero moviendo los labios como un sacerdote que reza el Secreto. Este era el párrafo:
DEATH OF A LADY AT SYDNEY PARADE
FALLECIMIENTO DE UNA DAMA EN SYDNEY PARADE
A PAINFUL CASE
UN CASO DOLOROSO
Today at the City of Dublin Hospital the Deputy Coroner (in the absence of Mr. Leverett) held an inquest on the body of Mrs. Emily Sinico, aged forty-three years, who was killed at Sydney Parade Station yesterday evening. The evidence showed that the deceased lady, while attempting to cross the line, was knocked down by the engine of the ten o'clock slow train from Kingstown, thereby sustaining injuries of the head and right side which led to her death.
Hoy, en el Hospital de la Ciudad de Dublín, el Coronero Adjunto (en ausencia del señor Leverett) realizó una investigación sobre el cuerpo de la señora Emily Sinico, de cuarenta y tres años, fallecida en la Estación de Sydney Parade ayer por la tarde. Las pruebas indicaron que la difunta, al intentar cruzar las vías, fue arrollada por la locomotora del tren de las diez en servicio lento desde Kingstown, sufriendo lesiones en la cabeza y el costado derecho que provocaron su muerte.
James Lennon, driver of the engine, stated that he had been in the employment of the railway company for fifteen years. On hearing the guard's whistle he set the train in motion and a second or two afterwards brought it to rest in response to loud cries. The train was going slowly.
James Lennon, maquinista de la locomotora, declaró que llevaba quince años empleado en la compañía ferroviaria. Al oír el silbato del guardavía, puso el tren en movimiento y, uno o dos segundos después, lo detuvo ante los gritos de alerta. El tren iba a baja velocidad.
P. Dunne, railway porter, stated that as the train was about to start he observed a woman attempting to cross the lines. He ran towards her and shouted, but, before he could reach her, she was caught by the buffer of the engine and fell to the ground.
P. Dunne, empleado ferroviario, declaró que, cuando el tren estaba a punto de partir, observó a una mujer intentando cruzar las vías. Corrió hacia ella gritando, pero, antes de alcanzarla, la mujer fue golpeada por el parachoque de la locomotora y cayó al suelo.
A juror. "You saw the lady fall?"
Un jurado: "¿Vio usted caer a la señora?"
Witness. "Yes."
Testigo: "Sí."
Police Sergeant Croly deposed that when he arrived he found the deceased lying on the platform apparently dead. He had the body taken to the waiting-room pending the arrival of the ambulance.
El sargento de policía Croly declaró que, al llegar, encontró a la difunta tendida en el andén, aparentemente sin vida. Ordenó trasladar el cuerpo a la sala de espera hasta la llegada de la ambulancia.
Constable 57 corroborated.
El agente 57E corroboró lo dicho.
Dr. Halpin, assistant house surgeon of the City of Dublin Hospital, stated that the deceased had two lower ribs fractured and had sustained severe contusions of the right shoulder. The right side of the head had been injured in the fall. The injuries were not sufficient to have caused death in a normal person. Death, in his opinion, had been probably due to shock and sudden failure of the heart's action.
El Dr. Halpin, cirujano adjunto del Hospital de la Ciudad de Dublín, declaró que la difunta presentaba dos costillas fracturadas y severas contusiones en el hombro derecho. El lado derecho del cráneo había sufrido daños en la caída. Las lesiones no eran suficientes para causar la muerte en una persona normal. En su opinión, el deceso probablemente se debió a un shock y fallo cardíaco súbito.
Mr. H. B. Patterson Finlay, on behalf of the railway company, expressed his deep regret at the accident. The company had always taken every precaution to prevent people crossing the lines except by the bridges, both by placing notices in every station and by the use of patent spring gates at level crossings. The deceased had been in the habit of crossing the lines late at night from platform to platform and, in view of certain other circumstances of the case, he did not think the railway officials were to blame.
El señor H. B. Patterson Finlay, en representación de la compañía ferroviaria, expresó su profundo pesar por el accidente. La empresa siempre había tomado precauciones para evitar que se cruzaran las vías fuera de los puentes, mediante carteles en todas las estaciones y portones de resorte en los pasos a nivel. La difunta tenía la costumbre de cruzar las vías de noche entre andenes y, dadas ciertas circunstancias del caso, consideraba que los empleados ferroviarios no eran responsables.
Captain Sinico, of Leoville, Sydney Parade, husband of the deceased, also gave evidence. He stated that the deceased was his wife. He was not in Dublin at the time of the accident as he had arrived only that morning from Rotterdam. They had been married for twenty-two years and had lived happily until about two years ago when his wife began to be rather intemperate in her habits.
El capitán Sinico, de Leoville, Sydney Parade, esposo de la fallecida, también testificó. Declaró que la difunta era su esposa. No se encontraba en Dublín durante el accidente, pues había llegado esa misma mañana desde Róterdam. Llevaban veintidós años de matrimonio y habían vivido felices hasta hacía dos años, cuando su esposa comenzó a mostrar hábitos poco moderados.
Miss Mary Sinico said that of late her mother had been in the habit of going out at night to buy spirits. She, witness, had often tried to reason with her mother and had induced her to join a League. She was not at home until an hour after the accident. The jury returned a verdict in accordance with the medical evidence and exonerated Lennon from all blame.
La señorita Mary Sinico declaró que últimamente su madre solía salir de noche a comprar licor. Ella, la testigo, había intentado razonar con ella y la había persuadido de unirse a una Liga. No estuvo en casa hasta una hora después del accidente. El jurado emitió un veredicto acorde a la evidencia médica y exoneró a Lennon de toda culpa.
The Deputy Coroner said it was a most painful case, and expressed great sympathy with Captain Sinico and his daughter. He urged on the railway company to take strong measures to prevent the possibility of similar accidents in the future. No blame attached to anyone.
El Coronero Adjunto calificó el caso como extremadamente lamentable y expresó su profundo pésame al capitán Sinico y su hija. Instó a la compañía ferroviaria a tomar medidas enérgicas para prevenir accidentes similares. Nadie resultaba responsable.
Mr. Duffy raised his eyes from the paper and gazed out of his window on the cheerless evening landscape. The river lay quiet beside the empty distillery and from time to time a light appeared in some house on the Lucan road. What an end! The whole narrative of her death revolted him and it revolted him to think that he had ever spoken to her of what he held sacred. The threadbare phrases, the inane expressions of sympathy, the cautious words of a reporter won over to conceal the details of a commonplace vulgar death attacked his stomach. Not merely had she degraded herself; she had degraded him. He saw the squalid tract of her vice, miserable and malodorous. His soul's companion! He thought of the hobbling wretches whom he had seen carrying cans and bottles to be filled by the barman. Just God, what an end! Evidently she had been unfit to live, without any strength of purpose, an easy prey to habits, one of the wrecks on which civilisation has been reared. But that she could have sunk so low! Was it possible he had deceived himself so utterly about her? He remembered her outburst of that night and interpreted it in a harsher sense than he had ever done. He had no difficulty now in approving of the course he had taken.
El señor Duffy alzó la vista del periódico y contempló el sombrío paisaje vespertino desde su ventana. El río yacía quieto junto a la destilería vacía, y de vez en cuando se encendía una luz en alguna casa del camino de Lucan. ¡Qué final! Toda la narración de su muerte le repugnó, y le repugnó pensar que alguna vez le había hablado de lo que consideraba sagrado. Las frases gastadas, las expresiones insulsas de compasión, las palabras cautas de un periodista comprado para ocultar los detalles de una muerte vulgar, le revolvían el estómago. No solo se había degradado ella: lo había degradado a él. Vio el sórdido paraje de su vicio, miserable y fétido. ¡Compañera de su alma! Recordó a los lúgubres mendigos que llevaban latas y botellas para que el cantinero las llenara. ¡Dios justo, qué final! Evidentemente, no estaba hecha para vivir, sin fuerza de voluntad, presa fácil de los vicios, un despojo más sobre el que se erige la civilización. ¿Pero hundirse hasta ese extremo? ¿Era posible que se hubiera engañado tan completamente sobre ella? Recordó su arrebato de aquella noche y lo interpretó con mayor dureza que nunca. Ahora no le costaba aprobar el rumbo que había tomado.
As the light failed and his memory began to wander he thought her hand touched his. The shock which had first attacked his stomach was now attacking his nerves. He put on his overcoat and hat quickly and went out. The cold air met him on the threshold; it crept into the sleeves of his coat. When he came to the public-house at Chapelizod Bridge he went in and ordered a hot punch.
A medida que la luz menguaba y su memoria comenzaba a divagar, creyó sentir su mano tocando la suya. La conmoción que primero le había embargado el estómago ahora asaltaba sus nervios. Se puso rápidamente el abrigo y el sombrero y salió. El aire frío lo recibió en el umbral; se le coló por las mangas del gabán. Al llegar a la taberna del Puente de Chapelizod, entró y pidió un ponche caliente.
The proprietor served him obsequiously but did not venture to talk. There were five or six workingmen in the shop discussing the value of a gentleman's estate in County Kildare They drank at intervals from their huge pint tumblers and smoked, spitting often on the floor and sometimes dragging the sawdust over their spits with their heavy boots. Mr. Duffy sat on his stool and gazed at them, without seeing or hearing them. After a while they went out and he called for another punch. He sat a long time over it. The shop was very quiet. The proprietor sprawled on the counter reading the Herald and yawning. Now and again a tram was heard swishing along the lonely road outside.
El dueño lo atendió con obsequiosidad pero sin atreverse a entablar conversación. Había cinco o seis obreros en el local discutiendo el valor de una propiedad señorial en el condado de Kildare. Bebían a intervalos de sus enormes vasos de pinta y fumaban, escupiendo con frecuencia al suelo y arrastrando a veces el serrín sobre sus salivas con las pesadas botas. El señor Duffy, sentado en su taburete, los contemplaba sin verlos ni oírlos. Al cabo de un rato se marcharon y él pidió otro ponche. Permaneció mucho tiempo bebiéndolo. El local estaba en silencio. El tabernero, despatarrado sobre el mostrador, leía el Herald y bostezaba. De vez en cuando se oía el susurro de un tranvía en la solitaria calle exterior.
As he sat there, living over his life with her and evoking alternately the two images in which he now conceived her, he realised that she was dead, that she had ceased to exist, that she had become a memory. He began to feel ill at ease. He asked himself what else could he have done. He could not have carried on a comedy of deception with her; he could not have lived with her openly. He had done what seemed to him best. How was he to blame? Now that she was gone he understood how lonely her life must have been, sitting night after night alone in that room. His life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory—if anyone remembered him.
Sentado allí, repasando su vida junto a ella y evocando alternativamente las dos imágenes en que ahora la concebía, comprendió que estaba muerta, que había dejado de existir, que se había convertido en un recuerdo. Empezó a sentirse intranquilo. Se preguntó qué más podía haber hecho. No habría podido mantener una comedia de engaños con ella; no habría podido vivir públicamente a su lado. Había hecho lo que le pareció mejor. ¿Qué culpa tenía él? Ahora que se había ido, entendía cuán solitaria debió ser su vida, sentada noche tras noche sola en aquella habitación. Su vida también sería solitaria hasta que él, a su vez, muriera, dejara de existir, se convirtiera en un recuerdo... si alguien lo recordaba.
It was after nine o'clock when he left the shop. The night was cold and gloomy. He entered the Park by the first gate and walked along under the gaunt trees. He walked through the bleak alleys where they had walked four years before. She seemed to be near him in the darkness. At moments he seemed to feel her voice touch his ear, her hand touch his. He stood still to listen. Why had he withheld life from her? Why had he sentenced her to death? He felt his moral nature falling to pieces.
Eran más de las nueve cuando salió de la taberna. La noche era fría y lúgubre. Entró al Parque por la primera verja y caminó bajo los árboles esqueléticos. Avanzó por los sombríos senderos donde habían paseado cuatro años atrás. Ella parecía estar cerca en la oscuridad. A ratos creía sentir su voz rozándole el oído, su mano tocando la suya. Se detenía a escuchar. ¿Por qué le había negado la vida? ¿Por qué la había condenado a muerte? Sentía su naturaleza moral desmoronándose.
When he gained the crest of the Magazine Hill he halted and looked along the river towards Dublin, the lights of which burned redly and hospitably in the cold night. He looked down the slope and, at the base, in the shadow of the wall of the Park, he saw some human figures lying. Those venal and furtive loves filled him with despair. He gnawed the rectitude of his life; he felt that he had been outcast from life's feast. One human being had seemed to love him and he had denied her life and happiness: he had sentenced her to ignominy, a death of shame. He knew that the prostrate creatures down by the wall were watching him and wished him gone. No one wanted him; he was outcast from life's feast. He turned his eyes to the grey gleaming river, winding along towards Dublin. Beyond the river he saw a goods train winding out of Kingsbridge Station, like a worm with a fiery head winding through the darkness, obstinately and laboriously. It passed slowly out of sight; but still he heard in his ears the laborious drone of the engine reiterating the syllables of her name.
Al alcanzar la cima de la Colina del Magazine, se detuvo y contempló el río hacia Dublín, cuyas luces quemaban con un rojo acogedor en la noche gélida. Miró hacia la pendiente y, al pie, en la sombra del muro del Parque, distinguió figuras humanas tendidas. Aquellos amores venales y furtivos lo sumieron en la desesperación. Roía la rectitud de su existencia; se sentía excluido del festín de la vida. Un ser humano había parecido amarlo y él le negó vida y felicidad: la condenó a la ignominia, a una muerte vergonzosa. Sabía que las postradas criaturas junto al muro lo observaban y deseaban que se fuera. Nadie lo quería; era un paria del banquete vital. Volvió los ojos hacia el río grisáceo que serpeaba hacia Dublín. Más allá del agua vio un tren de mercancías saliendo lentamente de la Estación de Kingsbridge, como un gusano de cabeza ígnea abriéndose paso en la oscuridad, obstinado y laborioso. Desapareció de la vista, pero aún resonaban en sus oídos los zumbidos trabajosos de la locomotora repitiendo las sílabas de su nombre.
He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.
Emprendió el regreso, el ritmo del motor martilleándole los oídos. Comenzó a dudar de la realidad que le dictaba su memoria. Se detuvo bajo un árbol y dejó que el ritmo se extinguiera. No podía sentirla cerca en la oscuridad ni su voz rozándole el oído. Esperó varios minutos, aguzando el oído. Nada: la noche en perfecto silencio. Escuchó de nuevo: silencio absoluto. Se sintió solo.
IVY DAY IN THE COMMITTEE ROOM
EL DÍA DE LA HIEDRA EN LA SALA DEL COMITÉ
OLD JACK raked the cinders together with a piece of cardboard and spread them judiciously over the whitening dome of coals. When the dome was thinly covered his face lapsed into darkness but, as he set himself to fan the fire again, his crouching shadow ascended the opposite wall and his face slowly reemerged into light. It was an old man's face, very bony and hairy. The moist blue eyes blinked at the fire and the moist mouth fell open at times, munching once or twice mechanically when it closed. When the cinders had caught he laid the piece of cardboard against the wall, sighed and said:
EL VIEJO JACK amontonó las cenizas con un cartón y las esparció con juicio sobre la cúpula blanquecina de brasas. Al quedar esta apenas cubierta, su rostro se sumió en la penumbra, pero al avivar nuevamente el fuego, su sombra agazapada ascendió por la pared opuesta y sus facciones reaparecieron gradualmente. Era un rostro huesudo y velludo de anciano. Los húmedos ojos azules parpadeaban ante las llamas, y la boca entreabierta, también húmeda, masticaba mecánicamente al cerrarse. Cuando las ascuas prendieron, recostó el cartón contra la pared, suspiró y dijo:
"That's better now, Mr. O'Connor."
—Ahora está mejor, señor O'Connor.
Mr. O'Connor, a grey-haired young man, whose face was disfigured by many blotches and pimples, had just brought the tobacco for a cigarette into a shapely cylinder but when spoken to he undid his handiwork meditatively. Then he began to roll the tobacco again meditatively and after a moment's thought decided to lick the paper.
El señor O'Connor, un joven de cabello cano cuyo rostro estaba desfigurado por múltiples manchas y granos, acababa de dar forma cilíndrica al tabaco para un cigarrillo, pero al ser interpelado deshizo su obra meditabundo. Luego recomenzó a enrollar el tabaco con aire reflexivo y tras un momento de duda decidió humedecer el papel con la lengua.
"Did Mr. Tierney say when he'd be back?" he asked in a sky falsetto.
—¿Dijo el señor Tierney cuándo volvería? —preguntó con un falsete aflautado.
"He didn't say."
—No dijo nada.
Mr. O'Connor put his cigarette into his mouth and began search his pockets. He took out a pack of thin pasteboard cards.
El señor O'Connor se colocó el cigarrillo en la boca y comenzó a registrar sus bolsillos. Sacó un paquete de delgadas tarjetas de cartón.
"I'll get you a match," said the old man.
—Le conseguiré un fósforo —dijo el anciano.
"Never mind, this'll do," said Mr. O'Connor.
—No se moleste, esto servirá —respondió el señor O'Connor.
He selected one of the cards and read what was printed on it:
Seleccionó una de las tarjetas y leyó lo impreso:
MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS
ELECCIONES MUNICIPALES
—————
—————
ROYAL EXCHANGE WARD
DISTRITO ROYAL EXCHANGE
—————
—————
Mr. Richard J. Tierney, P.L.G., respectfully solicits the favour of your vote and influence at the coming election in the Royal Exchange Ward.
El señor Richard J. Tierney, P.L.G., solicita respetuosamente su voto y apoyo en las próximas elecciones del Distrito Royal Exchange.
Mr. O'Connor had been engaged by Tierney's agent to canvass one part of the ward but, as the weather was inclement and his boots let in the wet, he spent a great part of the day sitting by the fire in the Committee Room in Wicklow Street with Jack, the old caretaker. They had been sitting thus since e short day had grown dark. It was the sixth of October, dismal and cold out of doors.
El señor O'Connor había sido contratado por el agente de Tierney para hacer campaña en una zona del distrito, pero como el tiempo era inclemente y sus botas dejaban filtrar la humedad, pasó gran parte del día sentado junto al fuego en el Comité de Wicklow Street con Jack, el viejo conserje. Llevaban así sentados desde que el breve día se había oscurecido. Era el seis de octubre, gris y frío en el exterior.
Mr. O'Connor tore a strip off the card and, lighting it, lit his cigarette. As he did so the flame lit up a leaf of dark glossy ivy the lapel of his coat. The old man watched him attentively and then, taking up the piece of cardboard again, began to fan the fire slowly while his companion smoked.
El señor O'Connor arrancó una tira de la tarjeta y, encendiéndola, prendió su cigarrillo. La llama iluminó momentáneamente una hoja de hiedra oscura y brillante en la solapa de su abrigo. El anciano lo observó con atención y luego, tomando nuevamente el trozo de cartón, comenzó a avivar el fuego lentamente mientras su compañero fumaba.
"Ah, yes," he said, continuing, "it's hard to know what way to bring up children. Now who'd think he'd turn out like that! I sent him to the Christian Brothers and I done what I could him, and there he goes boosing about. I tried to make him someway decent."
—Ay, sí —dijo, retomando la conversación—, es difícil saber cómo criar a los hijos. ¿Quién hubiera pensado que terminaría así! Lo mandé con los Hermanos Cristianos e hice cuanto pude por él, y ahí lo tienes emborrachándose. Intenté hacer de él un hombre decente.
He replaced the cardboard wearily.
Reemplazó el cartón con cansancio.
"Only I'm an old man now I'd change his tune for him. I'd take the stick to his back and beat him while I could stand over him—as I done many a time before. The mother, you know, she cocks him up with this and that...."
—Si no fuera un viejo ahora, le cambiaría el tono. Le daría con el bastón en la espalda hasta no poder más, como hice muchas veces antes. Pero la madre, ya sabes, lo mima con esto y aquello...
"That's what ruins children," said Mr. O'Connor.
—Eso es lo que arruina a los niños —dijo el señor O'Connor.
"To be sure it is," said the old man. "And little thanks you get for it, only impudence. He takes th'upper hand of me whenever he sees I've a sup taken. What's the world coming to when sons speaks that way to their fathers?"
—Sin duda —asintió el anciano—. Y lo único que recibes a cambio es insolencia. Se pone por encima de mí cada vez que me ve con una copa de más. ¿A qué mundo hemos llegado cuando los hijos le hablan así a sus padres?
"What age is he?" said Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Qué edad tiene? —preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"Nineteen," said the old man.
—Diecinueve —respondió el anciano.
"Why don't you put him to something?"
—¿Por qué no lo pone a trabajar?
"Sure, amn't I never done at the drunken bowsy ever since he left school? 'I won't keep you,' I says. 'You must get a job for yourself.' But, sure, it's worse whenever he gets a job; he drinks it all."
—¿Acaso no lo he intentado desde que dejó la escuela? "No te mantendré", le dije. "Debes buscarte un trabajo". Pero cada vez que consigue uno, es peor: se bebe hasta el último centavo.
Mr. O'Connor shook his head in sympathy, and the old man fell silent, gazing into the fire. Someone opened the door of the room and called out:
El señor O'Connor movió la cabeza compasivamente, y el anciano guardó silencio, contemplando las llamas. Alguien abrió la puerta y exclamó:
"Hello! Is this a Freemason's meeting?"
—¡Oiga! ¿Esto es una reunión de la logia masónica?
"Who's that?" said the old man.
—¿Quién anda ahí? —preguntó el anciano.
"What are you doing in the dark?" asked a voice.
—¿Qué hacen en la oscuridad? —inquirió una voz.
"Is that you, Hynes?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Eres tú, Hynes? —preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"Yes. What are you doing in the dark?" said Mr. Hynes. advancing into the light of the fire.
—El mismo. ¿Por qué están a oscuras? —dijo el señor Hynes avanzando hacia el resplandor del fuego.
He was a tall, slender young man with a light brown moustache. Imminent little drops of rain hung at the brim of his hat and the collar of his jacket-coat was turned up.
Era un joven alto y delgado con bigote castaño claro. Minúsculas gotas de lluvia pendían del ala de su sombrero y tenía subido el cuello de la chaqueta.
"Well, Mat," he said to Mr. O'Connor, "how goes it?"
—Bueno, Mat —le dijo al señor O'Connor—, ¿cómo van las cosas?
Mr. O'Connor shook his head. The old man left the hearth and after stumbling about the room returned with two candlesticks which he thrust one after the other into the fire and carried to the table. A denuded room came into view and the fire lost all its cheerful colour. The walls of the room were bare except for a copy of an election address. In the middle of the room was a small table on which papers were heaped.
El señor O'Connor negó con la cabeza. El anciano se apartó de la chimenea y, tras tropezar por la habitación, regresó con dos candelabros que introdujo uno tras otro en el fuego antes de colocarlos sobre la mesa. Emergió una estancia desnuda y las llamas perdieron su color acogedor. Las paredes estaban desnudas excepto por un ejemplar de un discurso electoral. En el centro, una mesita amontonaba papeles.
Mr. Hynes leaned against the mantelpiece and asked:
El señor Hynes se apoyó en la repisa de la chimenea y preguntó:
"Has he paid you yet?"
—¿Ya les ha pagado?
"Not yet," said Mr. O'Connor. "I hope to God he'll not leave us in the lurch tonight."
—Todavía no —dijo el señor O'Connor—. Espero a Dios que no nos deje colgados esta noche.
Mr. Hynes laughed.
El señor Hynes se rió.
"O, he'll pay you. Never fear," he said.
—Oh, os pagará. No temáis —dijo.
"I hope he'll look smart about it if he means business," said Mr. O'Connor.
—Ojalá se dé prisa si quiere que esto funcione —dijo el señor O'Connor.
"What do you think, Jack?" said Mr. Hynes satirically to the old man.
—¿Qué opinas, Jack? —preguntó el señor Hynes con sorna al anciano.
The old man returned to his seat by the fire, saying:
El anciano volvió a su asiento junto al fuego, diciendo:
"It isn't but he has it, anyway. Not like the other tinker."
—No es que no lo tenga, de todos modos. No como el otro estafador.
"What other tinker?" said Mr. Hynes.
—¿Qué otro estafador? —preguntó el señor Hynes.
"Colgan," said the old man scornfully.
—Colgan —respondió el anciano con desdén.
"It is because Colgan's a working—man you say that? What's the difference between a good honest bricklayer and a publican—eh? Hasn't the working-man as good a right to be in the Corporation as anyone else—ay, and a better right than those shoneens that are always hat in hand before any fellow with a handle to his name? Isn't that so, Mat?" said Mr. Hynes, addressing Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Es porque Colgan es un obrero lo que decís eso? ¿Qué diferencia hay entre un buen albañil honrado y un tabernero, eh? ¿Acaso el obrero no tiene tanto derecho como cualquiera a estar en la Corporación? ¡Y más derecho que esos lambiscones que siempre andan con el sombrero en la mano ante cualquier tipo con título! ¿No es así, Mat? —dijo el señor Hynes dirigiéndose al señor O'Connor.
"I think you're right," said Mr. O'Connor.
—Creo que tenéis razón —dijo el señor O'Connor.
"One man is a plain honest man with no hunker-sliding about him. He goes in to represent the labour classes. This fellow you're working for only wants to get some job or other."
—Uno es un hombre sencillo y honrado sin dobleces. Entra para representar a la clase obrera. Este tipo por el que trabajáis solo quiere conseguir algún chollo.
"Of course, the working-classes should be represented," said the old man.
—Claro que la clase obrera debe tener representación —dijo el anciano.
"The working-man," said Mr. Hynes, "gets all kicks and no halfpence. But it's labour produces everything. The workingman is not looking for fat jobs for his sons and nephews and cousins. The working-man is not going to drag the honour of Dublin in the mud to please a German monarch."
—El trabajador —dijo el señor Hynes— recibe solo palos y ni una mísera moneda. Pero es el trabajo lo que produce todo. El obrero no busca puestos jugosos para sus hijos, sobrinos y primos. El obrero no va a arrastrar el honor de Dublín por el fango para complacer a un monarca alemán.
"How's that?" said the old man.
—¿Cómo dices? —preguntó el anciano.
"Don't you know they want to present an address of welcome to Edward Rex if he comes here next year? What do we want kowtowing to a foreign king?"
—¿No sabéis que quieren presentar un discurso de bienvenida a Eduardo Rex si viene el año que viene? ¿Para qué queremos humillarnos ante un rey extranjero?
"Our man won't vote for the address," said Mr. O'Connor. "He goes in on the Nationalist ticket."
—Nuestro hombre no votará por el discurso —dijo el señor O'Connor—. Él va con la lista nacionalista.
"Won't he?" said Mr. Hynes. "Wait till you see whether he will or not. I know him. Is it Tricky Dicky Tierney?"
—¿No lo hará? —dijo el señor Hynes—. Esperad a ver si lo hace o no. Yo lo conozco. ¿Se trata del Pícaro Dicky Tierney?
"By God! perhaps you're right, Joe," said Mr. O'Connor. "Anyway, I wish he'd turn up with the spondulics."
—¡Por Dios! Quizás tengas razón, Joe —dijo el señor O'Connor—. En cualquier caso, ojalá aparezca con el parné.
The three men fell silent. The old man began to rake more cinders together. Mr. Hynes took off his hat, shook it and then turned down the collar of his coat, displaying, as he did so, an ivy leaf in the lapel.
Los tres hombres guardaron silencio. El anciano comenzó a reunir más cenizas. El señor Hynes se quitó el sombrero, lo sacudió y luego bajó el cuello de su abrigo, mostrando una hoja de hiedra en la solapa.
"If this man was alive," he said, pointing to the leaf, "we'd have no talk of an address of welcome."
—Si este hombre viviera —dijo señalando la hoja—, no estaríamos hablando de discursos de bienvenida.
"That's true," said Mr. O'Connor.
—Es cierto —dijo el señor O'Connor.
"Musha, God be with them times!" said the old man. "There was some life in it then."
—¡Dios bendiga aquellos tiempos! —exclamó el anciano—. Entonces sí que había vida.
The room was silent again. Then a bustling little man with a snuffling nose and very cold ears pushed in the door. He walked over quickly to the fire, rubbing his hands as if he intended to produce a spark from them.
La habitación quedó en silencio de nuevo. Entonces entró apresuradamente un hombrecillo de nariz mocosa y orejas heladas. Se acercó rápido al fuego frotándose las manos como queriendo sacar chispas de ellas.
"No money, boys," he said.
—Nada de dinero, muchachos —dijo.
"Sit down here, Mr. Henchy," said the old man, offering him his chair.
—Tome asiento aquí, señor Henchy —dijo el anciano ofreciéndole su silla.
"O, don't stir, Jack, don't stir," said Mr. Henchy
—Oh, no te muevas, Jack, no te molestes —dijo el señor Henchy.
He nodded curtly to Mr. Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old man vacated.
Asintió secamente al señor Hynes y ocupó la silla que el anciano había dejado.
"Did you serve Aungier Street?" he asked Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Cubriste Aungier Street? —preguntó al señor O'Connor.
"Yes," said Mr. O'Connor, beginning to search his pockets for memoranda.
—Sí —respondió el señor O'Connor, buscando memorandos en sus bolsillos.
"Did you call on Grimes?"
—¿Visitaste a Grimes?
"I did."
—Sí.
"Well? How does he stand?"
—¿Y bien? ¿Cómo está posicionado?
"He wouldn't promise. He said: 'I won't tell anyone what way I'm going to vote.' But I think he'll be all right."
—No quiso comprometerse. Dijo: "No diré a nadie cómo votaré". Pero creo que estará bien.
"Why so?"
—¿Por qué?
"He asked me who the nominators were; and I told him. I mentioned Father Burke's name. I think it'll be all right."
—Me preguntó los nombres de los nominadores. Le mencioné al padre Burke. Creo que funcionará.
Mr. Henchy began to snuffle and to rub his hands over the fire at a terrific speed. Then he said:
El señor Henchy comenzó a sorber y a frotarse las manos sobre el fuego con frenesí. Luego dijo:
"For the love of God, Jack, bring us a bit of coal. There must be some left."
—Por el amor de Dios, Jack, tráenos un poco de carbón. Debe quedar algo.
The old man went out of the room.
El anciano salió de la habitación.
"It's no go," said Mr. Henchy, shaking his head. "I asked the little shoeboy, but he said: 'Oh, now, Mr. Henchy, when I see work going on properly I won't forget you, you may be sure.' Mean little tinker! 'Usha, how could he be anything else?"
"No hay manera", dijo el señor Henchy, meneando la cabeza. "Se lo pedí al botones, pero me soltó: 'Ahora, señor Henchy, cuando vea que el trabajo avanza como es debido, no me olvidaré de usted, puede estar seguro'. ¡Mezquino bribonzuelo! Bah, ¿cómo iba a ser otra cosa?"
"What did I tell you, Mat?" said Mr. Hynes. "Tricky Dicky Tierney."
"¿Qué te dije, Mat?", dijo el señor Hynes. "El Pícaro Dicky Tierney".
"O, he's as tricky as they make 'em," said Mr. Henchy. "He hasn't got those little pigs' eyes for nothing. Blast his soul! Couldn't he pay up like a man instead of: 'O, now, Mr. Henchy, I must speak to Mr. Fanning.... I've spent a lot of money'? Mean little schoolboy of hell! I suppose he forgets the time his little old father kept the hand-me-down shop in Mary's Lane."
"Ah, es el más astuto de todos", dijo el señor Henchy. "No tiene esos ojillos de cerdo por nada. ¡Maldita sea su alma! ¿No podría pagar como un hombre en vez de: 'Ahora, señor Henchy, debo hablar con el señor Fanning... He gastado mucho dinero'? ¡Mezquino diablillo de sacristía! Supongo que habrá olvidado los tiempos en que su viejecito regentaba la tienda de ropa usada en Mary's Lane".
"But is that a fact?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
"Pero ¿es eso cierto?", preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"God, yes," said Mr. Henchy. "Did you never hear that? And the men used to go in on Sunday morning before the houses were open to buy a waistcoat or a trousers—moya! But Tricky Dicky's little old father always had a tricky little black bottle up in a corner. Do you mind now? That's that. That's where he first saw the light."
"Por Dios, sí", dijo el señor Henchy. "¿Nunca lo oíste? Los hombres solían entrar los domingos por la mañana, antes de que abrieran los comercios, a comprar un chaleco o un pantalón... ¡Vaya! Pero el viejecito del Pícaro Dicky siempre tenía una botellita escondida en un rincón. ¿Te acuerdas? Así es. Ahí fue donde él vio la luz por primera vez".
The old man returned with a few lumps of coal which he placed here and there on the fire.
El anciano regresó con unos cuantos trozos de carbón que colocó aquí y allá sobre el fuego.
"Thats a nice how-do-you-do," said Mr. O'Connor. "How does he expect us to work for him if he won't stump up?"
"Vaya manera de tratarnos", dijo el señor O'Connor. "¿Cómo espera que trabajemos para él si no suelta la pasta?"
"I can't help it," said Mr. Henchy. "I expect to find the bailiffs in the hall when I go home."
"No puedo remediarlo", dijo el señor Henchy. "Espero encontrarme a los alguaciles en el vestíbulo cuando vuelva a casa".
Mr. Hynes laughed and, shoving himself away from the mantelpiece with the aid of his shoulders, made ready to leave.
El señor Hynes rió y, apartándose de la repisa de la chimenea con un empujón de hombros, se dispuso a marcharse.
"It'll be all right when King Eddie comes," he said. "Well boys, I'm off for the present. See you later. 'Bye, 'bye."
"Todo se arreglará cuando llegue el Rey Eduardo", dijo. "Bueno, chicos, por ahora me despido. Hasta luego. Adiós, adiós".
He went out of the room slowly. Neither Mr. Henchy nor the old man said anything, but, just as the door was closing, Mr. O'Connor, who had been staring moodily into the fire, called out suddenly:
Salió lentamente de la habitación. Ni el señor Henchy ni el anciano dijeron nada, pero, justo cuando la puerta se cerraba, el señor O'Connor, que había estado contemplando el fuego con aire taciturno, exclamó de repente:
"'Bye, Joe."
"¡Adiós, Joe!"
Mr. Henchy waited a few moments and then nodded in the direction of the door.
El señor Henchy esperó unos instantes y luego hizo un gesto con la cabeza hacia la puerta.
"Tell me," he said across the fire, "what brings our friend in here? What does he want?"
"Dime", dijo al otro lado del fuego, "¿qué trae por aquí a nuestro amigo? ¿Qué busca?"
"'Usha, poor Joe!" said Mr. O'Connor, throwing the end of his cigarette into the fire, "he's hard up, like the rest of us."
"Bah, ¡el pobre Joe!", dijo el señor O'Connor, arrojando la colilla al fuego, "está en la ruina, como el resto de nosotros".
Mr. Henchy snuffled vigorously and spat so copiously that he nearly put out the fire, which uttered a hissing protest.
El señor Henchy resopló con fuerza y escupió tan copiosamente que casi apagó el fuego, el cual protestó con un siseo.
"To tell you my private and candid opinion," he said, "I think he's a man from the other camp. He's a spy of Colgan's, if you ask me. Just go round and try and find out how they're getting on. They won't suspect you. Do you twig?"
"Para decirte mi opinión privada y sincera", dijo, "creo que es un hombre del bando contrario. Un espía de Colgan, si me preguntas. Solo viene a husmear cómo nos va. No sospecharán de ti. ¿Captas?"
"Ah, poor Joe is a decent skin," said Mr. O'Connor.
"Ah, el pobre Joe es un buen tipo", dijo el señor O'Connor.
"His father was a decent, respectable man," Mr. Henchy admitted. "Poor old Larry Hynes! Many a good turn he did in his day! But I'm greatly afraid our friend is not nineteen carat. Damn it, I can understand a fellow being hard up, but what I can't understand is a fellow sponging. Couldn't he have some spark of manhood about him?"
"Su padre era un hombre decente y respetable", admitió el señor Henchy. "¡El pobre viejo Larry Hynes! ¡Muchas buenas obras hizo en su día! Pero me temo que nuestro amigo no es oro de ley. ¡Caramba! Comprendo que uno ande escaso de fondos, pero lo que no entiendo es que ande gorroneando. ¿No podría tener una pizca de dignidad?"
"He doesn't get a warm welcome from me when he comes," said the old man. "Let him work for his own side and not come spying around here."
"No le doy una cálida bienvenida cuando viene", dijo el anciano. "Que trabaje para su bando y no venga a espiar por aquí".
"I don't know," said Mr. O'Connor dubiously, as he took out cigarette-papers and tobacco. "I think Joe Hynes is a straight man. He's a clever chap, too, with the pen. Do you remember that thing he wrote...?"
"No sé", dijo el señor O'Connor con duda, mientras sacaba papel de liar y tabaco. "Creo que Joe Hynes es un tipo honrado. Además, tiene talento con la pluma. ¿Recuerdas aquel artículo que escribió...?"
"Some of these hillsiders and fenians are a bit too clever if ask me," said Mr. Henchy. "Do you know what my private and candid opinion is about some of those little jokers? I believe half of them are in the pay of the Castle."
"Algunos de esos rebeldes y fenianos son un pelín listos si me preguntas", dijo el señor Henchy. "¿Sabes cuál es mi opinión privada sobre esos bromistas? Creo que la mitad están a sueldo del Castillo".
"There's no knowing," said the old man.
"Nunca se sabe", dijo el anciano.
"O, but I know it for a fact," said Mr. Henchy. "They're Castle hacks.... I don't say Hynes.... No, damn it, I think he's a stroke above that.... But there's a certain little nobleman with a cock-eye—you know the patriot I'm alluding to?"
"Ah, pero lo sé de buena tinta", dijo el señor Henchy. "Son títeres del Castillo... No digo que Hynes... No, caramba, creo que está un peldaño por encima... Pero hay cierto nobletecillo bizco... ¿sabes a qué patriota me refiero?"
Mr. O'Connor nodded.
El señor O'Connor asintió.
"There's a lineal descendant of Major Sirr for you if you like! O, the heart's blood of a patriot! That's a fellow now that'd sell his country for fourpence—ay—and go down on his bended knees and thank the Almighty Christ he had a country to sell."
—¡Ahí tienen a un descendiente directo del Mayor Sirr, si les place! ¡Oh, la sangre vital de un patriota! Ese es un tipo que vendería su patria por cuatro peniques —sí— y se arrodillaría para dar gracias a Cristo Todopoderoso por tener una patria que vender.
There was a knock at the door.
Llamaron a la puerta.
"Come in!" said Mr. Henchy.
—¡Adelante! —dijo el señor Henchy.
A person resembling a poor clergyman or a poor actor appeared in the doorway. His black clothes were tightly buttoned on his short body and it was impossible to say whether he wore a clergyman's collar or a layman's, because the collar of his shabby frock-coat, the uncovered buttons of which reflected the candlelight, was turned up about his neck. He wore a round hat of hard black felt. His face, shining with raindrops, had the appearance of damp yellow cheese save where two rosy spots indicated the cheekbones. He opened his very long mouth suddenly to express disappointment and at the same time opened wide his very bright blue eyes to express pleasure and surprise.
En el umbral apareció una figura que podía pasar por un clérigo pobre o un actor fracasado. Su traje negro, ajustado a un cuerpo rechoncho, no permitía distinguir si llevaba alzacuello o ropa laical, pues el cuello de su raída levita —cuyos botones desprovistos de forro reflejaban la luz de las velas— estaba subido hasta el cuello. Lucía un sombrero hongo de fieltro negro. Su rostro, brillante por las gotas de lluvia, semejaba un queso amarillento y húmedo, salvo dos manchas rosáceas en los pómulos. Abrió de súbito su larguísima boca para expresar decepción, mientras sus ojos azulísimos se dilataban denotando placer y sorpresa.
"O Father Keon!" said Mr. Henchy, jumping up from his chair. "Is that you? Come in!"
—¡Padre Keon! —exclamó el señor Henchy levantándose de un salto—. ¿Es usted? ¡Pase!
"O, no, no, no!" said Father Keon quickly, pursing his lips as if he were addressing a child.
—¡Oh, no, no, no! —repuso el padre Keon con premura, frunciendo los labios como si hablara a un niño.
"Won't you come in and sit down?"
—¿No quiere entrar y sentarse?
"No, no, no!" said Father Keon, speaking in a discreet, indulgent, velvety voice. "Don't let me disturb you now! I'm just looking for Mr. Fanning...."
—¡No, no, no! —dijo el padre Keon con voz discreta, indulgente y aterciopelada—. ¡No quiero molestarles! Solo busco al señor Fanning...
"He's round at the Black Eagle," said Mr. Henchy. "But won't you come in and sit down a minute?"
—Está en el Black Eagle —informó el señor Henchy—. ¿Seguro que no se queda un momento?
"No, no, thank you. It was just a little business matter," said Father Keon. "Thank you, indeed."
—No, no, gracias. Era un asuntillo sin importancia —dijo el padre Keon—. Se lo agradezco de verdad.
He retreated from the doorway and Mr. Henchy, seizing one of the candlesticks, went to the door to light him downstairs.
Retrocedió del umbral y el señor Henchy, tomando un candelabro, salió a alumbrarle por la escalera.
"O, don't trouble, I beg!"
—¡Oh, no se moleste, se lo ruego!
"No, but the stairs is so dark."
—Es que las escaleras están muy oscuras.
"No, no, I can see.... Thank you, indeed."
—No, no, veo bien... Gracias, de verdad.
"Are you right now?"
—¿Va bien ahora?
"All right, thanks.... Thanks."
—Perfecto, gracias... Gracias.
Mr. Henchy returned with the candlestick and put it on the table. He sat down again at the fire. There was silence for a few moments.
El señor Henchy regresó con el candelabro y lo depositó sobre la mesa. Volvió a sentarse junto al fuego. Reinó un breve silencio.
"Tell me, John," said Mr. O'Connor, lighting his cigarette with another pasteboard card.
—Dime, John —comenzó el señor O'Connor mientras encendía su cigarrillo con otra tarjeta de cartón—.
"Hm?"
—¿Hm?
"What he is exactly?"
—¿Qué es él exactamente?
"Ask me an easier one," said Mr. Henchy.
—Pregúntame algo más fácil —respondió el señor Henchy.
"Fanning and himself seem to me very thick. They're often in Kavanagh's together. Is he a priest at all?"
—Fanning y él parecen muy compinches. Siempre están juntos en lo de Kavanagh. ¿Es siquiera sacerdote?
"Mmmyes, I believe so.... I think he's what you call black sheep. We haven't many of them, thank God! but we have a few.... He's an unfortunate man of some kind...."
—Mmm sí, eso creo... Diría que es lo que llaman una oveja negra. ¡Gracias a Dios no tenemos muchas! Pero alguna hay... Es un desdichado de algún tipo...
"And how does he knock it out?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Y cómo se gana la vida? —preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"That's another mystery."
—Ese es otro misterio.
"Is he attached to any chapel or church or institution or—-"
—¿Está adscrito a alguna capilla, iglesia o institución...?
"No," said Mr. Henchy, "I think he's travelling on his own account.... God forgive me," he added, "I thought he was the dozen of stout."
—No —dijo el señor Henchy—. Creo que va por libre... Dios me perdone —añadió—, pensé que era la docena de cerveza negra.
"Is there any chance of a drink itself?" asked Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Habrá oportunidad de tomar algo? —preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"I'm dry too," said the old man.
—Yo también tengo sed —dijo el anciano.
"I asked that little shoeboy three times," said Mr. Henchy, "would he send up a dozen of stout. I asked him again now, but he was leaning on the counter in his shirt-sleeves having a deep goster with Alderman Cowley."
—Le pedí tres veces al botones —contó el señor Henchy— que subiera una docena de cerveza negra. Volví a insistir ahora, pero estaba apoyado en el mostrador en mangas de camisa, enfrascado en una charla con el concejal Cowley.
"Why didn't you remind him?" said Mr. O'Connor.
—¿Por qué no se lo recordaste? —preguntó el señor O'Connor.
"Well, I couldn't go over while he was talking to Alderman Cowley. I just waited till I caught his eye, and said: 'About that little matter I was speaking to you about....' 'That'll be all right, Mr. H.,' he said. Yerra, sure the little hop-o'-my-thumb has forgotten all about it."
—Bueno, no podía interrumpir mientras hablaba con el concejal. Esperé a captar su mirada y dije: 'Sobre ese asuntillo del que hablamos...'. 'Todo en orden, señor H.', respondió. Pero vamos, el pulgarcito se ha olvidado por completo.
"There's some deal on in that quarter," said Mr. O'Connor thoughtfully. "I saw the three of them hard at it yesterday at Suffolk Street corner."
—Algo traman por ahí —comentó el señor O'Connor pensativo—. Los vi a los tres muy ocupados ayer en la esquina de Suffolk Street.
"I think I know the little game they're at," said Mr. Henchy. "You must owe the City Fathers money nowadays if you want to be made Lord Mayor. Then they'll make you Lord Mayor. By God! I'm thinking seriously of becoming a City Father myself. What do you think? Would I do for the job?"
—Creo que sé su juego —dijo el señor Henchy—. Hoy día hay que deberles dinero a los Padres de la Ciudad si quieres ser alcalde. Entonces te nombran. ¡Por Dios! Estoy pensando en serio en volverme Padre de la Ciudad. ¿Qué opinas? ¿Serviría para el puesto?
Mr. O'Connor laughed.
El señor O'Connor rio.
"So far as owing money goes...."
—En lo que respecta a deber dinero...
"Driving out of the Mansion House," said Mr. Henchy, "in all my vermin, with Jack here standing up behind me in a powdered wig—eh?"
"—Saliendo de la Mansion House —dijo el señor Henchy—, con todos mis parásitos, y Jack aquí plantado detrás de mí con una peluca empolvada, ¿eh?"
"And make me your private secretary, John."
"—Y a mí de secretario privado, John."
"Yes. And I'll make Father Keon my private chaplain. We'll have a family party."
"—Sí. Y al padre Keon de capellán privado. Tendremos una reunión familiar."
"Faith, Mr. Henchy," said the old man, "you'd keep up better style than some of them. I was talking one day to old Keegan, the porter. 'And how do you like your new master, Pat?' says I to him. 'You haven't much entertaining now,' says I. 'Entertaining!' says he. 'He'd live on the smell of an oil-rag.' And do you know what he told me? Now, I declare to God I didn't believe him."
"—Por mi fe, señor Henchy —dijo el anciano—, usted mantendría mejor el estilo que algunos de ellos. El otro día hablaba con el viejo Keegan, el portero. '¿Y qué tal tu nuevo amo, Pat? —le digo—. No tenéis mucho agasajo ahora', le digo. '¡Agasajo! —dice él—. Viviría del olor a trapo aceitoso.' ¿Y saben lo que me contó? Les juro por Dios que no le creí."
"What?" said Mr. Henchy and Mr. O'Connor.
"—¿Qué?" —dijeron el señor Henchy y el señor O'Connor.
"He told me: 'What do you think of a Lord Mayor of Dublin sending out for a pound of chops for his dinner? How's that for high living?' says he. 'Wisha! wisha,' says I. 'A pound of chops,' says he, 'coming into the Mansion House.' 'Wisha!' says I, 'what kind of people is going at all now?"
"—Me dijo: '¿Qué le parece un Lord Alcalde de Dublín mandando a buscar una libra de chuletas para su cena? ¿Qué tal eso para vivir a lo grande?' —dice él—. '¡Vaya! ¡Vaya!' —le digo—. 'Una libra de chuletas —dice— entrando en la Mansion House.' '¡Vaya!' —le digo—, ¿qué clase de gente anda suelta ahora?"
At this point there was a knock at the door, and a boy put in his head.
En ese momento llamaron a la puerta, y un muchacho asomó la cabeza.
"What is it?" said the old man.
"—¿Qué se ofrece?" —preguntó el anciano.
"From the Black Eagle," said the boy, walking in sideways and depositing a basket on the floor with a noise of shaken bottles.
"—Del Black Eagle" —dijo el muchacho, entrando de lado y depositando una cesta en el suelo con el ruido de botellas sacudidas.
The old man helped the boy to transfer the bottles from the basket to the table and counted the full tally. After the transfer the boy put his basket on his arm and asked:
El anciano ayudó al chico a trasladar las botellas de la cesta a la mesa y contó el total completo. Tras el traslado, el muchacho colgó la cesta del brazo y preguntó:
"Any bottles?"
"—¿Botellas vacías?"
"What bottles?" said the old man.
"—¿Qué botellas?" —dijo el anciano.
"Won't you let us drink them first?" said Mr. Henchy.
"—¿No nos dejará beberlas primero?" —dijo el señor Henchy.
"I was told to ask for the bottles."
"—Me dijeron que pidiera las botellas."
"Come back tomorrow," said the old man.
"—Vuelva mañana" —dijo el anciano.
"Here, boy!" said Mr. Henchy, "will you run over to O'Farrell's and ask him to lend us a corkscrew—for Mr. Henchy, say. Tell him we won't keep it a minute. Leave the basket there."
"—¡Oiga, chico!" —dijo el señor Henchy—, "¿correría a O'Farrell's a pedirle que nos preste un sacacorchos? De parte del señor Henchy. Dígale que no tardamos ni un minuto. Deje la cesta allí."
The boy went out and Mr. Henchy began to rub his hands cheerfully, saying:
El muchacho salió y el señor Henchy comenzó a frotarse las manos con alegría, diciendo:
"Ah, well, he's not so bad after all. He's as good as his word, anyhow."
"—Ah, bueno, al fin y al cabo no es tan malo. Cumple su palabra, de todos modos."
"There's no tumblers," said the old man.
"—No hay vasos" —dijo el anciano.
"O, don't let that trouble you, Jack," said Mr. Henchy. "Many's the good man before now drank out of the bottle."
"—Oh, no se preocupe por eso, Jack —dijo el señor Henchy—. Muchos buenos hombres han bebido de la botella antes que nosotros."
"Anyway, it's better than nothing," said Mr. O'Connor.
"—Total, es mejor que nada" —dijo el señor O'Connor.
"He's not a bad sort," said Mr. Henchy, "only Fanning has such a loan of him. He means well, you know, in his own tinpot way."
"—No es mala persona —dijo el señor Henchy—, solo que Fanning lo tiene tan dominado. Tiene buenas intenciones, ya sabe, a su manera cutre."
The boy came back with the corkscrew. The old man opened three bottles and was handing back the corkscrew when Mr. Henchy said to the boy:
El muchacho regresó con el sacacorchos. El anciano abrió tres botellas y estaba devolviendo el utensilio cuando el señor Henchy le dijo al chico:
"Would you like a drink, boy?"
"—¿Quieres un trago, muchacho?"
"If you please, sir," said the boy.
"—Si hace el favor, señor" —dijo el muchacho.
The old man opened another bottle grudgingly, and handed it to the boy.
El anciano abrió otra botella de mala gana y se la entregó.
"What age are you?" he asked.
"—¿Qué edad tienes?" —preguntó.
"Seventeen," said the boy.
"—Diecisiete" —dijo el chico.
As the old man said nothing further, the boy took the bottle and said: "Here's my best respects, sir, to Mr. Henchy," drank the contents, put the bottle back on the table and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then he took up the corkscrew and went out of the door sideways, muttering some form of salutation.
Como el anciano no añadió nada, el muchacho tomó la botella y dijo: "Mis mejores respetos, señor, para el señor Henchy", bebió el contenido, dejó la botella en la mesa y se secó la boca con la manga. Luego tomó el sacacorchos y salió de la habitación de lado, murmurando algún saludo.
"That's the way it begins," said the old man.
"—Así empieza todo" —dijo el anciano.
"The thin edge of the wedge," said Mr. Henchy.
"—El principio del fin" —dijo el señor Henchy.
The old man distributed the three bottles which he had opened and the men drank from them simultaneously. After having drank each placed his bottle on the mantelpiece within hand's reach and drew in a long breath of satisfaction.
El anciano repartió las tres botellas abiertas y los hombres bebieron simultáneamente. Tras vaciarlas, cada uno colocó su botella en la repisa a mano y respiró hondo con satisfacción.
"Well, I did a good day's work today," said Mr. Henchy, after a pause.
"—Bueno, hoy hice un buen día de trabajo" —dijo el señor Henchy tras una pausa.
"That so, John?"
"—¿En serio, John?"
"Yes. I got him one or two sure things in Dawson Street, Crofton and myself. Between ourselves, you know, Crofton (he's a decent chap, of course), but he's not worth a damn as a canvasser. He hasn't a word to throw to a dog. He stands and looks at the people while I do the talking."
"—Sí. Conseguí un par de apoyos seguros en Dawson Street, Crofton y yo. Entre nosotros, ya saben, Crofton (es un tipo decente, claro), pero como campañista no vale un comino. No sabe dirigir la palabra ni a un perro. Se queda mirando a la gente mientras yo hablo."
Here two men entered the room. One of them was a very fat man whose blue serge clothes seemed to be in danger of falling from his sloping figure. He had a big face which resembled a young ox's face in expression, staring blue eyes and a grizzled moustache. The other man, who was much younger and frailer, had a thin, clean-shaven face. He wore a very high double collar and a wide-brimmed bowler hat.
Entraron dos hombres en la habitación. Uno era un hombre muy obeso cuyo traje de serena azul parecía correr peligro de desprenderse de su figura inclinada. Tenía un rostro ancho que en expresión recordaba al de un novillo, con ojos azules desorbitados y un bigote entrecano. El otro, mucho más joven y endeble, lucía un rostro delgado y afeitado al ras. Llevaba un cuello doble muy alto y un bombín de ala ancha.
"Hello, Crofton!" said Mr. Henchy to the fat man. "Talk of the devil..."
—¡Hola, Crofton! —saludó el señor Henchy al hombre obeso—. Hablando del rey de Roma...
"Where did the boose come from?" asked the young man. "Did the cow calve?"
—¿De dónde salió el trago? —preguntó el joven—. ¿La vaca parió?
"O, of course, Lyons spots the drink first thing!" said Mr. O'Connor, laughing.
—¡Oh, como siempre, Lyons huele la bebida al instante! —rió el señor O'Connor.
"Is that the way you chaps canvass," said Mr. Lyons, "and Crofton and I out in the cold and rain looking for votes?"
—¿Así es como hacen campaña ustedes? —dijo el señor Lyons— ¿Mientras Crofton y yo nos partimos el lomo bajo la lluvia buscando votos?
"Why, blast your soul," said Mr. Henchy, "I'd get more votes in five minutes than you two'd get in a week."
—Que te zurzan, —replicó el señor Henchy— Yo conseguiría más votos en cinco minutos que ustedes dos en una semana.
"Open two bottles of stout, Jack," said Mr. O'Connor.
—Abre dos botellas de cerveza negra, Jack —ordenó el señor O'Connor.
"How can I?" said the old man, "when there's no corkscrew?"
—¿Cómo voy a hacerlo? —respondió el anciano— Si no hay sacacorchos.
"Wait now, wait now!" said Mr. Henchy, getting up quickly. "Did you ever see this little trick?"
—Esperen, ¡esperen! —dijo el señor Henchy levantándose rápido— ¿Han visto este truco?
He took two bottles from the table and, carrying them to the fire, put them on the hob. Then he sat down again by the fire and took another drink from his bottle. Mr. Lyons sat on the edge of the table, pushed his hat towards the nape of his neck and began to swing his legs.
Tomó dos botellas de la mesa y, llevándolas a la chimenea, las colocó en el rescoldo. Luego volvió a sentarse junto al fuego y tomó otro trago de su botella. El señor Lyons se acomodó al borde de la mesa, empujó su sombrero hacia la nuca y comenzó a balancear las piernas.
"Which is my bottle?" he asked.
—¿Cuál es mi botella? —preguntó.
"This, lad," said Mr. Henchy.
—Esta, muchacho —respondió el señor Henchy.
Mr. Crofton sat down on a box and looked fixedly at the other bottle on the hob. He was silent for two reasons. The first reason, sufficient in itself, was that he had nothing to say; the second reason was that he considered his companions beneath him. He had been a canvasser for Wilkins, the Conservative, but when the Conservatives had withdrawn their man and, choosing the lesser of two evils, given their support to the Nationalist candidate, he had been engaged to work for Mr. Tiemey.
El señor Crofton se sentó en un cajón y clavó la mirada en la otra botella del rescoldo. Guardaba silencio por dos razones. La primera, suficiente por sí misma, era que no tenía nada que decir; la segunda, que consideraba a sus compañeros inferiores. Había sido agitador para Wilkins, el conservador, pero cuando los conservadores retiraron a su candidato y, escogiendo el menor de dos males, brindaron su apoyo al candidato nacionalista, lo habían contratado para trabajar para el señor Tierney.
In a few minutes an apologetic "Pok!" was heard as the cork flew out of Mr. Lyons' bottle. Mr. Lyons jumped off the table, went to the fire, took his bottle and carried it back to the table.
A los pocos minutos se escuchó un "¡Pok!" disculpable cuando el corcho salió disparado de la botella del señor Lyons. Este saltó de la mesa, fue a la chimenea, tomó su botella y la llevó de vuelta.
"I was just telling them, Crofton," said Mr. Henchy, "that we got a good few votes today."
—Justo les decía, Crofton —comentó el señor Henchy— que hoy conseguimos unos cuantos votos.
"Who did you get?" asked Mr. Lyons.
—¿A quiénes? —preguntó el señor Lyons.
"Well, I got Parkes for one, and I got Atkinson for two, and got Ward of Dawson Street. Fine old chap he is, too—regular old toff, old Conservative! 'But isn't your candidate a Nationalist?' said he. 'He's a respectable man,' said I. 'He's in favour of whatever will benefit this country. He's a big ratepayer,' I said. 'He has extensive house property in the city and three places of business and isn't it to his own advantage to keep down the rates? He's a prominent and respected citizen,' said I, 'and a Poor Law Guardian, and he doesn't belong to any party, good, bad, or indifferent.' That's the way to talk to 'em."
—Bueno, a Parkes para empezar, luego a Atkinson y a Ward de Dawson Street. Un viejo caballero de primera, ¡conservador de pura cepa! "¿Pero su candidato no es nacionalista?", me dice. "Es un hombre respetable", le contesto. "Está a favor de lo que beneficie al país. Es un gran contribuyente", le digo. "Posee extensas propiedades en la ciudad y tres negocios, ¿y acaso no le conviene mantener bajas las tasas? Es un ciudadano prominente y respetado", le dije, "Guardian de la Ley de Pobres, y no milita en ningún partido, bueno, malo o regular". Así se les habla.
"And what about the address to the King?" said Mr. Lyons, after drinking and smacking his lips.
—¿Y qué hay de la proclama al Rey? —preguntó el señor Lyons tras beber y relamerse.
"Listen to me," said Mr. Henchy. "What we want in thus country, as I said to old Ward, is capital. The King's coming here will mean an influx of money into this country. The citizens of Dublin will benefit by it. Look at all the factories down by the quays there, idle! Look at all the money there is in the country if we only worked the old industries, the mills, the ship-building yards and factories. It's capital we want."
—Escúchenme —dijo el señor Henchy— Lo que necesitamos en este país, como le dije al viejo Ward, es capital. La visita del Rey significará una inyección de dinero. Los dublineses se beneficiarán. Miren todas las fábricas junto a los muelles, ¡paradas! Miren el dinero que hay si relanzáramos las viejas industrias: molinos, astilleros, fábricas. Capital es lo que nos falta.
"But look here, John," said Mr. O'Connor. "Why should we welcome the King of England? Didn't Parnell himself..."
—Pero oiga, John —intervino el señor O'Connor— ¿Por qué dar la bienvenida al Rey de Inglaterra? ¿Acaso el propio Parnell no...
"Parnell," said Mr. Henchy, "is dead. Now, here's the way I look at it. Here's this chap come to the throne after his old mother keeping him out of it till the man was grey. He's a man of the world, and he means well by us. He's a jolly fine decent fellow, if you ask me, and no damn nonsense about him. He just says to himself: 'The old one never went to see these wild Irish. By Christ, I'll go myself and see what they're like.' And are we going to insult the man when he comes over here on a friendly visit? Eh? Isn't that right, Crofton?"
—Parnell —dijo el señor Henchy— está muerto. Ahora, así es como yo lo veo. Aquí tenemos a este tipo que sube al trono después de que su vieja madre lo mantuviera apartado hasta encanecer. Es un hombre de mundo, y nos desea bien. Es un tipo decente y jovial, si me preguntan, sin malditas tonterías. Simplemente se dice: "El viejo nunca fue a ver a esos irlandeses salvajes. Por Cristo, iré yo mismo a ver cómo son". ¿Y vamos a insultarlo cuando viene aquí de visita amistosa? ¿Eh? ¿No es así, Crofton?
Mr. Crofton nodded his head.
El señor Crofton asintió con la cabeza.
"But after all now," said Mr. Lyons argumentatively, "King Edward's life, you know, is not the very..."
—Pero después de todo —argumentó el señor Lyons—, la vida del rey Eduardo, ya saben, no es precisamente...
"Let bygones be bygones," said Mr. Henchy. "I admire the man personally. He's just an ordinary knockabout like you and me. He's fond of his glass of grog and he's a bit of a rake, perhaps, and he's a good sportsman. Damn it, can't we Irish play fair?"
—Lo pasado, pasado —interrumpió el señor Henchy—. Yo lo admiro personalmente. Es un tipo común como usted y yo. Le gusta su trago y quizás es un poco libertino, pero buen deportista. ¡Demonios! ¿Acaso los irlandeses no podemos jugar limpio?
"That's all very fine," said Mr. Lyons. "But look at the case of Parnell now."
—Eso está muy bien —dijo el señor Lyons—. Pero miren el caso de Parnell.
"In the name of God," said Mr. Henchy, "where's the analogy between the two cases?"
—En el nombre de Dios —exclamó el señor Henchy—, ¿qué analogía hay entre ambos casos?
"What I mean," said Mr. Lyons, "is we have our ideals. Why, now, would we welcome a man like that? Do you think now after what he did Parnell was a fit man to lead us? And why, then, would we do it for Edward the Seventh?"
—Lo que quiero decir —continuó el señor Lyons— es que tenemos nuestros ideales. ¿Por qué, díganme, recibiríamos a un hombre así? ¿Creen acaso que Parnell, después de lo que hizo, era apto para liderarnos? ¿Y por qué habríamos de hacerlo entonces por Eduardo Séptimo?
"This is Parnell's anniversary," said Mr. O'Connor, "and don't let us stir up any bad blood. We all respect him now that he's dead and gone—even the Conservatives," he added, turning to Mr. Crofton.
—Hoy es el aniversario de Parnell —intervino el señor O'Connor—, no revivamos viejas rencillas. Todos lo respetamos ahora que está muerto y enterrado... hasta los conservadores —añadió, dirigiéndose al señor Crofton.
Pok! The tardy cork flew out of Mr. Crofton's bottle. Mr. Crofton got up from his box and went to the fire. As he returned with his capture he said in a deep voice:
¡Pok! El corcho rezagado salió volando de la botella del señor Crofton. Este se levantó de su caja y se acercó al fuego. Al regresar con su botella, dijo con voz grave:
"Our side of the house respects him, because he was a gentleman."
—Nuestro bando lo respeta porque era un caballero.
"Right you are, Crofton!" said Mr. Henchy fiercely. "He was the only man that could keep that bag of cats in order. 'Down, ye dogs! Lie down, ye curs!' That's the way he treated them. Come in, Joe! Come in!" he called out, catching sight of Mr. Hynes in the doorway.
—¡Así se habla, Crofton! —rugió el señor Henchy—. Él era el único que podía mantener en orden a esa jauría. "¡Abajo, perros! ¡Echados, sabandijas!" Así los trataba. ¡Pasa, Joe! ¡Pasa! —gritó al avistar al señor Hynes en la puerta.
Mr. Hynes came in slowly.
El señor Hynes entró lentamente.
"Open another bottle of stout, Jack," said Mr. Henchy. "O, I forgot there's no corkscrew! Here, show me one here and I'll put it at the fire."
—Abre otra stout, Jack —ordenó el señor Henchy—. ¡Ah, olvidaba que no hay sacacorchos! Dame otra y la pondré al fuego.
The old man handed him another bottle and he placed it on the hob.
El anciano le entregó otra botella y él la colocó en la hornilla.
"Sit down, Joe," said Mr. O'Connor, "we're just talking about the Chief."
—Siéntate, Joe —dijo el señor O'Connor—, estábamos hablando del Jefe.
"Ay, ay!" said Mr. Henchy.
—¡Eh, eh! —asintió el señor Henchy.
Mr. Hynes sat on the side of the table near Mr. Lyons but said nothing.
El señor Hynes se sentó al borde de la mesa cerca del señor Lyons, pero permaneció en silencio.
"There's one of them, anyhow," said Mr. Henchy, "that didn't renege him. By God, I'll say for you, Joe! No, by God, you stuck to him like a man!"
—Ahí tienen a uno que no lo traicionó —señaló el señor Henchy—. ¡Por Dios, Joe, hay que reconocértelo! No, ¡por Dios, te mantuviste firme como un hombre!
"O, Joe," said Mr. O'Connor suddenly. "Give us that thing you wrote—do you remember? Have you got it on you?"
—Oye, Joe —dijo de pronto el señor O'Connor—, recítanos esa cosa que escribiste... ¿la recuerdas? ¿La tienes encima?
"O, ay!" said Mr. Henchy. "Give us that. Did you ever hear that. Crofton? Listen to this now: splendid thing."
—¡Ah, sí! —exclamó el señor Henchy—. Dánosla. ¿La has oído, Crofton? Escuchen esto: una obra maestra.
"Go on," said Mr. O'Connor. "Fire away, Joe."
—Adelante —animó el señor O'Connor—. Desembucha, Joe.
Mr. Hynes did not seem to remember at once the piece to which they were alluding, but, after reflecting a while, he said:
El señor Hynes no pareció recordar de inmediato el poema aludido, pero tras reflexionar un momento, dijo:
"O, that thing is it.... Sure, that's old now."
—Ah, esa cosa... Vamos, ya es vieja.
"Out with it, man!" said Mr. O'Connor.
—¡Suéltala, hombre! —insistió el señor O'Connor.
"'Sh, 'sh," said Mr. Henchy. "Now, Joe!"
—Sh, sh —hizo el señor Henchy—. ¡Vamos, Joe!
Mr. Hynes hesitated a little longer. Then amid the silence he took off his hat, laid it on the table and stood up. He seemed to be rehearsing the piece in his mind. After a rather long pause he announced:
El señor Hynes vaciló un poco más. Luego, en medio del silencio, se quitó el sombrero, lo dejó sobre la mesa y se puso de pie. Parecía repasar mentalmente los versos. Tras una larga pausa, anunció:
THE DEATH OF PARNELL
LA MUERTE DE PARNELL
6th October, 1891
6 de octubre de 1891
He cleared his throat once or twice and then began to recite:
Se aclaró la garganta un par de veces y comenzó a declamar:
He is dead. Our Uncrowned King is dead.
Ha muerto. Nuestro Rey sin Corona ha muerto.
O, Erin, mourn with grief and woe
¡Oh, Erin, llora con aflicción y dolor
For he lies dead whom the fell gang
Pues yace muerto aquel que la horda vil
Of modern hypocrites laid low.
De hipócritas modernos abatió.
He lies slain by the coward hounds
Cayó acuchillado por cobardes canes
He raised to glory from the mire;
Que él elevó del fango a la gloria;
And Erin's hopes and Erin's dreams
Y las esperanzas y sueños de Erin
Perish upon her monarch's pyre.
Perecen en la pira de su rey.
In palace, cabin or in cot
En palacio, cabaña o humilde choza
The Irish heart where'er it be
El corazón irlandés, donde quiera que esté,
Is bowed with woe—for he is gone
Se inclina de pena, pues ha partido
Who would have wrought her destiny.
Quien su destino habría forjado.
He would have had his Erin famed,
Él quiso ver a Erin renombrada,
The green flag gloriously unfurled,
Su enseña verde desplegada con honor,
Her statesmen, bards and warriors raised
Sus estadistas, bardos y guerreros
Before the nations of the World.
Erguidos ante el mundo entero.
He dreamed (alas, 'twas but a dream!)
Soñó (¡ay, mas sólo fue un sueño!)
Of Liberty: but as he strove
Con Libertad, mas mientras forcejeaba
To clutch that idol, treachery
Por asir ese ídolo, la traición
Sundered him from the thing he loved.
Lo apartó de lo que más amaba.
Shame on the coward, caitiff hands
Vergüenza sobre las manos viles
That smote their Lord or with a kiss
Que golpearon a su señor o con beso
Betrayed him to the rabble-rout
Lo entregaron a la chusma ruidosa
Of fawning priests—no friends of his.
De sacerdotes aduladores, jamás sus amigos.
May everlasting shame consume
Que la vergüenza eterna consuma
The memory of those who tried
El recuerdo de quienes intentaron
To befoul and smear the exalted name
Manchar y ensuciar el noble nombre
Of one who spurned them in his pride.
De quien los desdeñó con altivez.
He fell as fall the mighty ones,
Cayó como caen los grandes,
Nobly undaunted to the last,
Noblemente impávido hasta el final,
And death has now united him
Y ahora la muerte lo ha unido
With Erin's heroes of the past.
A los héroes del pasado de Erin.
No sound of strife disturb his sleep!
¡Que ningún estruendo altere su sueño!
Calmly he rests: no human pain
Reposa en calma: ni el dolor humano
Or high ambition spurs him now
Ni altas ambiciones lo impulsan ya
The peaks of glory to attain.
A escalar las cumbres de la gloria.
They had their way: they laid him low.
Se salieron con la suya: lo derribaron.
But Erin, list, his spirit may
Mas escucha, Erin: su espíritu tal vez
Rise, like the Phoenix from the flames,
Surja, cual Fénix de las llamas,
When breaks the dawning of the day,
Cuando rompa el alba del día,
The day that brings us Freedom's reign.
El día que nos traiga el reino de la Libertad.
And on that day may Erin well
Y en ese día, bien puede Erin
Pledge in the cup she lifts to Joy
Brindar en la copa que alza a la Alegría
One grief—the memory of Parnell.
Con un luto: el recuerdo de Parnell.
Mr. Hynes sat down again on the table. When he had finished his recitation there was a silence and then a burst of clapping: even Mr. Lyons clapped. The applause continued for a little time. When it had ceased all the auditors drank from their bottles in silence.
El señor Hynes volvió a sentarse en la mesa. Cuando terminó su recitación, hubo un silencio seguido de una salva de aplausos: hasta el señor Lyons aplaudió. Los vítores continuaron un breve momento. Cuando cesaron, todos los presentes bebieron de sus botellas en silencio.
Pok! The cork flew out of Mr. Hynes' bottle, but Mr. Hynes remained sitting flushed and bare-headed on the table. He did not seem to have heard the invitation.
¡Pop! El corcho salió disparado de la botella del señor Hynes, pero este permaneció sentado, congestionado y sin sombrero, sobre la mesa. Parecía no haber oído la invitación.
"Good man, Joe!" said Mr. O'Connor, taking out his cigarette papers and pouch the better to hide his emotion.
—¡Bravo, Joe! —dijo el señor O'Connor, sacando sus papeles de cigarrillo y la petaca para disimular su emoción.
"What do you think of that, Crofton?" cried Mr. Henchy. "Isn't that fine? What?"
—¿Qué le parece eso, Crofton? —exclamó el señor Henchy—. ¿No es magnífico? ¿Eh?
Crofton said that it was a very fine piece of writing.
Crofton dijo que era una composición excelente.
A MOTHER
UNA MADRE
MR HOLOHAN, assistant secretary of the Eire Abu Society, had been walking up and down Dublin for nearly a month, with his hands and pockets full of dirty pieces of paper, arranging about the series of concerts. He had a game leg and for this his friends called him Hoppy Holohan. He walked up and down constantly, stood by the hour at street corners arguing the point and made notes; but in the end it was Mrs. Kearney who arranged everything.
EL SEÑOR HOLOHAN, secretario adjunto de la Sociedad Eire Abu, llevaba casi un mes recorriendo Dublín con las manos y los bolsillos llenos de papeles sucios, organizando la serie de conciertos. Tenía una pierna maltrecha, por lo que sus amigos lo llamaban Holohan el Renco. Iba de aquí para allá sin cesar, pasaba horas en las esquinas discutiendo detalles y tomando notas; pero al final fue la señora Kearney quien lo organizó todo.
Miss Devlin had become Mrs. Kearney out of spite. She had been educated in a high-class convent, where she had learned French and music. As she was naturally pale and unbending in manner she made few friends at school. When she came to the age of marriage she was sent out to many houses, where her playing and ivory manners were much admired. She sat amid the chilly circle of her accomplishments, waiting for some suitor to brave it and offer her a brilliant life. But the young men whom she met were ordinary and she gave them no encouragement, trying to console her romantic desires by eating a great deal of Turkish Delight in secret. However, when she drew near the limit and her friends began to loosen their tongues about her, she silenced them by marrying Mr. Kearney, who was a bootmaker on Ormond Quay.
La señorita Devlin se había convertido en la señora Kearney por despecho. Se había educado en un convento de alta clase, donde aprendió francés y música. Como era de natural pálida y de modales rígidos, hizo pocas amigas en la escuela. Al llegar a la edad de merecer, la enviaron a muchas casas, donde sus dotes musicales y sus modales refinados fueron muy admirados. Se sentaba en medio del gélido círculo de sus talentos, esperando que algún pretendiente se aventurara a ofrecerle una vida espléndida. Pero los jóvenes que conoció eran mediocres y no les dio esperanzas, consolando sus anhelos románticos con grandes cantidades de Delicias Turcas a escondidas. Sin embargo, cuando rozó el límite y sus amigas comenzaron a cuchichear, las silenció casándose con el señor Kearney, un zapatero del muelle Ormond.
He was much older than she. His conversation, which was serious, took place at intervals in his great brown beard. After the first year of married life, Mrs. Kearney perceived that such a man would wear better than a romantic person, but she never put her own romantic ideas away. He was sober, thrifty and pious; he went to the altar every first Friday, sometimes with her, oftener by himself. But she never weakened in her religion and was a good wife to him. At some party in a strange house when she lifted her eyebrow ever so slightly he stood up to take his leave and, when his cough troubled him, she put the eider-down quilt over his feet and made a strong rum punch. For his part, he was a model father. By paying a small sum every week into a society, he ensured for both his daughters a dowry of one hundred pounds each when they came to the age of twenty-four. He sent the older daughter, Kathleen, to a good convent, where she learned French and music, and afterward paid her fees at the Academy. Every year in the month of July Mrs. Kearney found occasion to say to some friend:
Él era mucho mayor que ella. Sus conversaciones, de carácter serio, surgían a intervalos entre su gran barba castaña. Tras el primer año de matrimonio, la Sra. Kearney comprendió que un hombre así envejecería mejor que uno romántico, aunque nunca abandonó sus propias ideas idealizadas. Él era sobrio, ahorrativo y piadoso; acudía al altar cada primer viernes, a veces con ella, más frecuentemente solo. Pero ella nunca flaqueó en su fe y fue una buena esposa. En alguna velada en casa ajena, cuando ella alzaba levemente una ceja, él se levantaba para despedirse, y cuando la tos lo acosaba, ella le arropaba los pies con el edredón y preparaba un ponche de ron vigoroso. Por su parte, él era un padre ejemplar. Mediante un pequeño pago semanal a una sociedad, aseguró una dote de cien libras para cada hija al cumplir los veinticuatro años. Envió a Kathleen, la mayor, a un buen convento donde aprendió francés y música, y luego costeó sus estudios en la Academia. Cada julio, la Sra. Kearney comentaba a alguna amiga:
"My good man is packing us off to Skerries for a few weeks."
—Mi buen marido nos despacha a Skerries por unas semanas.
If it was not Skerries it was Howth or Greystones.
Si no era Skerries, era Howth o Greystones.
When the Irish Revival began to be appreciable Mrs. Kearney determined to take advantage of her daughter's name and brought an Irish teacher to the house. Kathleen and her sister sent Irish picture postcards to their friends and these friends sent back other Irish picture postcards. On special Sundays, when Mr. Kearney went with his family to the pro-cathedral, a little crowd of people would assemble after mass at the corner of Cathedral Street. They were all friends of the Kearneys—musical friends or Nationalist friends; and, when they had played every little counter of gossip, they shook hands with one another all together, laughing at the crossing of so man hands, and said good-bye to one another in Irish. Soon the name of Miss Kathleen Kearney began to be heard often on people's lips. People said that she was very clever at music and a very nice girl and, moreover, that she was a believer in the language movement. Mrs. Kearney was well content at this. Therefore she was not surprised when one day Mr. Holohan came to her and proposed that her daughter should be the accompanist at a series of four grand concerts which his Society was going to give in the Antient Concert Rooms. She brought him into the drawing-room, made him sit down and brought out the decanter and the silver biscuit-barrel. She entered heart and soul into the details of the enterprise, advised and dissuaded: and finally a contract was drawn up by which Kathleen was to receive eight guineas for her services as accompanist at the four grand concerts.
Cuando el Renacimiento Irlandés cobró fuerza, la Sra. Kearney decidió aprovechar el nombre de su hija y contrató a un profesor de irlandés. Kathleen y su hermana enviaban postales ilustradas en gaélico a sus amigos, quienes respondían con otras similares. Los domingos especiales, cuando la familia Kearney acudía a la pro-catedral, un grupito se reunía tras la misa en la esquina de Cathedral Street. Eran amigos musicales o nacionalistas; después de agotar cada murmullo, se estrechaban las manos en conjunto, riendo por el cruce de tantas palmas, y se despedían en irlandés. Pronto el nombre de Kathleen Kearney resonó con frecuencia. Decían que era hábil con la música, una muchacha agradable y, además, partidaria del movimiento lingüístico. La Sra. Kearney se sentía satisfecha. Por eso no se sorprendió cuando el señor Holohan le propuso que su hija fuera la acompañante en cuatro conciertos que su Sociedad daría en las Antient Concert Rooms. Lo llevó al salón, le ofreció asiento y sacó la licorera y la galetera de plata. Se involucró en cada detalle: aconsejó, disuadió. Finalmente, se redactó un contrato: Kathleen recibiría ocho guineas como acompañante en los cuatro conciertos.
As Mr. Holohan was a novice in such delicate matters as the wording of bills and the disposing of items for a programme, Mrs. Kearney helped him. She had tact. She knew what artistes should go into capitals and what artistes should go into small type. She knew that the first tenor would not like to come on after Mr. Meade's comic turn. To keep the audience continually diverted she slipped the doubtful items in between the old favourites. Mr. Holohan called to see her every day to have her advice on some point. She was invariably friendly and advising—homely, in fact. She pushed the decanter towards him, saying:
Como el señor Holohan era novato en asuntos como redactar programas, la Sra. Kearney lo auxilió. Tenía tacto. Sabía qué artistas merecían mayúsculas y cuáles letra menuda. Sabía que el primer tenor no querría seguir al número cómico del señor Meade. Para mantener distraído al público, intercalaba los números dudosos entre los viejos favoritos. Holohan la visitaba diariamente para consultarla. Ella siempre era cordial y práctica. Empujaba la licorera hacia él:
"Now, help yourself, Mr. Holohan!"
—Vamos, sírvase usted mismo, señor Holohan.
And while he was helping himself she said:
Y mientras él se servía, añadía:
"Don't be afraid! Don't be afraid of it!"
—¡No tema! ¡No le tenga miedo!
Everything went on smoothly. Mrs. Kearney bought some lovely blush-pink charmeuse in Brown Thomas's to let into the front of Kathleen's dress. It cost a pretty penny; but there are occasions when a little expense is justifiable. She took a dozen of two-shilling tickets for the final concert and sent them to those friends who could not be trusted to come otherwise. She forgot nothing, and, thanks to her, everything that was to be done was done.
Todo marchó bien. La Sra. Kearney compró un encantador charmeuse rosa pálido en Brown Thomas's para el escote de Kathleen. Costó un dineral, pero hay ocasiones que justifican el gasto. Adquirió una docena de entradas de dos chelines para el concierto final y las envió a amigos que de otro modo no irían. No olvidó nada. Gracias a ella, todo estuvo listo.
The concerts were to be on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. When Mrs. Kearney arrived with her daughter at the Antient Concert Rooms on Wednesday night she did not like the look of things. A few young men, wearing bright blue badges in their coats, stood idle in the vestibule; none of them wore evening dress. She passed by with her daughter and a quick glance through the open door of the hall showed her the cause of the stewards' idleness. At first she wondered had she mistaken the hour. No, it was twenty minutes to eight.
Los conciertos serían miércoles, jueves, viernes y sábado. Cuando la Sra. Kearney llegó con su hija a las Antient Concert Rooms la noche del miércoles, el panorama le desagradó. Algunos jóvenes con distintivos azules en las solapas holgazaneaban en el vestíbulo; ninguno llevaba traje de etiqueta. Pasó de largo con su hija. Una mirada rápida al salón le reveló la causa de aquella ociosidad. Por un momento dudó si habría errado la hora. No: faltaban veinte minutos para las ocho.
In the dressing-room behind the stage she was introduced to the secretary of the Society, Mr. Fitzpatrick. She smiled and shook his hand. He was a little man, with a white, vacant face. She noticed that he wore his soft brown hat carelessly on the side of his head and that his accent was flat. He held a programme in his hand, and, while he was talking to her, he chewed one end of it into a moist pulp. He seemed to bear disappointments lightly. Mr. Holohan came into the dressingroom every few minutes with reports from the box-office. The artistes talked among themselves nervously, glanced from time to time at the mirror and rolled and unrolled their music. When it was nearly half-past eight, the few people in the hall began to express their desire to be entertained. Mr. Fitzpatrick came in, smiled vacantly at the room, and said:
En el camerino tras el escenario, la presentaron al secretario de la Sociedad, el señor Fitzpatrick. Ella sonrió y le estrechó la mano. Era un hombrecillo de rostro pálido y vacío. Notó que llevaba su flexible sombrero marrón ladeado con despreocupación y que su acento era monótono. Sostenía un programa en la mano y, mientras hablaba con ella, masticaba una de sus esquinas hasta convertirla en una pulpa húmeda. Parecía sobrellevar las decepciones con ligereza. El señor Holohan entraba al camerino cada pocos minutos con informes de la taquilla. Los artistas conversaban entre ellos con nerviosismo, miraban de vez en cuando al espejo y enrollaban y desenrollaban sus partituras. Cuando eran casi las ocho y media, las pocas personas en el auditorio comenzaron a expresar su deseo de ser entretenidas. El señor Fitzpatrick entró, sonrió vacíamente a la habitación y dijo:
"Well now, ladies and gentlemen. I suppose we'd better open the ball."
—Bueno, señoras y señores. Supongo que deberíamos abrir el baile.
Mrs. Kearney rewarded his very flat final syllable with a quick stare of contempt, and then said to her daughter encouragingly:
La Sra. Kearney premió su sílaba final excesivamente plana con una rápida mirada de desdén, y luego dijo a su hija con ánimo:
"Are you ready, dear?"
—¿Estás lista, cariño?
When she had an opportunity, she called Mr. Holohan aside and asked him to tell her what it meant. Mr. Holohan did not know what it meant. He said that the committee had made a mistake in arranging for four concerts: four was too many.
Cuando tuvo oportunidad, llamó aparte al señor Holohan y le pidió que le explicara qué significaba todo aquello. El señor Holohan no lo sabía. Dijo que el comité se había equivocado al programar cuatro conciertos: cuatro eran demasiados.
"And the artistes!" said Mrs. Kearney. "Of course they are doing their best, but really they are not good."
—¡Y los artistas! —dijo la Sra. Kearney—. Claro que hacen lo posible, pero en verdad no son buenos.
Mr. Holohan admitted that the artistes were no good but the committee, he said, had decided to let the first three concerts go as they pleased and reserve all the talent for Saturday night. Mrs. Kearney said nothing, but, as the mediocre items followed one another on the platform and the few people in the hall grew fewer and fewer, she began to regret that she had put herself to any expense for such a concert. There was something she didn't like in the look of things and Mr. Fitzpatrick's vacant smile irritated her very much. However, she said nothing and waited to see how it would end. The concert expired shortly before ten, and everyone went home quickly.
El señor Holohan admitió que los artistas no eran buenos, pero el comité, dijo, había decidido dejar que los primeros tres conciertos siguieran su curso y reservar todo el talento para el sábado. La Sra. Kearney no dijo nada, pero, mientras los números mediocres se sucedían en el escenario y el escaso público menguaba aún más, comenzó a arrepentirse de haber incurrido en gastos para semejante concierto. Había algo que no le gustaba en el aspecto de las cosas, y la sonrisa vacua del señor Fitzpatrick la irritaba sobremanera. Sin embargo, no dijo nada y esperó a ver cómo terminaría. El concierto expiró poco antes de las diez, y todos se marcharon rápidamente.
The concert on Thursday night was better attended, but Mrs. Kearney saw at once that the house was filled with paper. The audience behaved indecorously, as if the concert were an informal dress rehearsal. Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed to enjoy himself; he was quite unconscious that Mrs. Kearney was taking angry note of his conduct. He stood at the edge of the screen, from time to time jutting out his head and exchanging a laugh with two friends in the corner of the balcony. In the course of the evening, Mrs. Kearney learned that the Friday concert was to be abandoned and that the committee was going to move heaven and earth to secure a bumper house on Saturday night. When she heard this, she sought out Mr. Holohan. She buttonholed him as he was limping out quickly with a glass of lemonade for a young lady and asked him was it true. Yes, it was true.
El concierto del jueves tuvo más asistencia, pero la Sra. Kearney notó de inmediato que la sala estaba llena de entradas de papel. El público se comportó indecorosamente, como si el concierto fuera un ensayo general informal. El señor Fitzpatrick parecía disfrutar; estaba completamente ajeno a que la Sra. Kearney observaba su conducta con enojo. Se paraba al borde del biombo, asomando la cabeza de vez en cuando para intercambiar una risa con dos amigos en la esquina del balcón. En el transcurso de la velada, la Sra. Kearney supo que el concierto del viernes se cancelaría y que el comité movería cielo y tierra para asegurar un lleno total el sábado. Al enterarse, buscó al señor Holohan. Lo interceptó cuando cojeaba rápidamente con un vaso de limonada para una joven y le preguntó si era cierto. Sí, lo era.
"But, of course, that doesn't alter the contract," she said. "The contract was for four concerts."
—Pero, claro, eso no altera el contrato —dijo ella—. El contrato era por cuatro conciertos.
Mr. Holohan seemed to be in a hurry; he advised her to speak to Mr. Fitzpatrick. Mrs. Kearney was now beginning to be alarmed. She called Mr. Fitzpatrick away from his screen and told him that her daughter had signed for four concerts and that, of course, according to the terms of the contract, she should receive the sum originally stipulated for, whether the society gave the four concerts or not. Mr. Fitzpatrick, who did not catch the point at issue very quickly, seemed unable to resolve the difficulty and said that he would bring the matter before the committee. Mrs. Kearney's anger began to flutter in her cheek and she had all she could do to keep from asking:
El señor Holohan parecía tener prisa; le aconsejó hablar con el señor Fitzpatrick. La Sra. Kearney comenzaba ya a alarmarse. Llamó al señor Fitzpatrick aparte de su biombo y le dijo que su hija había firmado por cuatro conciertos y que, naturalmente, según los términos del contrato, debía recibir la suma originalmente estipulada, diera o no la sociedad los cuatro conciertos. El señor Fitzpatrick, que no captó rápidamente el meollo del asunto, parecía incapaz de resolver la dificultad y dijo que llevaría el asunto ante el comité. La ira de la Sra. Kearney comenzó a palpitar en sus mejillas, y tuvo que hacer lo imposible para no preguntar:
"And who is the Cometty pray?"
—¿Y quién es el Cometty, si puede saberse?
But she knew that it would not be ladylike to do that: so she was silent.
Pero sabía que no sería propio de una dama hacerlo, así que guardó silencio.
Little boys were sent out into the principal streets of Dublin early on Friday morning with bundles of handbills. Special puffs appeared in all the evening papers, reminding the music loving public of the treat which was in store for it on the following evening. Mrs. Kearney was somewhat reassured, but he thought well to tell her husband part of her suspicions. He listened carefully and said that perhaps it would be better if he went with her on Saturday night. She agreed. She respected her husband in the same way as she respected the General Post Office, as something large, secure and fixed; and though she knew the small number of his talents she appreciated his abstract value as a male. She was glad that he had suggested coming with her. She thought her plans over.
La mañana del viernes, mandaron a niños a repartir fajos de panfletos por las principales calles de Dublín. En todos los periódicos de la tarde aparecieron elogios especiales, recordando al público amante de la música el deleite que le aguardaba la noche siguiente. La Sra. Kearney se sintió algo más tranquila, pero consideró prudente contarle a su marido parte de sus sospechas. Él escuchó con atención y dijo que quizás sería mejor si la acompañaba el sábado. Ella accedió. Respetaba a su marido del mismo modo que respetaba la Oficina General de Correos, como algo grande, seguro e inmutable; y aunque conocía lo limitado de sus talentos, apreciaba su valor abstracto como varón. Se alegró de que él hubiera sugerido acompañarla. Repasó mentalmente sus planes.
The night of the grand concert came. Mrs. Kearney, with her husband and daughter, arrived at the Antient Concert Rooms three-quarters of an hour before the time at which the concert was to begin. By ill luck it was a rainy evening. Mrs. Kearney placed her daughter's clothes and music in charge of her husband and went all over the building looking for Mr. Holohan or Mr. Fitzpatrick. She could find neither. She asked the stewards was any member of the committee in the hall and, after a great deal of trouble, a steward brought out a little woman named Miss Beirne to whom Mrs. Kearney explained that she wanted to see one of the secretaries. Miss Beirne expected them any minute and asked could she do anything. Mrs. Kearney looked searchingly at the oldish face which was screwed into an expression of trustfulness and enthusiasm and answered:
Llegó la noche del gran concierto. La Sra. Kearney, con su marido e hija, llegó a las Antient Concert Rooms tres cuartos de hora antes del inicio. Por mala suerte, era una noche lluviosa. La Sra. Kearney dejó la ropa y la música de su hija al cuidado de su marido y recorrió todo el edificio en busca del señor Holohan o del señor Fitzpatrick. No encontró a ninguno. Preguntó a los acomodadores si había algún miembro del comité en el auditorio y, tras muchas dificultades, uno de ellos presentó a una mujer menuda llamada señorita Beirne, a quien la Sra. Kearney explicó que deseaba ver a uno de los secretarios. La señorita Beirne los esperaba en cualquier momento y preguntó si podía ayudar en algo. La Sra. Kearney escudriñó el rostro avejentado, contraído en una expresión de confianza y entusiasmo, y respondió:
"No, thank you!"
—No, ¡gracias!
The little woman hoped they would have a good house. She looked out at the rain until the melancholy of the wet street effaced all the trustfulness and enthusiasm from her twisted features. Then she gave a little sigh and said:
La mujercilla esperaba que tuvieran buena concurrencia. Miró hacia la lluvia hasta que la melancolía de la calle mojada borró toda confianza y entusiasmo de sus rasgos retorcidos. Entonces suspiró levemente y dijo:
"Ah, well! We did our best, the dear knows."
—¡Ay, bueno! Hicimos lo posible, Dios lo sabe.
Mrs. Kearney had to go back to the dressing-room.
La Sra. Kearney tuvo que volver al camerino.
The artistes were arriving. The bass and the second tenor had already come. The bass, Mr. Duggan, was a slender young man with a scattered black moustache. He was the son of a hall porter in an office in the city and, as a boy, he had sung prolonged bass notes in the resounding hall. From this humble state he had raised himself until he had become a first-rate artiste. He had appeared in grand opera. One night, when an operatic artiste had fallen ill, he had undertaken the part of the king in the opera of Maritana at the Queen's Theatre. He sang his music with great feeling and volume and was warmly welcomed by the gallery; but, unfortunately, he marred the good impression by wiping his nose in his gloved hand once or twice out of thoughtlessness. He was unassuming and spoke little. He said yous so softly that it passed unnoticed and he never drank anything stronger than milk for his voice's sake. Mr. Bell, the second tenor, was a fair-haired little man who competed every year for prizes at the Feis Ceoil. On his fourth trial he had been awarded a bronze medal. He was extremely nervous and extremely jealous of other tenors and he covered his nervous jealousy with an ebullient friendliness. It was his humour to have people know what an ordeal a concert was to him. Therefore when he saw Mr. Duggan he went over to him and asked:
Los artistas estaban llegando. El bajo y el segundo tenor ya habían llegado. El bajo, el señor Duggan, era un joven delgado con bigote negro disperso. Hijo de un portero de una oficina de la ciudad, de niño había cantado notas bajas prolongadas en el vestíbulo resonante. Desde aquel humilde estado se había elevado hasta convertirse en un artista de primera. Había actuado en ópera seria. Una noche, cuando una cantante de ópera enfermó, había asumido el papel del rey en la ópera Maritana en el Queen's Theatre. Cantó su parte con gran sentimiento y volumen, y fue calurosamente recibido por la galería; pero, por desgracia, arruinó la buena impresión al limpiarse la nariz con el guante un par de veces por descuido. Era modesto y hablaba poco. Decía "ustedes" tan suavemente que pasaba desapercibido, y nunca bebía nada más fuerte que leche por su voz. El señor Bell, el segundo tenor, era un hombrecillo rubio que competía cada año por premios en el Feis Ceoil. En su cuarto intento, le habían otorgado una medalla de bronce. Estaba extremadamente nervioso y celoso de otros tenores, y cubría sus nervios y celos con una efusiva cordialidad. Era su costumbre que la gente supiera cuán arduo era un concierto para él. Así que, al ver al señor Duggan, se acercó y preguntó:
"Are you in it too?"
—¿Tú también estás metido?
"Yes," said Mr. Duggan.
—Sí —dijo el señor Duggan.
Mr. Bell laughed at his fellow-sufferer, held out his hand and said:
El señor Bell se rió de su compañero de desventuras, tendió la mano y dijo:
"Shake!"
—¡Chócala!
Mrs. Kearney passed by these two young men and went to the edge of the screen to view the house. The seats were being filled up rapidly and a pleasant noise circulated in the auditorium. She came back and spoke to her husband privately. Their conversation was evidently about Kathleen for they both glanced at her often as she stood chatting to one of her Nationalist friends, Miss Healy, the contralto. An unknown solitary woman with a pale face walked through the room. The women followed with keen eyes the faded blue dress which was stretched upon a meagre body. Someone said that she was Madam Glynn, the soprano.
La Sra. Kearney pasó junto a los dos jóvenes y se acercó al borde del biombo para observar la sala. Los asientos se ocupaban rápidamente, y un agradable murmullo circulaba por el auditorio. Regresó y habló en privado con su marido. Su conversación era evidentemente sobre Kathleen, pues ambos la miraban a menudo mientras charlaba con una de sus amigas nacionalistas, la señorita Healy, la contralto. Una mujer solitaria y desconocida, de rostro pálido, atravesó la habitación. Las demás siguieron con mirada penetrante el vestido azul descolorido que cubría un cuerpo escuálido. Alguien dijo que era la señora Glynn, la soprano.
"I wonder where did they dig her up," said Kathleen to Miss Healy. "I'm sure I never heard of her."
—Me pregunto de dónde la habrán desenterrado —le dijo Kathleen a la señorita Healy—. Estoy segura de que nunca oí hablar de ella.
Miss Healy had to smile. Mr. Holohan limped into the dressing-room at that moment and the two young ladies asked him who was the unknown woman. Mr. Holohan said that she was Madam Glynn from London. Madam Glynn took her stand in a corner of the room, holding a roll of music stiffly before her and from time to time changing the direction of her startled gaze. The shadow took her faded dress into shelter but fell revengefully into the little cup behind her collar-bone. The noise of the hall became more audible. The first tenor and the baritone arrived together. They were both well dressed, stout and complacent and they brought a breath of opulence among the company.
La señorita Healy no pudo evitar una sonrisa. En ese momento, el señor Holohan entró cojeando al camerino y las dos jóvenes le preguntaron quién era aquella mujer desconocida. El señor Holohan les dijo que era la señora Glynn, de Londres. La señora Glynn se apostó en un rincón de la habitación, sosteniendo con rigidez un rollo de partituras y cambiando de vez en cuando la dirección de su mirada sobresaltada. La sombra acogió benévolamente su vestido descolorido, pero cayó con aire vengativo en el pequeño hueco tras su clavícula. El bullicio del salón se hacía más audible. El primer tenor y el barítono llegaron juntos. Ambos vestían con elegancia, eran corpulentos y satisfechos, y trajeron un halo de opulencia al grupo.
Mrs. Kearney brought her daughter over to them, and talked to them amiably. She wanted to be on good terms with them but, while she strove to be polite, her eyes followed Mr. Holohan in his limping and devious courses. As soon as she could she excused herself and went out after him.
La señora Kearney llevó a su hija hacia ellos y conversó con amabilidad. Quería llevarse bien, pero mientras se esforzaba en ser cortés, sus ojos seguían al señor Holohan en su cojeante y tortuoso recorrido. A la primera oportunidad, se excusó y salió tras él.
"Mr. Holohan, I want to speak to you for a moment," she said.
—Señor Holohan, deseo hablar con usted un momento —dijo.
They went down to a discreet part of the corridor. Mrs Kearney asked him when was her daughter going to be paid. Mr. Holohan said that Mr. Fitzpatrick had charge of that. Mrs. Kearney said that she didn't know anything about Mr. Fitzpatrick. Her daughter had signed a contract for eight guineas and she would have to be paid. Mr. Holohan said that it wasn't his business.
Bajaron a un tramo discreto del corredor. La señora Kearney le preguntó cuándo iban a pagar a su hija. El señor Holohan respondió que el señor Fitzpatrick se encargaba de eso. La señora Kearney replicó que no sabía nada del señor Fitzpatrick. Su hija había firmado un contrato por ocho guineas y debían pagarle. El señor Holohan alegó que ese no era su asunto.
"Why isn't it your business?" asked Mrs. Kearney. "Didn't you yourself bring her the contract? Anyway, if it's not your business it's my business and I mean to see to it."
—¿Por qué no es su asunto? —preguntó la señora Kearney—. ¿No fue usted mismo quien le llevó el contrato? En todo caso, si no es su problema, es el mío y me ocuparé de resolverlo.
"You'd better speak to Mr. Fitzpatrick," said Mr. Holohan distantly.
—Será mejor que hable con el señor Fitzpatrick —respondió el señor Holohan con frialdad.
"I don't know anything about Mr. Fitzpatrick," repeated Mrs. Kearney. "I have my contract, and I intend to see that it is carried out."
—No sé nada del señor Fitzpatrick —repitió la señora Kearney—. Tengo un contrato y exijo que se cumpla.
When she came back to the dressing-room her cheeks were slightly suffused. The room was lively. Two men in outdoor dress had taken possession of the fireplace and were chatting familiarly with Miss Healy and the baritone. They were the Freeman man and Mr. O'Madden Burke. The Freeman man had come in to say that he could not wait for the concert as he had to report the lecture which an American priest was giving in the Mansion House. He said they were to leave the report for him at the Freeman office and he would see that it went in. He was a grey-haired man, with a plausible voice and careful manners. He held an extinguished cigar in his hand and the aroma of cigar smoke floated near him. He had not intended to stay a moment because concerts and artistes bored him considerably but he remained leaning against the mantelpiece. Miss Healy stood in front of him, talking and laughing. He was old enough to suspect one reason for her politeness but young enough in spirit to turn the moment to account. The warmth, fragrance and colour of her body appealed to his senses. He was pleasantly conscious that the bosom which he saw rise and fall slowly beneath him rose and fell at that moment for him, that the laughter and fragrance and wilful glances were his tribute. When he could stay no longer he took leave of her regretfully.
Cuando regresó al camerino, sus mejillas estaban levemente sonrosadas. El ambiente se había animado. Dos hombres de traje callejero se habían apoderado de la chimenea y charlaban con familiaridad con la señorita Healy y el barítono. Eran el redactor del Freeman y el señor O'Madden Burke. El periodista había entrado para decir que no podía esperar al concierto, pues debía cubrir la conferencia que un sacerdote estadounidense impartiría en la Mansion House. Indicó que dejaran el reportaje en la oficina del Freeman y él se encargaría de publicarlo. Era un hombre canoso, de voz persuasiva y modales cuidadosos. Sostenía un puro apagado y un aroma a tabaco flotaba alrededor. No pretendía quedarse ni un instante —los conciertos y los artistas le aburrían sobremanera—, pero permaneció reclinado en la repisa. La señorita Healy, frente a él, reía y conversaba. Tenía edad suficiente para intuir la razón de su amabilidad, pero espíritu bastante joven para aprovechar el momento. La calidez, fragancia y color de su cuerpo atraían sus sentidos. Se complacía al notar que aquel pecho que veía alzarse y descender lentamente bajo su mirada lo hacía ahora en su honor, que las risas, perfumes y miradas coquetas eran su tributo. Cuando ya no pudo demorarse, se despidió de ella con pesar.
"O'Madden Burke will write the notice," he explained to Mr. Holohan, "and I'll see it in."
—O'Madden Burke redactará la crítica —explicó al señor Holohan—, y yo me encargaré de publicarla.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Hendrick," said Mr. Holohan, "you'll see it in, I know. Now, won't you have a little something before you go?"
—Muchas gracias, señor Hendrick —dijo el señor Holohan—. Sé que cumplirá su palabra. Vamos, ¿no tomará algo antes de irse?
"I don't mind," said Mr. Hendrick.
—No me importaría —respondió el señor Hendrick.
The two men went along some tortuous passages and up a dark staircase and came to a secluded room where one of the stewards was uncorking bottles for a few gentlemen. One of these gentlemen was Mr. O'Madden Burke, who had found out the room by instinct. He was a suave, elderly man who balanced his imposing body, when at rest, upon a large silk umbrella. His magniloquent western name was the moral umbrella upon which he balanced the fine problem of his finances. He was widely respected.
Los dos hombres recorrieron pasajes tortuosos y subieron una escalera oscura hasta llegar a una sala apartada donde un asistente descorchaba botellas para unos caballeros. Entre ellos estaba el señor O'Madden Burke, quien había localizado la estancia por instinto. Era un hombre afable y maduro que, en reposo, equilibraba su imponente figura sobre un gran paraguas de seda. Su magnilocuente nombre de origen occidental era el paraguas moral bajo el cual resolvía el delicado problema de sus finanzas. Gozaba de gran estima.
While Mr. Holohan was entertaining the Freeman man Mrs. Kearney was speaking so animatedly to her husband that he had to ask her to lower her voice. The conversation of the others in the dressing-room had become strained. Mr. Bell, the first item, stood ready with his music but the accompanist made no sign. Evidently something was wrong. Mr. Kearney looked straight before him, stroking his beard, while Mrs. Kearney spoke into Kathleen's ear with subdued emphasis. From the hall came sounds of encouragement, clapping and stamping of feet. The first tenor and the baritone and Miss Healy stood together, waiting tranquilly, but Mr. Bell's nerves were greatly agitated because he was afraid the audience would think that he had come late.
Mientras el señor Holohan entretenía al hombre del Freeman, la Sra. Kearney hablaba con tal animación a su marido que este tuvo que pedirle que bajara la voz. La conversación de los demás en el camerino se había vuelto tensa. El señor Bell, el primer número, estaba listo con su partitura pero el acompañista no daba señales. Evidentemente algo iba mal. El señor Kearney miraba fijamente al frente, acariciándose la barba, mientras la Sra. Kearney hablaba al oído de Kathleen con énfasis contenido. Desde el salón llegaban sonidos de ánimo, palmas y pisotones. El primer tenor, el barítono y la señorita Healy permanecían juntos, esperando con calma, pero los nervios del señor Bell estaban muy agitados pues temía que el público pensara que había llegado tarde.
Mr. Holohan and Mr. O'Madden Burke came into the room In a moment Mr. Holohan perceived the hush. He went over to Mrs. Kearney and spoke with her earnestly. While they were speaking the noise in the hall grew louder. Mr. Holohan became very red and excited. He spoke volubly, but Mrs. Kearney said curtly at intervals:
El señor Holohan y el señor O'Madden Burke entraron en la habitación. Al instante, el señor Holohan percibió el silencio. Se acercó a la Sra. Kearney y habló con ella seriamente. Mientras conversaban, el bullicio en el salón crecía. El señor Holohan se puso muy rojo y agitado. Hablaba con locuacidad, pero la Sra. Kearney interrumpía secamente a intervalos:
"She won't go on. She must get her eight guineas."
"Ella no actuará. Debe recibir sus ocho guineas."
Mr. Holohan pointed desperately towards the hall where the audience was clapping and stamping. He appealed to Mr Kearney and to Kathleen. But Mr. Kearney continued to stroke his beard and Kathleen looked down, moving the point of her new shoe: it was not her fault. Mrs. Kearney repeated:
El señor Holohan señaló desesperado hacia el salón donde el público aplaudía y pateaba. Apeló al señor Kearney y a Kathleen. Pero el señor Kearney siguió acariciando su barba y Kathleen bajó la vista, moviendo la punta de su nuevo zapato: no era culpa suya. La Sra. Kearney repitió:
"She won't go on without her money."
"No subirá al escenario sin su dinero."
After a swift struggle of tongues Mr. Holohan hobbled out in haste. The room was silent. When the strain of the silence had become somewhat painful Miss Healy said to the baritone:
Tras un rápido cruce de palabras, el señor Holohan salió cojeando con premura. La habitación quedó en silencio. Cuando la tensión del mutismo se hizo algo penosa, la señorita Healy dijo al barítono:
"Have you seen Mrs. Pat Campbell this week?"
"¿Ha visto usted a la señora Pat Campbell esta semana?"
The baritone had not seen her but he had been told that she was very fine. The conversation went no further. The first tenor bent his head and began to count the links of the gold chain which was extended across his waist, smiling and humming random notes to observe the effect on the frontal sinus. From time to time everyone glanced at Mrs. Kearney.
El barítono no la había visto pero le habían dicho que estaba muy bien. La conversación no prosiguió. El primer tenor inclinó la cabeza y comenzó a contar los eslabones de la cadena de oro que cruzaba su cintura, sonriendo y tarareando notas al azar para observar su efecto en los senos frontales. De vez en cuando, todos miraban a la Sra. Kearney.
The noise in the auditorium had risen to a clamour when Mr. Fitzpatrick burst into the room, followed by Mr. Holohan who was panting. The clapping and stamping in the hall were punctuated by whistling. Mr. Fitzpatrick held a few banknotes in his hand. He counted out four into Mrs. Kearney's hand and said she would get the other half at the interval. Mrs. Kearney said:
El alboroto en el auditorio había ascendido a un clamor cuando el señor Fitzpatrick irrumpió en la habitación, seguido por el jadeante señor Holohan. Los aplausos y pisotones en el salón se veían interrumpidos por silbidos. El señor Fitzpatrick sostenía unos billetes en la mano. Contó cuatro en la palma de la Sra. Kearney y dijo que recibiría la otra mitad en el intermedio. La Sra. Kearney objetó:
"This is four shillings short."
"Esto falta por cuatro chelines."
But Kathleen gathered in her skirt and said: "Now. Mr. Bell," to the first item, who was shaking like an aspen. The singer and the accompanist went out together. The noise in hall died away. There was a pause of a few seconds: and then the piano was heard.
Pero Kathleen recogió su falda y dijo: "Ahora, señor Bell", al primer número, que temblaba como un álamo. El cantante y el acompañista salieron juntos. El ruido en el salón cesó. Hubo una pausa de unos segundos: y entonces se oyó el piano.
The first part of the concert was very successful except for Madam Glynn's item. The poor lady sang Killarney in a bodiless gasping voice, with all the old-fashioned mannerisms of intonation and pronunciation which she believed lent elegance to her singing. She looked as if she had been resurrected from an old stage-wardrobe and the cheaper parts of the hall made fun of her high wailing notes. The first tenor and the contralto, however, brought down the house. Kathleen played a selection of Irish airs which was generously applauded. The first part closed with a stirring patriotic recitation delivered by a young lady who arranged amateur theatricals. It was deservedly applauded; and, when it was ended, the men went out for the interval, content.
La primera parte del concierto fue muy exitosa excepto por el número de la señora Glynn. La pobre dama cantó Killarney con una voz incorpórea y entrecortada, usando todos los manierismos anticuados de entonación y pronunciación que creía daban elegancia a su canto. Parecía resucitada de un viejo guardarropa teatral y las localidades baratas se burlaron de sus agudos gemebundos. Sin embargo, el primer tenor y la contralto arrasaron. Kathleen interpretó una selección de aires irlandeses que fue generosamente aplaudida. La primera parte cerró con una conmovedora recitación patriótica declamada por una joven que organizaba obras teatrales amateur. Fue aplaudida con merecimiento; y, al terminar, los hombres salieron satisfechos al intermedio.
All this time the dressing-room was a hive of excitement. In one corner were Mr. Holohan, Mr. Fitzpatrick, Miss Beirne, two of the stewards, the baritone, the bass, and Mr. O'Madden Burke. Mr. O'Madden Burke said it was the most scandalous exhibition he had ever witnessed. Miss Kathleen Kearney's musical career was ended in Dublin after that, he said. The baritone was asked what did he think of Mrs. Kearney's conduct. He did not like to say anything. He had been paid his money and wished to be at peace with men. However, he said that Mrs. Kearney might have taken the artistes into consideration. The stewards and the secretaries debated hotly as to what should be done when the interval came.
Todo este tiempo el camerino era un hervidero de agitación. En un rincón estaban el señor Holohan, el señor Fitzpatrick, la señorita Beirne, dos de los acomodadores, el barítono, el bajo y el señor O'Madden Burke. El señor O'Madden Burke dijo que era la exhibición más escandalosa que había presenciado. La carrera musical de la señorita Kathleen Kearney había terminado en Dublín después de eso, afirmó. Al barítono le preguntaron qué opinaba de la conducta de la Sra. Kearney. No quiso comentar nada. Le habían pagado y deseaba estar en paz. No obstante, dijo que la Sra. Kearney podría haber considerado a los artistas. Los acomodadores y secretarios debatieron acaloradamente sobre qué hacer al reanudarse.
"I agree with Miss Beirne," said Mr. O'Madden Burke. "Pay her nothing."
"Coincido con la señorita Beirne", dijo el señor O'Madden Burke. "No le paguen nada."
In another corner of the room were Mrs. Kearney and he: husband, Mr. Bell, Miss Healy and the young lady who had to recite the patriotic piece. Mrs. Kearney said that the Committee had treated her scandalously. She had spared neither trouble nor expense and this was how she was repaid.
En otro rincón de la habitación estaban la Sra. Kearney y su marido, el señor Bell, la señorita Healy y la joven que debía recitar la pieza patriótica. La Sra. Kearney decía que el Comité la había tratado escandalosamente. No había escatimado esfuerzos ni gastos, y así era como la recompensaban.
They thought they had only a girl to deal with and that therefore, they could ride roughshod over her. But she would show them their mistake. They wouldn't have dared to have treated her like that if she had been a man. But she would see that her daughter got her rights: she wouldn't be fooled. If they didn't pay her to the last farthing she would make Dublin ring. Of course she was sorry for the sake of the artistes. But what else could she do? She appealed to the second tenor who said he thought she had not been well treated. Then she appealed to Miss Healy. Miss Healy wanted to join the other group but she did not like to do so because she was a great friend of Kathleen's and the Kearneys had often invited her to their house.
Creían que tenían que lidiar con una simple muchacha y que, por tanto, podían pisotearla a su antojo. Pero ella les demostraría su error. No se habrían atrevido a tratarla así si hubiera sido un hombre. Pero velaría por que su hija obtuviera sus derechos: no permitiría que la engañaran. Si no le pagaban hasta el último penique, haría que todo Dublín resonara con el escándalo. Claro que sentía pena por los artistas. ¿Pero qué otra cosa podía hacer? Apeló al segundo tenor, quien dijo que consideraba que no la habían tratado bien. Luego apeló a la señorita Healy. La señorita Healy quería unirse al otro grupo, pero no se atrevía porque era gran amiga de Kathleen y los Kearney la habían invitado a menudo a su casa.
As soon as the first part was ended Mr. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Holohan went over to Mrs. Kearney and told her that the other four guineas would be paid after the committee meeting on the following Tuesday and that, in case her daughter did not play for the second part, the committee would consider the contract broken and would pay nothing.
En cuanto terminó la primera parte, el señor Fitzpatrick y el señor Holohan se acercaron a la Sra. Kearney y le informaron que las otras cuatro guineas se pagarían tras la reunión del comité el martes siguiente, y que, en caso de que su hija no tocara en la segunda parte, el comité consideraría roto el contrato y no pagaría nada.
"I haven't seen any committee," said Mrs. Kearney angrily. "My daughter has her contract. She will get four pounds eight into her hand or a foot she won't put on that platform."
—No he visto ningún comité —dijo la Sra. Kearney con enojo—. Mi hija tiene su contrato. Recibirá cuatro libras y ocho chelines en mano, o no pondrá un pie en ese escenario.
"I'm surprised at you, Mrs. Kearney," said Mr. Holohan. "I never thought you would treat us this way."
—Me sorprende, Sra. Kearney —dijo el señor Holohan—. Jamás pensé que nos trataría de este modo.
"And what way did you treat me?" asked Mrs. Kearney.
—¿Y de qué modo me han tratado ustedes? —replicó la Sra. Kearney.
Her face was inundated with an angry colour and she looked as if she would attack someone with her hands.
Su rostro se inundó de un color de ira y parecía a punto de atacar a alguien con las manos.
"I'm asking for my rights." she said.
—Exijo mis derechos —afirmó.
"You might have some sense of decency," said Mr. Holohan.
—Podría tener un poco de decoro —le espetó el señor Holohan.
"Might I, indeed?... And when I ask when my daughter is going to be paid I can't get a civil answer."
—¿Ah, sí?... Y cuando pregunto cuándo van a pagarle a mi hija, no obtengo más que descortesías.
She tossed her head and assumed a haughty voice:
Alzó la cabeza con arrogancia y adoptó un tono altivo:
"You must speak to the secretary. It's not my business. I'm a great fellow fol-the-diddle-I-do."
—Deben hablar con el secretario. No es asunto mío. Yo solo soy un pobre diablo que no tiene ni idea.
"I thought you were a lady," said Mr. Holohan, walking away from her abruptly.
—Creí que era una dama —dijo el señor Holohan, alejándose de ella abruptamente.
After that Mrs. Kearney's conduct was condemned on all hands: everyone approved of what the committee had done. She stood at the door, haggard with rage, arguing with her husband and daughter, gesticulating with them. She waited until it was time for the second part to begin in the hope that the secretaries would approach her. But Miss Healy had kindly consented to play one or two accompaniments. Mrs. Kearney had to stand aside to allow the baritone and his accompanist to pass up to the platform. She stood still for an instant like an angry stone image and, when the first notes of the song struck her ear, she caught up her daughter's cloak and said to her husband:
Tras esto, la conducta de la Sra. Kearney fue condenada por todos: todos aprobaron lo que había hecho el comité. Permaneció en la puerta, demacrada por la rabia, discutiendo con su marido e hija y gesticulando. Esperó hasta que llegó el momento de comenzar la segunda parte, con la esperanza de que los secretarios se acercaran a ella. Pero la señorita Healy había tenido la amabilidad de acceder a tocar uno o dos acompañamientos. La Sra. Kearney tuvo que apartarse para dejar pasar al barítono y su acompañante hacia el escenario. Permaneció inmóvil un instante, como una imagen de piedra enfurecida, y cuando las primeras notas de la canción llegaron a sus oídos, cogió el abrigo de su hija y le dijo a su marido:
"Get a cab!"
—¡Consigue un coche!
He went out at once. Mrs. Kearney wrapped the cloak round her daughter and followed him. As she passed through the doorway she stopped and glared into Mr. Holohan's face.
Él salió de inmediato. La Sra. Kearney envolvió a su hija en el abrigo y lo siguió. Al cruzar la puerta, se detuvo y clavó una mirada furiosa en el rostro del señor Holohan.
"I'm not done with you yet," she said.
—Esto no ha terminado entre nosotros —dijo.
"But I'm done with you," said Mr. Holohan.
—Pero yo sí he terminado con usted —replicó el señor Holohan.
Kathleen followed her mother meekly. Mr. Holohan began to pace up and down the room, in order to cool himself for he his skin on fire.
Kathleen siguió a su madre con docilidad. El señor Holohan comenzó a caminar de un lado a otro de la habitación para calmarse, pues ardía en furia.
"That's a nice lady!" he said. "O, she's a nice lady!"
—¡Vaya dama! —exclamó—. ¡Oh, sí, toda una dama!
"You did the proper thing, Holohan," said Mr. O'Madden Burke, poised upon his umbrella in approval.
—Hiciste lo correcto, Holohan —dijo el señor O'Madden Burke, apoyado en su paraguas con gesto aprobatorio.
GRACE
GRACIA
TWO GENTLEMEN who were in the lavatory at the time tried to lift him up: but he was quite helpless. He lay curled up at the foot of the stairs down which he had fallen. They succeeded in turning him over. His hat had rolled a few yards away and his clothes were smeared with the filth and ooze of the floor on which he had lain, face downwards. His eyes were closed and he breathed with a grunting noise. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
DOS CABALLEROS que estaban en el lavabo en ese momento intentaron levantarlo: pero estaba completamente indefenso. Yacía enrollado al pie de las escaleras por las que había caído. Lograron darle la vuelta. Su sombrero había rodado unos metros más allá y sus ropas estaban manchadas con la suciedad y los residuos del suelo donde había yacido boca abajo. Tenía los ojos cerrados y respiraba con un sonido gutural. Un delgado hilo de sangre le resbalaba desde la comisura de la boca.
These two gentlemen and one of the curates carried him up the stairs and laid him down again on the floor of the bar. In two minutes he was surrounded by a ring of men. The manager of the bar asked everyone who he was and who was with him. No one knew who he was but one of the curates said he had served the gentleman with a small rum.
Estos dos caballeros y uno de los ayudantes lo subieron por las escaleras y lo tendieron de nuevo en el suelo del bar. En dos minutos estaba rodeado por un círculo de hombres. El encargado del bar preguntó a todos quién era él y con quién estaba. Nadie sabía quién era, pero uno de los ayudantes dijo que le había servido un poco de ron al caballero.
"Was he by himself?" asked the manager.
—¿Estaba solo? —preguntó el encargado.
"No, sir. There was two gentlemen with him."
—No, señor. Había dos caballeros con él.
"And where are they?"
—¿Y dónde están ellos?
No one knew; a voice said:
Nadie lo sabía; una voz dijo:
"Give him air. He's fainted."
—Denle aire. Se ha desmayado.
The ring of onlookers distended and closed again elastically. A dark medal of blood had formed itself near the man's head on the tessellated floor. The manager, alarmed by the grey pallor of the man's face, sent for a policeman.
El círculo de espectadores se expandió y volvió a cerrarse elásticamente. Una oscura medalla de sangre se había formado cerca de la cabeza del hombre en el suelo de mosaico. El encargado, alarmado por la palidez grisácea del rostro del hombre, mandó buscar a un policía.
His collar was unfastened and his necktie undone. He opened eyes for an instant, sighed and closed them again. One of gentlemen who had carried him upstairs held a dinged silk hat in his hand. The manager asked repeatedly did no one know who the injured man was or where had his friends gone. The door of the bar opened and an immense constable entered. A crowd which had followed him down the laneway collected outside the door, struggling to look in through the glass panels.
Su cuello de la camisa estaba desabrochado y la corbata suelta. Abrió los ojos un instante, suspiró y los cerró de nuevo. Uno de los caballeros que lo habían subido sostenía en su mano un sombrero de seda abollado. El encargado preguntó repetidamente si nadie sabía quién era el herido o adónde habían ido sus amigos. La puerta del bar se abrió y entró un agente de gran tamaño. Una multitud que lo había seguido por el callejón se agolpó fuera de la puerta, forcejeando por mirar a través de los cristales.
The manager at once began to narrate what he knew. The constable, a young man with thick immobile features, listened. He moved his head slowly to right and left and from the manager to the person on the floor, as if he feared to be the victim some delusion. Then he drew off his glove, produced a small book from his waist, licked the lead of his pencil and made ready to indite. He asked in a suspicious provincial accent:
El encargado comenzó de inmediato a relatar lo que sabía. El agente, un joven de facciones inmóviles y gruesas, escuchó. Movió la cabeza lentamente de derecha a izquierda y del encargado a la persona en el suelo, como si temiera ser víctima de alguna ilusión. Luego se quitó el guante, sacó una libreta de su cintura, lamió la punta del lápiz y se preparó para anotar. Preguntó con un acento provincial sospechoso:
"Who is the man? What's his name and address?"
—¿Quién es este hombre? ¿Nombre y dirección?
A young man in a cycling-suit cleared his way through the ring of bystanders. He knelt down promptly beside the injured man and called for water. The constable knelt down also to help. The young man washed the blood from the injured man's mouth and then called for some brandy. The constable repeated the order in an authoritative voice until a curate came running with the glass. The brandy was forced down the man's throat. In a few seconds he opened his eyes and looked about him. He looked at the circle of faces and then, understanding, strove to rise to his feet.
Un joven con traje de ciclista se abrió paso entre el círculo de espectadores. Se arrodilló rápidamente junto al herido y pidió agua. El agente también se arrodilló para ayudar. El joven limpió la sangre de la boca del herido y luego pidió coñac. El agente repitió la orden con voz autoritaria hasta que un ayudante llegó corriendo con el vaso. El coñac fue introducido a la fuerza en la garganta del hombre. En unos segundos abrió los ojos y miró a su alrededor. Observó el círculo de rostros y luego, comprendiendo, intentó levantarse.
"You're all right now?" asked the young man in the cycling-suit.
—¿Ya está bien? —preguntó el joven del traje de ciclista.
"Sha,'s nothing," said the injured man, trying to stand up.
—Na', no es na'a —dijo el herido, tratando de ponerse en pie.
He was helped to his feet. The manager said something about a hospital and some of the bystanders gave advice. The battered silk hat was placed on the man's head. The constable asked:
Lo ayudaron a levantarse. El encargado mencionó algo sobre un hospital y algunos espectadores dieron consejos. El maltrecho sombrero de seda fue colocado en la cabeza del hombre. El agente preguntó:
"Where do you live?"
—¿Dónde vive?
The man, without answering, began to twirl the ends of his moustache. He made light of his accident. It was nothing, he said: only a little accident. He spoke very thickly.
El hombre, sin responder, comenzó a retorcer las puntas de su bigote. Restó importancia a su accidente. No era nada, dijo: solo un pequeño percance. Hablaba con voz muy pastosa.
"Where do you live" repeated the constable.
—¿Dónde vive? —repitió el agente.
The man said they were to get a cab for him. While the point was being debated a tall agile gentleman of fair complexion, wearing a long yellow ulster, came from the far end of the bar. Seeing the spectacle, he called out:
El hombre dijo que le consiguieran un coche de caballos. Mientras se debatía este punto, un caballero alto y ágil de tez clara, vestido con un largo abrigo amarillo, apareció desde el extremo del bar. Al ver el espectáculo, exclamó:
"Hallo, Tom, old man! What's the trouble?"
—¡Hola, Tom, viejo amigo! ¿Qué sucede?
"Sha,'s nothing," said the man.
—Na', no es na'a —dijo el hombre.
The new-comer surveyed the deplorable figure before him and then turned to the constable, saying:
El recién llegado examinó la deplorable figura ante él y luego se volvió al agente, diciendo:
"It's all right, constable. I'll see him home."
—Todo está bien, agente. Yo me encargaré de llevarlo a casa.
The constable touched his helmet and answered:
El agente se tocó el casco y respondió:
"All right, Mr. Power!"
—De acuerdo, ¡señor Power!
"Come now, Tom," said Mr. Power, taking his friend by the arm. "No bones broken. What? Can you walk?"
—Vamos, Tom —dijo el señor Power, tomando a su amigo del brazo—. No hay huesos rotos. ¿Eh? ¿Puedes caminar?
The young man in the cycling-suit took the man by the other arm and the crowd divided.
El joven del traje de ciclista tomó al hombre del otro brazo y la multitud se dividió.
"How did you get yourself into this mess?" asked Mr. Power.
—¿Cómo te metiste en este lío? —preguntó el señor Power.
"The gentleman fell down the stairs," said the young man.
—El caballero se cayó por las escaleras —dijo el joven.
"I' 'ery 'uch o'liged to you, sir," said the injured man.
—Le e'toy 'uy agra'ecío, eñor —dijo el herido.
"Not at all."
—No hay de qué.
"'ant we have a little...?"
—¿No po'emos tomar una...?
"Not now. Not now."
—Ahora no. Ahora no.
The three men left the bar and the crowd sifted through the doors in to the laneway. The manager brought the constable to the stairs to inspect the scene of the accident. They agreed that the gentleman must have missed his footing. The customers returned to the counter and a curate set about removing the traces of blood from the floor.
Los tres hombres salieron del bar y la multitud se filtró por las puertas hacia el callejón. El encargado llevó al agente a las escaleras para inspeccionar el lugar del accidente. Coincidieron en que el caballero debió haber perdido el equilibrio. Los clientes volvieron a la barra y un ayudante se dispuso a limpiar los rastros de sangre del suelo.
When they came out into Grafton Street, Mr. Power whistled for an outsider. The injured man said again as well as he could.
Cuando salieron a la calle Grafton, el señor Power silbó para llamar un coche de punto. El herido volvió a balbucear como pudo:
"I' 'ery 'uch o'liged to you, sir. I hope we'll 'eet again. 'y na'e is Kernan."
"M' 'uy 'gradecido, señor. Ojalá nos volvamos a ver. M' no're es Kernan."
The shock and the incipient pain had partly sobered him.
El shock y el dolor incipiente lo habían semiembriagado.
"Don't mention it," said the young man.
"No hay de qué", dijo el joven.
They shook hands. Mr. Kernan was hoisted on to the car and, while Mr. Power was giving directions to the carman, he expressed his gratitude to the young man and regretted that they could not have a little drink together.
Se estrecharon las manos. Subieron al señor Kernan al coche y, mientras el señor Power daba indicaciones al cochero, este expresó su gratitud al joven y lamentó no poder tomar algo juntos.
"Another time," said the young man.
"Otra vez será", respondió el joven.
The car drove off towards Westmoreland Street. As it passed Ballast Office the clock showed half-past nine. A keen east wind hit them, blowing from the mouth of the river. Mr. Kernan was huddled together with cold. His friend asked him to tell how the accident had happened.
El coche partió hacia Westmoreland Street. Al pasar frente al Ballast Office, el reloj marcaba las nueve y media. Un viento cortante del este les azotó, llegado desde la desembocadura del río. El señor Kernan se encogió de frío. Su amigo le pidió que relatara el accidente.
"I'an't 'an," he answered, "'y 'ongue is hurt."
"No p'edo", contestó, "t'ngo la lengua last'mada".
"Show."
"Enséñemela".
The other leaned over the well of the car and peered into Mr. Kernan's mouth but he could not see. He struck a match and, sheltering it in the shell of his hands, peered again into the mouth which Mr. Kernan opened obediently. The swaying movement of the car brought the match to and from the opened mouth. The lower teeth and gums were covered with clotted blood and a minute piece of the tongue seemed to have been bitten off. The match was blown out.
El otro se inclinó sobre el pescante y escudriñó la boca del señor Kernan sin lograr ver. Encendió una cerilla y, protegiéndola con sus manos ahuecadas, volvió a mirar dentro de la cavidad que este abrió obedientemente. El vaivén del coche acercaba y alejaba la llama de la boca abierta. Los dientes inferiores y las encías estaban cubiertos de sangre coagulada, y un fragmento minúsculo de la lengua parecía haberse desprendido. La cerilla se apagó.
"That's ugly," said Mr. Power.
"Qué feo", dijo el señor Power.
"Sha, 's nothing," said Mr. Kernan, closing his mouth and pulling the collar of his filthy coat across his neck.
"Na'a impo'tante", masculló el señor Kernan, cerrando la boca y ajustándose el cuello del sucio abrigo sobre la nuca.
Mr. Kernan was a commercial traveller of the old school which believed in the dignity of its calling. He had never been seen in the city without a silk hat of some decency and a pair of gaiters. By grace of these two articles of clothing, he said, a man could always pass muster. He carried on the tradition of his Napoleon, the great Blackwhite, whose memory he evoked at times by legend and mimicry. Modern business methods had spared him only so far as to allow him a little office in Crowe Street, on the window blind of which was written the name of his firm with the address—London, E. C. On the mantelpiece of this little office a little leaden battalion of canisters was drawn up and on the table before the window stood four or five china bowls which were usually half full of a black liquid. From these bowls Mr. Kernan tasted tea. He took a mouthful, drew it up, saturated his palate with it and then spat it forth into the grate. Then he paused to judge.
El señor Kernan era un viajante de comercio de la vieja escuela, que creía en la dignidad de su oficio. Nunca se lo veía en la ciudad sin un sombrero de copa decente y un par de polainas. Gracias a estas dos prendas, decía, un hombre siempre podía pasar inspección. Mantenía viva la tradición de su Napoleón, el gran Blackwhite, cuya memoria evocaba a veces mediante leyendas y mímica. Los métodos comerciales modernos solo lo habían respetado lo suficiente como para concederle una pequeña oficina en Crowe Street, cuyo visillo exhibía el nombre de su firma con la dirección: Londres, E.C. Sobre la repisa de esa oficina se alineaba un batallón de latas de plomo, y ante la ventana había cuatro o cinco tazones de porcelana medio llenos de un líquido negruzco. De estos recipientes el señor Kernan cataba el té: tomaba un sorbo, lo retenía, saturado el paladar, y luego lo escupía a la chimenea. Hacía una pausa para evaluarlo.
Mr. Power, a much younger man, was employed in the Royal Irish Constabulary Office in Dublin Castle. The arc of his social rise intersected the arc of his friend's decline, but Mr. Kernan's decline was mitigated by the fact that certain of those friends who had known him at his highest point of success still esteemed him as a character. Mr. Power was one of these friends. His inexplicable debts were a byword in his circle; he was a debonair young man.
El señor Power, mucho más joven, trabajaba en la Oficina de la Real Policía Irlandesa del Castillo de Dublín. El arco de su ascenso social intersectaba el de la decadencia de su amigo, aunque esta se veía atenuada porque ciertos compañeros que lo conocieron en su apogeo aún lo valoraban como personaje. El señor Power era uno de ellos. Sus deudas inexplicables eran proverbiales en su círculo; era un joven de modales desenvueltos.
The car halted before a small house on the Glasnevin road and Mr. Kernan was helped into the house. His wife put him to bed while Mr. Power sat downstairs in the kitchen asking the children where they went to school and what book they were in. The children—two girls and a boy, conscious of their father helplessness and of their mother's absence, began some horseplay with him. He was surprised at their manners and at their accents, and his brow grew thoughtful. After a while Mrs. Kernan entered the kitchen, exclaiming:
El coche se detuvo ante una casita en el camino de Glasnevin y ayudaron al señor Kernan a entrar. Su esposa lo acostó mientras el señor Power esperaba en la cocina, preguntando a los niños a qué escuela iban y qué libros usaban. Los menores —dos niñas y un varón, conscientes de la indefensión paterna y la ausencia materna— empezaron a retozar con él. Le sorprendieron sus modales y acentos, frunciendo el ceño pensativo. Al rato, la señora Kernan irrumpió exclamando:
"Such a sight! O, he'll do for himself one day and that's the holy alls of it. He's been drinking since Friday."
"¡Vaya espectáculo! Ay, un día acabará consigo mismo, y esa será la santa historia. Lleva bebiendo desde el viernes".
Mr. Power was careful to explain to her that he was not responsible, that he had come on the scene by the merest accident. Mrs. Kernan, remembering Mr. Power's good offices during domestic quarrels, as well as many small, but opportune loans, said:
El señor Power se apresuró a aclarar que no era responsable, que había llegado allí por mera casualidad. La señora Kernan, recordando sus buenos oficios en disputas domésticas y varios préstamos oportunos, replicó:
"O, you needn't tell me that, Mr. Power. I know you're a friend of his, not like some of the others he does be with. They're all right so long as he has money in his pocket to keep him out from his wife and family. Nice friends! Who was he with tonight, I'd like to know?"
"Ay, no me lo cuente, señor Power. Sé que usted es su amigo, no como esa gentuza con la que anda. Todos son encantadores mientras él tenga dinero para mantenerse lejos de su mujer e hijos. ¡Buenísimos amigos! ¿Con quién estaría esta noche, me pregunto?"
Mr. Power shook his head but said nothing.
El señor Power negó con la cabeza sin decir palabra.
"I'm so sorry," she continued, "that I've nothing in the house to offer you. But if you wait a minute I'll send round to Fogarty's, at the corner."
—Siento mucho —prosiguió ella— no tener nada en casa para ofrecerles. Pero si esperan un momento mandaré a Fogarty's, en la esquina.
Mr. Power stood up.
El señor Power se levantó.
"We were waiting for him to come home with the money. He never seems to think he has a home at all."
—Estábamos esperando que volviera a casa con el dinero. Parece que nunca piensa que tiene un hogar.
"O, now, Mrs. Kernan," said Mr. Power, "we'll make him turn over a new leaf. I'll talk to Martin. He's the man. We'll come here one of these nights and talk it over."
—Vamos, señora Kernan —dijo el señor Power—, lo haremos cambiar de vida. Hablaré con Martin. Él es el indicado. Vendremos una de estas noches a discutirlo.
She saw him to the door. The carman was stamping up and down the footpath, and swinging his arms to warm himself.
Lo acompañó hasta la puerta. El cochero pateaba el pavimento y movía los brazos para entrar en calor.
"It's very kind of you to bring him home," she said.
—Es muy amable de su parte traerlo a casa —dijo ella.
"Not at all," said Mr. Power.
—No hay de qué —respondió el señor Power.
He got up on the car. As it drove off he raised his hat to her gaily.
Subió al carruaje. Al partir, le hizo un alegre saludo con el sombrero.
"We'll make a new man of him," he said. "Good-night, Mrs. Kernan."
—Haremos de él un hombre nuevo —dijo—. Buenas noches, señora Kernan.
Mrs. Kernan's puzzled eyes watched the car till it was out of sight. Then she withdrew them, went into the house and emptied her husband's pockets.
Los ojos perplejos de la señora Kernan siguieron el carruaje hasta que desapareció. Luego los retiró, entró en la casa y vació los bolsillos de su marido.
She was an active, practical woman of middle age. Not long before she had celebrated her silver wedding and renewed her intimacy with her husband by waltzing with him to Mr. Power's accompaniment. In her days of courtship, Mr. Kernan had seemed to her a not ungallant figure: and she still hurried to the chapel door whenever a wedding was reported and, seeing the bridal pair, recalled with vivid pleasure how she had passed out of the Star of the Sea Church in Sandymount, leaning on the arm of a jovial well-fed man, who was dressed smartly in a frock-coat and lavender trousers and carried a silk hat gracefully balanced upon his other arm. After three weeks she had found a wife's life irksome and, later on, when she was beginning to find it unbearable, she had become a mother. The part of mother presented to her no insuperable difficulties and for twenty-five years she had kept house shrewdly for her husband. Her two eldest sons were launched. One was in a draper's shop in Glasgow and the other was clerk to a tea-merchant in Belfast. They were good sons, wrote regularly and sometimes sent home money. The other children were still at school.
Era una mujer activa y práctica de mediana edad. Poco antes había celebrado sus bodas de plata y renovado la intimidad con su esposo bailando un vals con él al acompañamiento del señor Power. En sus tiempos de noviazgo, el señor Kernan le había parecido una figura no desprovista de galantería: y aún se apresuraba a la puerta de la capilla cada vez que se anunciaba una boda y, al ver a los novios, recordaba con vívido placer cómo había salido de la Iglesia Estrella del Mar en Sandymount, apoyada en el brazo de un hombre jovial y bien alimentado, vestido con elegancia en levita y pantalones lavanda, llevando un sombrero de seda equilibrado con gracia en su otro brazo. Tras tres semanas, encontró la vida de esposa tediosa y, más tarde, cuando empezaba a hallarla insoportable, se convirtió en madre. El papel de madre no le presentó dificultades insuperables y durante veinticinco años administró el hogar con astucia para su marido. Sus dos hijos mayores ya estaban lanzados. Uno trabajaba en una mercería en Glasgow y el otro era oficinista para un comerciante de té en Belfast. Eran buenos hijos, escribían con regularidad y a veces enviaban dinero a casa. Los demás niños seguían en la escuela.
Mr. Kernan sent a letter to his office next day and remained in bed. She made beef-tea for him and scolded him roundly. She accepted his frequent intemperance as part of the climate, healed him dutifully whenever he was sick and always tried to make him eat a breakfast. There were worse husbands. He had never been violent since the boys had grown up, and she knew that he would walk to the end of Thomas Street and back again to book even a small order.
El señor Kernan envió una carta a su oficina al día siguiente y permaneció en cama. Ella le preparó caldo de carne y lo regañó sin miramientos. Aceptaba sus frecuentes excesos como parte del clima, lo cuidaba diligentemente cada vez que enfermaba y siempre intentaba que desayunara. Había maridos peores. Nunca había sido violento desde que los niños crecieron, y ella sabía que caminaría hasta el final de Thomas Street y de vuelta para conseguir incluso un pequeño pedido.
Two nights after, his friends came to see him. She brought them up to his bedroom, the air of which was impregnated with a personal odour, and gave them chairs at the fire. Mr. Kernan's tongue, the occasional stinging pain of which had made him somewhat irritable during the day, became more polite. He sat propped up in the bed by pillows and the little colour in his puffy cheeks made them resemble warm cinders. He apologised to his guests for the disorder of the room, but at the same time looked at them a little proudly, with a veteran's pride.
Dos noches después, sus amigos vinieron a verlo. Ella los llevó a su dormitorio, cuyo aire estaba impregnado de un olor personal, y les ofreció asientos junto al fuego. La lengua del señor Kernan, cuyo escozor ocasional lo había vuelto algo irritable durante el día, se mostró más cortés. Sentado en la cama apuntalado por almohadas, el leve color de sus mejillas hinchadas las asemejaba a ascuas tibias. Se disculpó con sus invitados por el desorden de la habitación, pero al mismo tiempo los miró con cierto orgullo veterano.
He was quite unconscious that he was the victim of a plot which his friends, Mr. Cunningham, Mr. M'Coy and Mr. Power had disclosed to Mrs. Kernan in the parlour. The idea been Mr. Power's, but its development was entrusted to Mr. Cunningham. Mr. Kernan came of Protestant stock and, though he had been converted to the Catholic faith at the time of his marriage, he had not been in the pale of the Church for twenty years. He was fond, moreover, of giving side-thrusts at Catholicism.
Ignoraba por completo que era víctima de un plan que sus amigos, el señor Cunningham, M'Coy y el señor Power, habían revelado a la señora Kernan en la salita. La idea había sido del señor Power, pero su desarrollo se encomendó al señor Cunningham. El señor Kernan provenía de estirpe protestante y, aunque se había convertido al catolicismo al casarse, llevaba veinte años fuera del redil de la Iglesia. Además, le gustaba lanzar indirectas contra el catolicismo.
Mr. Cunningham was the very man for such a case. He was an elder colleague of Mr. Power. His own domestic life was very happy. People had great sympathy with him, for it was known that he had married an unpresentable woman who was an incurable drunkard. He had set up house for her six times; and each time she had pawned the furniture on him.
El señor Cunningham era el hombre indicado para tal caso. Era colega antiguo del señor Power. Su vida doméstica era muy feliz. La gente simpatizaba mucho con él, pues se sabía que se había casado con una mujer de modales groseros que era una alcohólica incurable. Seis veces había establecido un hogar para ella; y cada vez ella le había empeñado los muebles.
Everyone had respect for poor Martin Cunningham. He was a thoroughly sensible man, influential and intelligent. His blade of human knowledge, natural astuteness particularised by long association with cases in the police courts, had been tempered by brief immersions in the waters of general philosophy. He was well informed. His friends bowed to his opinions and considered that his face was like Shakespeare's.
Todos respetaban al pobre Martin Cunningham. Era un hombre cabal, influyente e inteligente. Su hoja de conocimiento humano, una astucia natural particularizada por su larga asociación con casos en los tribunales policiales, se había templado con breves inmersiones en las aguas de la filosofía general. Estaba bien informado. Sus amigos se inclinaban ante sus opiniones y consideraban que su rostro se parecía al de Shakespeare.
When the plot had been disclosed to her, Mrs. Kernan had said:
Cuando le revelaron el plan, la señora Kernan había dicho:
"I leave it all in your hands, Mr. Cunningham."
—Dejo todo en sus manos, señor Cunningham.
After a quarter of a century of married life, she had very few illusions left. Religion for her was a habit, and she suspected that a man of her husband's age would not change greatly before death. She was tempted to see a curious appropriateness in his accident and, but that she did not wish to seem bloody-minded, would have told the gentlemen that Mr. Kernan's tongue would not suffer by being shortened. However, Mr. Cunningham was a capable man; and religion was religion. The scheme might do good and, at least, it could do no harm. Her beliefs were not extravagant. She believed steadily in the Sacred Heart as the most generally useful of all Catholic devotions and approved of the sacraments. Her faith was bounded by her kitchen, but, if she was put to it, she could believe also in the banshee and in the Holy Ghost.
Tras un cuarto de siglo de vida matrimonial, le quedaban pocas ilusiones. La religión para ella era un hábito, y sospechaba que un hombre de la edad de su marido no cambiaría mucho antes de morir. Se sentía tentada a ver una curiosa apropiación en su accidente y, de no ser por no parecer malintencionada, habría dicho a los caballeros que la lengua del señor Kernan no sufriría por acortarse. Sin embargo, el señor Cunningham era competente; y la religión era la religión. El plan podría hacer bien y, al menos, no haría daño. Sus creencias no eran extravagantes. Creía firmemente en el Sagrado Corazón como la más útil de todas las devociones católicas y aprobaba los sacramentos. Su fe estaba limitada a su cocina, pero, de ser necesario, también podía creer en la banshee y en el Espíritu Santo.
The gentlemen began to talk of the accident. Mr. Cunningham said that he had once known a similar case. A man of seventy had bitten off a piece of his tongue during an epileptic fit and the tongue had filled in again, so that no one could see a trace of the bite.
Los caballeros comenzaron a hablar del accidente. El señor Cunningham dijo que una vez había conocido un caso similar. Un hombre de setenta años se había mordido un trozo de la lengua durante un ataque epiléptico y esta se había regenerado, sin dejar rastro de la mordedura.
"Well, I'm not seventy," said the invalid.
—Bueno, yo no tengo setenta —dijo el convaleciente.
"God forbid," said Mr. Cunningham.
—Dios nos libre —dijo el señor Cunningham.
"It doesn't pain you now?" asked Mr. M'Coy.
—¿Ya no le duele? —preguntó el señor M'Coy.
Mr. M'Coy had been at one time a tenor of some reputation. His wife, who had been a soprano, still taught young children to play the piano at low terms. His line of life had not been the shortest distance between two points and for short periods he had been driven to live by his wits. He had been a clerk in the Midland Railway, a canvasser for advertisements for The Irish Times and for The Freeman's Journal, a town traveller for a coal firm on commission, a private inquiry agent, a clerk in the office of the Sub-Sheriff, and he had recently become secretary to the City Coroner. His new office made him professionally interested in Mr. Kernan's case.
El señor M'Coy había sido en su tiempo un tenor de cierta reputación. Su esposa, que fue soprano, aún enseñaba a niños pequeños a tocar el piano por módicas tarifas. Su trayectoria no había sido la línea recta entre dos puntos, y durante breves períodos había subsistido de su ingenio. Había sido empleado en el Ferrocarril Midland, captador de anuncios para The Irish Times y The Freeman's Journal, viajante de una carbonera a comisión, detective privado, empleado en la oficina del Sub-Sheriff y, recientemente, secretario del Forense de la Ciudad. Su nuevo cargo le hacía interesarse profesionalmente por el caso del señor Kernan.
"Pain? Not much," answered Mr. Kernan. "But it's so sickening. I feel as if I wanted to retch off."
—¿Dolor? No mucho —respondió el señor Kernan—. Pero es tan repugnante. Siento como si quisiera vomitar.
"That's the boose," said Mr. Cunningham firmly.
—Eso es la bebida —dijo el señor Cunningham con firmeza.
"No," said Mr. Kernan. "I think I caught cold on the car. There's something keeps coming into my throat, phlegm or——"
—No —dijo el señor Kernan—. Creo que me resfrié en el coche. Hay algo que me sube por la garganta, flema o…
"Mucus." said Mr. M'Coy.
—Moco —dijo el señor M'Coy.
"It keeps coming like from down in my throat; sickening."
—Sigue subiendo como desde lo hondo de mi garganta; asqueroso.
"Yes, yes," said Mr. M'Coy, "that's the thorax."
—Sí, sí —dijo el señor M'Coy—, eso es el tórax.
He looked at Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Power at the same time with an air of challenge. Mr. Cunningham nodded his head rapidly and Mr. Power said:
Miró al señor Cunningham y al señor Power con aire desafiante. El señor Cunningham asintió rápidamente y el señor Power dijo:
"Ah, well, all's well that ends well."
—Bueno, bien está lo que bien acaba.
"I'm very much obliged to you, old man," said the invalid.
—Estoy muy agradecido, viejo amigo —dijo el convaleciente.
Mr. Power waved his hand.
El señor Power hizo un gesto con la mano.
"Those other two fellows I was with——"
—Aquellos otros dos tipos con los que estaba…
"Who were you with?" asked Mr. Cunningham.
—¿Con quién estaba? —preguntó el señor Cunningham.
"A chap. I don't know his name. Damn it now, what's his name? Little chap with sandy hair...."
—Un tipo. No recuerdo su nombre. Demonios, ¿cómo se llama? Un hombrecillo de pelo arenoso…
"And who else?"
—¿Y quién más?
"Harford."
—Harford.
"Hm," said Mr. Cunningham.
—Hm —dijo el señor Cunningham.
When Mr. Cunningham made that remark, people were silent. It was known that the speaker had secret sources of information. In this case the monosyllable had a moral intention. Mr. Harford sometimes formed one of a little detachment which left the city shortly after noon on Sunday with the purpose of arriving as soon as possible at some public-house on the outskirts of the city where its members duly qualified themselves as bona fide travellers. But his fellow-travellers had never consented to overlook his origin. He had begun life as an obscure financier by lending small sums of money to workmen at usurious interest. Later on he had become the partner of a very fat, short gentleman, Mr. Goldberg, in the Liffey Loan Bank. Though he had never embraced more than the Jewish ethical code, his fellow-Catholics, whenever they had smarted in person or by proxy under his exactions, spoke of him bitterly as an Irish Jew and an illiterate, and saw divine disapproval of usury made manifest through the person of his idiot son. At other times they remembered his good points.
Cuando el señor Cunningham hizo aquel comentario, todos guardaron silencio. Era sabido que el orador poseía fuentes de información reservadas. En este caso, la monosílaba tenía una intención moral. El señor Harford a veces formaba parte de un pequeño grupo que salía de la ciudad poco después del mediodía del domingo con el propósito de llegar cuanto antes a algún pub en las afueras donde sus miembros se cualificaban debidamente como viajeros bona fide. Pero sus compañeros de viaje nunca habían consentido en pasar por alto sus orígenes. Había comenzado su vida como oscuro financiero prestando pequeñas sumas a obreros a interés usurario. Más tarde se había asociado con un caballero muy gordo y bajito, el señor Goldberg, en el Banco de Préstamos del Liffey. Aunque nunca había abrazado más que el código ético judío, sus correligionarios católicos, cuando sufrían en carne propia o por poderes sus exacciones, lo llamaban con amargura "judío irlandés" y "analfabeto", viendo en la persona de su hijo idiota un castigo divino a la usura. En otras ocasiones recordaban sus virtudes.
"I wonder where did he go to," said Mr. Kernan.
—Me pregunto adónde habrá ido —dijo el señor Kernan.
He wished the details of the incident to remain vague. He wished his friends to think there had been some mistake, that Mr. Harford and he had missed each other. His friends, who knew quite well Mr. Harford's manners in drinking were silent. Mr. Power said again:
Deseaba que los detalles del incidente permanecieran vagos. Quería que sus amigos pensaran que había habido algún malentendido, que el señor Harford y él se habían cruzado sin verse. Sus amigos, que conocían de sobra los modales etílicos del señor Harford, callaron. El señor Power repitió:
"All's well that ends well."
—Al final, bien está lo que bien acaba.
Mr. Kernan changed the subject at once.
El señor Kernan cambió de tema de inmediato.
"That was a decent young chap, that medical fellow," he said. "Only for him——"
—Ese joven médico era un tipo decente —dijo—. De no ser por él...
"O, only for him," said Mr. Power, "it might have been a case of seven days, without the option of a fine."
—Ah, de no ser por él —dijo el señor Power—, podrías haber acabado con siete días de arresto, sin opción a multa.
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Kernan, trying to remember. "I remember now there was a policeman. Decent young fellow, he seemed. How did it happen at all?"
—Sí, sí —dijo el señor Kernan, esforzándose por recordar—. Ahora me acuerdo de que había un policía. Parecía un joven decente. ¿Cómo ocurrió todo aquello?
"It happened that you were peloothered, Tom," said Mr. Cunningham gravely.
—Ocurrió que estabas peloothered, Tom —dijo el señor Cunningham con gravedad.
"True bill," said Mr. Kernan, equally gravely.
—Cierto como la vida misma —asintió el señor Kernan con igual solemnidad.
"I suppose you squared the constable, Jack," said Mr. M'Coy.
—Supongo que untaste al agente, Jack —dijo el señor M'Coy.
Mr. Power did not relish the use of his Christian name. He was not straight-laced, but he could not forget that Mr. M'Coy had recently made a crusade in search of valises and portmanteaus to enable Mrs. M'Coy to fulfil imaginary engagements in the country. More than he resented the fact that he had been victimised he resented such low playing of the game. He answered the question, therefore, as if Mr. Kernan had asked it.
Al señor Power no le agradó el uso de su nombre de pila. No era mojigato, pero no podía olvidar que el señor M'Coy había organizado recientemente una cruzada en busca de maletas y baúles para permitir a la señora M'Coy cumplir compromisos imaginarios en el campo. Más que el hecho de haber sido víctima, le molestaba aquel juego sucio. Respondió, pues, como si la pregunta hubiera salido del señor Kernan.
The narrative made Mr. Kernan indignant. He was keenly conscious of his citizenship, wished to live with his city on terms mutually honourable and resented any affront put upon him by those whom he called country bumpkins.
El relato indignó al señor Kernan. Estaba profundamente consciente de su ciudadanía, deseaba vivir en términos de honor mutuo con su ciudad y resentía cualquier afrenta de aquellos a quienes llamaba palurdos.
"Is this what we pay rates for?" he asked. "To feed and clothe these ignorant bostooms... and they're nothing else."
—¿Para esto pagamos impuestos? —preguntó—. ¿Para alimentar y vestir a estos botarates ignorantes... porque no son otra cosa.
Mr. Cunningham laughed. He was a Castle official only during office hours.
El señor Cunningham rió. Solo era funcionario del Castillo durante horario laboral.
"How could they be anything else, Tom?" he said.
—¿Cómo iban a ser otra cosa, Tom? —dijo.
He assumed a thick, provincial accent and said in a tone of command:
Adoptó un acento provincial espeso y ordenó con tono marcial:
"65, catch your cabbage!"
—¡Número 65, atrapa tu col!
Everyone laughed. Mr. M'Coy, who wanted to enter the conversation by any door, pretended that he had never heard the story. Mr. Cunningham said:
Todos rieron. El señor M'Coy, ansioso por integrarse en la conversación, fingió no conocer la historia. El señor Cunningham explicó:
"It is supposed—they say, you know—to take place in the depot where they get these thundering big country fellows, omadhauns, you know, to drill. The sergeant makes them stand in a row against the wall and hold up their plates."
—Se supone —dicen, ¿saben?— que ocurre en el cuartel donde instruyen a esos grandullones campesinos, omadhauns, ya ven. El sargento los hace formar contra la pared con los platos en alto.
He illustrated the story by grotesque gestures.
Ilustró el relato con gestos grotescos.
"At dinner, you know. Then he has a bloody big bowl of cabbage before him on the table and a bloody big spoon like a shovel. He takes up a wad of cabbage on the spoon and pegs it across the room and the poor devils have to try and catch it on their plates: 65, catch your cabbage."
—Durante la cena, ¿entienden? Luego tiene un maldito tazón de col frente a él y una cuchara enorme como pala. Toma una porción de col con la cuchara y la lanza al otro extremo. Los pobres diablos deben atraparla en sus platos: ¡Número 65, atrapa tu col!
Everyone laughed again: but Mr. Kernan was somewhat indignant still. He talked of writing a letter to the papers.
Todos rieron de nuevo, pero el señor Kernan mantenía cierto resentimiento. Habló de escribir una carta al periódico.
"These yahoos coming up here," he said, "think they can boss the people. I needn't tell you, Martin, what kind of men they are."
—Estos patanes que vienen aquí —dijo— creen que pueden mangonear a la gente. No hace falta que te diga, Martin, qué clase de hombres son.
Mr. Cunningham gave a qualified assent.
El señor Cunningham asintió con reservas.
"It's like everything else in this world," he said. "You get some bad ones and you get some good ones."
—Es como todo en este mundo —dijo—. Hay de los malos y de los buenos.
"O yes, you get some good ones, I admit," said Mr. Kernan, satisfied.
—Ah, sí, admito que hay buenos —concedió el señor Kernan, satisfecho.
"It's better to have nothing to say to them," said Mr. M'Coy. "That's my opinion!"
—Es mejor no meterse con ellos —dijo el señor M'Coy—. ¡Esa es mi opinión!
Mrs. Kernan entered the room and, placing a tray on the table, said:
La señora Kernan entró en la habitación y, colocando una bandeja en la mesa, dijo:
"Help yourselves, gentlemen."
—Sirvanse, caballeros.
Mr. Power stood up to officiate, offering her his chair. She declined it, saying she was ironing downstairs, and, after having exchanged a nod with Mr. Cunningham behind Mr. Power's back, prepared to leave the room. Her husband called out to her:
El señor Power se levantó para oficiar de anfitrión, ofreciéndole su silla. Ella lo rechazó, diciendo que estaba planchando abajo, y tras intercambiar un gesto con el señor Cunningham a espaldas del señor Power, se dispuso a salir. Su esposo la llamó:
"And have you nothing for me, duckie?"
—¿Y no tienes nada para mí, cariño?
"O, you! The back of my hand to you!" said Mrs. Kernan tartly.
—¡Oh, tú! ¡Que te zurzan! —respondió la señora Kernan con acidez.
Her husband called after her:
Su esposo le gritó al marcharse:
"Nothing for poor little hubby!"
—¡Nada para el pobrecito maridito!
He assumed such a comical face and voice that the distribution of the bottles of stout took place amid general merriment.
Puso una cara y un tono tan cómicos que el reparto de las botellas de cerveza negra se realizó entre risas generales.
The gentlemen drank from their glasses, set the glasses again on the table and paused. Then Mr. Cunningham turned towards Mr. Power and said casually:
Los caballeros bebieron de sus vasos, los volvieron a dejar sobre la mesa y guardaron silencio. Entonces el señor Cunningham se volvió hacia el señor Power y comentó con displicencia:
"On Thursday night, you said, Jack."
—El jueves por la noche, dijiste, Jack.
"Thursday, yes," said Mr. Power.
—El jueves, sí —confirmó el señor Power.
"Righto!" said Mr. Cunningham promptly.
—¡De acuerdo! —asintió al instante el señor Cunningham.
"We can meet in M'Auley's," said Mr. M'Coy. "That'll be the most convenient place."
—Podemos encontrarnos en M'Auley's —sugirió el señor M'Coy—. Será el lugar más conveniente.
"But we mustn't be late," said Mr. Power earnestly, "because it is sure to be crammed to the doors."
—Pero no debemos llegar tarde —advirtió el señor Power con seriedad—, porque seguro que estará abarrotado hasta las puertas.
"We can meet at half-seven," said Mr. M'Coy.
—Podemos quedar a las siete y media —propuso el señor M'Coy.
"Righto!" said Mr. Cunningham.
—¡De acuerdo! —dijo el señor Cunningham.
"Half-seven at M'Auley's be it!"
—¡Quedamos a las siete y media en M'Auley's!
There was a short silence. Mr. Kernan waited to see whether he would be taken into his friends' confidence. Then he asked:
Siguió un breve silencio. El señor Kernan esperó a ver si sus amigos lo incluían en su confianza. Finalmente preguntó:
"What's in the wind?"
—¿Qué se traen entre manos?
"O, it's nothing," said Mr. Cunningham. "It's only a little matter that we're arranging about for Thursday."
—Oh, no es nada —respondió el señor Cunningham—. Solo un asuntillo que estamos organizando para el jueves.
"The opera, is it?" said Mr. Kernan.
—¿La ópera? —preguntó el señor Kernan.
"No, no," said Mr. Cunningham in an evasive tone, "it's just a little... spiritual matter."
—No, no —evadió el señor Cunningham—. Es algo... de índole espiritual.
"O," said Mr. Kernan.
—Ah —dijo el señor Kernan.
There was silence again. Then Mr. Power said, point blank:
Nuevamente el silencio. Entonces el señor Power habló sin rodeos:
"To tell you the truth, Tom, we're going to make a retreat."
—Para ser sincero, Tom, vamos a hacer un retiro.
"Yes, that's it," said Mr. Cunningham, "Jack and I and M'Coy here—we're all going to wash the pot."
—Sí, eso es —secundó el señor Cunningham—. Jack, yo y M'Coy aquí... vamos a lavar la olla.
He uttered the metaphor with a certain homely energy and, encouraged by his own voice, proceeded:
Pronunció la metáfora con cierta energía campechana y, animado por su propia voz, continuó:
"You see, we may as well all admit we're a nice collection of scoundrels, one and all. I say, one and all," he added with gruff charity and turning to Mr. Power. "Own up now!"
—Mire, mejor admitir que todos somos una buena colección de sinvergüenzas. Digo, todos —añadió con ruda caridad, volviéndose hacia el señor Power—. ¡Reconócelo!
"I own up," said Mr. Power.
—Lo reconozco —dijo el señor Power.
"And I own up," said Mr. M'Coy.
—Y yo también —añadió el señor M'Coy.
"So we're going to wash the pot together," said Mr. Cunningham.
—Así que vamos a lavar la olla juntos —concluyó el señor Cunningham.
A thought seemed to strike him. He turned suddenly to the invalid and said:
Una idea pareció iluminarlo. Se volvió bruscamente hacia el convaleciente:
"D'ye know what, Tom, has just occurred to me? You night join in and we'd have a four-handed reel."
—Oye, Tom, ¿sabes lo que acaba de ocurrírseme? Podrías unirte y haríamos un baile de a cuatro.
"Good idea," said Mr. Power. "The four of us together."
—Buena idea —apoyó el señor Power—. Los cuatro juntos.
Mr. Kernan was silent. The proposal conveyed very little meaning to his mind, but, understanding that some spiritual agencies were about to concern themselves on his behalf, he thought he owed it to his dignity to show a stiff neck. He took no part in the conversation for a long while, but listened, with an air of calm enmity, while his friends discussed the Jesuits.
El señor Kernan guardó silencio. La propuesta tenía poco sentido para él, pero, entendiendo que algunas fuerzas espirituales se ocuparían de su caso, creyó que debía mantener su dignidad mostrándose reacio. Permaneció largo rato sin participar en la conversación, escuchando con aire de fría animadversión mientras sus amigos discutían sobre los jesuitas.
"I haven't such a bad opinion of the Jesuits," he said, intervening at length. "They're an educated order. I believe they mean well, too."
—No tengo tan mala opinión de los jesuitas —intervino por fin—. Son una orden culta. Creo que sus intenciones son buenas.
"They're the grandest order in the Church, Tom," said Mr. Cunningham, with enthusiasm. "The General of the Jesuits stands next to the Pope."
—Son la orden más grande de la Iglesia, Tom —dijo el señor Cunningham con entusiasmo—. El General de los jesuitas está justo después del Papa.
"There's no mistake about it," said Mr. M'Coy, "if you want a thing well done and no flies about, you go to a Jesuit. They're the boyos have influence. I'll tell you a case in point...."
—No hay duda —afirmó el señor M'Coy—. Si quieres algo bien hecho y sin rodeos, acudes a un jesuita. Esos tipos tienen influencia. Les contaré un caso concreto...
"The Jesuits are a fine body of men," said Mr. Power.
—Los jesuitas son un cuerpo ejemplar —dijo el señor Power.
"It's a curious thing," said Mr. Cunningham, "about the Jesuit Order. Every other order of the Church had to be reformed at some time or other but the Jesuit Order was never once reformed. It never fell away."
—Es curioso —reflexionó el señor Cunningham—. Todas las demás órdenes de la Iglesia tuvieron que reformarse en algún momento, pero la Compañía de Jesús jamás fue reformada. Nunca decayó.
"Is that so?" asked Mr. M'Coy.
—¿En serio? —preguntó el señor M'Coy.
"That's a fact," said Mr. Cunningham. "That's history."
—Es un hecho —sentenció el señor Cunningham—. Eso es historia.
"Look at their church, too," said Mr. Power. "Look at the congregation they have."
—Miren su iglesia también —dijo el señor Power—. Miren la congregación que tienen.
"The Jesuits cater for the upper classes," said Mr. M'Coy.
—Los jesuitas atienden a las clases altas —dijo el señor M'Coy.
"Of course," said Mr. Power.
—Por supuesto —dijo el señor Power.
"Yes," said Mr. Kernan. "That's why I have a feeling for them. It's some of those secular priests, ignorant, bumptious——"
—Sí —dijo el señor Kernan—. Por eso les tengo aprecio. Algunos de esos curas seculares, ignorantes, engreídos...
"They're all good men," said Mr. Cunningham, "each in his own way. The Irish priesthood is honoured all the world over."
—Todos son hombres buenos —dijo el señor Cunningham—, cada uno a su manera. El sacerdocio irlandés es honrado en todo el mundo.
"O yes," said Mr. Power.
—Ah, sí —dijo el señor Power.
"Not like some of the other priesthoods on the continent," said Mr. M'Coy, "unworthy of the name."
—No como otros cleros del continente —dijo el señor M'Coy—, indignos del nombre.
"Perhaps you're right," said Mr. Kernan, relenting.
—Quizá tenga razón —dijo el señor Kernan, suavizando su tono.
"Of course I'm right," said Mr. Cunningham. "I haven't been in the world all this time and seen most sides of it without being a judge of character."
—Claro que la tengo —dijo el señor Cunningham—. No he vivido tanto en este mundo y visto tantas facetas sin aprender a juzgar el carácter.
The gentlemen drank again, one following another's example. Mr. Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was impressed. He had a high opinion of Mr. Cunningham as a judge of character and as a reader of faces. He asked for particulars.
Los caballeros bebieron nuevamente, imitándose unos a otros. El señor Kernan parecía sopesar algo mentalmente. Estaba impresionado. Tenía alta estima del señor Cunningham como juez de carácter y lector de rostros. Pidió detalles.
"O, it's just a retreat, you know," said Mr. Cunningham. "Father Purdon is giving it. It's for business men, you know."
—Oh, es solo un retiro —dijo el señor Cunningham—. Lo dirige el padre Purdon. Es para hombres de negocios, sabe.
"He won't be too hard on us, Tom," said Mr. Power persuasively.
—No será muy duro con nosotros, Tom —dijo el señor Power persuasivamente.
"Father Purdon? Father Purdon?" said the invalid.
—¿El padre Purdon? ¿El padre Purdon? —preguntó el convaleciente.
"O, you must know him, Tom," said Mr. Cunningham stoutly. "Fine, jolly fellow! He's a man of the world like ourselves."
—¡Vamos, Tom, debe conocerlo! —dijo el señor Cunningham con firmeza—. ¡Un tipo estupendo, jovial! Es hombre de mundo como nosotros.
"Ah,... yes. I think I know him. Rather red face; tall."
—Ah... sí. Creo que lo conozco. Cara algo rojiza; alto.
"That's the man."
—Ese mismo.
"And tell me, Martin.... Is he a good preacher?"
—Dígame, Martin... ¿Es buen predicador?
"Munno.... It's not exactly a sermon, you know. It's just kind of a friendly talk, you know, in a common-sense way."
—Mmm... No es exactamente un sermón, ¿sabe? Más bien una charla amable, en plan sensato.
Mr. Kernan deliberated. Mr. M'Coy said:
El señor Kernan reflexionó. El señor M'Coy exclamó:
"Father Tom Burke, that was the boy!"
—¡El padre Tom Burke, ese sí que era un fenómeno!
"O, Father Tom Burke," said Mr. Cunningham, "that was a born orator. Did you ever hear him, Tom?"
—Ah, el padre Tom Burke —dijo el señor Cunningham—, un orador nato. ¿Lo oyó alguna vez, Tom?
"Did I ever hear him!" said the invalid, nettled. "Rather! I heard him...."
—¡Si lo oí! —replicó el convaleciente, irritado—. ¡Y cómo! Lo escuché...
"And yet they say he wasn't much of a theologian," said Mr Cunningham.
—Aunque dicen que no era gran teólogo —apuntó el señor Cunningham.
"Is that so?" said Mr. M'Coy.
—¿En serio? —preguntó el señor M'Coy.
"O, of course, nothing wrong, you know. Only sometimes, they say, he didn't preach what was quite orthodox."
—Bueno, nada grave, ¿eh? Solo que a veces, se comenta, no predicaba del todo conforme a la ortodoxia.
"Ah!... he was a splendid man," said Mr. M'Coy.
—¡Ah!... Era un hombre espléndido —dijo el señor M'Coy.
"I heard him once," Mr. Kernan continued. "I forget the subject of his discourse now. Crofton and I were in the back of the... pit, you know... the——"
—Lo oí una vez —prosiguió el señor Kernan—. Ahora olvido el tema de su discurso. Crofton y yo estábamos al fondo del... foso, ¿saben?... el...
"The body," said Mr. Cunningham.
—El cuerpo de la iglesia —completó el señor Cunningham.
"Yes, in the back near the door. I forget now what.... O yes, it was on the Pope, the late Pope. I remember it well. Upon my word it was magnificent, the style of the oratory. And his voice! God! hadn't he a voice! The Prisoner of the Vatican, he called him. I remember Crofton saying to me when we came out——"
—Sí, atrás cerca de la puerta. No recuerdo bien... Ah, sí, hablaba del Papa, el último Papa. Lo recuerdo vivamente. Palabra que fue magnífica su oratoria. ¡Y su voz! ¡Dios! ¡Qué voz tenía! "El prisionero del Vaticano", lo llamó. Recuerdo que Crofton me dijo al salir...
"But he's an Orangeman, Crofton, isn't he?" said Mr. Power.
—Pero Crofton es orangista, ¿no? —interrumpió el señor Power.
"'Course he is," said Mr. Kernan, "and a damned decent Orangeman too. We went into Butler's in Moore Street—faith, was genuinely moved, tell you the God's truth—and I remember well his very words. Kernan, he said, we worship at different altars, he said, but our belief is the same. Struck me as very well put."
—Claro que sí —dijo el señor Kernan—, y un orangista de lo más decente. Entramos a la taberna de Butler en Moore Street —se lo juro, estaba sinceramente conmovido— y recuerdo bien sus palabras. "Kernan", dijo, "adoramos en diferentes altares, pero nuestra fe es la misma". Me pareció muy bien expresado.
"There's a good deal in that," said Mr. Power. "There used always be crowds of Protestants in the chapel where Father Tom was preaching."
—Hay mucho de cierto en eso —dijo el señor Power—. Siempre había montones de protestantes en la capilla cuando predicaba el padre Tom.
"There's not much difference between us," said Mr. M'Coy.
—No hay gran diferencia entre nosotros —dijo el señor M'Coy.
"We both believe in——"
—Ambos creemos en...
He hesitated for a moment.
Vaciló un instante.
"... in the Redeemer. Only they don't believe in the Pope and in the mother of God."
—...en el Redentor. Solo que ellos no creen en el Papa ni en la madre de Dios.
"But, of course," said Mr. Cunningham quietly and effectively, "our religion is the religion, the old, original faith."
—Pero, desde luego —dijo el señor Cunningham con calma y efectividad—, nuestra religión es la religión, la fe antigua y original.
"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Kernan warmly.
—Sin duda alguna —afirmó el señor Kernan con calor.
Mrs. Kernan came to the door of the bedroom and announced:
La señora Kernan apareció en la puerta del dormitorio y anunció:
"Here's a visitor for you!"
—¡Tienen visita!
"Who is it?"
—¿Quién es?
"Mr. Fogarty."
—El señor Fogarty.
"O, come in! come in!"
—¡Ah, pase! ¡Pase!
A pale, oval face came forward into the light. The arch of its fair trailing moustache was repeated in the fair eyebrows looped above pleasantly astonished eyes. Mr. Fogarty was a modest grocer. He had failed in business in a licensed house in the city because his financial condition had constrained him to tie himself to second-class distillers and brewers. He had opened a small shop on Glasnevin Road where, he flattered himself, his manners would ingratiate him with the housewives of the district. He bore himself with a certain grace, complimented little children and spoke with a neat enunciation. He was not without culture.
Un rostro pálido y ovalado avanzó hacia la luz. El arco de su bigote rubio y caído se repetía en las cejas claras arqueadas sobre unos ojos amablemente asombrados. El señor Fogarty era un modesto tendero. Había fracasado en un negocio de licores en la ciudad porque su situación económica lo había obligado a asociarse con destiladores y cerveceros de segunda clase. Había abierto una pequeña tienda en Glasnevin Road donde, se adulaba pensando, sus modales granjearían el favor de las amas de casa del distrito. Se comportaba con cierta elegancia, halagaba a los niños pequeños y hablaba con una dicción cuidada. No carecía de cultura.
Mr. Fogarty brought a gift with him, a half-pint of special whisky. He inquired politely for Mr. Kernan, placed his gift on the table and sat down with the company on equal terms. Mr. Kernan appreciated the gift all the more since he was aware that there was a small account for groceries unsettled between him and Mr. Fogarty. He said:
El señor Fogarty trajo un obsequio: una media pinta de whisky especial. Preguntó cortésmente por el señor Kernan, depositó su regalo en la mesa y se sentó con el grupo en igualdad de condiciones. El señor Kernan apreció aún más el detalle al recordar que existía una pequeña cuenta de comestibles pendiente entre él y el señor Fogarty. Dijo:
"I wouldn't doubt you, old man. Open that, Jack, will you?"
—No dudaría de ti, viejo amigo. Abre eso, Jack, ¿quieres?
Mr. Power again officiated. Glasses were rinsed and five small measures of whisky were poured out. This new influence enlivened the conversation. Mr. Fogarty, sitting on a small area of the chair, was specially interested.
El señor Power ofició nuevamente. Enjuagaron los vasos y sirvieron cinco medidas reducidas de whisky. Esta nueva influencia avivó la conversación. El señor Fogarty, sentado en el borde de la silla, mostró particular interés.
"Pope Leo XIII," said Mr. Cunningham, "was one of the lights of the age. His great idea, you know, was the union of the Latin and Greek Churches. That was the aim of his life."
—El Papa León XIII —dijo el señor Cunningham— fue una de las lumbreras de su época. Su gran idea, ya saben, era la unión de las iglesias latina y griega. Ese fue el objetivo de su vida.
"I often heard he was one of the most intellectual men in Europe," said Mr. Power. "I mean, apart from his being Pope."
—Siempre oí decir que era uno de los hombres más intelectuales de Europa —comentó el señor Power—. Quiero decir, además de ser Papa.
"So he was," said Mr. Cunningham, "if not the most so. His motto, you know, as Pope, was Lux upon Lux—Light upon Light."
—Así era —afirmó el señor Cunningham—, si no el más. Su lema, ya saben, como Papa, era Lux upon Lux: Luz sobre Luz.
"No, no," said Mr. Fogarty eagerly. "I think you're wrong there. It was Lux in Tenebris, I think—Light in Darkness."
—No, no —intervino el señor Fogarty con entusiasmo—. Creo que se equivoca allí. Era Lux in Tenebris, creo: Luz en las Tinieblas.
"O yes," said Mr. M'Coy, "Tenebrae."
—Ah, sí —dijo el señor M'Coy—. Tenebrae.
"Allow me," said Mr. Cunningham positively, "it was Lux upon Lux. And Pius IX his predecessor's motto was Crux upon Crux—that is, Cross upon Cross—to show the difference between their two pontificates."
—Permítame —dijo el señor Cunningham con firmeza—. Era Lux upon Lux. Y el lema de su predecesor Pío IX era Crux upon Crux, es decir, Cruz sobre Cruz, para marcar la diferencia entre sus dos pontificados.
The inference was allowed. Mr. Cunningham continued.
Se aceptó la inferencia. El señor Cunningham continuó.
"Pope Leo, you know, was a great scholar and a poet."
—El Papa León, ya saben, era un gran erudito y poeta.
"He had a strong face," said Mr. Kernan.
—Tenía un rostro enérgico —apuntó el señor Kernan.
"Yes," said Mr. Cunningham. "He wrote Latin poetry."
—Sí —dijo el señor Cunningham—. Escribía poesía en latín.
"Is that so?" said Mr. Fogarty.
—¿En serio? —preguntó el señor Fogarty.
Mr. M'Coy tasted his whisky contentedly and shook his head with a double intention, saying:
El señor M'Coy saboreó su whisky con satisfacción y movió la cabeza con doble intención, diciendo:
"That's no joke, I can tell you."
—Eso no es ninguna broma, se lo aseguro.
"We didn't learn that, Tom," said Mr. Power, following Mr. M'Coy's example, "when we went to the penny-a-week school."
—No aprendimos eso, Tom —dijo el señor Power, siguiendo el ejemplo de M'Coy— cuando íbamos a la escuela del penique a la semana.
"There was many a good man went to the penny-a-week school with a sod of turf under his oxter," said Mr. Kernan sententiously. "The old system was the best: plain honest education. None of your modern trumpery...."
—Hubo muchos buenos hombres que fueron a la escuela del penique con un terrón de turba bajo el sobaco —sentenció el señor Kernan—. El viejo sistema era el mejor: educación sencilla y honesta. Nada de las pamplinas modernas...
"Quite right," said Mr. Power.
—Totalmente de acuerdo —dijo el señor Power.
"No superfluities," said Mr. Fogarty.
—Sin superfluidades —añadió el señor Fogarty.
He enunciated the word and then drank gravely.
Enunció la palabra y luego bebió con solemnidad.
"I remember reading," said Mr. Cunningham, "that one of Pope Leo's poems was on the invention of the photograph—in Latin, of course."
—Recuerdo haber leído —comentó el señor Cunningham— que uno de los poemas del Papa León trataba sobre el invento de la fotografía. En latín, por supuesto.
"On the photograph!" exclaimed Mr. Kernan.
—¡Sobre la fotografía! —exclamó el señor Kernan.
"Yes," said Mr. Cunningham.
—Sí —confirmó el señor Cunningham.
He also drank from his glass.
También bebió de su vaso.
"Well, you know," said Mr. M'Coy, "isn't the photograph wonderful when you come to think of it?"
—Bueno, ya saben —dijo el señor M'Coy—, ¿no es maravillosa la fotografía cuando uno lo piensa?
"O, of course," said Mr. Power, "great minds can see things."
—Oh, desde luego —convino el señor Power—. Las grandes mentes pueden ver las cosas.
"As the poet says: Great minds are very near to madness," said Mr. Fogarty.
—Como dice el poeta: Las grandes mentes rozan la locura —citó el señor Fogarty.
Mr. Kernan seemed to be troubled in mind. He made an effort to recall the Protestant theology on some thorny points and in the end addressed Mr. Cunningham.
El señor Kernan parecía perturbado. Hizo un esfuerzo por recordar la teología protestante sobre ciertos puntos espinosos y finalmente se dirigió al señor Cunningham.
"Tell me, Martin," he said. "Weren't some of the popes—of course, not our present man, or his predecessor, but some of the old popes—not exactly... you know... up to the knocker?"
—Dime, Martin —preguntó—. ¿No hubo algunos papas —claro, no nuestro actual ni su predecesor, sino antiguos— que no eran exactamente... ya sabes... de fiar?
There was a silence. Mr. Cunningham said
Se hizo un silencio. El señor Cunningham dijo:
"O, of course, there were some bad lots... But the astonishing thing is this. Not one of them, not the biggest drunkard, not the most... out-and-out ruffian, not one of them ever preached ex cathedra a word of false doctrine. Now isn't that an astonishing thing?"
"—Oh, claro que hubo algunos de mala calaña... Pero lo asombroso es esto. Ni uno de ellos, ni el más borracho, ni el más... desalmado ruffián, jamás predicó ex cathedra una sola palabra de doctrina falsa. ¿No es eso asombroso?"
"That is," said Mr. Kernan.
"Así es", dijo el señor Kernan.
"Yes, because when the Pope speaks ex cathedra," Mr. Fogarty explained, "he is infallible."
"Sí, porque cuando el Papa habla ex cathedra", explicó el señor Fogarty, "es infalible".
"Yes," said Mr. Cunningham.
"Exacto", dijo el señor Cunningham.
"O, I know about the infallibility of the Pope. I remember I was younger then.... Or was it that——?"
"—Oh, yo sé de la infalibilidad del Papa. Recuerdo que entonces era más joven... ¿O fue que...?"
Mr. Fogarty interrupted. He took up the bottle and helped the others to a little more. Mr. M'Coy, seeing that there was not enough to go round, pleaded that he had not finished his first measure. The others accepted under protest. The light music of whisky falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude.
El señor Fogarty interrumpió. Tomó la botella y sirvió un poco más a los demás. El señor M'Coy, al ver que no alcanzaba para todos, alegó que aún no terminaba su primera medida. Los otros aceptaron bajo protesta. La ligera música del whisky al caer en los vasos creó un interludio agradable.
"What's that you were saying, Tom?" asked Mr. M'Coy.
"—¿Qué decías, Tom?", preguntó el señor M'Coy.
"Papal infallibility," said Mr. Cunningham, "that was the greatest scene in the whole history of the Church."
"La infalibilidad papal", dijo el señor Cunningham, "ese fue el momento culminante de toda la historia de la Iglesia".
"How was that, Martin?" asked Mr. Power.
"—¿Cómo así, Martin?", preguntó el señor Power.
Mr. Cunningham held up two thick fingers.
El señor Cunningham alzó dos dedos gruesos.
"In the sacred college, you know, of cardinals and archbishops and bishops there were two men who held out against it while the others were all for it. The whole conclave except these two was unanimous. No! They wouldn't have it!"
"En el sagrado colegio de cardenales, arzobispos y obispos, hubo dos hombres que se resistieron mientras todos los demás la apoyaban. Todo el cónclave, excepto estos dos, estaba unánime. ¡No! ¡No lo aceptarían!"
"Ha!" said Mr. M'Coy.
"—¡Ja!", dijo el señor M'Coy.
"And they were a German cardinal by the name of Dolling... or Dowling... or——"
"Uno era un cardenal alemán llamado Dolling... o Dowling... o—"
"Dowling was no German, and that's a sure five," said Mr. Power, laughing.
"—Dowling no era alemán, eso es seguro", dijo el señor Power riendo.
"Well, this great German cardinal, whatever his name was, was one; and the other was John MacHale."
"Bueno, este gran cardenal alemán, cualquiera que fuese su nombre, era uno; y el otro era John MacHale".
"What?" cried Mr. Kernan. "Is it John of Tuam?"
"—¿Qué?", exclamó el señor Kernan. "¿El Juan de Tuam?"
"Are you sure of that now?" asked Mr. Fogarty dubiously. "I thought it was some Italian or American."
"—¿Estás seguro de eso?", preguntó el señor Fogarty con escepticismo. "Creí que era algún italiano o americano".
"John of Tuam," repeated Mr. Cunningham, "was the man."
"Juan de Tuam", repitió el señor Cunningham, "ese era el hombre".
He drank and the other gentlemen followed his lead. Then he resumed:
Bebió, y los demás caballeros lo imitaron. Luego continuó:
"There they were at it, all the cardinals and bishops and archbishops from all the ends of the earth and these two fighting dog and devil until at last the Pope himself stood up and declared infallibility a dogma of the Church ex cathedra. On the very moment John MacHale, who had been arguing and arguing against it, stood up and shouted out with the voice of a lion: 'Credo!'"
"Ahí estaban todos, cardenales, obispos y arzobispos de los confines del mundo, y estos dos luchando como perro y diablo hasta que al fin el Papa mismo se levantó y declaró la infalibilidad como dogma de la Iglesia ex cathedra. En ese mismo instante, John MacHale, que había estado argumentando y argumentando en contra, se puso de pie y gritó con voz de león: '¡Credo!'"
"I believe!" said Mr. Fogarty.
"—¡Creo!", dijo el señor Fogarty.
"Credo!" said Mr. Cunningham "That showed the faith he had. He submitted the moment the Pope spoke."
"—¡Credo!", dijo el señor Cunningham. "Eso demostró la fe que tenía. Se sometió en el momento en que el Papa habló".
"And what about Dowling?" asked Mr. M'Coy.
"—¿Y qué pasó con Dowling?", preguntó el señor M'Coy.
"The German cardinal wouldn't submit. He left the church."
"El cardenal alemán no se sometió. Abandonó la Iglesia".
Mr. Cunningham's words had built up the vast image of the church in the minds of his hearers. His deep, raucous voice had thrilled them as it uttered the word of belief and submission. When Mrs. Kernan came into the room, drying her hands she came into a solemn company. She did not disturb the silence, but leaned over the rail at the foot of the bed.
Las palabras del señor Cunningham habían erigido en las mentes de sus oyentes la vasta imagen de la Iglesia. Su voz grave y ronca los había estremecido al pronunciar la palabra de fe y sumisión. Cuando la señora Kernan entró en la habitación, secándose las manos, se encontró con una asamblea solemne. No interrumpió el silencio, sino que se apoyó en la baranda al pie de la cama.
"I once saw John MacHale," said Mr. Kernan, "and I'll never forget it as long as I live."
"—Una vez vi a John MacHale", dijo el señor Kernan, "y nunca lo olvidaré mientras viva".
He turned towards his wife to be confirmed.
Se volvió hacia su esposa en busca de confirmación.
"I often told you that?"
"—¿Te lo he contado muchas veces?"
Mrs. Kernan nodded.
La señora Kernan asintió.
"It was at the unveiling of Sir John Gray's statue. Edmund Dwyer Gray was speaking, blathering away, and here was this old fellow, crabbed-looking old chap, looking at him from under his bushy eyebrows."
"Fue en la inauguración de la estatua de Sir John Gray. Edmund Dwyer Gray hablaba, farfullando sin parar, y allí estaba este viejo, un tipo cascarrabias, observándolo desde bajo sus espesas cejas".
Mr. Kernan knitted his brows and, lowering his head like an angry bull, glared at his wife.
El señor Kernan frunció el ceño y, bajando la cabeza como un toro enfurecido, clavó la mirada en su esposa.
"God!" he exclaimed, resuming his natural face, "I never saw such an eye in a man's head. It was as much as to say: I have you properly taped, my lad. He had an eye like a hawk."
"—¡Dios!", exclamó, recuperando su expresión normal, "jamás vi unos ojos así en un hombre. Era como si dijera: Te tengo bien medido, muchacho. Tenía ojos de halcón".
"None of the Grays was any good," said Mr. Power.
"—Ninguno de los Gray valía algo", dijo el señor Power.
There was a pause again. Mr. Power turned to Mrs. Kernan and said with abrupt joviality:
Hubo otra pausa. El señor Power se volvió hacia la señora Kernan y dijo con abrupta jovialidad:
"Well, Mrs. Kernan, we're going to make your man here a good holy pious and God-fearing Roman Catholic."
"—Bueno, señora Kernan, vamos a convertir a su hombre aquí en un buen católico romano, piadoso y temeroso de Dios".
He swept his arm round the company inclusively.
Abarcó al grupo con un gesto inclusivo.
"We're all going to make a retreat together and confess our sins—and God knows we want it badly."
"—Todos haremos un retiro juntos y confesaremos nuestros pecados... y Dios sabe que falta nos hace".
"I don't mind," said Mr. Kernan, smiling a little nervously.
—No me importa —dijo el señor Kernan, sonriendo levemente con nerviosismo.
Mrs. Kernan thought it would be wiser to conceal her satisfaction. So she said:
La señora Kernan consideró más prudente disimular su satisfacción. Así que respondió:
"I pity the poor priest that has to listen to your tale."
—Compadezco al pobre sacerdote que tenga que escuchar tu historia.
Mr. Kernan's expression changed.
La expresión del señor Kernan cambió.
"If he doesn't like it," he said bluntly, "he can... do the other thing. I'll just tell him my little tale of woe. I'm not such a bad fellow——"
—Si no le gusta —dijo bruscamente—, que... se aguante. Solo le contaré mi pequeña tragedia. No soy tan mal tipo...
Mr. Cunningham intervened promptly.
El señor Cunningham intervino con presteza.
"We'll all renounce the devil," he said, "together, not forgetting his works and pomps."
—Todos renunciaremos al diablo —declaró—, juntos, sin olvidar sus obras y pompas.
"Get behind me, Satan!" said Mr. Fogarty, laughing and looking at the others.
—¡Apártate de mí, Satanás! —exclamó el señor Fogarty, riendo mientras miraba a los demás.
Mr. Power said nothing. He felt completely out-generalled. But a pleased expression flickered across his face.
El señor Power guardó silencio. Se sentía superado estratégicamente. No obstante, una expresión de satisfacción le iluminó el rostro.
"All we have to do," said Mr. Cunningham, "is to stand up with lighted candles in our hands and renew our baptismal vows."
—Solo debemos —prosiguió el señor Cunningham— permanecer de pie con velas encendidas en las manos y renovar nuestros votos bautismales.
"O, don't forget the candle, Tom," said Mr. M'Coy, "whatever you do."
—Ah, no olvides la vela, Tom —advirtió el señor M'Coy—, hagas lo que hagas.
"What?" said Mr. Kernan. "Must I have a candle?"
—¿Cómo? —preguntó el señor Kernan—. ¿Tengo que llevar vela?
"O yes," said Mr. Cunningham.
—Oh, sí —afirmó el señor Cunningham.
"No, damn it all," said Mr. Kernan sensibly, "I draw the line there. I'll do the job right enough. I'll do the retreat business and confession, and... all that business. But... no candles! No, damn it all, I bar the candles!"
—No, demonios —replicó el señor Kernan con sensatez—, ahí trazo la línea. Haré lo que toca: el retiro, la confesión y... todo ese asunto. Pero... ¡velas no! ¡No, caramba, me niego a las velas!
He shook his head with farcical gravity.
Meneó la cabeza con una gravedad bufonesca.
"Listen to that!" said his wife.
—¡Escúchenlo! —exclamó su esposa.
"I bar the candles," said Mr. Kernan, conscious of having created an effect on his audience and continuing to shake his head to and fro. "I bar the magic-lantern business."
—Me niego a las velas —insistió el señor Kernan, consciente de haber causado efecto en su audiencia, y continuó meneando la cabeza—. Me niego al teatro de linternas mágicas.
Everyone laughed heartily.
Todos rieron con ganas.
"There's a nice Catholic for you!" said his wife.
—¡Vaya católico estás hecho! —dijo su esposa.
"No candles!" repeated Mr. Kernan obdurately. "That's off!"
—¡Velas no! —repitió el señor Kernan obstinado—. ¡Eso queda descartado!
The transept of the Jesuit Church in Gardiner Street was almost full; and still at every moment gentlemen entered from the side door and, directed by the lay-brother, walked on tiptoe along the aisles until they found seating accommodation. The gentlemen were all well dressed and orderly. The light of the lamps of the church fell upon an assembly of black clothes and white collars, relieved here and there by tweeds, on dark mottled pillars of green marble and on lugubrious canvases. The gentlemen sat in the benches, having hitched their trousers slightly above their knees and laid their hats in security. They sat well back and gazed formally at the distant speck of red light which was suspended before the high altar.
El transepto de la Iglesia Jesuita en Gardiner Street estaba casi lleno; y aún así, a cada instante, caballeros entraban por la puerta lateral y, guiados por el hermano lego, avanzaban de puntillas por las naves hasta encontrar asiento. Todos los caballeros iban bien vestidos y en orden. La luz de las lámparas de la iglesia caía sobre una asamblea de trajes negros y cuellos blancos, salpicados aquí y allá de tweeds, sobre los pilares moteados de mármol verde y las lúgubres pinturas. Los caballeros, sentados en los bancos, habían subido ligeramente los pantalones sobre las rodillas y depositado los sombreros en lugar seguro. Se reclinaban con aire formal, contemplando el distante punto de luz roja que pendía ante el altar mayor.
In one of the benches near the pulpit sat Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Kernan. In the bench behind sat Mr. M'Coy alone: and in the bench behind him sat Mr. Power and Mr. Fogarty. Mr. M'Coy had tried unsuccessfully to find a place in the bench with the others, and, when the party had settled down in the form of a quincunx, he had tried unsuccessfully to make comic remarks. As these had not been well received, he had desisted. Even he was sensible of the decorous atmosphere and even he began to respond to the religious stimulus. In a whisper, Mr. Cunningham drew Mr. Kernan's attention to Mr. Harford, the moneylender, who sat some distance off, and to Mr. Fanning, the registration agent and mayor maker of the city, who was sitting immediately under the pulpit beside one of the newly elected councillors of the ward. To the right sat old Michael Grimes, the owner of three pawnbroker's shops, and Dan Hogan's nephew, who was up for the job in the Town Clerk's office. Farther in front sat Mr. Hendrick, the chief reporter of The Freeman's Journal, and poor O'Carroll, an old friend of Mr. Kernan's, who had been at one time a considerable commercial figure. Gradually, as he recognised familiar faces, Mr. Kernan began to feel more at home. His hat, which had been rehabilitated by his wife, rested upon his knees. Once or twice he pulled down his cuffs with one hand while he held the brim of his hat lightly, but firmly, with the other hand.
En uno de los bancos cerca del púlpito se hallaban el señor Cunningham y el señor Kernan. En el banco posterior estaba el señor M'Coy solo; y detrás de él, el señor Power y el señor Fogarty. El señor M'Coy había intentado sin éxito unirse a los demás en el mismo banco, y cuando el grupo se acomodó en formación de quincunce, probó sin fortuna hacer comentarios jocosos. Al no recibir buena acogida, desistió. Hasta él percibía la atmósfera decorosa y comenzaba a responder al estímulo religioso. En un susurro, el señor Cunningham llamó la atención del señor Kernan hacia el señor Harford, el prestamista, sentado a cierta distancia, y hacia el señor Fanning, agente de registro y fabricante de alcaldes de la ciudad, quien ocupaba un sitio justo bajo el púlpito junto a un concejal recién electo del distrito. A la derecha estaba el viejo Michael Grimes, dueño de tres casas de empeño, y el sobrino de Dan Hogan, aspirante al puesto en la oficina del secretario municipal. Más adelante se sentaban el señor Hendrick, jefe de redacción de The Freeman's Journal, y el pobre O'Carroll, viejo amigo del señor Kernan, quien en su tiempo había sido una figura comercial relevante. Poco a poco, al reconocer caras familiares, el señor Kernan comenzó a sentirse más en confianza. Su sombrero, rehabilitado por su esposa, descansaba sobre sus rodillas. Una o dos veces se ajustó los puños con una mano mientras sostenía con firmeza, aunque suavemente, el ala del sombrero con la otra.
A powerful-looking figure, the upper part of which was draped with a white surplice, was observed to be struggling into the pulpit. Simultaneously the congregation unsettled, produced handkerchiefs and knelt upon them with care. Mr. Kernan followed the general example. The priest's figure now stood upright in the pulpit, two-thirds of its bulk, crowned by a massive red face, appearing above the balustrade.
Una figura de apariencia poderosa, cuya parte superior estaba cubierta por una sobrepelliz blanca, fue vista forcejeando para subir al púlpito. Simultáneamente, la congregación se removió, sacó pañuelos y se arrodilló sobre ellos con cuidado. El señor Kernan siguió el ejemplo general. La figura del sacerdote se irguió ahora en el púlpito, mostrando dos tercios de su volumen, coronado por un rostro rojizo y macizo, por encima de la balaustrada.
Father Purdon knelt down, turned towards the red speck of light and, covering his face with his hands, prayed. After an interval, he uncovered his face and rose. The congregation rose also and settled again on its benches. Mr. Kernan restored his hat to its original position on his knee and presented an attentive face to the preacher. The preacher turned back each wide sleeve of his surplice with an elaborate large gesture and slowly surveyed the array of faces. Then he said:
El padre Purdon se arrodilló, se volvió hacia el punto rojo de luz y, cubriéndose el rostro con las manos, rezó. Tras un intervalo, descubrió su cara y se levantó. La congregación también se alzó y volvió a acomodarse en los bancos. El señor Kernan reposó su sombrero en su posición original sobre la rodilla y presentó un rostro atento al predicador. Este retrajo las amplias mangas de su sobrepelliz con un gesto elaborado y ceremonioso, escrutando lentamente el conjunto de rostros. Luego dijo:
"For the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light. Wherefore make unto yourselves friends out of the mammon of iniquity so that when you die they may receive you into everlasting dwellings."
—Porque los hijos de este siglo son más sagaces en su trato que los hijos de la luz. Haceos amigos de las riquezas injustas, para que cuando os falten, os reciban en las moradas eternas.
Father Purdon developed the text with resonant assurance. It was one of the most difficult texts in all the Scriptures, he said, to interpret properly. It was a text which might seem to the casual observer at variance with the lofty morality elsewhere preached by Jesus Christ. But, he told his hearers, the text had seemed to him specially adapted for the guidance of those whose lot it was to lead the life of the world and who yet wished to lead that life not in the manner of worldlings. It was a text for business men and professional men. Jesus Christ with His divine understanding of every cranny of our human nature, understood that all men were not called to the religious life, that by far the vast majority were forced to live in the world, and, to a certain extent, for the world: and in this sentence He designed to give them a word of counsel, setting before them as exemplars in the religious life those very worshippers of Mammon who were of all men the least solicitous in matters religious.
El padre Purdon desarrolló el texto con resonante seguridad. Era uno de los pasajes más difíciles de interpretar correctamente en toda la Escritura, dijo. Un texto que al observador casual podría parecerle en discordia con la elevada moral predicada en otros lugares por Jesucristo. Pero, explicó a sus oyentes, el pasaje le había parecido especialmente adaptado para guiar a aquellos cuyo destino era llevar una vida mundana y que, sin embargo, deseaban vivirla no a la manera de los mundanos. Era un texto para hombres de negocios y profesionales. Jesucristo, con Su divina comprensión de cada recoveco de la naturaleza humana, entendía que no todos los hombres estaban llamados a la vida religiosa, que la inmensa mayoría se veía obligada a vivir en el mundo y, hasta cierto punto, para el mundo: y en esta sentencia quiso darles una palabra de consejo, presentándoles como ejemplos en la vida religiosa a esos mismos adoradores de Mamón que eran, de todos los hombres, los menos solícitos en asuntos de fe.
He told his hearers that he was there that evening for no terrifying, no extravagant purpose; but as a man of the world speaking to his fellow-men. He came to speak to business men and he would speak to them in a businesslike way. If he might use the metaphor, he said, he was their spiritual accountant; and he wished each and every one of his hearers to open his books, the books of his spiritual life, and see if they tallied accurately with conscience.
Dijo a sus oyentes que estaba allí esa noche sin propósito alarmante ni extravagante; sino como un hombre del mundo hablando a sus semejantes. Venía a hablar a hombres prácticos y lo haría de manera práctica. Si se le permitía usar la metáfora, dijo, era su contable espiritual; y deseaba que cada uno de sus oyentes abriera sus libros, los libros de su vida espiritual, y comprobara si cuadraban con exactitud ante la conciencia.
Jesus Christ was not a hard taskmaster. He understood our little failings, understood the weakness of our poor fallen nature, understood the temptations of this life. We might have had, we all had from time to time, our temptations: we might have, we all had, our failings. But one thing only, he said, he would ask of his hearers. And that was: to be straight and manly with God. If their accounts tallied in every point to say:
Jesucristo no era un amo severo. Entendía nuestras pequeñas faltas, entendía la debilidad de nuestra pobre naturaleza caída, entendía las tentaciones de esta vida. Podríamos haber tenido, todos tuvimos de vez en cuando, nuestras tentaciones: podríamos tener, todos tuvimos, nuestros defectos. Pero solo una cosa, dijo, pediría a sus oyentes. Y era: ser rectos y varoniles con Dios. Si sus cuentas coincidían en todo punto, debían decir:
"Well, I have verified my accounts. I find all well."
—Bien, he verificado mis cuentas. Veo que todo está en orden.
But if, as might happen, there were some discrepancies, to admit the truth, to be frank and say like a man:
Pero si, como podría ocurrir, hubiera discrepancias, debían admitir la verdad, ser francos y decir como hombres:
"Well, I have looked into my accounts. I find this wrong and this wrong. But, with God's grace, I will rectify this and this. I will set right my accounts."
—He revisado mis cuentas. Encuentro esto mal y aquello mal. Pero, con la gracia de Dios, corregiré esto y aquello. Pondré en orden mis registros.
THE DEAD
LOS MUERTOS
LILY, the caretaker's daughter, was literally run off her feet. Hardly had she brought one gentleman into the little pantry behind the office on the ground floor and helped him off with his overcoat than the wheezy hall-door bell clanged again and she had to scamper along the bare hallway to let in another guest. It was well for her she had not to attend to the ladies also. But Miss Kate and Miss Julia had thought of that and had converted the bathroom upstairs into a ladies' dressing-room. Miss Kate and Miss Julia were there, gossiping and laughing and fussing, walking after each other to the head of the stairs, peering down over the banisters and calling down to Lily to ask her who had come.
LILY, la hija del portero, estaba literalmente desbordada. Apenas había conducido a un caballero a la pequeña despensa tras la oficina en la planta baja y le había ayudado a quitarse el abrigo, cuando el estertoroso timbre de la puerta principal resonó de nuevo y tuvo que corretear por el desnudo vestíbulo para recibir a otro invitado. Menos mal que no tenía que atender también a las señoras. Pero la señorita Kate y la señorita Julia lo habían previsto, convirtiendo el cuarto de baño de arriba en vestuario femenino. Allí estaban, cuchicheando, riendo y agitándose, siguiéndose una a otra hasta lo alto de la escalera, asomándose por la barandilla y llamando a Lily para preguntarle quién había llegado.
It was always a great affair, the Misses Morkan's annual dance. Everybody who knew them came to it, members of the family, old friends of the family, the members of Julia's choir, any of Kate's pupils that were grown up enough, and even some of Mary Jane's pupils too. Never once had it fallen flat. For years and years it had gone off in splendid style, as long as anyone could remember; ever since Kate and Julia, after the death of their brother Pat, had left the house in Stoney Batter and taken Mary Jane, their only niece, to live with them in the dark, gaunt house on Usher's Island, the upper part of which they had rented from Mr. Fulham, the corn-factor on the ground floor. That was a good thirty years ago if it was a day. Mary Jane, who was then a little girl in short clothes, was now the main prop of the household, for she had the organ in Haddington Road. She had been through the Academy and gave a pupils' concert every year in the upper room of the Antient Concert Rooms. Many of her pupils belonged to the better-class families on the Kingstown and Dalkey line. Old as they were, her aunts also did their share. Julia, though she was quite grey, was still the leading soprano in Adam and Eve's, and Kate, being too feeble to go about much, gave music lessons to beginners on the old square piano in the back room. Lily, the caretaker's daughter, did housemaid's work for them. Though their life was modest, they believed in eating well; the best of everything: diamond-bone sirloins, three-shilling tea and the best bottled stout. But Lily seldom made a mistake in the orders, so that she got on well with her three mistresses. They were fussy, that was all. But the only thing they would not stand was back answers.
El baile anual de las señoritas Morkan era siempre un gran acontecimiento. Acudían todos sus conocidos: familiares, viejos amigos de la casa, miembros del coro de Julia, las alumnas de Kate que ya eran mayores e incluso algunas discípulas de Mary Jane. Nunca había resultado un fracaso. Desde tiempos inmemoriales, todos recordaban que se celebraba con espléndido estilo, desde que Kate y Julia, tras la muerte de su hermano Pat, abandonaron la casa de Stoney Batter y se llevaron a Mary Jane, su única sobrina, a vivir con ellas en la lúgubre y severa casa de Usher's Island, cuyo piso superior alquilaron al señor Fulham, comerciante de cereales en la planta baja. Esto ocurría hace al menos treinta años. Mary Jane, entonces una niña con vestiditos cortos, era ahora el sostén de la casa, pues tocaba el órgano en Haddington Road. Había estudiado en la Academia y cada año ofrecía un concierto de alumnas en la sala superior de las Antient Concert Rooms. Muchas de sus pupilas pertenecían a familias distinguidas de Kingstown y Dalkey. Sus tías, pese a su edad, también contribuían: Julia, aunque completamente canosa, seguía siendo la soprano principal en Adam and Eve's, y Kate, demasiado débil para moverse mucho, daba clases de piano a principiantes en el viejo instrumento cuadrangular del cuarto trasero. Lily, la hija del portero, hacía labores de criada. Aunque vivían con modestia, creían en comer bien: solomillos con hueso en forma de diamante, té de tres chelines y la mejor cerveza negra embotellada. Lily rara vez cometía errores en los encargos, así que se llevaba bien con sus tres señoras. Eran meticulosas, eso era todo. Pero lo único que no toleraban eran las réplicas.
Of course, they had good reason to be fussy on such a night. And then it was long after ten o'clock and yet there was no sign of Gabriel and his wife. Besides they were dreadfully afraid that Freddy Malins might turn up screwed. They would not wish for worlds that any of Mary Jane's pupils should see him under the influence; and when he was like that it was sometimes very hard to manage him. Freddy Malins always came late, but they wondered what could be keeping Gabriel: and that was what brought them every two minutes to the banisters to ask Lily had Gabriel or Freddy come.
Desde luego, tenían motivos para ser exigentes esa noche. Además, ya pasaban de las diez y no había rastro de Gabriel y su esposa. También temían que Freddy Malins apareciera borracho. No hubieran querido por nada del mundo que las alumnas de Mary Jane lo vieran en ese estado; y cuando estaba así, a veces era muy difícil controlarlo. Freddy siempre llegaba tarde, pero se preguntaban qué retendría a Gabriel: por eso subían cada dos minutos a la barandilla a preguntarle a Lily si habían llegado.
"O, Mr. Conroy," said Lily to Gabriel when she opened the door for him, "Miss Kate and Miss Julia thought you were never coming. Good-night, Mrs. Conroy."
—¡Ay, señor Conroy! —dijo Lily a Gabriel al abrirle la puerta—. Las señoritas Kate y Julia creían que no vendría nunca. Buenas noches, señora Conroy.
"I'll engage they did," said Gabriel, "but they forget that my wife here takes three mortal hours to dress herself."
—Apuesto a que sí —dijo Gabriel—, pero olvidan que mi esposa tarda tres horas mortales para vestirse.
He stood on the mat, scraping the snow from his goloshes, while Lily led his wife to the foot of the stairs and called out:
Se quedó en el felpudo, raspando la nieve de sus chanclos, mientras Lily acompañaba a su esposa al pie de la escalera y anunciaba:
"Miss Kate, here's Mrs. Conroy."
—Señorita Kate, aquí está la señora Conroy.
Kate and Julia came toddling down the dark stairs at once. Both of them kissed Gabriel's wife, said she must be perished alive, and asked was Gabriel with her.
Kate y Julia bajaron tambaleándose por la oscura escalera al instante. Ambas besaron a la esposa de Gabriel, le dijeron que debía estar helada y preguntaron si Gabriel estaba con ella.
"Here I am as right as the mail, Aunt Kate! Go on up. I'll follow," called out Gabriel from the dark.
—¡Aquí estoy, tan puntual como el correo, tía Kate! Suban, las seguiré —gritó Gabriel desde la penumbra.
He continued scraping his feet vigorously while the three women went upstairs, laughing, to the ladies' dressing-room. A light fringe of snow lay like a cape on the shoulders of his overcoat and like toecaps on the toes of his goloshes; and, as the buttons of his overcoat slipped with a squeaking noise through the snow-stiffened frieze, a cold, fragrant air from out-of-doors escaped from crevices and folds.
Siguió restregando sus pies con energía mientras las tres mujeres subían riendo al tocador de señoras. Una ligera franja de nieve yacía como una capa sobre los hombros de su abrigo y como tapacubos en las puntas de sus chanclos. Al pasar los botones del abrigo, tiesos de nieve, por la frisa crujiente, un aire frío y fragante se escapaba de los pliegues.
"Is it snowing again, Mr. Conroy?" asked Lily.
—¿Está nevando otra vez, señor Conroy? —preguntó Lily.
She had preceded him into the pantry to help him off with his overcoat. Gabriel smiled at the three syllables she had given his surname and glanced at her. She was a slim; growing girl, pale in complexion and with hay-coloured hair. The gas in the pantry made her look still paler. Gabriel had known her when she was a child and used to sit on the lowest step nursing a rag doll.
Lo había precedido a la despensa para ayudarle a quitarse el abrigo. Gabriel sonrió ante las tres sílabas que dio a su apellido y la observó. Era una muchacha delgada y en crecimiento, de tez pálida y cabello color heno. El gas de la despensa la hacía verse más lívida. Gabriel la conocía de niña, cuando solía sentarse en el escalón más bajo meciendo una muñeca de trapo.
"Yes, Lily," he answered, "and I think we're in for a night of it."
—Sí, Lily —respondió—, y creo que nos espera toda una noche de esto.
He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with the stamping and shuffling of feet on the floor above, listened for a moment to the piano and then glanced at the girl, who was folding his overcoat carefully at the end of a shelf.
Miró al techo de la despensa, que vibraba con el zapateo del piso superior, escuchó un momento el piano y luego observó a la joven, que doblaba su abrigo con cuidado al extremo de un estante.
"Tell me. Lily," he said in a friendly tone, "do you still go to school?"
—Dime, Lily —dijo en tono amistoso—, ¿sigues yendo a la escuela?
"O no, sir," she answered. "I'm done schooling this year and more."
—Oh, no, señor —respondió ella—. Hace más de un año que terminé.
"O, then," said Gabriel gaily, "I suppose we'll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh?"
—Ah, entonces —dijo Gabriel jovialmente—, supongo que pronto iremos a tu boda con algún joven, ¿eh?
The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said with great bitterness:
La muchacha lo miró por encima del hombro y respondió con amargura:
"The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you."
—Los hombres de ahora no son más que palabrería y lo que pueden sacarte.
Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake and, without looking at her, kicked off his goloshes and flicked actively with his muffler at his patent-leather shoes.
Gabriel enrojeció, como si hubiera cometido un error, y sin mirarla se quitó los chanclos y comenzó a sacudir con energía su pañuelo sobre los zapatos de charol.
He was a stout, tallish young man. The high colour of his cheeks pushed upwards even to his forehead, where it scattered itself in a few formless patches of pale red; and on his hairless face there scintillated restlessly the polished lenses and the bright gilt rims of the glasses which screened his delicate and restless eyes. His glossy black hair was parted in the middle and brushed in a long curve behind his ears where it curled slightly beneath the groove left by his hat.
Era un joven robusto y más bien alto. El color encendido de sus mejillas se extendía hasta la frente, donde se dispersaba en manchas irregulares de rojo pálido; sobre su rostro lampiño centelleaban sin cesar los cristales pulidos y los dorados marcos de las gafas que protegían sus ojos delicados e inquietos. Su pelo negro y lustroso estaba partido al medio y peinado en una curva larga tras las orejas, donde se rizaba levemente bajo el surco dejado por el sombrero.
When he had flicked lustre into his shoes he stood up and pulled his waistcoat down more tightly on his plump body. Then he took a coin rapidly from his pocket.
Tras devolver el brillo a sus zapatos, se levantó y ajustó el chaleco sobre su cuerpo rollizo. Luego sacó rápidamente una moneda del bolsillo.
"O Lily," he said, thrusting it into her hands, "it's Christmastime, isn't it? Just... here's a little...."
—¡Oh, Lily! —dijo, entregándosela—. Es Navidad, ¿no? Solo... toma esto...
He walked rapidly towards the door.
Se dirigió rápidamente hacia la puerta.
"O no, sir!" cried the girl, following him. "Really, sir, I wouldn't take it."
—¡Oh, no, señor! —gritó la muchacha, siguiéndolo—. En serio, señor, no puedo aceptarlo.
"Christmas-time! Christmas-time!" said Gabriel, almost trotting to the stairs and waving his hand to her in deprecation.
—¡Navidad! ¡Navidad! —dijo Gabriel, casi trotando hacia las escaleras y haciendo un gesto de disculpa con la mano.
The girl, seeing that he had gained the stairs, called out after him:
La muchacha, al ver que había alcanzado las escaleras, le gritó:
"Well, thank you, sir."
—Bueno, gracias, señor.
He waited outside the drawing-room door until the waltz should finish, listening to the skirts that swept against it and to the shuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl's bitter and sudden retort. It had cast a gloom over him which he tried to dispel by arranging his cuffs and the bows of his tie. He then took from his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced at the headings he had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from Robert Browning, for he feared they would be above the heads of his hearers. Some quotation that they would recognise from Shakespeare or from the Melodies would be better. The indelicate clacking of the men's heels and the shuffling of their soles reminded him that their grade of culture differed from his. He would only make himself ridiculous by quoting poetry to them which they could not understand. They would think that he was airing his superior education. He would fail with them just as he had failed with the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure.
Esperó fuera de la puerta del salón hasta que terminara el vals, escuchando el roce de los vestidos contra la madera y el arrastrar de los pies. Seguía turbado por la repentina y amarga réplica de la joven. Aquello le había sumido en una melancolía que intentó disipar ajustando los puños y los lazos de la corbata. Luego sacó de su chaleco un papelito y revisó los encabezados para su discurso. Dudaba sobre los versos de Robert Browning, temiendo que fueran demasiado elevados para su público. Sería mejor una cita reconocible de Shakespeare o de las Melodías. El ruido indiscreto de los tacones masculinos y el rozar de sus suelas le recordaron que su nivel cultural difería del suyo. Quedaría ridículo citando poesía incomprensible para ellos. Pensarían que alardeaba de su educación superior. Fracasaría, igual que había fracasado con la muchacha de la despensa. Había adoptado un tono equivocado. Todo su discurso, de principio a fin, había sido un error, un fracaso absoluto.
Just then his aunts and his wife came out of the ladies' dressing-room. His aunts were two small, plainly dressed old women. Aunt Julia was an inch or so the taller. Her hair, drawn low over the tops of her ears, was grey; and grey also, with darker shadows, was her large flaccid face. Though she was stout in build and stood erect, her slow eyes and parted lips gave her the appearance of a woman who did not know where she was or where she was going. Aunt Kate was more vivacious. Her face, healthier than her sister's, was all puckers and creases, like a shrivelled red apple, and her hair, braided in the same old-fashioned way, had not lost its ripe nut colour.
En ese momento, sus tías y su esposa salieron del tocador de señoras. Las tías eran dos viejecitas de vestir sencillo. La tía Julia era un centímetro más alta. Su cabello, peinado sobre las orejas, era gris; gris también, con sombras más oscuras, era su rostro grande y flácido. Aunque de complexión robusta y postura erguida, sus ojos lentos y labios entreabiertos le daban el aire de una mujer que no sabe dónde está ni adónde va. La tía Kate era más vivaz. Su rostro, más saludable que el de su hermana, estaba lleno de arrugas como una manzana roja marchita, y su cabello, trenzado al viejo estilo, conservaba el color avellanado.
They both kissed Gabriel frankly. He was their favourite nephew the son of their dead elder sister, Ellen, who had married T. J. Conroy of the Port and Docks.
Ambas besaron a Gabriel con naturalidad. Era su sobrino favorito, hijo de su difunta hermana mayor Ellen, quien se había casado con T. J. Conroy de Puertos y Muelles.
"Gretta tells me you're not going to take a cab back to Monkstown tonight, Gabriel," said Aunt Kate.
—Gretta me dice que no tomarán un coche de vuelta a Monkstown esta noche, Gabriel —dijo la tía Kate.
"No," said Gabriel, turning to his wife, "we had quite enough of that last year, hadn't we? Don't you remember, Aunt Kate, what a cold Gretta got out of it? Cab windows rattling all the way, and the east wind blowing in after we passed Merrion. Very jolly it was. Gretta caught a dreadful cold."
—No —respondió Gabriel, volviéndose hacia su esposa—. Ya tuvimos bastante el año pasado, ¿verdad? ¿Recuerdas, tía Kate, el resfriado que pilló Gretta? Los cristales del coche traqueteando todo el camino y el viento del este entrando tras pasar Merrion. Muy divertido. Gretta se resfrió horriblemente.
Aunt Kate frowned severely and nodded her head at every word.
La tía Kate frunció el ceño con severidad y asentía con cada palabra.
"Quite right, Gabriel, quite right," she said. "You can't be too careful."
—Muy bien, Gabriel, muy bien —dijo—. Nunca se es demasiado prudente.
"But as for Gretta there," said Gabriel, "she'd walk home in the snow if she were let."
—Pero en cuanto a Gretta —dijo Gabriel—, caminaría a casa bajo la nieve si se lo permitieran.
Mrs. Conroy laughed.
La señora Conroy rió.
"Don't mind him, Aunt Kate," she said. "He's really an awful bother, what with green shades for Tom's eyes at night and making him do the dumb-bells, and forcing Eva to eat the stirabout. The poor child! And she simply hates the sight of it!... O, but you'll never guess what he makes me wear now!"
—No le hagas caso, tía Kate —dijo—. Es un verdadero fastidio: anteojos verdes para Tom por las noches, ejercicios con pesas y obligar a Eva a comer el stirabout. ¡La pobre criatura! ¡Y lo odia a muerte!... Ah, pero nunca adivinarán lo que ahora me hace usar.
She broke out into a peal of laughter and glanced at her husband, whose admiring and happy eyes had been wandering from her dress to her face and hair. The two aunts laughed heartily, too, for Gabriel's solicitude was a standing joke with them.
Prorrumpió en una carcajada y lanzó una mirada a su esposo, cuyos ojos admirables y felices vagaban de su vestido al rostro y al cabello. Las dos tías rieron con ganas también, pues la solicitud de Gabriel era una broma recurrente entre ellas.
"Goloshes!" said Mrs. Conroy. "That's the latest. Whenever it's wet underfoot I must put on my galoshes. Tonight even, he wanted me to put them on, but I wouldn't. The next thing he'll buy me will be a diving suit."
—¡Chanclos! —exclamó la señora Conroy—. Es lo último. Siempre que hay humedad, debo ponerme mis chanclos. Incluso esta noche quiso que me los pusiera, pero me negué. Lo próximo que me comprará será un traje de buzo.
Gabriel laughed nervously and patted his tie reassuringly, while Aunt Kate nearly doubled herself, so heartily did she enjoy the joke. The smile soon faded from Aunt Julia's face and her mirthless eyes were directed towards her nephew's face. After a pause she asked:
Gabriel rió nervioso y se palpó la corbata con aire tranquilizador, mientras la tía Kate casi se doblaba de la risa ante la broma. La sonrisa pronto se desvaneció del rostro de la tía Julia, y sus ojos sin alegría se dirigieron al sobrino. Tras una pausa, preguntó:
"And what are goloshes, Gabriel?"
—¿Y qué son los chanclos, Gabriel?
"Goloshes, Julia!" exclaimed her sister "Goodness me, don't you know what goloshes are? You wear them over your... over your boots, Gretta, isn't it?"
—¡Chanclos, Julia! —exclamó su hermana—. Cielo santo, ¿no sabes lo que son? Se usan sobre las... sobre las botas, ¿verdad, Gretta?
"Yes," said Mrs. Conroy. "Guttapercha things. We both have a pair now. Gabriel says everyone wears them on the Continent."
—Sí —dijo la señora Conroy—. Son de gutapercha. Ahora tenemos un par cada uno. Gabriel dice que todo el mundo los usa en el Continente.
"O, on the Continent," murmured Aunt Julia, nodding her head slowly.
—Ah, en el Continente —murmuró la tía Julia, asintiendo lentamente.
Gabriel knitted his brows and said, as if he were slightly angered:
Gabriel frunció el ceño y dijo, como si le molestara levemente:
"It's nothing very wonderful, but Gretta thinks it very funny because she says the word reminds her of Christy Minstrels."
—No tiene nada de extraordinario, pero a Gretta le parece gracioso porque dice que la palabra le recuerda a los Christy Minstrels.
"But tell me, Gabriel," said Aunt Kate, with brisk tact. "Of course, you've seen about the room. Gretta was saying..."
—Pero dime, Gabriel —intervino la tía Kate con ágil tacto—. Claro que ya habrás visto lo del cuarto. Gretta decía...
"O, the room is all right," replied Gabriel. "I've taken one in the Gresham."
—Oh, el cuarto está bien —respondió Gabriel—. He tomado uno en el Gresham.
"To be sure," said Aunt Kate, "by far the best thing to do. And the children, Gretta, you're not anxious about them?"
—Por supuesto —dijo la tía Kate—, es lo mejor que puedes hacer. Y los niños, Gretta, ¿no te inquietan?
"O, for one night," said Mrs. Conroy. "Besides, Bessie will look after them."
—Oh, por una noche —dijo la señora Conroy—. Además, Bessie los cuidará.
"To be sure," said Aunt Kate again. "What a comfort it is to have a girl like that, one you can depend on! There's that Lily, I'm sure I don't know what has come over her lately. She's not the girl she was at all."
—Por supuesto —repitió la tía Kate—. ¡Qué consuelo tener una chica así, en quien se puede confiar! En cambio esa Lily, seguro que no sé qué le ha pasado últimamente. Ya no es la misma.
Gabriel was about to ask his aunt some questions on this point, but she broke off suddenly to gaze after her sister, who had wandered down the stairs and was craning her neck over the banisters.
Gabriel estaba a punto de preguntar a su tía sobre el asunto, cuando ella se interrumpió bruscamente para seguir con la mirada a su hermana, que bajaba las escaleras y estiraba el cuello sobre la barandilla.
"Now, I ask you," she said almost testily, "where is Julia going? Julia! Julia! Where are you going?"
—Vamos, ¿dónde va Julia? —dijo casi irritada—. ¡Julia! ¡Julia! ¿Adónde vas?
Julia, who had gone half way down one flight, came back and announced blandly:
Julia, que había descendido medio tramo, regresó y anunció con suavidad:
"Here's Freddy."
—Ahí está Freddy.
At the same moment a clapping of hands and a final flourish of the pianist told that the waltz had ended. The drawing-room door was opened from within and some couples came out. Aunt Kate drew Gabriel aside hurriedly and whispered into his ear:
En ese momento, una palmada y un floreo final del pianista indicaron que el vals había terminado. La puerta del salón se abrió desde dentro y salieron varias parejas. La tía Kate apartó a Gabriel con premura y le susurró al oído:
"Slip down, Gabriel, like a good fellow and see if he's all right, and don't let him up if he's screwed. I'm sure he's screwed. I'm sure he is."
—Baja un momento, Gabriel, buen hombre, y mira si está bien. No lo dejes subir si está borracho. Seguro que lo está. Seguro.
Gabriel went to the stairs and listened over the banisters. He could hear two persons talking in the pantry. Then he recognised Freddy Malins' laugh. He went down the stairs noisily.
Gabriel fue a las escaleras y escuchó sobre la barandilla. Oyó dos voces en la despensa. Reconoció la risa de Freddy Malins. Bajó las escaleras con estruendo.
"It's such a relief," said Aunt Kate to Mrs. Conroy, "that Gabriel is here. I always feel easier in my mind when he's here.... Julia, there's Miss Daly and Miss Power will take some refreshment. Thanks for your beautiful waltz, Miss Daly. It made lovely time."
—Es un alivio —dijo la tía Kate a la señora Conroy— que Gabriel esté aquí. Siempre me siento más tranquila cuando él está... Julia, la señorita Daly y la señorita Power querrán algo de beber. Gracias por tu hermoso vals, señorita Daly. Tuvo un tempo encantador.
A tall wizen-faced man, with a stiff grizzled moustache and swarthy skin, who was passing out with his partner, said:
Un hombre alto de rostro ajado, bigote rígido entrecano y tez morena, que salía con su pareja, comentó:
"And may we have some refreshment, too, Miss Morkan?"
—¿Y podremos tomar algo también, señorita Morkan?
"Julia," said Aunt Kate summarily, "and here's Mr. Browne and Miss Furlong. Take them in, Julia, with Miss Daly and Miss Power."
—Julia —dijo la tía Kate con tono resolutivo—, aquí están el señor Browne y la señorita Furlong. Acompaña a todos al comedor, Julia, con la señorita Daly y la señorita Power.
"I'm the man for the ladies," said Mr. Browne, pursing his lips until his moustache bristled and smiling in all his wrinkles. "You know, Miss Morkan, the reason they are so fond of me is——"
—Yo soy el hombre para las damas —dijo el señor Browne, frunciendo los labios hasta erizar el bigote y sonriendo con todas sus arrugas—. Ya sabe, señorita Morkan, la razón por la que me quieren tanto es——
He did not finish his sentence, but, seeing that Aunt Kate was out of earshot, at once led the three young ladies into the back room. The middle of the room was occupied by two square tables placed end to end, and on these Aunt Julia and the caretaker were straightening and smoothing a large cloth. On the sideboard were arrayed dishes and plates, and glasses and bundles of knives and forks and spoons. The top of the closed square piano served also as a sideboard for viands and sweets. At a smaller sideboard in one corner two young men were standing, drinking hop-bitters.
No terminó la frase, pero al ver que la tía Kate estaba fuera de su alcance auditivo, condujo de inmediato a las tres jóvenes al cuarto trasero. El centro de la habitación estaba ocupado por dos mesas cuadradas colocadas una tras otra, y sobre ellas la tía Julia y la portera alisaban y estiraban un gran mantel. En el aparador se alineaban platos, fuentes, copas y haces de cubiertos. La tapa del piano de cola cerrado servía también de aparador para viandas y dulces. Junto a un aparador más pequeño en un rincón, dos jóvenes bebían bitter de lúpulo.
Mr. Browne led his charges thither and invited them all, in jest, to some ladies' punch, hot, strong and sweet. As they said they never took anything strong, he opened three bottles of lemonade for them. Then he asked one of the young men to move aside, and, taking hold of the decanter, filled out for himself a goodly measure of whisky. The young men eyed him respectfully while he took a trial sip.
El señor Browne guió a sus pupilas allí y, en broma, las invitó a un ponche de damas, caliente, fuerte y dulce. Como dijeron que nunca tomaban nada fuerte, abrió tres botellas de limonada. Luego pidió a uno de los jóvenes que se apartara y, tomando la copa, se sirvió una generosa medida de whisky. Los jóvenes lo observaron con respeto mientras probaba un sorbo.
"God help me," he said, smiling, "it's the doctor's orders."
—Dios me ayude —dijo sonriendo—, son órdenes del médico.
His wizened face broke into a broader smile, and the three young ladies laughed in musical echo to his pleasantry, swaying their bodies to and fro, with nervous jerks of their shoulders. The boldest said:
Su rostro ajado se iluminó con una sonrisa más amplia, y las tres jóvenes rieron en eco musical a su ocurrencia, balanceándose con espasmódicos movimientos de hombros. La más atrevida exclamó:
"O, now, Mr. Browne, I'm sure the doctor never ordered anything of the kind."
—Ay, señor Browne, estoy segura de que el médico nunca recetó semejante cosa.
Mr. Browne took another sip of his whisky and said, with sidling mimicry:
El señor Browne tomó otro sorbo de whisky y dijo con mímica complaciente:
"Well, you see, I'm like the famous Mrs. Cassidy, who is reported to have said: 'Now, Mary Grimes, if I don't take it, make me take it, for I feel I want it.'"
—Bueno, verán, soy como la famosa señora Cassidy, que según dicen soltaba: "Oye, Mary Grimes, si no me lo tomo, haz que lo tome, porque siento que lo necesito".
His hot face had leaned forward a little too confidentially and he had assumed a very low Dublin accent so that the young ladies, with one instinct, received his speech in silence. Miss Furlong, who was one of Mary Jane's pupils, asked Miss Daly what was the name of the pretty waltz she had played; and Mr. Browne, seeing that he was ignored, turned promptly to the two young men who were more appreciative.
Su rostro congestionado se inclinó con excesiva confianza, adoptando un marcado acento de Dublín, por lo que las jóvenes, con un mismo instinto, recibieron su discurso en silencio. La señorita Furlong, alumna de Mary Jane, preguntó a la señorita Daly el nombre del bonito vals que había tocado; y el señor Browne, al verse ignorado, se volvió hacia los dos jóvenes, más receptivos.
A red-faced young woman, dressed in pansy, came into the room, excitedly clapping her hands and crying:
Una joven de rostro enrojecido, vestida de pensamiento, entró en la habitación aplaudiendo con excitación:
"Quadrilles! Quadrilles!"
—¡Cuadrillas! ¡Cuadrillas!
Close on her heels came Aunt Kate, crying:
Tras ella apareció la tía Kate, exclamando:
"Two gentlemen and three ladies, Mary Jane!"
—¡Dos caballeros y tres damas, Mary Jane!
"O, here's Mr. Bergin and Mr. Kerrigan," said Mary Jane. "Mr. Kerrigan, will you take Miss Power? Miss Furlong, may I get you a partner, Mr. Bergin. O, that'll just do now."
—Ahí están el señor Bergin y el señor Kerrigan —dijo Mary Jane—. Señor Kerrigan, ¿acompañará a la señorita Power? Señorita Furlong, ¿le consigo un acompañante, señor Bergin? Ah, así está bien.
"Three ladies, Mary Jane," said Aunt Kate.
—Tres damas, Mary Jane —insistió la tía Kate.
The two young gentlemen asked the ladies if they might have the pleasure, and Mary Jane turned to Miss Daly.
Los caballeros pidieron el honor a las damas, y Mary Jane se dirigió a la señorita Daly:
"O, Miss Daly, you're really awfully good, after playing for the last two dances, but really we're so short of ladies tonight."
—Señorita Daly, es un abuso después de tocar los dos últimos bailes, pero en verdad nos faltan damas esta noche.
"I don't mind in the least, Miss Morkan."
—No me importa en absoluto, señorita Morkan.
"But I've a nice partner for you, Mr. Bartell D'Arcy, the tenor. I'll get him to sing later on. All Dublin is raving about him."
—Pero le tengo un buen compañero: el señor Bartell D'Arcy, el tenor. Luego lo haré cantar. Todo Dublín está extasiado con él.
"Lovely voice, lovely voice!" said Aunt Kate.
—¡Qué voz más hermosa! —apuntó la tía Kate.
As the piano had twice begun the prelude to the first figure Mary Jane led her recruits quickly from the room. They had hardly gone when Aunt Julia wandered slowly into the room, looking behind her at something.
Como el piano ya había iniciado dos veces el preludio de la primera figura, Mary Jane llevó rápidamente a su grupo fuera de la sala. Apenas se habían ido cuando la tía Julia entró lentamente, mirando hacia atrás.
"What is the matter, Julia?" asked Aunt Kate anxiously. "Who is it?"
—¿Qué ocurre, Julia? —preguntó la tía Kate con ansiedad—. ¿Quién es?
Julia, who was carrying in a column of table-napkins, turned to her sister and said, simply, as if the question had surprised her:
Julia, que portaba una pila de servilletas, se volvió a su hermana y respondió con sencillez, como si la pregunta la sorprendiera:
"It's only Freddy, Kate, and Gabriel with him."
—Solo son Freddy y Gabriel con él.
In fact right behind her Gabriel could be seen piloting Freddy Malins across the landing. The latter, a young man of about forty, was of Gabriel's size and build, with very round shoulders. His face was fleshy and pallid, touched with colour only at the thick hanging lobes of his ears and at the wide wings of his nose. He had coarse features, a blunt nose, a convex and receding brow, tumid and protruded lips. His heavy-lidded eyes and the disorder of his scanty hair made him look sleepy. He was laughing heartily in a high key at a story which he had been telling Gabriel on the stairs and at the same time rubbing the knuckles of his left fist backwards and forwards into his left eye.
En efecto, tras ella se distinguía a Gabriel guiando a Freddy Malins por el rellano. Este último, un hombre de unos cuarenta años, tenía la complexión y estatura de Gabriel, con hombros muy redondeados. Su rostro era carnoso y pálido, con algo de color solo en los lóbulos colgantes de las orejas y en las anchas aletas de la nariz. Rasgos toscos: nariz roma, frente convexa y huidiza, labios tumefactos y protuberantes. Sus ojos pesados y el desorden de su escaso cabello le daban aire somnoliento. Reía con estridencia por un chiste contado a Gabriel en la escalera, frotando simultáneamente los nudillos de su mano izquierda contra el ojo del mismo lado.
"Good-evening, Freddy," said Aunt Julia.
—Buenas noches, Freddy —dijo la tía Julia.
Freddy Malins bade the Misses Morkan good-evening in what seemed an offhand fashion by reason of the habitual catch in his voice and then, seeing that Mr. Browne was grinning at him from the sideboard, crossed the room on rather shaky legs and began to repeat in an undertone the story he had just told to Gabriel.
Freddy Malins saludó a las señoritas Morkan con desenfado, debido al habitual carraspeo en su voz, y al ver al señor Browne sonriéndole desde el aparador, cruzó la sala con paso vacilante para repetir en voz baja la historia que acababa de contar a Gabriel.
"He's not so bad, is he?" said Aunt Kate to Gabriel.
—No está tan mal, ¿verdad? —dijo la tía Kate a Gabriel.
Gabriel's brows were dark but he raised them quickly and answered:
Gabriel frunció el ceño, pero lo disipó al instante:
"O, no, hardly noticeable."
—Oh, no, apenas se nota.
"Now, isn't he a terrible fellow!" she said. "And his poor mother made him take the pledge on New Year's Eve. But come on, Gabriel, into the drawing-room."
—¡Pero qué tipo más terrible! —exclamó ella—. Su pobre madre le hizo prometer abstinencia en Nochevieja. Vamos, Gabriel, al salón.
Before leaving the room with Gabriel she signalled to Mr. Browne by frowning and shaking her forefinger in warning to and fro. Mr. Browne nodded in answer and, when she had gone, said to Freddy Malins:
Antes de salir, hizo al señor Browne una seña admonitoria frunciendo el ceño y moviendo el índice. Él asintió y, cuando se hubieron ido, dijo a Freddy Malins:
"Now, then, Teddy, I'm going to fill you out a good glass of lemonade just to buck you up."
—Ahora, Teddy, voy a servirte una buena limonada para animarte.
Freddy Malins, who was nearing the climax of his story, waved the offer aside impatiently but Mr. Browne, having first called Freddy Malins' attention to a disarray in his dress, filled out and handed him a full glass of lemonade. Freddy Malins' left hand accepted the glass mechanically, his right hand being engaged in the mechanical readjustment of his dress. Mr. Browne, whose face was once more wrinkling with mirth, poured out for himself a glass of whisky while Freddy Malins exploded, before he had well reached the climax of his story, in a kink of high-pitched bronchitic laughter and, setting down his untasted and overflowing glass, began to rub the knuckles of his left fist backwards and forwards into his left eye, repeating words of his last phrase as well as his fit of laughter would allow him.
Freddy Malins, cerca del clímax de su historia, rechazó el ofrecimiento con impaciencia, pero el señor Browne, tras señalarle un desarreglo en su vestimenta, le entregó la copa llena. Freddy la tomó mecánicamente con la izquierda mientras con la derecha se recomponía la ropa. El señor Browne, con el rostro nuevamente contraído por la risa, se sirvió whisky. Freddy estalló en una carcajada bronquítica antes de llegar al clímax, dejando la copa sin probar y repitiendo frases entre espasmos, frotándose el ojo con los nudillos.
Gabriel could not listen while Mary Jane was playing her Academy piece, full of runs and difficult passages, to the hushed drawing-room. He liked music but the piece she was playing had no melody for him and he doubted whether it had any melody for the other listeners, though they had begged Mary Jane to play something. Four young men, who had come from the refreshment-room to stand in the doorway at the sound of the piano, had gone away quietly in couples after a few minutes. The only persons who seemed to follow the music were Mary Jane herself, her hands racing along the key-board or lifted from it at the pauses like those of a priestess in momentary imprecation, and Aunt Kate standing at her elbow to turn the page.
Gabriel no podía concentrarse mientras Mary Jane interpretaba su pieza de Academia, llena de escalas y pasajes difíciles, en el silencioso salón. Le gustaba la música, pero aquella obra no tenía melodía para él, y dudaba que la tuviera para los demás, pese a haber rogado a Mary Jane que tocara algo. Cuatro jóvenes que habían venido del buffet al oír el piano se retiraron discretamente minutos después. Solo Mary Jane, con manos danzantes sobre el teclado o alzadas en pausas sacerdotales, y la tía Kate volteando las páginas, parecían seguir la música.
Gabriel's eyes, irritated by the floor, which glittered with beeswax under the heavy chandelier, wandered to the wall above the piano. A picture of the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet hung there and beside it was a picture of the two murdered princes in the Tower which Aunt Julia had worked in red, blue and brown wools when she was a girl. Probably in the school they had gone to as girls that kind of work had been taught for one year. His mother had worked for him as a birthday present a waistcoat of purple tabinet, with little foxes' heads upon it, lined with brown satin and having round mulberry buttons. It was strange that his mother had had no musical talent though Aunt Kate used to call her the brains carrier of the Morkan family. Both she and Julia had always seemed a little proud of their serious and matronly sister. Her photograph stood before the pierglass. She held an open book on her knees and was pointing out something in it to Constantine who, dressed in a man-o-war suit, lay at her feet. It was she who had chosen the name of her sons for she was very sensible of the dignity of family life. Thanks to her, Constantine was now senior curate in Balbrigan and, thanks to her, Gabriel himself had taken his degree in the Royal University. A shadow passed over his face as he remembered her sullen opposition to his marriage. Some slighting phrases she had used still rankled in his memory; she had once spoken of Gretta as being country cute and that was not true of Gretta at all. It was Gretta who had nursed her during all her last long illness in their house at Monkstown.
Los ojos de Gabriel, irritados por el suelo que relucía de cera de abejas bajo la pesada araña, vagaron hacia la pared sobre el piano. Colgaba allí un cuadro de la escena del balcón de Romeo y Julieta y junto a él otro de los dos príncipes asesinados en la Torre que la tía Julia había bordado en lanas rojas, azules y marrones cuando era joven. Probablemente en la escuela de señoritas les habían enseñado ese tipo de labor durante un año. Su madre le había confeccionado como regalo de cumpleaños un chaleco de tabinete morado con cabecitas de zorro, forrado en raso marrón y con botones redondos de morera. Era extraño que su madre no tuviera talento musical aunque la tía Kate solía llamarla el cerebro de la familia Morkan. Tanto ella como Julia siempre parecieron enorgullecerse un poco de su hermana seria y matronal. Su fotografía estaba ante el espetero. Sostenía un libro abierto sobre las rodillas y señalaba algo a Constantino quien, vestido con traje de marinero, yacía a sus pies. Fue ella quien eligió los nombres de sus hijos, pues tenía gran conciencia de la dignidad de la vida familiar. Gracias a ella, Constantino era ahora cura párroco en Balbriggan y, gracias a ella, el propio Gabriel se había graduado en la Real Universidad. Una sombra cruzó su rostro al recordar su obstinada oposición a su matrimonio. Algunas frases despectivas que ella había pronunciado aún le escocían en la memoria; una vez se refirió a Gretta como pueblerina astuta, lo cual no era cierto en absoluto. Fue Gretta quien la cuidó durante toda su última y larga enfermedad en su casa de Monkstown.
He knew that Mary Jane must be near the end of her piece for she was playing again the opening melody with runs of scales after every bar and while he waited for the end the resentment died down in his heart. The piece ended with a trill of octaves in the treble and a final deep octave in the bass. Great applause greeted Mary Jane as, blushing and rolling up her music nervously, she escaped from the room. The most vigorous clapping came from the four young men in the doorway who had gone away to the refreshment-room at the beginning of the piece but had come back when the piano had stopped.
Sabía que Mary Jane debía estar cerca del final de su pieza, pues volvía a tocar la melodía inicial con carreras de escalas tras cada compás, y mientras aguardaba el final, el resentimiento se apaciguó en su corazón. La pieza terminó con un trino de octavas en el agudo y una última octava grave en el bajo. Un gran aplauso recibió a Mary Jane quien, ruborizándose y enrollando su partitura con nerviosismo, escapó de la sala. Los aplausos más enérgicos provinieron de los cuatro jóvenes en la puerta que se habían marchado al buffet al inicio de la pieza pero regresaron cuando el piano cesó.
Lancers were arranged. Gabriel found himself partnered with Miss Ivors. She was a frank-mannered talkative young lady, with a freckled face and prominent brown eyes. She did not wear a low-cut bodice and the large brooch which was fixed in the front of her collar bore on it an Irish device and motto.
Se organizaron las lanceras. Gabriel se encontró emparejado con la señorita Ivors. Era una joven franca y locuaz, de rostro pecoso y prominentes ojos marrones. No llevaba escote pronunciado y el gran broche prendido en su cuello mostraba un emblema irlandés con su lema.
When they had taken their places she said abruptly:
Cuando tomaron sus posiciones, dijo abruptamente:
"I have a crow to pluck with you."
—Tengo una cuenta que ajustar contigo.
"With me?" said Gabriel.
—¿Conmigo? —dijo Gabriel.
She nodded her head gravely.
Ella asintió con gravedad.
"What is it?" asked Gabriel, smiling at her solemn manner.
—¿De qué se trata? —preguntó Gabriel, sonriendo ante su actitud solemne.
"Who is G. C.?" answered Miss Ivors, turning her eyes upon him.
—¿Quién es G. C.? —respondió la señorita Ivors, clavando en él sus ojos.
Gabriel coloured and was about to knit his brows, as if he did not understand, when she said bluntly:
Gabriel se ruborizó y estaba a punto de fruncir el ceño, como si no comprendiera, cuando ella dijo sin rodeos:
"O, innocent Amy! I have found out that you write for The Daily Express. Now, aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
—¡Oh, inocente Amy! He descubierto que escribes para The Daily Express. Vamos, ¿no te da vergüenza?
"Why should I be ashamed of myself?" asked Gabriel, blinking his eyes and trying to smile.
—¿Por qué habría de darme vergüenza? —preguntó Gabriel, parpadeando e intentando sonreír.
"Well, I'm ashamed of you," said Miss Ivors frankly. "To say you'd write for a paper like that. I didn't think you were a West Briton."
—Pues yo me avergüenzo por ti —dijo la señorita Ivors con franqueza—. Confesar que escribes para un periódico así. No creí que fueras un West Briton.
A look of perplexity appeared on Gabriel's face. It was true that he wrote a literary column every Wednesday in The Daily Express, for which he was paid fifteen shillings. But that did not make him a West Briton surely. The books he received for review were almost more welcome than the paltry cheque. He loved to feel the covers and turn over the pages of newly printed books. Nearly every day when his teaching in the college was ended he used to wander down the quays to the second-hand booksellers, to Hickey's on Bachelor's Walk, to Web's or Massey's on Aston's Quay, or to O'Clohissey's in the bystreet. He did not know how to meet her charge. He wanted to say that literature was above politics. But they were friends of many years' standing and their careers had been parallel, first at the University and then as teachers: he could not risk a grandiose phrase with her. He continued blinking his eyes and trying to smile and murmured lamely that he saw nothing political in writing reviews of books.
Una expresión de perplejidad apareció en el rostro de Gabriel. Era cierto que escribía una columna literaria cada miércoles en The Daily Express, por la que le pagaban quince chelines. Pero eso no lo convertía en un West Briton, seguramente. Los libros que recibía para reseñar le resultaban casi más gratos que el mezquino cheque. Amaba sentir las tapas y hojear las páginas de los libros recién impresos. Casi cada día, tras sus clases en la universidad, solía deambular por los muelles hasta las librerías de viejo: a Hickey's en Bachelor's Walk, a Web's o Massey's en Aston's Quay, o a O'Clohissey's en la callejuela. No sabía cómo responder a su acusación. Quería argüir que la literatura está por encima de la política. Pero eran amigos de muchos años y sus carreras habían sido paralelas, primero en la Universidad y luego como profesores: no podía arriesgarse a frases grandilocuentes con ella. Continuó parpadeando e intentando sonreír, murmurando con torpeza que no veía nada político en escribir reseñas de libros.
When their turn to cross had come he was still perplexed and inattentive. Miss Ivors promptly took his hand in a warm grasp and said in a soft friendly tone:
Cuando llegó su turno de cruzar, seguía perplejo y distraído. La señorita Ivors tomó prontamente su mano en un cálido apretón y dijo con tono suave y amistoso:
"Of course, I was only joking. Come, we cross now."
—Claro, solo bromeaba —dijo—. Vamos, crucemos ahora.
When they were together again she spoke of the University question and Gabriel felt more at ease. A friend of hers had shown her his review of Browning's poems. That was how she had found out the secret: but she liked the review immensely. Then she said suddenly:
Cuando volvieron a estar juntos, ella habló del tema universitario y Gabriel se sintió más tranquilo. Una amiga le había mostrado su reseña de los poemas de Browning. Así había descubierto el secreto, pero le encantó la crítica. Luego añadió abruptamente:
"O, Mr. Conroy, will you come for an excursion to the Aran Isles this summer? We're going to stay there a whole month. It will be splendid out in the Atlantic. You ought to come. Mr. Clancy is coming, and Mr. Kilkelly and Kathleen Kearney. It would be splendid for Gretta too if she'd come. She's from Connacht, isn't she?"
—Ah, señor Conroy, ¿vendrá este verano de excursión a las Islas Aran? Nos quedaremos un mes entero. Será espléndido en el Atlántico. Debería venir. Vendrán el señor Clancy, el señor Kilkelly y Kathleen Kearney. ¡Y sería maravilloso que Gretta nos acompañara! Es de Connacht, ¿verdad?
"Her people are," said Gabriel shortly.
—Su familia sí —respondió Gabriel secamente.
"But you will come, won't you?" said Miss Ivors, laying her arm hand eagerly on his arm.
—Pero usted vendrá, ¿no? —insistió la señorita Ivors, posando su mano con entusiasmo en su brazo.
"The fact is," said Gabriel, "I have just arranged to go——"
—La cuestión es —dijo Gabriel— que ya he organizado un viaje...
"Go where?" asked Miss Ivors.
—¿Adónde? —preguntó la señorita Ivors.
"Well, you know, every year I go for a cycling tour with some fellows and so——"
—Bueno, cada año hago un tour en bicicleta con unos amigos, así que...
"But where?" asked Miss Ivors.
—¿Pero adónde? —repitió ella.
"Well, we usually go to France or Belgium or perhaps Germany," said Gabriel awkwardly.
—Normalmente a Francia, Bélgica o quizá Alemania —respondió Gabriel con incomodidad.
"And why do you go to France and Belgium," said Miss Ivors, "instead of visiting your own land?"
—¿Y por qué van a Francia y Bélgica —inquirió la señorita Ivors— en vez de visitar su propia tierra?
"Well," said Gabriel, "it's partly to keep in touch with the languages and partly for a change."
—Bueno —explicó Gabriel—, en parte para practicar los idiomas y en parte por cambio de aires.
"And haven't you your own language to keep in touch with—Irish?" asked Miss Ivors.
—¿Y no tiene su propio idioma que practicar, el irlandés? —preguntó la señorita Ivors.
"Well," said Gabriel, "if it comes to that, you know, Irish is not my language."
—Mire —replicó Gabriel—, si vamos a eso, el irlandés no es mi lengua.
Their neighbours had turned to listen to the cross-examination. Gabriel glanced right and left nervously and tried to keep his good humour under the ordeal which was making a blush invade his forehead.
Los circundantes volvieron la cabeza hacia el interrogatorio. Gabriel miró a los lados nervioso, intentando mantener su buen humor bajo el suplicio que teñía su frente de rubor.
"And haven't you your own land to visit," continued Miss Ivors, "that you know nothing of, your own people, and your own country?"
—¿Y no tiene su propia tierra por conocer —continuó la señorita Ivors—, su propia gente, su patria?
"O, to tell you the truth," retorted Gabriel suddenly, "I'm sick of my own country, sick of it!"
—¡A decir verdad —estalló Gabriel de pronto—, estoy harto de mi país, harto!
"Why?" asked Miss Ivors.
—¿Por qué? —preguntó la señorita Ivors.
Gabriel did not answer for his retort had heated him.
Gabriel no respondió, pues la réplica lo había alterado.
"Why?" repeated Miss Ivors.
—¿Por qué? —repitió ella.
They had to go visiting together and, as he had not answered her, Miss Ivors said warmly:
Al tener que seguir bailando juntos y ante su silencio, la señorita Ivors dijo con vehemencia:
"Of course, you've no answer."
—Claro, no tiene respuesta.
Gabriel tried to cover his agitation by taking part in the dance with great energy. He avoided her eyes for he had seen a sour expression on her face. But when they met in the long chain he was surprised to feel his hand firmly pressed. She looked at him from under her brows for a moment quizzically until he smiled. Then, just as the chain was about to start again, she stood on tiptoe and whispered into his ear:
Gabriel intentó disimular su agitación participando en la danza con brío. Evitaba su mirada, pues había visto un gesto agrio en su rostro. Pero al encontrarse en la cadena, sintió con sorpresa que ella le apretaba la mano con fuerza. Lo observó bajo sus cejas con ironía hasta que él forcejeó una sonrisa. Luego, justo al reiniciarse la cadena, se alzó de puntillas y le susurró al oído:
"West Briton!"
—¡West Briton!
When the lancers were over Gabriel went away to a remote corner of the room where Freddy Malins' mother was sitting. She was a stout feeble old woman with white hair. Her voice had a catch in it like her son's and she stuttered slightly. She had been told that Freddy had come and that he was nearly all right. Gabriel asked her whether she had had a good crossing. She lived with her married daughter in Glasgow and came to Dublin on a visit once a year. She answered placidly that she had had a beautiful crossing and that the captain had been most attentive to her. She spoke also of the beautiful house her daughter kept in Glasgow, and of all the friends they had there. While her tongue rambled on Gabriel tried to banish from his mind all memory of the unpleasant incident with Miss Ivors. Of course the girl or woman, or whatever she was, was an enthusiast but there was a time for all things. Perhaps he ought not to have answered her like that. But she had no right to call him a West Briton before people, even in joke. She had tried to make him ridiculous before people, heckling him and staring at him with her rabbit's eyes.
Al terminar el baile, Gabriel se dirigió a un rincón apartado donde estaba la madre de Freddy Malins, una anciana gruesa y frágil de cabello blanco. Su voz, como la de su hijo, tenía un temblor y levemente tartamudeaba. Le contaron que Freddy había llegado y que estaba bien. Gabriel le preguntó por su travesía. Ella vivía con su hija casada en Glasgow y visitaba Dublín una vez al año. Respondió con calma que el viaje había sido espléndido y que el capitán fue muy atento. Habló también de la hermosa casa de su hija en Glasgow y de sus amistades. Mientras ella divagaba, Gabriel intentaba borrar el incidente con la señorita Ivors. Claro, la muchacha —o mujer— era una fanática, pero todo tenía su momento. Quizá no debió responderle así. Pero ella no tenía derecho a llamarlo West Briton ante todos, ni en broma. Quiso ridiculizarlo, interrogándolo y clavándole esos ojos de liebre.
He saw his wife making her way towards him through the waltzing couples. When she reached him she said into his ear:
Vio a su esposa abriéndose paso entre las parejas de vals. Al llegar, le susurró al oído:
"Gabriel. Aunt Kate wants to know won't you carve the goose as usual. Miss Daly will carve the ham and I'll do the pudding."
—Gabriel, la tía Kate quiere saber si trincharás el ganso como siempre. La señorita Daly hará el jamón y yo el pudín.
"All right," said Gabriel.
—De acuerdo —dijo Gabriel.
"She's sending in the younger ones first as soon as this waltz is over so that we'll have the table to ourselves."
—Primero entrarán los jóvenes cuando termine este vals para que tengamos la mesa libre.
"Were you dancing?" asked Gabriel.
—¿Estabas bailando? —preguntó Gabriel.
"Of course I was. Didn't you see me? What row had you with Molly Ivors?"
—Claro. ¿No me viste? ¿Qué riña tuviste con Molly Ivors?
"No row. Why? Did she say so?"
—Ninguna discusión. ¿Por qué? ¿Ella dijo eso?
"Something like that. I'm trying to get that Mr. D'Arcy to sing. He's full of conceit, I think."
—Algo así. Estoy intentando que el señor D'Arcy cante. Creo que está lleno de vanidad.
"There was no row," said Gabriel moodily, "only she wanted me to go for a trip to the west of Ireland and I said I wouldn't."
—No hubo discusión —dijo Gabriel de mal humor—. Solo que quería que fuera de viaje al oeste de Irlanda y le dije que no.
His wife clasped her hands excitedly and gave a little jump.
Su esposa juntó las manos con excitación y dio un pequeño brinco.
"O, do go, Gabriel," she cried. "I'd love to see Galway again."
—¡Oh, vete, Gabriel! —exclamó—. Me encantaría volver a ver Galway.
"You can go if you like," said Gabriel coldly.
—Tú puedes ir si quieres —dijo Gabriel fríamente.
She looked at him for a moment, then turned to Mrs. Malins and said:
Ella lo miró un instante, luego se volvió hacia la señora Malins y dijo:
"There's a nice husband for you, Mrs. Malins."
—¿Ve qué marido tengo, señora Malins?
While she was threading her way back across the room Mrs. Malins, without adverting to the interruption, went on to tell Gabriel what beautiful places there were in Scotland and beautiful scenery. Her son-in-law brought them every year to the lakes and they used to go fishing. Her son-in-law was a splendid fisher. One day he caught a beautiful big fish and the man in the hotel cooked it for their dinner.
Mientras se abría paso de regreso por la sala, la señora Malins, sin aludir a la interrupción, continuó contándole a Gabriel los lugares hermosos de Escocia y sus paisajes. Su yerno los llevaba cada año a los lagos y solían pescar. Su yerno era un pescador excelente. Un día capturó un pez grande y hermoso, y el hombre del hotel lo cocinó para su cena.
Gabriel hardly heard what she said. Now that supper was coming near he began to think again about his speech and about the quotation. When he saw Freddy Malins coming across the room to visit his mother Gabriel left the chair free for him and retired into the embrasure of the window. The room had already cleared and from the back room came the clatter of plates and knives. Those who still remained in the drawing room seemed tired of dancing and were conversing quietly in little groups. Gabriel's warm trembling fingers tapped the cold pane of the window. How cool it must be outside! How pleasant it would be to walk out alone, first along by the river and then through the park! The snow would be lying on the branches of the trees and forming a bright cap on the top of the Wellington Monument. How much more pleasant it would be there than at the supper-table!
Gabriel apenas escuchaba sus palabras. Ahora que la cena se acercaba, volvió a pensar en su discurso y en la cita. Al ver a Freddy Malins cruzar la sala hacia su madre, Gabriel dejó la silla libre para él y se retiró al hueco de la ventana. La sala ya se había despejado, y desde el comedor llegaba el ruido de platos y cubiertos. Los que aún permanecían en el salón parecían cansados de bailar y conversaban en pequeños grupos. Los dedos cálidos y temblorosos de Gabriel golpeteaban el frío cristal de la ventana. ¡Qué fresco debía estar afuera! ¡Qué agradable sería caminar solo, primero junto al río y luego por el parque! La nieve cubriría las ramas de los árboles y formaría un brillante casquete sobre el Monumento a Wellington. ¡Cuánto más placentero sería eso que estar en la mesa de la cena!
He ran over the headings of his speech: Irish hospitality, sad memories, the Three Graces, Paris, the quotation from Browning. He repeated to himself a phrase he had written in his review: "One feels that one is listening to a thought-tormented music." Miss Ivors had praised the review. Was she sincere? Had she really any life of her own behind all her propagandism? There had never been any ill-feeling between them until that night. It unnerved him to think that she would be at the supper-table, looking up at him while he spoke with her critical quizzing eyes. Perhaps she would not be sorry to see him fail in his speech. An idea came into his mind and gave him courage. He would say, alluding to Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the generation which is now on the wane among us may have had its faults but for my part I think it had certain qualities of hospitality, of humour, of humanity, which the new and very serious and hypereducated generation that is growing up around us seems to me to lack." Very good: that was one for Miss Ivors. What did he care that his aunts were only two ignorant old women?
Repasó los puntos de su discurso: la hospitalidad irlandesa, los recuerdos tristes, las Tres Gracias, París, la cita de Browning. Repitió para sí una frase que había escrito en su reseña: «Se siente que uno está escuchando una música atormentada por el pensamiento». La señorita Ivors había elogiado la reseña. ¿Era sincera? ¿Tenía realmente una vida propia detrás de todo su proselitismo? Nunca había habido resentimiento entre ellos hasta esa noche. Lo perturbaba pensar que ella estaría en la cena, observándolo mientras hablaba con sus ojos críticos y burlones. Quizás no le disgustaría verlo fracasar en su discurso. Una idea vino a su mente y le dio valor. Diría, aludiendo a la tía Kate y a la tía Julia: «Señoras y señores, la generación que ahora declina entre nosotros quizás tuvo sus defectos, pero por mi parte creo que poseía ciertas cualidades de hospitalidad, humor y humanidad que la nueva generación, tan seria e hipereducada, que crece a nuestro alrededor, parece carecer». Muy bien: eso sería un golpe para la señorita Ivors. ¿Qué le importaba que sus tías fueran solo dos viejas ignorantes?
A murmur in the room attracted his attention. Mr. Browne was advancing from the door, gallantly escorting Aunt Julia, who leaned upon his arm, smiling and hanging her head. An irregular musketry of applause escorted her also as far as the piano and then, as Mary Jane seated herself on the stool, and Aunt Julia, no longer smiling, half turned so as to pitch her voice fairly into the room, gradually ceased. Gabriel recognised the prelude. It was that of an old song of Aunt Julia's—Arrayed for the Bridal. Her voice, strong and clear in tone, attacked with great spirit the runs which embellish the air and though she sang very rapidly she did not miss even the smallest of the grace notes. To follow the voice, without looking at the singer's face, was to feel and share the excitement of swift and secure flight. Gabriel applauded loudly with all the others at the close of the song and loud applause was borne in from the invisible supper-table. It sounded so genuine that a little colour struggled into Aunt Julia's face as she bent to replace in the music-stand the old leather-bound songbook that had her initials on the cover. Freddy Malins, who had listened with his head perched sideways to hear her better, was still applauding when everyone else had ceased and talking animatedly to his mother who nodded her head gravely and slowly in acquiescence. At last, when he could clap no more, he stood up suddenly and hurried across the room to Aunt Julia whose hand he seized and held in both his hands, shaking it when words failed him or the catch in his voice proved too much for him.
Un murmullo en la sala captó su atención. El señor Browne avanzaba desde la puerta, escoltando galantemente a la tía Julia, quien se apoyaba en su brazo, sonriendo y con la cabeza inclinada. Una irregular salva de aplausos la acompañó hasta el piano, y luego, cuando Mary Jane se sentó en el taburete y la tía Julia, ya sin sonreír, se giró a medias para proyectar su voz hacia la sala, cesó gradualmente. Gabriel reconoció el preludio. Era el de una vieja canción de la tía Julia: Arrayed for the Bridal. Su voz, fuerte y clara de tono, atacó con gran brío los adornos que embellecían la melodía, y aunque cantó muy rápido, no omitió ni la más pequeña de las notas de adorno. Seguir la voz, sin mirar el rostro de la cantante, era sentir y compartir la emoción de un vuelo veloz y seguro. Gabriel aplaudió con fuerza junto a los demás al final de la canción, y fuertes aplausos llegaron desde el invisible comedor. Sonaban tan genuinos que un leve rubor asomó al rostro de la tía Julia mientras se inclinaba para guardar en el atril el viejo cancionero encuadernado en cuero que llevaba sus iniciales en la portada. Freddy Malins, que había escuchado con la cabeza ladeada para oírla mejor, seguía aplaudiendo cuando todos habían cesado, y hablaba animadamente con su madre, quien asentía con grave y lenta aquiescencia. Por fin, cuando ya no pudo aplaudir más, se levantó de repente y cruzó apresuradamente la sala hacia la tía Julia, cuya mano tomó entre las suyas, estrechándola cuando las palabras le fallaban o el nudo en su voz lo superaba.
"I was just telling my mother," he said, "I never heard you sing so well, never. No, I never heard your voice so good as it is tonight. Now! Would you believe that now? That's the truth. Upon my word and honour that's the truth. I never heard your voice sound so fresh and so... so clear and fresh, never."
—Le decía a mi madre —dijo— que nunca la había oído cantar tan bien, jamás. No, nunca su voz había estado tan buena como esta noche. ¡Vamos! ¿Lo creerían? Es la verdad. Palabra de honor, es la verdad. Nunca la había oído sonar tan fresca y tan... tan clara y fresca, nunca.
Aunt Julia smiled broadly and murmured something about compliments as she released her hand from his grasp. Mr. Browne extended his open hand towards her and said to those who were near him in the manner of a showman introducing a prodigy to an audience:
La tía Julia sonrió ampliamente y murmuró algo sobre cumplidos mientras liberaba su mano de su agarre. El señor Browne extendió su mano abierta hacia ella y dijo a los que estaban cerca, en tono de presentador que muestra un prodigio al público:
"Miss Julia Morkan, my latest discovery!"
—¡La señorita Julia Morkan, mi último descubrimiento!
He was laughing very heartily at this himself when Freddy Malins turned to him and said:
Se reía con gran convicción de su propio chiste cuando Freddy Malins se volvió hacia él y dijo:
"Well, Browne, if you're serious you might make a worse discovery. All I can say is I never heard her sing half so well as long as I am coming here. And that's the honest truth."
—Bueno, Browne, si hablas en serio, podrías haber hecho peores descubrimientos. Solo digo que nunca la oí cantar ni la mitad de bien en todo el tiempo que llevo viniendo aquí. Y esa es la pura verdad.
"Neither did I," said Mr. Browne. "I think her voice has greatly improved."
—Yo tampoco —dijo el señor Browne—. Creo que su voz ha mejorado mucho.
Aunt Julia shrugged her shoulders and said with meek pride:
La tía Julia se encogió de hombros y dijo con orgullo modesto:
"Thirty years ago I hadn't a bad voice as voices go."
—Hace treinta años no tenía mala voz, como voces van.
"I often told Julia," said Aunt Kate emphatically, "that she was simply thrown away in that choir. But she never would be said by me."
—Siempre le dije a Julia —intervino la tía Kate con énfasis— que estaba desperdiciada en ese coro. Pero nunca me hizo caso.
She turned as if to appeal to the good sense of the others against a refractory child while Aunt Julia gazed in front of her, a vague smile of reminiscence playing on her face.
Se giró como apelando al sentido común de los demás frente a una niña testaruda, mientras la tía Julia miraba al frente, con una vaga sonrisa de reminiscencia en el rostro.
"No," continued Aunt Kate, "she wouldn't be said or led by anyone, slaving there in that choir night and day, night and day. Six o'clock on Christmas morning! And all for what?"
—No —continuó la tía Kate—, no se dejaba aconsejar ni guiar por nadie, esclavizándose en ese coro noche y día, noche y día. ¡Las seis de la mañana en Navidad! ¿Y todo para qué?
"Well, isn't it for the honour of God, Aunt Kate?" asked Mary Jane, twisting round on the piano-stool and smiling.
—Bueno, ¿no es para la gloria de Dios, tía Kate? —preguntó Mary Jane, girándose en el taburete del piano con una sonrisa.
Aunt Kate turned fiercely on her niece and said:
La tía Kate se volvió con fiereza hacia su sobrina y dijo:
"I know all about the honour of God, Mary Jane, but I think it's not at all honourable for the pope to turn out the women out of the choirs that have slaved there all their lives and put little whipper-snappers of boys over their heads. I suppose it is for the good of the Church if the pope does it. But it's not just, Mary Jane, and it's not right."
—Sé todo sobre la gloria de Dios, Mary Jane, pero no me parece nada honroso que el Papa eche a las mujeres de los coros donde han esclavizado toda su vida y ponga a mocosos de niños por encima de ellas. Supongo que será por el bien de la Iglesia si el Papa lo hace. Pero no es justo, Mary Jane, no está bien.
She had worked herself into a passion and would have continued in defence of her sister for it was a sore subject with her but Mary Jane, seeing that all the dancers had come back, intervened pacifically:
Se había encendido en pasión y habría continuado defendiendo a su hermana, pues era un tema doloroso para ella, pero Mary Jane, viendo que todos los bailarines habían regresado, intervino conciliadora:
"Now, Aunt Kate, you're giving scandal to Mr. Browne who is of the other persuasion."
—Vamos, tía Kate, vas a escandalizar al señor Browne, que es de otra religión.
Aunt Kate turned to Mr. Browne, who was grinning at this allusion to his religion, and said hastily:
La tía Kate se volvió hacia el señor Browne, quien sonreía ante esta alusión a su fe, y dijo apresuradamente:
"O, I don't question the pope's being right. I'm only a stupid old woman and I wouldn't presume to do such a thing. But there's such a thing as common everyday politeness and gratitude. And if I were in Julia's place I'd tell that Father Healey straight up to his face..."
—Oh, no pongo en duda que el Papa tenga razón. Solo soy una vieja estúpida y no me atrevería a hacer tal cosa. Pero existe algo llamado educación común y gratitud. Y si yo estuviera en el lugar de Julia, le diría cuatro cosas al padre Healey en su propia cara...
"And besides, Aunt Kate," said Mary Jane, "we really are all hungry and when we are hungry we are all very quarrelsome."
—Además, tía Kate —intervino Mary Jane—, estamos todos realmente hambrientos y cuando tenemos hambre nos ponemos muy quisquillosos.
"And when we are thirsty we are also quarrelsome," added Mr. Browne.
—Y cuando tenemos sed también —añadió el señor Browne.
"So that we had better go to supper," said Mary Jane, "and finish the discussion afterwards."
—Así que mejor vamos a cenar —dijo Mary Jane— y terminamos la discusión después.
On the landing outside the drawing-room Gabriel found his wife and Mary Jane trying to persuade Miss Ivors to stay for supper. But Miss Ivors, who had put on her hat and was buttoning her cloak, would not stay. She did not feel in the least hungry and she had already overstayed her time.
En el rellano fuera del salón, Gabriel encontró a su esposa y a Mary Jane intentando persuadir a la señorita Ivors para que se quedara a cenar. Pero la señorita Ivors, que ya se había puesto el sombrero y abrochaba su capa, se negó. No sentía el menor apetito y ya se había quedado más de la cuenta.
"But only for ten minutes, Molly," said Mrs. Conroy. "That won't delay you."
—Pero solo diez minutos, Molly —rogó la señora Conroy—. No te retrasará.
"To take a pick itself," said Mary Jane, "after all your dancing."
—Al menos un bocado —insistió Mary Jane—, después de todo tu baile.
"I really couldn't," said Miss Ivors.
—De verdad que no puedo —repitió la señorita Ivors.
"I am afraid you didn't enjoy yourself at all," said Mary Jane hopelessly.
—Me temo que no lo has pasado nada bien —dijo Mary Jane con desaliento.
"Ever so much, I assure you," said Miss Ivors, "but you really must let me run off now."
—¡Todo lo contrario, te lo aseguro! —respondió la señorita Ivors—, pero de verdad debéis dejarme ir ahora.
"But how can you get home?" asked Mrs. Conroy.
—¿Pero cómo volverás a casa? —preguntó la señora Conroy.
"O, it's only two steps up the quay."
—Oh, está a dos pasos por el muelle.
Gabriel hesitated a moment and said:
Gabriel vaciló un momento y dijo:
"If you will allow me, Miss Ivors, I'll see you home if you are really obliged to go."
—Si me lo permite, señorita Ivors, la acompañaré a casa si de verdad debe irse.
But Miss Ivors broke away from them.
Pero la señorita Ivors se apartó de ellos.
"I won't hear of it," she cried. "For goodness' sake go in to your suppers and don't mind me. I'm quite well able to take care of myself."
—¡No lo permitiré! —exclamó—. Por el amor de Dios, id a cenar y no os preocupéis por mí. Soy perfectamente capaz de cuidarme sola.
"Well, you're the comical girl, Molly," said Mrs. Conroy frankly.
—Vaya, eres una chica singular, Molly —dijo la señora Conroy con franqueza.
"Beannacht libh," cried Miss Ivors, with a laugh, as she ran down the staircase.
—Beannacht libh —gritó la señorita Ivors entre risas mientras bajaba la escalera.
Mary Jane gazed after her, a moody puzzled expression on her face, while Mrs. Conroy leaned over the banisters to listen for the hall-door. Gabriel asked himself was he the cause of her abrupt departure. But she did not seem to be in ill humour: she had gone away laughing. He stared blankly down the staircase.
Mary Jane la siguió con la mirada, el rostro sombrío y perplejo, mientras la señora Conroy se inclinaba sobre la barandilla para escuchar el portazo. Gabriel se preguntó si él era la causa de su abrupta partida. Pero ella no parecía enfadada: se había ido riendo. Él miró absorto hacia la escalera.
At the moment Aunt Kate came toddling out of the supper-room, almost wringing her hands in despair.
En ese momento, la tía Kate salió renqueando del comedor, casi retorciéndose las manos de desesperación.
"Where is Gabriel?" she cried. "Where on earth is Gabriel? There's everyone waiting in there, stage to let, and nobody to carve the goose!"
—¿Dónde está Gabriel? —gritó—. ¿Dónde diablos está Gabriel? ¡Todos están esperando ahí dentro, escenario listo, y nadie para trinchar el ganso!
"Here I am, Aunt Kate!" cried Gabriel, with sudden animation, "ready to carve a flock of geese, if necessary."
—¡Aquí estoy, tía Kate! —gritó Gabriel, súbitamente animado—. ¡Listo para trinchar una bandada de gansos si hace falta!
A fat brown goose lay at one end of the table and at the other end, on a bed of creased paper strewn with sprigs of parsley, lay a great ham, stripped of its outer skin and peppered over with crust crumbs, a neat paper frill round its shin and beside this was a round of spiced beef. Between these rival ends ran parallel lines of side-dishes: two little minsters of jelly, red and yellow; a shallow dish full of blocks of blancmange and red jam, a large green leaf-shaped dish with a stalk-shaped handle, on which lay bunches of purple raisins and peeled almonds, a companion dish on which lay a solid rectangle of Smyrna figs, a dish of custard topped with grated nutmeg, a small bowl full of chocolates and sweets wrapped in gold and silver papers and a glass vase in which stood some tall celery stalks. In the centre of the table there stood, as sentries to a fruit-stand which upheld a pyramid of oranges and American apples, two squat old-fashioned decanters of cut glass, one containing port and the other dark sherry. On the closed square piano a pudding in a huge yellow dish lay in waiting and behind it were three squads of bottles of stout and ale and minerals, drawn up according to the colours of their uniforms, the first two black, with brown and red labels, the third and smallest squad white, with transverse green sashes.
Un grueso ganso dorado yacía en un extremo de la mesa, y en el otro, sobre un lecho de papel rizado salpicado de ramitas de perejil, había un enorme jamón despojado de su corteza, espolvoreado con migajas de pan tostado, un limpio volante de papel alrededor de su caña, y junto a este, una pieza de carne especiada. Entre estos rivales se alineaban hileras paralelas de acompañamientos: dos pequeños ministerios de gelatina roja y amarilla; una fuente llana repleta de bloques de blancmange y mermelada roja; un gran plato verde con forma de hoja y asa en forma de tallo, sobre el que descansaban racimos de uvas pasas y almendras peladas; otro plato similar con un rectángulo sólido de higos de Esmirna; una fuente de natillas espolvoreadas con nuez moscada rallada; un cuenco pequeño lleno de chocolates y dulces envueltos en papeles dorados y plateados; y un jarrón de vidrio con varios tallos de apio erguidos. En el centro de la mesa, como centinelas de una frutera que sostenía una pirámide de naranjas y manzanas americanas, había dos rechonchos decantadores antiguos de cristal tallado: uno con oporto y otro con jerez oscuro. Sobre el piano cuadrado cerrado, un pudín en un enorme plato amarillo aguardaba su turno, y tras él se alineaban tres escuadrones de botellas de cerveza negra, rubia y bebidas gaseosas, ordenadas por el color de sus uniformes: los dos primeros escuadrones negros, con etiquetas marrones y rojas; el tercero y más pequeño, blanco, con fajas verdes transversales.
Gabriel took his seat boldly at the head of the table and, having looked to the edge of the carver, plunged his fork firmly into the goose. He felt quite at ease now for he was an expert carver and liked nothing better than to find himself at the head of a well-laden table.
Gabriel ocupó su lugar con decisión a la cabecera de la mesa y, tras examinar el filo del trinchante, clavó firmemente su tenedor en el ganso. Ahora se sentía completamente tranquilo, pues era un experto trinchador y nada le complacía más que presidir una mesa bien surtida.
"Miss Furlong, what shall I send you?" he asked. "A wing or a slice of the breast?"
—Señorita Furlong, ¿qué le sirvo? —preguntó—. ¿Un ala o una loncha de la pechuga?
"Just a small slice of the breast."
—Solo un trocito de la pechuga.
"Miss Higgins, what for you?"
—Señorita Higgins, ¿y para usted?
"O, anything at all, Mr. Conroy."
—Oh, lo que sea, señor Conroy.
While Gabriel and Miss Daly exchanged plates of goose and plates of ham and spiced beef Lily went from guest to guest with a dish of hot floury potatoes wrapped in a white napkin. This was Mary Jane's idea and she had also suggested apple sauce for the goose but Aunt Kate had said that plain roast goose without any apple sauce had always been good enough for her and she hoped she might never eat worse. Mary Jane waited on her pupils and saw that they got the best slices and Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia opened and carried across from the piano bottles of stout and ale for the gentlemen and bottles of minerals for the ladies. There was a great deal of confusion and laughter and noise, the noise of orders and counter-orders, of knives and forks, of corks and glass-stoppers. Gabriel began to carve second helpings as soon as he had finished the first round without serving himself. Everyone protested loudly so that he compromised by taking a long draught of stout for he had found the carving hot work. Mary Jane settled down quietly to her supper but Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia were still toddling round the table, walking on each other's heels, getting in each other's way and giving each other unheeded orders. Mr. Browne begged of them to sit down and eat their suppers and so did Gabriel but they said there was time enough, so that, at last, Freddy Malins stood up and, capturing Aunt Kate, plumped her down on her chair amid general laughter.
Mientras Gabriel y la señorita Daly intercambiaban platos de ganso, jamón y carne especiada, Lily pasaba entre los invitados con una fuente de patatas harinosas calientes envueltas en una servilleta blanca. Esto había sido idea de Mary Jane, quien también había sugerido salsa de manzana para el ganso, pero la tía Kate dijo que un simple ganso asado sin acompañamientos siempre había sido suficiente para ella y esperaba no probar nunca nada peor. Mary Jane atendía a sus alumnas asegurándose de que recibieran las mejores porciones, mientras las tías Kate y Julia abrían y servían desde el piano botellas de cerveza negra y rubia para los caballeros, y bebidas gaseosas para las damas. Reinaba un gran bullicio entre risas, órdenes y contraórdenes, el tintineo de cubiertos y el chasquido de corchos y tapones de cristal. Gabriel comenzó a servir segundas raciones apenas terminó la primera ronda sin probar bocado. Todos protestaron enérgicamente, así que cedió tomando un largo trago de cerveza negra, pues el trabajo de trinchar lo había acalorado. Mary Jane se sentó tranquilamente a cenar, pero las tías seguían dando vueltas a la mesa, pisándose los talones, estorbándose e ignorando mutuamente sus indicaciones. El señor Browne les rogó que se sentaran, al igual que Gabriel, pero alegaron que había tiempo de sobra, hasta que Freddy Malins se levantó y, capturando a la tía Kate, la plantó en su silla entre risas generales.
When everyone had been well served Gabriel said, smiling:
Cuando todos estuvieron bien servidos, Gabriel anunció sonriente:
"Now, if anyone wants a little more of what vulgar people call stuffing let him or her speak."
—Ahora, si alguien desea un poco más de lo que el vulgo llama relleno, que hable.
A chorus of voices invited him to begin his own supper and Lily came forward with three potatoes which she had reserved for him.
Un coro de voces le instó a empezar su propia cena, y Lily se acercó con tres patatas que había reservado para él.
"Very well," said Gabriel amiably, as he took another preparatory draught, "kindly forget my existence, ladies and gentlemen, for a few minutes."
—Muy bien —dijo Gabriel afablemente, tomando otro trago preliminar—, les ruego olviden mi existencia por unos minutos, señoras y señores.
He set to his supper and took no part in the conversation with which the table covered Lily's removal of the plates. The subject of talk was the opera company which was then at the Theatre Royal. Mr. Bartell D'Arcy, the tenor, a dark-complexioned young man with a smart moustache, praised very highly the leading contralto of the company but Miss Furlong thought she had a rather vulgar style of production. Freddy Malins said there was a Negro chieftain singing in the second part of the Gaiety pantomime who had one of the finest tenor voices he had ever heard.
Se dedicó a su plato mientras la conversación giraba en torno a la compañía de ópera del Teatro Royal. El señor Bartell D'Arcy, el tenor de bigote pulcro y tez morena, elogiaba a la contralto principal, aunque la señorita Furlong la consideraba de estilo vulgar. Freddy Malins mencionó a un jefe negro en el espectáculo del Gaiety con una de las mejores voces tenoriles jamás escuchadas.
"Have you heard him?" he asked Mr. Bartell D'Arcy across the table.
—¿Lo ha oído usted? —preguntó al señor D'Arcy cruzando la mesa.
"No," answered Mr. Bartell D'Arcy carelessly.
—No —respondió este con indiferencia.
"Because," Freddy Malins explained, "now I'd be curious to hear your opinion of him. I think he has a grand voice."
—Porque —explicó Freddy Malins— me gustaría mucho oír su opinión. Creo que tiene una voz magnífica.
"It takes Teddy to find out the really good things," said Mr. Browne familiarly to the table.
—Solo Teddy descubre las joyas verdaderas —comentó el señor Browne familiarmente.
"And why couldn't he have a voice too?" asked Freddy Malins sharply. "Is it because he's only a black?"
—¿Y por qué no podría tener voz? —replicó Freddy Malins con aspereza—. ¿Acaso por ser negro?
Nobody answered this question and Mary Jane led the table back to the legitimate opera. One of her pupils had given her a pass for Mignon. Of course it was very fine, she said, but it made her think of poor Georgina Burns. Mr. Browne could go back farther still, to the old Italian companies that used to come to Dublin—Tietjens, Ilma de Murzka, Campanini, the great Trebelli, Giuglini, Ravelli, Aramburo. Those were the days, he said, when there was something like singing to be heard in Dublin. He told too of how the top gallery of the old Royal used to be packed night after night, of how one night an Italian tenor had sung five encores to Let me like a Soldier fall, introducing a high C every time, and of how the gallery boys would sometimes in their enthusiasm unyoke the horses from the carriage of some great prima donna and pull her themselves through the streets to her hotel. Why did they never play the grand old operas now, he asked, Dinorah, Lucrezia Borgia? Because they could not get the voices to sing them: that was why.
Nadie respondió. Mary Jane recondujo la charla hacia la ópera tradicional. Mencionó Mignon, que le recordaba a la pobre Georgina Burns. El señor Browne evocó las antiguas compañías italianas en Dublín: Tietjens, Ilma de Murzka, Campanini, la gran Trebelli, Giuglini, Ravelli, Aramburo. —Aquellos sí que eran tiempos —dijo—, cuando el gallinero del Royal se abarrotaba cada noche. Contó cómo un tenor italiano había encantado con cinco bis de Let me like a Soldier fall, agregando un do sobreagudo cada vez, y cómo los muchachos desenganchaban los caballos de las divas para arrastrar ellas mismas sus carruajes. —¿Por qué ya no representan las grandes óperas? —preguntó—. Dinorah, Lucrezia Borgia... ¡Porque no hay voces!
"Oh, well," said Mr. Bartell D'Arcy, "I presume there are as good singers today as there were then."
—Bueno —dijo el señor D'Arcy—, supongo que hoy hay tantos buenos cantantes como entonces.
"Where are they?" asked Mr. Browne defiantly.
—¿Dónde están? —preguntó el señor Browne desafiante.
"In London, Paris, Milan," said Mr. Bartell D'Arcy warmly. "I suppose Caruso, for example, is quite as good, if not better than any of the men you have mentioned."
—En Londres, París, Milán —dijo el señor Bartell D'Arcy con ardor—. Supongo que Caruso, por ejemplo, es tan bueno, si no mejor, que cualquiera de los que han mencionado.
"Maybe so," said Mr. Browne. "But I may tell you I doubt it strongly."
—Puede ser —dijo el señor Browne—. Pero les diré que lo dudo mucho.
"O, I'd give anything to hear Caruso sing," said Mary Jane.
—¡Oh, daría cualquier cosa por oír cantar a Caruso! —dijo Mary Jane.
"For me," said Aunt Kate, who had been picking a bone, "there was only one tenor. To please me, I mean. But I suppose none of you ever heard of him."
—Para mí —dijo la tía Kate, que estaba royendo una espina—, solo hubo un tenor. Para mi gusto, quiero decir. Pero supongo que ninguno de ustedes lo llegó a conocer.
"Who was he, Miss Morkan?" asked Mr. Bartell D'Arcy politely.
—¿Quién era, señorita Morkan? —preguntó el señor Bartell D'Arcy con cortesía.
"His name," said Aunt Kate, "was Parkinson. I heard him when he was in his prime and I think he had then the purest tenor voice that was ever put into a man's throat."
—Se llamaba Parkinson —dijo la tía Kate—. Lo oí en su mejor época y creo que tenía entonces la voz de tenor más pura que jamás haya salido de garganta humana.
"Strange," said Mr. Bartell D'Arcy. "I never even heard of him."
—Extraño —dijo el señor Bartell D'Arcy—. Nunca había oído hablar de él.
"Yes, yes, Miss Morkan is right," said Mr. Browne. "I remember hearing of old Parkinson but he's too far back for me."
—Sí, sí, la señorita Morkan tiene razón —dijo el señor Browne—. Recuerdo haber oído hablar del viejo Parkinson, pero es anterior a mi tiempo.
"A beautiful, pure, sweet, mellow English tenor," said Aunt Kate with enthusiasm.
—Un hermoso, puro, dulce y melodioso tenor inglés —dijo la tía Kate con entusiasmo.
Gabriel having finished, the huge pudding was transferred to the table. The clatter of forks and spoons began again. Gabriel's wife served out spoonfuls of the pudding and passed the plates down the table. Midway down they were held up by Mary Jane, who replenished them with raspberry or orange jelly or with blancmange and jam. The pudding was of Aunt Julia's making and she received praises for it from all quarters She herself said that it was not quite brown enough.
Gabriel, tras terminar, trasladó el enorme pudin a la mesa. El traqueteo de tenedores y cucharas recomenzó. La esposa de Gabriel sirvió cucharadas del postre y pasó los platos a lo largo de la mesa. A mitad de camino, Mary Jane los detuvo para añadirles gelatina de frambuesa o naranja, o bien blancmange y mermelada. El pudin era obra de la tía Julia, quien recibió elogios por ello desde todos los rincones. Ella misma comentó que no había quedado lo suficientemente dorado.
"Well, I hope, Miss Morkan," said Mr. Browne, "that I'm brown enough for you because, you know, I'm all brown."
—Bueno, espero, señorita Morkan —dijo el señor Browne—, que yo esté lo suficientemente moreno para usted, pues, como ve, soy todo moreno.
All the gentlemen, except Gabriel, ate some of the pudding out of compliment to Aunt Julia. As Gabriel never ate sweets the celery had been left for him. Freddy Malins also took a stalk of celery and ate it with his pudding. He had been told that celery was a capital thing for the blood and he was just then under doctor's care. Mrs. Malins, who had been silent all through the supper, said that her son was going down to Mount Melleray in a week or so. The table then spoke of Mount Melleray, how bracing the air was down there, how hospitable the monks were and how they never asked for a penny-piece from their guests.
Todos los caballeros, excepto Gabriel, comieron un poco del pudin por cortesía hacia la tía Julia. Como Gabriel nunca comía dulces, le habían reservado el apio. Freddy Malins también tomó un tallo y lo comió con el postre. Le habían dicho que el apio era excelente para la sangre, y justo entonces estaba bajo cuidado médico. La señora Malins, que había permanecido callada durante toda la cena, comentó que su hijo iría a Monte Melleray en una semana más o menos. La mesa entonces habló de Monte Melleray: lo tonificante que era el aire allí, lo hospitalarios que eran los monjes y cómo nunca pedían ni un centavo a sus huéspedes.
"And do you mean to say," asked Mr. Browne incredulously, "that a chap can go down there and put up there as if it were a hotel and live on the fat of the land and then come away without paying anything?"
—¿Quiere decir —preguntó el señor Browne incrédulo— que un tipo puede ir allí, alojarse como en un hotel, vivir a cuerpo de rey y luego irse sin pagar nada?
"O, most people give some donation to the monastery when they leave." said Mary Jane.
—Oh, la mayoría deja alguna donación al monasterio al partir —dijo Mary Jane.
"I wish we had an institution like that in our Church," said Mr. Browne candidly.
—Ojalá tuviéramos una institución así en nuestra Iglesia —dijo el señor Browne con franqueza.
He was astonished to hear that the monks never spoke, got up at two in the morning and slept in their coffins. He asked what they did it for.
Le sorprendió escuchar que los monjes nunca hablaban, se levantaban a las dos de la madrugada y dormían en sus ataúdes. Preguntó para qué lo hacían.
"That's the rule of the order," said Aunt Kate firmly.
—Es la regla de la orden —dijo la tía Kate con firmeza.
"Yes, but why?" asked Mr. Browne.
—Sí, pero ¿por qué? —insistió el señor Browne.
Aunt Kate repeated that it was the rule, that was all. Mr. Browne still seemed not to understand. Freddy Malins explained to him, as best he could, that the monks were trying to make up for the sins committed by all the sinners in the outside world. The explanation was not very clear for Mr. Browne grinned and said:
La tía Kate repitió que era la regla, y punto. El señor Browne aún parecía no entender. Freddy Malins le explicó como pudo que los monjes intentaban expiar los pecados cometidos por todos los pecadores del mundo exterior. La explicación no fue muy clara, pues el señor Browne sonrió y dijo:
"I like that idea very much but wouldn't a comfortable spring bed do them as well as a coffin?"
—Me gusta mucho esa idea, pero ¿no les serviría igual una cómoda cama de muelles que un ataúd?
"The coffin," said Mary Jane, "is to remind them of their last end."
—El ataúd —dijo Mary Jane— es para recordarles su fin último.
As the subject had grown lugubrious it was buried in a silence of the table during which Mrs. Malins could be heard saying to her neighbour in an indistinct undertone:
Como el tema se había vuelto lúgubre, quedó sepultado en un silencio general durante el cual se oyó a la señora Malins decirle a su vecina en un susurro indistinto:
"They are very good men, the monks, very pious men."
—Son hombres muy buenos, los monjes, hombres muy piadosos.
The raisins and almonds and figs and apples and oranges and chocolates and sweets were now passed about the table and Aunt Julia invited all the guests to have either port or sherry. At first Mr. Bartell D'Arcy refused to take either but one of his neighbours nudged him and whispered something to him upon which he allowed his glass to be filled. Gradually as the last glasses were being filled the conversation ceased. A pause followed, broken only by the noise of the wine and by unsettlings of chairs. The Misses Morkan, all three, looked down at the tablecloth. Someone coughed once or twice and then a few gentlemen patted the table gently as a signal for silence. The silence came and Gabriel pushed back his chair.
Las pasas, almendras, higos, manzanas, naranjas, chocolates y dulces comenzaron a circular por la mesa mientras la tía Julia invitaba a todos los invitados a tomar oporto o jerez. Al principio, el señor Bartell D'Arcy rechazó ambas opciones, pero uno de sus vecinos lo codéo y le susurró algo, tras lo cual permitió que le llenaran la copa. Gradualmente, mientras se servían los últimos vasos, la conversación cesó. Siguió una pausa, rota solo por el sonido del vino y el leve movimiento de las sillas. Las señoritas Morkan, las tres, bajaron la mirada hacia el mantel. Alguien tosió un par de veces y luego varios caballeros golpearon suavemente la mesa como señal de silencio. El silencio llegó y Gabriel apartó su silla.
The patting at once grew louder in encouragement and then ceased altogether. Gabriel leaned his ten trembling fingers on the tablecloth and smiled nervously at the company. Meeting a row of upturned faces he raised his eyes to the chandelier. The piano was playing a waltz tune and he could hear the skirts sweeping against the drawing-room door. People, perhaps, were standing in the snow on the quay outside, gazing up at the lighted windows and listening to the waltz music. The air was pure there. In the distance lay the park where the trees were weighted with snow. The Wellington Monument wore a gleaming cap of snow that flashed westward over the white field of Fifteen Acres.
Los golpecitos aumentaron en volumen para animarlo y luego cesaron por completo. Gabriel apoyó sus diez dedos temblorosos sobre el mantel y sonrió con nerviosismo a la concurrencia. Al encontrar una fila de rostros levantados, alzó la vista hacia la araña. El piano tocaba una melodía de vals y podía oír los faldones rozando la puerta del salón. Quizás había gente afuera, de pie en la nieve del muelle, contemplando las ventanas iluminadas y escuchando la música. Allí el aire era puro. A lo lejos se extendía el parque donde los árboles cargaban con el peso de la nieve. El Monumento a Wellington lucía un reluciente gorro níveo que brillaba hacia el oeste sobre el blanco campo de Quince Acres.
He began:
Comenzó:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,
"Señoras y señores,
"It has fallen to my lot this evening, as in years past, to perform a very pleasing task but a task for which I am afraid my poor powers as a speaker are all too inadequate."
"Esta noche, como en años pasados, me ha correspondido el grato honor de realizar una tarea muy placentera, aunque temo que mis pobres dotes de orador resulten del todo insuficientes."
"No, no!" said Mr. Browne.
"¡No, no!" dijo el señor Browne.
"But, however that may be, I can only ask you tonight to take the will for the deed and to lend me your attention for a few moments while I endeavour to express to you in words what my feelings are on this occasion.
"Pero, sea como fuere, solo puedo pedirles esta noche que tomen la voluntad por la obra y me presten su atención unos instantes mientras intento expresarles con palabras lo que siento en esta ocasión.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it is not the first time that we have gathered together under this hospitable roof, around this hospitable board. It is not the first time that we have been the recipients—or perhaps, I had better say, the victims—of the hospitality of certain good ladies."
"Señoras y señores, no es la primera vez que nos reunimos bajo este hospitalario techo, alrededor de esta hospitalaria mesa. Tampoco es la primera vez que recibimos—o quizás debería decir, que sufrimos—la hospitalidad de ciertas buenas damas."
He made a circle in the air with his arm and paused. Everyone laughed or smiled at Aunt Kate and Aunt Julia and Mary Jane who all turned crimson with pleasure. Gabriel went on more boldly:
Hizo un círculo en el aire con el brazo y hizo una pausa. Todos rieron o sonrieron hacia la tía Kate, la tía Julia y Mary Jane, quienes enrojecieron de placer. Gabriel continuó con mayor seguridad:
"I feel more strongly with every recurring year that our country has no tradition which does it so much honour and which it should guard so jealously as that of its hospitality. It is a tradition that is unique as far as my experience goes (and I have visited not a few places abroad) among the modern nations. Some would say, perhaps, that with us it is rather a failing than anything to be boasted of. But granted even that, it is, to my mind, a princely failing, and one that I trust will long be cultivated among us. Of one thing, at least, I am sure. As long as this one roof shelters the good ladies aforesaid—and I wish from my heart it may do so for many and many a long year to come—the tradition of genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality, which our forefathers have handed down to us and which we in turn must hand down to our descendants, is still alive among us."
"Cada año que pasa siento con más fuerza que nuestro país no tiene tradición que lo honre tanto y que deba custodiar con tanto celo como la de su hospitalidad. Es una tradición única, hasta donde mi experiencia alcanza (y he visitado no pocos lugares en el extranjero), entre las naciones modernas. Algunos dirán, quizás, que para nosotros es más un defecto que algo digno de alarde. Pero aun concediendo eso, es, a mi juicio, un defecto regio, y uno que confío seguirá cultivándose entre nosotros. De una cosa al menos estoy seguro. Mientras este techo cobije a las mencionadas damas—y deseo de corazón que así sea por muchos y largos años—la tradición de la genuina hospitalidad irlandesa, cálida y cortés, que nuestros antepasados nos legaron y que nosotros a su vez debemos transmitir a nuestros descendientes, seguirá viva entre nosotros."
A hearty murmur of assent ran round the table. It shot through Gabriel's mind that Miss Ivors was not there and that she had gone away discourteously: and he said with confidence in himself:
Un murmullo de aprobación recorrió la mesa. A Gabriel le cruzó el pensamiento de que la señorita Ivors no estaba presente y que se había marchado descortésmente. Entonces declaró con confianza:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,
"Señoras y señores,
"A new generation is growing up in our midst, a generation actuated by new ideas and new principles. It is serious and enthusiastic for these new ideas and its enthusiasm, even when it is misdirected, is, I believe, in the main sincere. But we are living in a sceptical and, if I may use the phrase, a thought-tormented age: and sometimes I fear that this new generation, educated or hypereducated as it is, will lack those qualities of humanity, of hospitality, of kindly humour which belonged to an older day. Listening tonight to the names of all those great singers of the past it seemed to me, I must confess, that we were living in a less spacious age. Those days might, without exaggeration, be called spacious days: and if they are gone beyond recall let us hope, at least, that in gatherings such as this we shall still speak of them with pride and affection, still cherish in our hearts the memory of those dead and gone great ones whose fame the world will not willingly let die."
"Una nueva generación crece entre nosotros, impulsada por nuevas ideas y principios. Es seria y entusiasta hacia estas innovaciones, y su fervor, incluso cuando se desvía, creo que es en esencia sincero. Pero vivimos en una época escéptica y, si me permiten la expresión, atormentada por el pensamiento. A veces temo que esta nueva generación, tan instruida o hiperinstruida como está, carezca de aquellas cualidades humanas—hospitalidad, humor bondadoso—propias de tiempos pasados. Al escuchar esta noche los nombres de aquellos grandes cantantes del ayer, debo confesar que me pareció vivir en una era menos generosa. Aquellos días bien podrían llamarse, sin exagerar, tiempos espléndidos. Y si se han ido para siempre, al menos esperemos que en reuniones como esta sigamos hablando de ellos con orgullo y cariño, atesorando en nuestros corazones el recuerdo de esos grandes desaparecidos cuyo renombre el mundo no dejará morir."
"Hear, hear!" said Mr. Browne loudly.
"¡Bravo, bravo!" exclamó el señor Browne en voz alta.
"But yet," continued Gabriel, his voice falling into a softer inflection, "there are always in gatherings such as this sadder thoughts that will recur to our minds: thoughts of the past, of youth, of changes, of absent faces that we miss here tonight. Our path through life is strewn with many such sad memories: and were we to brood upon them always we could not find the heart to go on bravely with our work among the living. We have all of us living duties and living affections which claim, and rightly claim, our strenuous endeavours.
"Pero aún así", continuó Gabriel, suavizando la inflexión de su voz, "en reuniones como esta siempre acuden a nuestras mentes pensamientos más melancólicos: recuerdos del pasado, de la juventud, de los cambios, de los rostros ausentes que echamos de menos esta noche. Nuestro camino por la vida está sembrado de tantos recuerdos tristes: y si nos demoráramos siempre en ellos, no hallaríamos el valor para continuar con nuestro trabajo entre los vivos. Todos tenemos deberes y afectos vitales que exigen, y con razón, nuestros más arduos esfuerzos.
"Therefore, I will not linger on the past. I will not let any gloomy moralising intrude upon us here tonight. Here we are gathered together for a brief moment from the bustle and rush of our everyday routine. We are met here as friends, in the spirit of good-fellowship, as colleagues, also to a certain extent, in the true spirit of camaraderie, and as the guests of—what shall I call them?—the Three Graces of the Dublin musical world."
"Por tanto, no me extenderé en el pasado. No permitiré que ningún moralismo lúgubre nos afecte esta noche. Nos reunimos aquí brevemente, alejados del bullicio cotidiano. Estamos aquí como amigos, en espíritu de buena camaradería, como colegas hasta cierto punto, y como invitados de —¿cómo llamarlas?— las Tres Gracias del mundo musical de Dublín".
The table burst into applause and laughter at this allusion. Aunt Julia vainly asked each of her neighbours in turn to tell her what Gabriel had said.
La mesa estalló en aplausos y risas ante esta alusión. Tía Julia preguntó en vano a cada vecino qué había dicho Gabriel.
"He says we are the Three Graces, Aunt Julia," said Mary Jane.
"Dice que somos las Tres Gracias, tía Julia", explicó Mary Jane.
Aunt Julia did not understand but she looked up, smiling, at Gabriel, who continued in the same vein:
Tía Julia no entendió, pero alzó la vista sonriendo hacia Gabriel, quien prosiguió en el mismo tono:
"Ladies and Gentlemen,
"Señoras y señores,
"I will not attempt to play tonight the part that Paris played on another occasion. I will not attempt to choose between them. The task would be an invidious one and one beyond my poor powers. For when I view them in turn, whether it be our chief hostess herself, whose good heart, whose too good heart, has become a byword with all who know her, or her sister, who seems to be gifted with perennial youth and whose singing must have been a surprise and a revelation to us all tonight, or, last but not least, when I consider our youngest hostess, talented, cheerful, hard-working and the best of nieces, I confess, Ladies and Gentlemen, that I do not know to which of them I should award the prize."
"No intentaré representar esta noche el papel de Paris en aquel otro juicio. No pretendo elegir entre ellas. Sería tarea odiosa y superior a mis pobres capacidades. Pues cuando las contemplo por turno —ya sea a nuestra anfitriona principal, cuyo buen corazón, cuyo excesivamente buen corazón, se ha convertido en proverbio para cuantos la conocen; o a su hermana, dotada de perenne juventud y cuyo canto ha sido esta noche revelación para todos; o, por último pero no menos, a nuestra joven anfitriona, talentosa, alegre, laboriosa y la mejor de las sobrinas— confieso, señoras y señores, que no sé a cuál de ellas otorgar el premio".
Gabriel glanced down at his aunts and, seeing the large smile on Aunt Julia's face and the tears which had risen to Aunt Kate's eyes, hastened to his close. He raised his glass of port gallantly, while every member of the company fingered a glass expectantly, and said loudly:
Gabriel miró a sus tías y, al ver la amplia sonrisa de tía Julia y las lágrimas en los ojos de tía Kate, apresuró su conclusión. Alzó galantemente su copa de oporto, mientras los comensales palpaban las suyas expectantes, y exclamó:
"Let us toast them all three together. Let us drink to their health, wealth, long life, happiness and prosperity and may they long continue to hold the proud and self-won position which they hold in their profession and the position of honour and affection which they hold in our hearts."
"Brindemos por las tres juntas. Bebamos por su salud, fortuna, larga vida, felicidad y prosperidad. Que continúen ocupando tanto el orgulloso lugar conquistado en su profesión como el puesto de honor y cariño que guardan en nuestros corazones".
All the guests stood up, glass in hand, and turning towards the three seated ladies, sang in unison, with Mr. Browne as leader:
Todos los invitados se levantaron con las copas en alto y, volviéndose hacia las tres señoras, cantaron al unísono bajo la dirección del señor Browne:
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
Which nobody can deny.
Nadie puede negar.
Aunt Kate was making frank use of her handkerchief and even Aunt Julia seemed moved. Freddy Malins beat time with his pudding-fork and the singers turned towards one another, as if in melodious conference, while they sang with emphasis:
Tía Kate se enjugaba abiertamente las lágrimas con el pañuelo. Hasta tía Julia parecía conmovida. Freddy Malins marcaba el compás con su tenedor de postre mientras los cantantes, volviéndose entre sí como en concertación melódica, entonaban con énfasis:
Unless he tells a lie,
A menos que mienta,
Unless he tells a lie,
A menos que mienta,
Then, turning once more towards their hostesses, they sang:
Luego, girando nuevamente hacia las anfitrionas:
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
For they are jolly gay fellows,
Pues son tres buenas compañeras,
Which nobody can deny.
Nadie puede negar.
The acclamation which followed was taken up beyond the door of the supper-room by many of the other guests and renewed time after time, Freddy Malins acting as officer with his fork on high.
La aclamación subsiguiente se propagó más allá del comedor, donde muchos invitados la corearon repetidamente, con Freddy Malins dirigiendo como maestre con su tenedor en alto.
The piercing morning air came into the hall where they were standing so that Aunt Kate said:
El aire gélido de la madrugada se colaba en el vestíbulo, haciendo exclamar a tía Kate:
"Close the door, somebody. Mrs. Malins will get her death of cold."
"Que alguien cierre la puerta. La señora Malins cogerá una pulmonía".
"Browne is out there, Aunt Kate," said Mary Jane.
"Browne está ahí fuera, tía Kate", dijo Mary Jane.
"Browne is everywhere," said Aunt Kate, lowering her voice.
"Browne está en todas partes", murmuró tía Kate.
Mary Jane laughed at her tone.
Mary Jane rio ante su tono.
"Really," she said archly, "he is very attentive."
"En verdad", dijo con malicia, "se muestra muy atento".
"He has been laid on here like the gas," said Aunt Kate in the same tone, "all during the Christmas."
"Lo han instalado aquí como el gas", comentó tía Kate en el mismo tono, "durante toda la Navidad".
She laughed herself this time good-humouredly and then added quickly:
Ella misma rio ahora con buen humor, añadiendo rápidamente:
"But tell him to come in, Mary Jane, and close the door. I hope to goodness he didn't hear me."
"Pero dile que entre, Mary Jane, y cierra la puerta. Espero que no me haya oído".
At that moment the hall-door was opened and Mr. Browne came in from the doorstep, laughing as if his heart would break. He was dressed in a long green overcoat with mock astrakhan cuffs and collar and wore on his head an oval fur cap. He pointed down the snow-covered quay from where the sound of shrill prolonged whistling was borne in.
En ese momento se abrió la puerta principal y el señor Browne entró desde el umbral, riendo como si el corazón se le fuera a partir. Vestía un largo abrigo verde con puños y cuello de astracán postizo, y llevaba en la cabeza un gorro de piel ovalado. Señaló hacia el muelle cubierto de nieve de donde llegaba el sonido de un silbido agudo y prolongado.
"Teddy will have all the cabs in Dublin out," he said.
—Teddy va a sacar todos los coches de punto de Dublín—dijo.
Gabriel advanced from the little pantry behind the office, struggling into his overcoat and, looking round the hall, said:
Gabriel salió de la pequeña despensa tras la oficina, forcejeando con su abrigo y, mirando alrededor del vestíbulo, preguntó:
"Gretta not down yet?"
—¿Gretta no ha bajado todavía?
"She's getting on her things, Gabriel," said Aunt Kate.
—Se está vistiendo, Gabriel—dijo la tía Kate.
"Who's playing up there?" asked Gabriel.
—¿Quién está tocando ahí arriba?—preguntó Gabriel.
"Nobody. They're all gone."
—Nadie. Todos se han ido.
"O no, Aunt Kate," said Mary Jane. "Bartell D'Arcy and Miss O'Callaghan aren't gone yet."
—Oh, no, tía Kate—dijo Mary Jane—. Bartell D'Arcy y la señorita O'Callaghan aún no se han marchado.
"Someone is fooling at the piano anyhow," said Gabriel.
—Alguien está haciendo bromas con el piano de todos modos—dijo Gabriel.
Mary Jane glanced at Gabriel and Mr. Browne and said with a shiver:
Mary Jane miró a Gabriel y al señor Browne y dijo con un escalofrío:
"It makes me feel cold to look at you two gentlemen muffled up like that. I wouldn't like to face your journey home at this hour."
—Me da frío con solo verlos a ustedes, caballeros, tan abrigados. No me gustaría emprender su viaje de regreso a esta hora.
"I'd like nothing better this minute," said Mr. Browne stoutly, "than a rattling fine walk in the country or a fast drive with a good spanking goer between the shafts."
—No desearía nada mejor en este momento—declaró el señor Browne con firmeza—que un estupendo paseo campestre o un veloz trayecto en un buen coche tirado por un corcel fogoso.
"We used to have a very good horse and trap at home," said Aunt Julia sadly.
—Solíamos tener un caballo y un carruaje muy buenos en casa—dijo la tía Julia con tristeza.
"The never-to-be-forgotten Johnny," said Mary Jane, laughing.
—El inolvidable Johnny—dijo Mary Jane riendo.
Aunt Kate and Gabriel laughed too.
La tía Kate y Gabriel rieron también.
"Why, what was wonderful about Johnny?" asked Mr. Browne.
—Vamos, ¿qué tenía de especial Johnny?—preguntó el señor Browne.
"The late lamented Patrick Morkan, our grandfather, that is," explained Gabriel, "commonly known in his later years as the old gentleman, was a glue-boiler."
—El difunto Patrick Morkan, nuestro abuelo—explicó Gabriel—, conocido en sus últimos años como el anciano caballero, era fabricante de cola.
"O, now, Gabriel," said Aunt Kate, laughing, "he had a starch mill."
—Ah, vamos, Gabriel—dijo la tía Kate riendo—, tenía una fábrica de almidón.
"Well, glue or starch," said Gabriel, "the old gentleman had a horse by the name of Johnny. And Johnny used to work in the old gentleman's mill, walking round and round in order to drive the mill. That was all very well; but now comes the tragic part about Johnny. One fine day the old gentleman thought he'd like to drive out with the quality to a military review in the park."
—Bueno, cola o almidón—dijo Gabriel—, el anciano caballero tenía un caballo llamado Johnny. Y Johnny solía trabajar en el molino del anciano caballero, caminando en círculos para mover la maquinaria. Todo iba bien hasta que llegó la parte trágica. Un buen día, al anciano caballero se le ocurrió que quería pasear con la alta sociedad en una revista militar del parque.
"The Lord have mercy on his soul," said Aunt Kate compassionately.
—El Señor tenga misericordia de su alma—dijo la tía Kate compasivamente.
"Amen," said Gabriel. "So the old gentleman, as I said, harnessed Johnny and put on his very best tall hat and his very best stock collar and drove out in grand style from his ancestral mansion somewhere near Back Lane, I think."
—Amén—dijo Gabriel—. Así que el anciano caballero, como decía, enganchó a Johnny, se puso su mejor sombrero de copa y su mejor cuello postizo, y salió con gran estilo de su mansión ancestral cerca de Back Lane, creo.
Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Malins, at Gabriel's manner and Aunt Kate said:
Todos rieron, incluso la señora Malins, ante el tono de Gabriel, y la tía Kate dijo:
"O, now, Gabriel, he didn't live in Back Lane, really. Only the mill was there."
—Ah, vamos, Gabriel, él no vivía en Back Lane, en realidad. Solo el molino estaba ahí.
"Out from the mansion of his forefathers," continued Gabriel, "he drove with Johnny. And everything went on beautifully until Johnny came in sight of King Billy's statue: and whether he fell in love with the horse King Billy sits on or whether he thought he was back again in the mill, anyhow he began to walk round the statue."
—Desde la mansión de sus antepasados—continuó Gabriel—, partió con Johnny. Todo marchó a la perfección hasta que Johnny avistó la estatua del Rey Billy: ya fuera porque se enamoró del caballo sobre el que está sentado el rey, ya fuera porque creyó estar de vuelta en el molino, el caso es que empezó a dar vueltas alrededor de la estatua.
Gabriel paced in a circle round the hall in his goloshes amid the laughter of the others.
Gabriel caminó en círculos por el vestíbulo con sus chanclos, entre las risas de los demás.
"Round and round he went," said Gabriel, "and the old gentleman, who was a very pompous old gentleman, was highly indignant. 'Go on, sir! What do you mean, sir? Johnny! Johnny! Most extraordinary conduct! Can't understand the horse!"
—Daba vueltas y más vueltas—narraba Gabriel—, y el anciano caballero, que era muy pomposo, se indignó sobremanera. "¡Adelante, señor! ¿Qué significa esto, señor? ¡Johnny! ¡Johnny! ¡Conducta más extraña! ¡No logro entender al caballo!"
The peal of laughter which followed Gabriel's imitation of the incident was interrupted by a resounding knock at the hall door. Mary Jane ran to open it and let in Freddy Malins. Freddy Malins, with his hat well back on his head and his shoulders humped with cold, was puffing and steaming after his exertions.
La carcajada que siguió a la imitación de Gabriel del incidente se interrumpió por un fuerte golpe en la puerta principal. Mary Jane corrió a abrir y dejó entrar a Freddy Malins. Freddy Malins, con el sombrero echado hacia atrás y los hombros encogidos por el frío, jadeaba y despedía vapor tras sus esfuerzos.
"I could only get one cab," he said.
—Solo pude conseguir un coche—dijo.
"O, we'll find another along the quay," said Gabriel.
—Oh, encontraremos otro por el muelle—dijo Gabriel.
"Yes," said Aunt Kate. "Better not keep Mrs. Malins standing in the draught."
—Sí—asintió la tía Kate—. Mejor no mantener a la señora Malins de pie en la corriente.
Mrs. Malins was helped down the front steps by her son and Mr. Browne and, after many manoeuvres, hoisted into the cab. Freddy Malins clambered in after her and spent a long time settling her on the seat, Mr. Browne helping him with advice. At last she was settled comfortably and Freddy Malins invited Mr. Browne into the cab. There was a good deal of confused talk, and then Mr. Browne got into the cab. The cabman settled his rug over his knees, and bent down for the address. The confusion grew greater and the cabman was directed differently by Freddy Malins and Mr. Browne, each of whom had his head out through a window of the cab. The difficulty was to know where to drop Mr. Browne along the route, and Aunt Kate, Aunt Julia and Mary Jane helped the discussion from the doorstep with cross-directions and contradictions and abundance of laughter. As for Freddy Malins he was speechless with laughter. He popped his head in and out of the window every moment to the great danger of his hat, and told his mother how the discussion was progressing, till at last Mr. Browne shouted to the bewildered cabman above the din of everybody's laughter:
La señora Malins fue ayudada a bajar los escalones de la entrada por su hijo y el señor Browne y, tras varias maniobras, subida al coche. Freddy Malins trepó tras ella y pasó un buen rato acomodándola en el asiento, mientras el señor Browne le daba consejos. Por fin quedó cómodamente instalada y Freddy Malins invitó al señor Browne a subir al coche. Hubo un buen montón de conversación confusa, y entonces el señor Browne entró en el coche. El cochero acomodó la manta sobre sus rodillas y se inclinó para recibir la dirección. La confusión aumentó y el cochero recibió indicaciones contradictorias de Freddy Malins y el señor Browne, quienes asomaban la cabeza por sendas ventanillas. La dificultad estribaba en decidir dónde dejar al señor Browne en el trayecto, y la tía Kate, la tía Julia y Mary Jane participaron en la discusión desde el umbral, con instrucciones cruzadas, contradicciones y abundantes risas. En cuanto a Freddy Malins, estaba mudo de risa. Asomaba la cabeza por la ventanilla cada instante, poniendo en grave peligro su sombrero, y le contaba a su madre el progreso de la discusión, hasta que al fin el señor Browne, por encima del estruendo de las carcajadas, gritó al desconcertado cochero:
"Do you know Trinity College?"
—¿Conoce Trinity College?
"Yes, sir," said the cabman.
—Sí, señor —dijo el cochero.
"Well, drive bang up against Trinity College gates," said Mr. Browne, "and then we'll tell you where to go. You understand now?"
—Pues arrime allí el coche a las verjas de Trinity College —dijo el señor Browne—, y entonces le diremos adónde ir. ¿Lo entiende ahora?
"Yes, sir," said the cabman.
—Sí, señor —dijo el cochero.
"Make like a bird for Trinity College."
—Haga como un pájaro hacia Trinity College.
"Right, sir," said the cabman.
—De acuerdo, señor —dijo el cochero.
The horse was whipped up and the cab rattled off along the quay amid a chorus of laughter and adieus.
El caballo recibió un latigazo y el coche partió traqueteando por el muelle entre un coro de risas y despedidas.
Gabriel had not gone to the door with the others. He was in a dark part of the hall gazing up the staircase. A woman was standing near the top of the first flight, in the shadow also. He could not see her face but he could see the terra-cotta and salmon-pink panels of her skirt which the shadow made appear black and white. It was his wife. She was leaning on the banisters, listening to something. Gabriel was surprised at her stillness and strained his ear to listen also. But he could hear little save the noise of laughter and dispute on the front steps, a few chords struck on the piano and a few notes of a man's voice singing.
Gabriel no había acompañado a los demás a la puerta. Estaba en una zona oscura del vestíbulo mirando hacia la escalera. Una mujer estaba de pie cerca del primer rellano, también en la sombra. No podía verle el rostro, pero sí los paneles terracota y salmón de su falda que la sombra volvía negros y blancos. Era su esposa. Se apoyaba en la barandilla, escuchando algo. Gabriel se sorprendió de su quietud y aguzó el oído para escuchar también. Pero apenas oía algo más que el bullicio de risas y discusiones en la entrada, unos acordes del piano y algunas notas de una voz masculina cantando.
He stood still in the gloom of the hall, trying to catch the air that the voice was singing and gazing up at his wife. There was grace and mystery in her attitude as if she were a symbol of something. He asked himself what is a woman standing on the stairs in the shadow, listening to distant music, a symbol of. If he were a painter he would paint her in that attitude. Her blue felt hat would show off the bronze of her hair against the darkness and the dark panels of her skirt would show off the light ones. Distant Music he would call the picture if he were a painter.
Permaneció inmóvil en la penumbra del vestíbulo, tratando de captar la melodía que entonaba la voz y mirando a su esposa. Había gracia y misterio en su actitud, como si fuera símbolo de algo. Se preguntó qué simboliza una mujer en la sombra de una escalera, escuchando música lejana. Si fuera pintor, la retrataría así. Su sombrero de fieltro azul resaltaría el bronce de su cabello contra la oscuridad, y los oscuros paneles de su falda destacarían los claros. Música Lejana llamaría al cuadro si fuera pintor.
The hall-door was closed; and Aunt Kate, Aunt Julia and Mary Jane came down the hall, still laughing.
Se cerró la puerta principal; y la tía Kate, la tía Julia y Mary Jane bajaron por el vestíbulo, todavía riendo.
"Well, isn't Freddy terrible?" said Mary Jane. "He's really terrible."
—Vaya, ¿no es Freddy espantoso? —dijo Mary Jane—. Es realmente terrible.
Gabriel said nothing but pointed up the stairs towards where his wife was standing. Now that the hall-door was closed the voice and the piano could be heard more clearly. Gabriel held up his hand for them to be silent. The song seemed to be in the old Irish tonality and the singer seemed uncertain both of his words and of his voice. The voice, made plaintive by distance and by the singer's hoarseness, faintly illuminated the cadence of the air with words expressing grief:
Gabriel no dijo nada, pero señaló hacia la escalera donde estaba su esposa. Ahora que la puerta estaba cerrada, la voz y el piano se oían con más claridad. Gabriel alzó la mano pidiendo silencio. La canción parecía estar en la antigua tonalidad irlandesa y el cantante parecía inseguro tanto de la letra como de su voz. La voz, entristecida por la distancia y la ronquera del cantante, iluminaba débilmente la cadencia de la melodía con palabras de duelo:
O, the rain falls on my heavy locks And the dew wets my skin, My babe lies cold...
O, la lluvia cae sobre mis pesados bucles
Y el rocío moja mi piel,
Mi bebé yace frío...
"O," exclaimed Mary Jane. "It's Bartell D'Arcy singing and he wouldn't sing all the night. O, I'll get him to sing a song before he goes."
—Oh —exclamó Mary Jane—. Es Bartell D'Arcy cantando, y no quiso hacerlo en toda la noche. Oh, le haré cantar una canción antes de que se vaya.
"O, do, Mary Jane," said Aunt Kate.
—Oh, hazlo, Mary Jane —dijo la tía Kate.
Mary Jane brushed past the others and ran to the staircase, but before she reached it the singing stopped and the piano was closed abruptly.
Mary Jane pasó rozando a los demás y corrió hacia la escalera, pero antes de llegar, el canto cesó y el piano se cerró abruptamente.
"O, what a pity!" she cried. "Is he coming down, Gretta?"
—¡Oh, qué lástima! —gritó—. ¿Va a bajar, Gretta?
Gabriel heard his wife answer yes and saw her come down towards them. A few steps behind her were Mr. Bartell D'Arcy and Miss O'Callaghan.
Gabriel oyó a su esposa responder que sí y la vio descender hacia ellos. Unos pasos detrás venían el señor Bartell D'Arcy y la señorita O'Callaghan.
"O, Mr. D'Arcy," cried Mary Jane, "it's downright mean of you to break off like that when we were all in raptures listening to you."
—Oh, señor D'Arcy —exclamó Mary Jane—, es una verdadera grosería interrumpirse así cuando estábamos todos extasiados escuchándole.
"I have been at him all the evening," said Miss O'Callaghan, "and Mrs. Conroy, too, and he told us he had a dreadful cold and couldn't sing."
"He estado insistiéndole toda la noche", dijo la señorita O'Callaghan, "y la señora Conroy también, pero nos dijo que tenía un resfriado horrible y no podía cantar".
"O, Mr. D'Arcy," said Aunt Kate, "now that was a great fib to tell."
"Ay, señor D'Arcy", dijo la tía Kate, "vaya mentira nos ha contado".
"Can't you see that I'm as hoarse as a crow?" said Mr. D'Arcy roughly.
"¿Es que no ven que estoy ronco como un cuervo?", dijo el señor D'Arcy con brusquedad.
He went into the pantry hastily and put on his overcoat. The others, taken aback by his rude speech, could find nothing to say. Aunt Kate wrinkled her brows and made signs to the others to drop the subject. Mr. D'Arcy stood swathing his neck carefully and frowning.
Entró apresuradamente en la despensa y se puso el abrigo. Los demás, desconcertados por su rudeza, no supieron qué decir. La tía Kate frunció el ceño e hizo señas para que cambiaran de tema. El señor D'Arcy se ajustaba meticulosamente la bufanda, ceñudo.
"It's the weather," said Aunt Julia, after a pause.
"Es el clima", dijo la tía Julia tras una pausa.
"Yes, everybody has colds," said Aunt Kate readily, "everybody."
"Sí, todos andan resfriados", añadió la tía Kate con premura, "absolutamente todos".
"They say," said Mary Jane, "we haven't had snow like it for thirty years; and I read this morning in the newspapers that the snow is general all over Ireland."
"Dicen", intervino Mary Jane, "que no habíamos tenido una nevada así en treinta años; y esta mañana leí en los periódicos que la nieve cubre toda Irlanda".
"I love the look of snow," said Aunt Julia sadly.
"Me encanta el aspecto de la nieve", dijo la tía Julia con melancolía.
"So do I," said Miss O'Callaghan. "I think Christmas is never really Christmas unless we have the snow on the ground."
"A mí también", afirmó la señorita O'Callaghan. "Creo que la Navidad no es realmente Navidad sin nieve en el suelo".
"But poor Mr. D'Arcy doesn't like the snow," said Aunt Kate, smiling.
"Pero al pobre señor D'Arcy no le agrada la nieve", dijo la tía Kate sonriendo.
Mr. D'Arcy came from the pantry, fully swathed and buttoned, and in a repentant tone told them the history of his cold. Everyone gave him advice and said it was a great pity and urged him to be very careful of his throat in the night air. Gabriel watched his wife, who did not join in the conversation. She was standing right under the dusty fanlight and the flame of the gas lit up the rich bronze of her hair, which he had seen her drying at the fire a few days before. She was in the same attitude and seemed unaware of the talk about her. At last she turned towards them and Gabriel saw that there was colour on her cheeks and that her eyes were shining. A sudden tide of joy went leaping out of his heart.
El señor D'Arcy salió de la despensa, completamente abrigado y abotonado, y con tono arrepentido les relató los pormenores de su resfriado. Todos le dieron consejos, lamentaron su situación y le recomendaron abrigar bien la garganta ante el aire nocturno. Gabriel observaba a su esposa, que no participaba en la conversación. Estaba de pie justo bajo el tragaluz polvoriento, donde la llama del gas iluminaba el rico bronce de su cabello, el mismo que días atrás había visto secándose junto al fuego. Permaneció inmóvil, ajena al diálogo, hasta que finalmente se volvió hacia ellos. Gabriel advirtió el rubor en sus mejillas y el brillo en sus ojos. Un torrente de júbilo brotó de su corazón.
"Mr. D'Arcy," she said, "what is the name of that song you were singing?"
"Señor D'Arcy", preguntó ella, "¿cómo se llama aquella canción que estaba cantando?"
"It's called The Lass of Aughrim," said Mr. D'Arcy, "but I couldn't remember it properly. Why? Do you know it?"
"Se titula La doncella de Aughrim", respondió el señor D'Arcy, "pero no la recordaba bien. ¿Por qué? ¿La conoce?"
"The Lass of Aughrim," she repeated. "I couldn't think of the name."
"La doncella de Aughrim", repitió ella. "No lograba recordar el nombre".
"It's a very nice air," said Mary Jane. "I'm sorry you were not in voice tonight."
"Es una melodía muy bella", dijo Mary Jane. "Lamento que no hayas tenido voz esta noche".
"Now, Mary Jane," said Aunt Kate, "don't annoy Mr. D'Arcy. I won't have him annoyed."
"Vamos, Mary Jane", interrumpió la tía Kate, "no molestes al señor D'Arcy. No permitiré que lo agobien".
Seeing that all were ready to start she shepherded them to the door, where good-night was said:
Al ver que todos estaban listos para partir, los condujo hacia la puerta donde se despidieron:
"Well, good-night, Aunt Kate, and thanks for the pleasant evening."
"Bueno, buenas noches, tía Kate, y gracias por esta velada tan agradable".
"Good-night, Gabriel. Good-night, Gretta!"
"Buenas noches, Gabriel. ¡Buenas noches, Gretta!"
"Good-night, Aunt Kate, and thanks ever so much. Goodnight, Aunt Julia."
"Buenas noches, tía Kate, y mil gracias. Buenas noches, tía Julia".
"O, good-night, Gretta, I didn't see you."
"Ay, buenas noches, Gretta, no te había visto".
"Good-night, Mr. D'Arcy. Good-night, Miss O'Callaghan."
"Buenas noches, señor D'Arcy. Buenas noches, señorita O'Callaghan".
"Good-night, Miss Morkan."
"Buenas noches, señorita Morkan".
"Good-night, again."
"Buenas noches, de nuevo".
"Good-night, all. Safe home."
"Buenas noches a todos. Que lleguen bien".
"Good-night. Good night."
"Buenas noches. Buenas noches".
The morning was still dark. A dull, yellow light brooded over the houses and the river; and the sky seemed to be descending. It was slushy underfoot; and only streaks and patches of snow lay on the roofs, on the parapets of the quay and on the area railings. The lamps were still burning redly in the murky air and, across the river, the palace of the Four Courts stood out menacingly against the heavy sky.
La madrugada seguía oscura. Una luz amarilla y apagada se cernía sobre las casas y el río; el cielo parecia desplomarse. El suelo estaba embarrrado, con solo vetas y manchas de nieve en los tejados, en las barandillas del muelle y en las verjas de los patios. Las lámparas aún brillaban rojizas en el aire turbio, y al otro lado del río, el palacio de los Four Courts se recortaba amenazante contra el cielo plomizo.
She was walking on before him with Mr. Bartell D'Arcy, her shoes in a brown parcel tucked under one arm and her hands holding her skirt up from the slush. She had no longer any grace of attitude, but Gabriel's eyes were still bright with happiness. The blood went bounding along his veins; and the thoughts went rioting through his brain, proud, joyful, tender, valorous.
Ella caminaba delante de él junto al señor Bartell D'Arcy, llevando sus zapatos en un paquete marrón bajo el brazo y sosteniendo su falda lejos del lodo. Había perdido toda gracia en su porte, pero los ojos de Gabriel seguían brillantes de felicidad. La sangre le latía en las venas, y sus pensamientos danzaban tumultuosos: orgullosos, jubilosos, tiernos, valerosos.
She was walking on before him so lightly and so erect that he longed to run after her noiselessly, catch her by the shoulders and say something foolish and affectionate into her ear. She seemed to him so frail that he longed to defend her against something and then to be alone with her. Moments of their secret life together burst like stars upon his memory. A heliotrope envelope was lying beside his breakfast-cup and he was caressing it with his hand. Birds were twittering in the ivy and the sunny web of the curtain was shimmering along the floor: he could not eat for happiness. They were standing on the crowded platform and he was placing a ticket inside the warm palm of her glove. He was standing with her in the cold, looking in through a grated window at a man making bottles in a roaring furnace. It was very cold. Her face, fragrant in the cold air, was quite close to his; and suddenly he called out to the man at the furnace:
Ella caminaba delante de él con tanta ligereza y rectitud que él anhelaba correr tras ella sin hacer ruido, agarrarla de los hombros y susurrarle algo tierno y necio al oído. Le parecía tan frágil que deseaba protegerla de algo y luego quedarse a solas con ella. Momentos de su vida secreta juntos estallaban como estrellas en su memoria. Un sobre heliotropo yacía junto a su taza del desayuno y él lo acariciaba con la mano. Los pájaros trinaban en la hiedra y la telaraña soleada de la cortina titilaba sobre el suelo: no podía comer de pura felicidad. Estaban de pie en el andén abarrotado y él colocaba un billete dentro de la cálida palma de su guante. Estaban juntos en el frío, mirando por una ventana enrejada a un hombre que hacía botellas en un horno rugiente. Hacía mucho frío. Su rostro, fragante en el aire gélido, estaba muy cerca del suyo; y de pronto él gritó al hombre del horno:
"Is the fire hot, sir?"
—¿Está caliente el fuego, señor?
But the man could not hear with the noise of the furnace. It was just as well. He might have answered rudely.
Pero el hombre no podía oír con el estruendo del horno. Mejor así. Quizá habría respondido con rudeza.
A wave of yet more tender joy escaped from his heart and went coursing in warm flood along his arteries. Like the tender fire of stars moments of their life together, that no one knew of or would ever know of, broke upon and illumined his memory. He longed to recall to her those moments, to make her forget the years of their dull existence together and remember only their moments of ecstasy. For the years, he felt, had not quenched his soul or hers. Their children, his writing, her household cares had not quenched all their souls' tender fire. In one letter that he had written to her then he had said: "Why is it that words like these seem to me so dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?"
Una ola de alegría aún más tierna brotó de su corazón y corrió en cálido torrente por sus arterias. Como el fuego suave de las estrellas, momentos de su vida en común, que nadie conocía ni conocería jamás, irrumpían e iluminaban su memoria. Anhelaba recordarle aquellos instantes, hacerla olvidar los años de su existencia gris juntos y retener solo sus éxtasis. Porque los años, sentía, no habían apagado su alma ni la de ella. Sus hijos, sus escritos, sus quehaceres domésticos no habían sofocado todo el tierno fuego de sus almas. En una carta que le había escrito entonces, dijo: «¿Por qué estas palabras me parecen tan frías y mustias? ¿Será porque no existe palabra bastante tierna para ser tu nombre?»
Like distant music these words that he had written years before were borne towards him from the past. He longed to be alone with her. When the others had gone away, when he and she were in the room in the hotel, then they would be alone together. He would call her softly:
Como música lejana, aquellas palabras escritas años atrás le llegaban desde el pasado. Anhelaba estar a solas con ella. Cuando los demás se marcharan, cuando estuvieran en la habitación del hotel, entonces estarían solos. La llamaría suavemente:
"Gretta!"
—¡Gretta!
Perhaps she would not hear at once: she would be undressing. Then something in his voice would strike her. She would turn and look at him....
Quizá no oiría al principio: estaría desvistiéndose. Entonces algo en su voz la conmovería. Ella se volvería y lo miraría...
At the corner of Winetavern Street they met a cab. He was glad of its rattling noise as it saved him from conversation. She was looking out of the window and seemed tired. The others spoke only a few words, pointing out some building or street. The horse galloped along wearily under the murky morning sky, dragging his old rattling box after his heels, and Gabriel was again in a cab with her, galloping to catch the boat, galloping to their honeymoon.
En la esquina de Winetavern Street encontraron un coche de caballos. Él se alegró del traqueteo, pues lo libraba de conversar. Ella miraba por la ventana, ajena, cansada. Los demás solo intercambiaban breves palabras, señalando algún edificio o calle. El caballo trotó con fatiga bajo el cielo matutino brumoso, arrastrando su vieja caja chirriante, y Gabriel volvió a estar en un coche con ella, galopando hacia el barco, galopando hacia su luna de miel.
As the cab drove across O'Connell Bridge Miss O'Callaghan said:
Al cruzar el puente O'Connell, la señorita O'Callaghan comentó:
"They say you never cross O'Connell Bridge without seeing a white horse."
—Dicen que nunca cruzas el puente O'Connell sin ver un caballo blanco.
"I see a white man this time," said Gabriel.
—Esta vez veo un hombre blanco —dijo Gabriel.
"Where?" asked Mr. Bartell D'Arcy.
—¿Dónde? —preguntó el señor Bartell D'Arcy.
Gabriel pointed to the statue, on which lay patches of snow. Then he nodded familiarly to it and waved his hand.
Gabriel señaló la estatua, cubierta de manchas de nieve. Luego asintió con familiaridad hacia ella y agitó la mano.
"Good-night, Dan," he said gaily.
—Buenas noches, Dan —dijo jovial.
When the cab drew up before the hotel, Gabriel jumped out and, in spite of Mr. Bartell D'Arcy's protest, paid the driver. He gave the man a shilling over his fare. The man saluted and said:
Cuando el coche se detuvo frente al hotel, Gabriel saltó y, pese a las protestas del señor Bartell D'Arcy, pagó al cochero. Le dio un chelín de más. El hombre lo saludó:
"A prosperous New Year to you, sir."
—Próspero Año Nuevo, señor.
"The same to you," said Gabriel cordially.
—Igualmente —respondió Gabriel cordial.
She leaned for a moment on his arm in getting out of the cab and while standing at the curbstone, bidding the others good-night. She leaned lightly on his arm, as lightly as when she had danced with him a few hours before. He had felt proud and happy then, happy that she was his, proud of her grace and wifely carriage. But now, after the kindling again of so many memories, the first touch of her body, musical and strange and perfumed, sent through him a keen pang of lust. Under cover of her silence he pressed her arm closely to his side; and, as they stood at the hotel door, he felt that they had escaped from their lives and duties, escaped from home and friends and run away together with wild and radiant hearts to a new adventure.
Ella se apoyó un momento en su brazo al descender y mientras despedía a los demás desde la acera. Se apoyó con levedad, igual que cuando bailaron horas antes. Entonces él se sintió orgulloso y feliz, feliz de que fuera suya, orgulloso de su gracia y porte de esposa. Pero ahora, tras reavivar tantos recuerdos, el primer contacto de su cuerpo, musical, extraño y perfumado, le provocó un agudo deseo. Bajo el manto de su silencio, apretó su brazo contra el suyo; y allí, en la puerta del hotel, sintió que habían escapado de sus vidas y obligaciones, de su hogar y amigos, huyendo juntos con corazones salvajes y radiantes hacia una nueva aventura.
An old man was dozing in a great hooded chair in the hall. He lit a candle in the office and went before them to the stairs. They followed him in silence, their feet falling in soft thuds on the thickly carpeted stairs. She mounted the stairs behind the porter, her head bowed in the ascent, her frail shoulders curved as with a burden, her skirt girt tightly about her. He could have flung his arms about her hips and held her still, for his arms were trembling with desire to seize her and only the stress of his nails against the palms of his hands held the wild impulse of his body in check. The porter halted on the stairs to settle his guttering candle. They halted, too, on the steps below him. In the silence Gabriel could hear the falling of the molten wax into the tray and the thumping of his own heart against his ribs.
Un anciano dormitaba en un gran sillón con capucha en el vestíbulo. Encendió una vela en la oficina y les precedió por las escaleras. Lo siguieron en silencio, sus pies produciendo suaves golpes en los peldaños cubiertos de gruesa alfombra. Ella subía tras el portero, la cabeza inclinada al ascender, sus frágiles hombros curvados como bajo un peso, la falda ceñida a sus caderas. Él pudo haberla rodeado con sus brazos y retenerla allí, pues sus miembros temblaban de deseo por asirla, y solo la presión de sus uñas contra las palmas contuvo el impulso salvaje de su cuerpo. El portero se detuvo en la escalera para acomodar la vela que goteaba. Ellos también hicieron alto en los peldaños inferiores. En el silencio, Gabriel podía oír la caída de la cera derretida en el platillo y el martilleo de su propio corazón contra las costillas.
The porter led them along a corridor and opened a door. Then he set his unstable candle down on a toilet-table and asked at what hour they were to be called in the morning.
El portero los condujo por un corredor y abrió una puerta. Luego depositó su vela titilante en un tocador y preguntó a qué hora debían ser despertados por la mañana.
"Eight," said Gabriel.
—A las ocho —dijo Gabriel.
The porter pointed to the tap of the electric-light and began a muttered apology, but Gabriel cut him short.
El portero señaló el grifo de la luz eléctrica y comenzó una balbuceante disculpa, pero Gabriel lo interrumpió.
"We don't want any light. We have light enough from the street. And I say," he added, pointing to the candle, "you might remove that handsome article, like a good man."
—No necesitamos más luz. Tenemos suficiente de la calle. Y oiga —añadió, señalando la vela—, podría retirar ese hermoso artículo, buen hombre.
The porter took up his candle again, but slowly, for he was surprised by such a novel idea. Then he mumbled good-night and went out. Gabriel shot the lock to.
El portero recogió su vela nuevamente, pero con lentitud, sorprendido por tan singular petición. Luego masculló una buena noche y salió. Gabriel corrió el cerrojo.
A ghastly light from the street lamp lay in a long shaft from one window to the door. Gabriel threw his overcoat and hat on a couch and crossed the room towards the window. He looked down into the street in order that his emotion might calm a little. Then he turned and leaned against a chest of drawers with his back to the light. She had taken off her hat and cloak and was standing before a large swinging mirror, unhooking her waist. Gabriel paused for a few moments, watching her, and then said:
Una luz fantasmal de la farola se extendía en un largo haz desde la ventana hasta la puerta. Gabriel arrojó su abrigo y sombrero sobre un sofá y cruzó la habitación hacia el cristal. Miró hacia la calle para aquietar sus emociones. Luego giró y se apoyó contra un cómoda, de espaldas a la claridad. Ella se había quitado el sombrero y la capa, y estaba frente a un gran espejo de pie, desprendiendo el cierre de su vestido. Gabriel la observó unos instantes antes de hablar:
"Gretta!"
—¡Gretta!
She turned away from the mirror slowly and walked along the shaft of light towards him. Her face looked so serious and weary that the words would not pass Gabriel's lips. No, it was not the moment yet.
Ella se volvió lentamente del espejo y avanzó por el haz de luz hacia él. Su rostro lucía tan grave y fatigado que las palabras se atascaron en los labios de Gabriel. No, aún no era el momento.
"You looked tired," he said.
—Pareces cansada —dijo.
"I am a little," she answered.
—Un poco —respondió ella.
"You don't feel ill or weak?"
—¿No te sientes indispuesta?
"No, tired: that's all."
—No, solo cansada.
She went on to the window and stood there, looking out. Gabriel waited again and then, fearing that diffidence was about to conquer him, he said abruptly:
Ella se dirigió a la ventana y permaneció allí, contemplando el exterior. Gabriel aguardó de nuevo y, temiendo que la timidez lo dominara, habló abruptamente:
"By the way, Gretta!"
—A propósito, Gretta.
"What is it?"
—¿Qué ocurre?
"You know that poor fellow Malins?" he said quickly.
—¿Conoces a ese pobre tipo, Malins? —preguntó rápidamente.
"Yes. What about him?"
—Sí. ¿Qué pasa con él?
"Well, poor fellow, he's a decent sort of chap, after all," continued Gabriel in a false voice. "He gave me back that sovereign I lent him, and I didn't expect it, really. It's a pity he wouldn't keep away from that Browne, because he's not a bad fellow, really."
—Bueno, el pobre es un buen muchacho, al fin y al cabo —continuó Gabriel con voz fingida—. Me devolvió ese soberano que le presté, y la verdad, no lo esperaba. Lástima que no se aleje de ese Browne, porque en el fondo no es mala persona.
He was trembling now with annoyance. Why did she seem so abstracted? He did not know how he could begin. Was she annoyed, too, about something? If she would only turn to him or come to him of her own accord! To take her as she was would be brutal. No, he must see some ardour in her eyes first. He longed to be master of her strange mood.
Temblaba ahora de irritación. ¿Por qué ella parecía tan absorta? No sabía cómo comenzar. ¿Estaría también molesta? ¡Si tan solo volviera hacia él o se acercara por iniciativa propia! Tomarla así, en frío, sería brutal. No, debía ver primero algún ardor en sus ojos. Ansiaba dominar su extraño humor.
"When did you lend him the pound?" she asked, after a pause.
—¿Cuándo le prestaste la libra? —preguntó ella tras una pausa.
Gabriel strove to restrain himself from breaking out into brutal language about the sottish Malins and his pound. He longed to cry to her from his soul, to crush her body against his, to overmaster her. But he said:
Gabriel se contuvo para no estallar en comentarios brutales sobre el ebrio Malins y su préstamo. Deseaba gritarle desde el alma, estrecharla contra su cuerpo, someterla. Pero dijo:
"O, at Christmas, when he opened that little Christmas-card shop in Henry Street."
—Oh, en Navidad, cuando abrió esa tiendita de tarjetas en Henry Street.
He was in such a fever of rage and desire that he did not hear her come from the window. She stood before him for an instant, looking at him strangely. Then, suddenly raising herself on tiptoe and resting her hands lightly on his shoulders, she kissed him.
Estaba en tal fiebre de rabia y deseo que no la oyó acercarse desde la ventana. Ella se plantó frente a él un instante, mirándolo con extrañeza. Luego, levantándose de repente de puntillas y apoyando ligeramente las manos en sus hombros, lo besó.
"You are a very generous person, Gabriel," she said.
—Eres una persona muy generosa, Gabriel —dijo.
Gabriel, trembling with delight at her sudden kiss and at the quaintness of her phrase, put his hands on her hair and began smoothing it back, scarcely touching it with his fingers. The washing had made it fine and brilliant. His heart was brimming over with happiness. Just when he was wishing for it she had come to him of her own accord. Perhaps her thoughts had been running with his. Perhaps she had felt the impetuous desire that was in him, and then the yielding mood had come upon her. Now that she had fallen to him so easily, he wondered why he had been so diffident.
Gabriel, tembloroso de placer por su beso repentino y por lo pintoresco de su frase, posó sus manos sobre su cabello y comenzó a alisarlo, apenas rozándolo con las yemas de los dedos. El lavado lo había vuelto fino y brillante. Su corazón desbordaba de felicidad. Justo cuando lo anhelaba, ella había venido a él por propia voluntad. Quizás sus pensamientos habían corrido paralelos a los suyos. Quizás había sentido el deseo impetuoso que lo habitaba, y entonces el ánimo dócil se había apoderado de ella. Ahora que había caído en sus brazos con tanta facilidad, se preguntó por qué había sido tan tímido.
He stood, holding her head between his hands. Then, slipping one arm swiftly about her body and drawing her towards him, he said softly:
Permaneció de pie, sosteniendo su cabeza entre sus manos. Luego, deslizando un brazo con rapidez alrededor de su cintura y atrayéndola hacia sí, murmuró:
"Gretta, dear, what are you thinking about?"
—Gretta, querida, ¿en qué estás pensando?
She did not answer nor yield wholly to his arm. He said again, softly:
Ella no respondió ni se abandonó por completo a su abrazo. Insistió, suavemente:
"Tell me what it is, Gretta. I think I know what is the matter. Do I know?"
—Dime qué ocurre, Gretta. Creo que sé de qué se trata. ¿Acierto?
She did not answer at once. Then she said in an outburst of tears:
Ella no contestó de inmediato. Luego prorrumpió en lágrimas:
"O, I am thinking about that song, The Lass of Aughrim."
—¡Ay, estoy pensando en esa canción, La doncella de Aughrim!
She broke loose from him and ran to the bed and, throwing her arms across the bed-rail, hid her face. Gabriel stood stockstill for a moment in astonishment and then followed her. As he passed in the way of the cheval-glass he caught sight of himself in full length, his broad, well-filled shirt-front, the face whose expression always puzzled him when he saw it in a mirror, and his glimmering gilt-rimmed eyeglasses. He halted a few paces from her and said:
Se zafó de él, corrió hacia la cama y, cruzando los brazos sobre el travesaño, ocultó el rostro. Gabriel quedó inmóvil un instante, atónito, y luego la siguió. Al pasar frente al espejo de cuerpo entero, vislumbró su propia imagen: el amplio pecho de la camisa impecable, el rostro cuya expresión siempre lo desconcertaba al reflejarse, los anteojos dorados que centelleaban. Se detuvo a unos pasos de ella y preguntó:
"What about the song? Why does that make you cry?"
—¿Qué tiene que ver la canción? ¿Por qué te hace llorar?
She raised her head from her arms and dried her eyes with the back of her hand like a child. A kinder note than he had intended went into his voice.
Ella alzó la cabeza y se secó los ojos con el dorso de la mano, como una niña. Una nota de ternura, más cálida de lo que pretendía, se coló en su voz.
"Why, Gretta?" he asked.
—Vamos, Gretta —dijo—. ¿Por qué?
"I am thinking about a person long ago who used to sing that song."
—Pienso en alguien que conocí hace mucho y que solía cantarla.
"And who was the person long ago?" asked Gabriel, smiling.
—¿Y quién era ese alguien? —preguntó Gabriel, sonriente.
"It was a person I used to know in Galway when I was living with my grandmother," she said.
—Alguien que conocí en Galway cuando vivía con mi abuela —respondió ella.
The smile passed away from Gabriel's face. A dull anger began to gather again at the back of his mind and the dull fires of his lust began to glow angrily in his veins.
La sonrisa se desvaneció del rostro de Gabriel. Una ira sorda comenzó a agolparse de nuevo en el fondo de su mente, y las brasas apagadas de su lujuria ardieron con furia en sus venas.
"Someone you were in love with?" he asked ironically.
—¿Alguien de quien estabas enamorada? —preguntó con ironía.
"It was a young boy I used to know," she answered, "named Michael Furey. He used to sing that song, The Lass of Aughrim. He was very delicate."
—Era un muchacho que conocí —respondió ella—. Se llamaba Michael Furey. Solía cantar La doncella de Aughrim. Era muy delicado de salud.
Gabriel was silent. He did not wish her to think that he was interested in this delicate boy.
Gabriel guardó silencio. No quería que ella pensara que aquel muchacho enfermizo le interesaba.
"I can see him so plainly," she said, after a moment. "Such eyes as he had: big, dark eyes! And such an expression in them—an expression!"
—Lo veo tan claramente —dijo ella tras una pausa—. ¡Qué ojos tenía! Grandes, oscuros... Y esa mirada... ¡Una mirada tan particular!
"O, then, you are in love with him?" said Gabriel.
—Ah, ¿entonces estabas enamorada de él? —preguntó Gabriel.
"I used to go out walking with him," she said, "when I was in Galway."
—Solía salir a pasear con él —dijo ella— cuando estaba en Galway.
A thought flew across Gabriel's mind.
Un pensamiento cruzó por la mente de Gabriel.
"Perhaps that was why you wanted to go to Galway with that Ivors girl?" he said coldly.
—¿Quizás por eso querías ir a Galway con esa chica Ivors? —preguntó con frialdad.
She looked at him and asked in surprise:
Ella lo miró sorprendida:
"What for?"
—¿Para qué?
Her eyes made Gabriel feel awkward. He shrugged his shoulders and said:
Su mirada lo hizo sentirse incómodo. Encogió los hombros:
"How do I know? To see him, perhaps."
—¿Cómo iba a saberlo? Para verlo, quizás.
She looked away from him along the shaft of light towards the window in silence.
Ella apartó la vista y siguió con la mirada el haz de luz que llegaba hasta la ventana.
"He is dead," she said at length. "He died when he was only seventeen. Isn't it a terrible thing to die so young as that?"
—Está muerto —dijo al fin—. Murió a los diecisiete años. ¿No es terrible morir tan joven?
"What was he?" asked Gabriel, still ironically.
—¿A qué se dedicaba? —preguntó Gabriel, aún irónico.
"He was in the gasworks," she said.
—Trabajaba en la fábrica de gas —respondió ella.
Gabriel felt humiliated by the failure of his irony and by the evocation of this figure from the dead, a boy in the gasworks. While he had been full of memories of their secret life together, full of tenderness and joy and desire, she had been comparing him in her mind with another. A shameful consciousness of his own person assailed him. He saw himself as a ludicrous figure, acting as a pennyboy for his aunts, a nervous, well-meaning sentimentalist, orating to vulgarians and idealising his own clownish lusts, the pitiable fatuous fellow he had caught a glimpse of in the mirror. Instinctively he turned his back more to the light lest she might see the shame that burned upon his forehead.
Gabriel se sintió humillado por el fracaso de su ironía y por la evocación de este espectro: un muchacho de la fábrica de gas. Mientras él se había recreado en los recuerdos de su vida íntima, lleno de ternura, alegría y deseo, ella lo había estado comparando mentalmente con otro. Una conciencia vergonzante de sí mismo lo asaltó. Se vio como una figura ridícula: el sobrino complaciente de sus tías, un sentimentalista bienintencionado y nervioso, arengando a vulgares e idealizando sus propios arrebatos bufonescos, el pobre hombre fatuo que había vislumbrado en el espejo. Instintivamente, volvió más la espalda a la luz, temiendo que ella advirtiera la vergüenza que le abrasaba la frente.
He tried to keep up his tone of cold interrogation, but his voice when he spoke was humble and indifferent.
Intentó mantener su tono de frío interrogatorio, pero su voz sonó humilde e indiferente cuando habló:
"I suppose you were in love with this Michael Furey, Gretta," he said.
—Supongo que estabas enamorada de este Michael Furey, Gretta —dijo.
"I was great with him at that time," she said.
—En aquel tiempo éramos muy unidos —dijo ella.
Her voice was veiled and sad. Gabriel, feeling now how vain it would be to try to lead her whither he had purposed, caressed one of her hands and said, also sadly:
Su voz estaba velada y triste. Gabriel, comprendiendo ahora la inutilidad de intentar llevarla adonde había planeado, acarició una de sus manos y dijo, también con tristeza:
"And what did he die of so young, Gretta? Consumption, was it?"
—¿Y de qué murió siendo tan joven, Gretta? ¿De tisis, no?
"I think he died for me," she answered.
—Creo que murió por mí —respondió ella.
A vague terror seized Gabriel at this answer, as if, at that hour when he had hoped to triumph, some impalpable and vindictive being was coming against him, gathering forces against him in its vague world. But he shook himself free of it with an effort of reason and continued to caress her hand. He did not question her again, for he felt that she would tell him of herself. Her hand was warm and moist: it did not respond to his touch, but he continued to caress it just as he had caressed her first letter to him that spring morning.
Un vago terror se apoderó de Gabriel ante esta respuesta, como si, en la hora en que había esperado triunfar, un ser impalpable y vengativo se alzara contra él, reuniendo fuerzas en su mundo nebuloso. Pero se sacudió aquella sensación con un esfuerzo de razón y continuó acariciándole la mano. No volvió a interrogarla, pues sentía que ella misma le contaría la historia. Su mano estaba tibia y húmeda: no respondía a su tacto, pero él siguió acariciándola como había acariciado su primera carta aquella mañana de primavera.
"It was in the winter," she said, "about the beginning of the winter when I was going to leave my grandmother's and come up here to the convent. And he was ill at the time in his lodgings in Galway and wouldn't be let out, and his people in Oughterard were written to. He was in decline, they said, or something like that. I never knew rightly."
—Fue en invierno —dijo ella—, hacia principios del invierno, cuando iba a dejar la casa de mi abuela para venir aquí al convento. Él estaba enfermo entonces en su alojamiento de Galway y no le dejaban salir, y escribieron a su familia en Oughterard. Estaba muy delicado, decían, o algo por el estilo. Nunca lo supe con certeza.
She paused for a moment and sighed.
Hizo una pausa y suspiró.
"Poor fellow," she said. "He was very fond of me and he was such a gentle boy. We used to go out together, walking, you know, Gabriel, like the way they do in the country. He was going to study singing only for his health. He had a very good voice, poor Michael Furey."
—Pobre muchacho —dijo—. Me quería mucho y era tan tierno. Solíamos salir juntos a pasear, ya sabes, Gabriel, como se hace en el campo. Iba a estudiar canto, pero por su salud. Tenía una voz preciosa, el pobre Michael Furey.
"Well; and then?" asked Gabriel.
—¿Y qué pasó entonces? —preguntó Gabriel.
"And then when it came to the time for me to leave Galway and come up to the convent he was much worse and I wouldn't be let see him so I wrote him a letter saying I was going up to Dublin and would be back in the summer, and hoping he would be better then."
—Y luego, cuando llegó el momento de que yo dejara Galway para venir al convento, él estaba mucho peor y no me permitían verlo, así que le escribí una carta diciendo que me iba a Dublín y que volvería en verano, esperando que para entonces estuviera mejor.
She paused for a moment to get her voice under control, and then went on:
Hizo una pausa para controlar la voz y continuó:
"Then the night before I left, I was in my grandmother's house in Nuns' Island, packing up, and I heard gravel thrown up against the window. The window was so wet I couldn't see, so I ran downstairs as I was and slipped out the back into the garden and there was the poor fellow at the end of the garden, shivering."
—La noche antes de irme, estaba en casa de mi abuela, en Nuns' Island, haciendo las maletas, y oí que tiraban guijarros contra la ventana. La ventana estaba tan empañada que no veía, así que bajé corriendo tal como estaba y salí al jardín de atrás. Allí estaba el pobre, al fondo del jardín, tiritando.
"And did you not tell him to go back?" asked Gabriel.
—¿Y no le dijiste que volviera a casa? —preguntó Gabriel.
"I implored of him to go home at once and told him he would get his death in the rain. But he said he did not want to live. I can see his eyes as well as well! He was standing at the end of the wall where there was a tree."
—Le supliqué que se fuera enseguida y le dije que pillaría la muerte bajo la lluvia. Pero él dijo que no quería vivir. ¡Aún veo sus ojos! Estaba al final del muro, donde había un árbol.
"And did he go home?" asked Gabriel.
—¿Y se fue a casa? —preguntó Gabriel.
"Yes, he went home. And when I was only a week in the convent he died and he was buried in Oughterard, where his people came from. O, the day I heard that, that he was dead!"
—Sí, se fue. Y cuando llevaba solo una semana en el convento, murió y lo enterraron en Oughterard, de donde era su familia. ¡Ay, el día que supe que había muerto!
She stopped, choking with sobs, and, overcome by emotion, flung herself face downward on the bed, sobbing in the quilt. Gabriel held her hand for a moment longer, irresolutely, and then, shy of intruding on her grief, let it fall gently and walked quietly to the window.
Se detuvo, ahogada por los sollozos, y, vencida por la emoción, se arrojó boca abajo sobre la cama, llorando en el edredón. Gabriel sostuvo su mano un instante más, vacilante, y luego, temeroso de invadir su dolor, la soltó suavemente y se dirigió en silencio hacia la ventana.
She was fast asleep.
Ella dormía profundamente.
Gabriel, leaning on his elbow, looked for a few moments unresentfully on her tangled hair and half-open mouth, listening to her deep-drawn breath. So she had had that romance in her life: a man had died for her sake. It hardly pained him now to think how poor a part he, her husband, had played in her life. He watched her while she slept, as though he and she had never lived together as man and wife. His curious eyes rested long upon her face and on her hair: and, as he thought of what she must have been then, in that time of her first girlish beauty, a strange, friendly pity for her entered his soul. He did not like to say even to himself that her face was no longer beautiful, but he knew that it was no longer the face for which Michael Furey had braved death.
Gabriel, apoyado en el codo, contempló durante unos momentos sin resentimiento su cabello revuelto y su boca entreabierta, escuchando su respiración profunda. Así que había tenido ese romance en su vida: un hombre había muerto por ella. Ya casi no le dolía pensar en el papel tan pobre que él, su marido, había desempeñado en su vida. La observaba mientras dormía, como si nunca hubieran vivido juntos como marido y mujer. Sus ojos inquisitivos se posaron largo rato en su rostro y su cabello: y, al pensar en cómo debía ser ella entonces, en la época de su primera belleza juvenil, una extraña y bondadosa compasión por ella invadió su alma. No quería admitir ni siquiera para sí que su rostro ya no era hermoso, pero sabía que ya no era el rostro por el que Michael Furey había desafiado a la muerte.
Perhaps she had not told him all the story. His eyes moved to the chair over which she had thrown some of her clothes. A petticoat string dangled to the floor. One boot stood upright, its limp upper fallen down: the fellow of it lay upon its side. He wondered at his riot of emotions of an hour before. From what had it proceeded? From his aunt's supper, from his own foolish speech, from the wine and dancing, the merry-making when saying good-night in the hall, the pleasure of the walk along the river in the snow. Poor Aunt Julia! She, too, would soon be a shade with the shade of Patrick Morkan and his horse. He had caught that haggard look upon her face for a moment when she was singing Arrayed for the Bridal. Soon, perhaps, he would be sitting in that same drawing-room, dressed in black, his silk hat on his knees. The blinds would be drawn down and Aunt Kate would be sitting beside him, crying and blowing her nose and telling him how Julia had died. He would cast about in his mind for some words that might console her, and would find only lame and useless ones. Yes, yes: that would happen very soon.
Quizás no le había contado toda la historia. Sus ojos se dirigieron a la silla donde ella había arrojado parte de su ropa. Una cinta de la enagua colgaba hasta el suelo. Una bota estaba derecha, su caña caída; la otra yacía de costado. Se asombraba del torbellino emocional de hacía una hora. ¿De qué había surgido? De la cena de su tía, de su propio discurso insensato, del vino y el baile, de la alegría al despedirse en el vestíbulo, del placer del paseo junto al río bajo la nieve. ¡Pobre tía Julia! Pronto ella también sería una sombra junto a la sombra de Patrick Morkan y su caballo. Había captado esa mirada demacrada en su rostro un instante, cuando cantaba Arrayed for the Bridal. Pronto, quizás, estaría sentado en ese mismo salón, vestido de negro, con su sombrero de seda sobre las rodillas. Las persianas estarían bajadas y la tía Kate estaría sentada a su lado, llorando y sonándose la nariz, contándole cómo había muerto Julia. Él buscaría en su mente palabras de consuelo, y solo hallaría frases torpes e inútiles. Sí, sí: eso ocurriría muy pronto.
The air of the room chilled his shoulders. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. One by one, they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live.
El aire de la habitación le enfrió los hombros. Se estiró con cautela bajo las sábanas y se acostó junto a su esposa. Uno a uno, todos se convertían en sombras. Mejor partir audazmente hacia el otro mundo, en el esplendor de alguna pasión, que marchitarse miserablemente con la edad. Pensó en cómo ella, que yacía a su lado, había guardado en su corazón durante tantos años la imagen de los ojos de su amante cuando él le dijo que no deseaba vivir.
Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.
Lágrimas generosas llenaron los ojos de Gabriel. Nunca había sentido eso por ninguna mujer, pero sabía que tal sentimiento debía ser amor. Las lágrimas se acumularon más densamente en sus ojos y, en la penumbra, creyó ver la figura de un joven bajo un árbol que goteaba. Otras formas estaban cerca. Su alma se había acercado a la región donde moran las vastas huestes de los muertos. Era consciente de su existencia caprichosa y titilante, pero no podía comprenderla. Su propia identidad se desvanecía en un mundo gris e impalpable: el mundo sólido, que aquellos muertos habían levantado y habitado, se disolvía y menguaba.
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Unos ligeros golpes en el cristal lo hicieron volverse hacia la ventana. Había empezado a nevar de nuevo. Observó somnoliento los copos, plateados y oscuros, cayendo oblicuos contra la luz de la lámpara. Había llegado el momento de emprender su viaje hacia el oeste. Sí, los periódicos tenían razón: la nieve caía sobre toda Irlanda. Caía sobre la llanura central oscura, sobre las colinas desarboladas, caía suavemente sobre el Bog of Allen y, más al oeste, suavemente sobre las olas oscuras y rebeldes del Shannon. Caía también sobre cada parte del solitario cementerio en la colina donde yacía Michael Furey. Se acumulaba en gruesos mantos sobre las cruces torcidas y las lápidas, en las puntas de la verja, en los espinos yermos. Su alma desfallecía lentamente mientras escuchaba caer la nieve, débilmente, a través del universo, cayendo suavemente, como el descenso de su último fin, sobre todos los vivos y los muertos.