The House of The Seven Gables -- [La casa de los siete tejados]




VII. The Guest

VIl. El huésped

WHEN Phoebe awoke,--which she did with the early twittering of the conjugal couple of robins in the pear-tree,--she heard movements below stairs, and, hastening down, found Hepzibah already in the kitchen. She stood by a window, holding a book in close contiguity to her nose, as if with the hope of gaining an olfactory acquaintance with its contents, since her imperfect vision made it not very easy to read them. If any volume could have manifested its essential wisdom in the mode suggested, it would certainly have been the one now in Hepzibah′s hand; and the kitchen, in such an event, would forthwith have streamed with the fragrance of venison, turkeys, capons, larded partridges, puddings, cakes, and Christmas pies, in all manner of elaborate mixture and concoction. It was a cookery book, full of innumerable old fashions of English dishes, and illustrated with engravings, which represented the arrangements of the table at such banquets as it might have befitted a nobleman to give in the great hall of his castle. And, amid these rich and potent devices of the culinary art (not one of which, probably, had been tested, within the memory of any man′s grandfather), poor Hepzibah was seeking for some nimble little titbit, which, with what skill she had, and such materials as were at hand, she might toss up for breakfast. CUANDO Phoebe despertó con los trinos de la pareja de petirrojos del peral, oyó ruido en el piso inferior y se apresuró a bajar.
Encontró a Hepzibah en la cocina, junto a la ventana, sosteniendo un libro muy cerca de su nariz, como si esperara trabar conocimiento con el texto por medio del olfato, puesto que, con su mala vista, leía con dificultad. Si existiera un volumen capaz de expresar su sabiduría del modo citado, sin duda sería el que estaba en manos de Hepzibah. En este caso, la cocina hubiera sido invadida por la fragancia de los asados, perdices con manteca, puddings, pasteles y mil especies de ricos guisos y salsas. Era un libro de cocina, lleno de innumerables recetas de platos ingleses, ilustrado con grabados representando el decorado y adorno de la mesa para toda clase de banquetes que un noble puede dar en el gran salón de su castillo.
En medio de aquellas ricas muestras del arte culinario, ninguna de las cuales había sido probablemente gustada desde tiempos de los abuelos, la pobre Hepzibah buscaba alguna golosina que pudiera preparar para desayuno con su poca habilidad y con los escasos ingredientes que tenía a mano.
Soon, with a deep sigh, she put aside the savory volume, and inquired of Phoebe whether old Speckle, as she called one of the hens, had laid an egg the preceding day. Phoebe ran to see, but returned without the expected treasure in her hand. At that instant, however, the blast of a fish-dealer′s conch was heard, announcing his approach along the street. With energetic raps at the shop-window, Hepzibah summoned the man in, and made purchase of what he warranted as the finest mackerel in his cart, and as fat a one as ever he felt with his finger so early in the season. Requesting Phoebe to roast some coffee,--which she casually observed was the real Mocha, and so long kept that each of the small berries ought to be worth its weight in gold,--the maiden lady heaped fuel into the vast receptacle of the ancient fireplace in such quantity as soon to drive the lingering dusk out of the kitchen. The country-girl, willing to give her utmost assistance, proposed to make an Indian cake, after her mother′s peculiar method, of easy manufacture, and which she could vouch for as possessing a richness, and, if rightly prepared, a delicacy, unequalled by any other mode of breakfast-cake. Hepzibah gladly assenting, the kitchen was soon the scene of savory preparation. Perchance, amid their proper element of smoke, which eddied forth from the ill-constructed chimney, the ghosts of departed cook-maids looked wonderingly on, or peeped down the great breadth of the flue, despising the simplicity of the projected meal, yet ineffectually pining to thrust their shadowy hands into each inchoate dish. The half-starved rats, at any rate, stole visibly out of their hiding-places, and sat on their hind-legs, snuffing the fumy atmosphere, and wistfully awaiting an opportunity to nibble. Con un suspiro abandonó el volumen y preguntó a Phoebe si la vieja Speckle, como se llamaba una de las gallinas, había puesto el día antes. Phoebe corrió a averiguarlo, pero regresó sin el esperado tesoro. En este momento llegó a sus oídos el vocear de un pescadero, anunciando su paso por la calle. Con enérgicos golpes en la puerta de la tienda, Hepzibah indicó al hombre que se acercase y le compró lo que él garantizó como finísima caballa, la más grande, según dijo, que jamás llegara a sus manos en tan temprana época de la estación.
Hepzibah ordenó a Phoebe que tostara café y advirtió que era moka auténtico y que cada grano valía su peso en oro. La solterona encendió tal cantidad de leña en la vieja chimenea de la cocina, que hasta desaparecieron las ancestrales tinieblas.
Phoebe, deseosa de ayudar, propuso hacer un pastel a base de maíz y según la receta particular de su madre. Afirmó que, bien cocido, poseía una delicadeza inigualada. Hepzibah asintió con alegría y la cocina se vio convertida en escenario de los más sabrosos preparativos.
Quizá desde la atmósfera de humo que la chimenea mal construida no engullía totalmente, los fantasmas de las cocineras difuntas contemplaban con desprecio aquellos preparativos demasiado simples. Los ratones hambrientos, en todo caso, asomaron por los agujeros y se sentaron sobre las patas traseras, husmeando la cargada atmósfera y en espera de una oportunidad para aprovecharse.
Hepzibah had no natural turn for cookery, and, to say the truth, had fairly incurred her present meagreness by often choosing to go without her dinner rather than be attendant on the rotation of the spit, or ebullition of the pot. Her zeal over the fire, therefore, was quite an heroic test of sentiment. It was touching, and positively worthy of tears (if Phoebe, the only spectator, except the rats and ghosts aforesaid, had not been better employed than in shedding them), to see her rake out a bed of fresh and glowing coals, and proceed to broil the mackerel. Her usually pale cheeks were all ablaze with heat and hurry. She watched the fish with as much tender care and minuteness of attention as if,--we know not how to express it otherwise,--as if her own heart were on the gridiron, and her immortal happiness were involved in its being done precisely to a turn ! Hepzibah no poseía dotes de cocinera y la verdad es que su flaqueza se debía, sobre todo, a que muchas veces prefirió irse a la cama sin cenar antes que pasar las horas viendo dar vueltas al asador o contemplando la ebullición de la olla. Su celo de ahora, pues, era una muestra de heroísmo. El espectáculo de Hepzibah preparando un lecho de brasas y asando en él la caballa era conmovedor, Phoebe hubiera llorado, si no hubiera estado ocupada en algo más importante. Las lívidas mejillas de la solterona ardían con las prisas y el calor. Vigilaba el pescado con más cuidado y minuciosidad que si su propio corazón estuviera en la parrilla y su felicidad dependiera de la oportunidad con que diera vuelta al manjar...
Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table. We come to it freshly, in the dewy youth of the day, and when our spiritual and sensual elements are in better accord than at a later period; so that the material delights of the morning meal are capable of being fully enjoyed, without any very grievous reproaches, whether gastric or conscientious, for yielding even a trifle overmuch to the animal department of our nature. The thoughts, too, that run around the ring of familiar guests have a piquancy and mirthfulness, and oftentimes a vivid truth, which more rarely find their way into the elaborate intercourse of dinner. Hepzibah′s small and ancient table, supported on its slender and graceful legs, and covered with a cloth of the richest damask, looked worthy to be the scene and centre of one of the cheerfullest of parties. The vapor of the broiled fish arose like incense from the shrine of a barbarian idol, while the fragrance of the Mocha might have gratified the nostrils of a tutelary Lar, or whatever power has scope over a modern breakfast-table. Phoebe′s Indian cakes were the sweetest offering of all,--in their hue befitting the rustic altars of the innocent and golden age,--or, so brightly yellow were they, resembling some of the bread which was changed to glistening gold when Midas tried to eat it. The butter must not be forgotten,--butter which Phoebe herself had churned, in her own rural home, and brought it to her cousin as a propitiatory gift,--smelling of clover-blossoms, and diffusing the charm of pastoral scenery through the dark-panelled parlor. All this, with the quaint gorgeousness of the old china cups and saucers, and the crested spoons, and a silver cream-jug (Hepzibah′s only other article of plate, and shaped like the rudest porringer), set out a board at which the stateliest of old Colonel Pyncheon′s guests need not have scorned to take his place. But the Puritan′s face scowled down out of the picture, as if nothing on the table pleased his appetite. La vida del hogar ofrece pocas perspectivas tan agradables como una mesa de desayuno bien puesta y bien provista. Llegamos a ella frescos, en la juventud del día, en condiciones de disfrutar de los deleites materiales que proporciona la primera comida del día. Los primeros pensamientos que surgen y se expresan alrededor de una mesa de desayuno tienen una alegría, y a menudo una veracidad, que raramente se pone de manifiesto en la conversación, mucho más elaborada de un almuerzo o una cena. La antigua mesa de Hepzibah, soportada por ligeras y graciosas patas, cubierta de rico damasco, era digna de ser el centro de una risueña reunión. El vaho del pescado asado se elevaba como incienso, mientras la fragancia del moka parecía hecha para apaciguar las iras de los lares o de cualquier otro espíritu que tuviera jurisdicción sobre una moderna mesa de desayuno. Los pasteles de Phoebe -la ofrenda más rica de todas, cual remedo de las que cubrían los rústicos altares de la edad de oro- eran tan dorados que hacían pensar en los panes que se convertían en oro al contacto de las manos de Midas. No debe olvidarse la mantequilla que Phoebe misma había batido en su granja y que trajo como un don propiciatorio. Olía a trébol y daba al comedor el encanto de una escena pastoril. Todo eso, con la fantástica suntuosidad de los platos y fuentes de vieja porcelana, con los cubiertos grabados y la salsera de plata -el otro único objeto de ese metal que poseía Hepzibah-, daba a la mesa una apariencia que habría satisfecho al más exigente de los huéspedes del coronel Pyncheon. Pero el rostro del puritano seguía mirando con ceño, desde la tela, como si nada de cuanto ofrecía la mesa despertara su apetito.
By way of contributing what grace she could, Phoebe gathered some roses and a few other flowers, possessing either scent or beauty, and arranged them in a glass pitcher, which, having long ago lost its handle, was so much the fitter for a flower-vase. The early sunshine--as fresh as that which peeped into Eve′s bower while she and Adam sat at breakfast there--came twinkling through the branches of the pear-tree, and fell quite across the table. All was now ready. There were chairs and plates for three. A chair and plate for Hepzibah,--the same for Phoebe,--but what other guest did her cousin look for ? Phoebe cogió rosas y otras flores, hermosas y fragantes, y las puso en un jarrito de cristal. El sol tempranero, fresco como el que se filtró a través del emparrado donde desayunaran Adán y Eva, traspasaba, centelleando, las ramas del peral y caía sobre la mesa. Todo estaba preparado. Platos y sillas para tres. Una silla y un plato para Hepzibah, otra silla y otro plato para Phoebe y... ¿Qué huésped usaría el tercer plato y se sentaría en la tercera silla ?
Throughout this preparation there had been a constant tremor in Hepzibah′s frame; an agitation so powerful that Phoebe could see the quivering of her gaunt shadow, as thrown by the firelight on the kitchen wall, or by the sunshine on the parlor floor. Its manifestations were so various, and agreed so little with one another, that the girl knew not what to make of it. Sometimes it seemed an ecstasy of delight and happiness. At such moments, Hepzibah would fling out her arms, and infold Phoebe in them, and kiss her cheek as tenderly as ever her mother had; she appeared to do so by an inevitable impulse, and as if her bosom were oppressed with tenderness, of which she must needs pour out a little, in order to gain breathing-room. The next moment, without any visible cause for the change, her unwonted joy shrank back, appalled, as it were, and clothed itself in mourning; or it ran and hid itself, so to speak, in the dungeon of her heart, where it had long lain chained, while a cold, spectral sorrow took the place of the imprisoned joy, that was afraid to be enfranchised,--a sorrow as black as that was bright. She often broke into a little, nervous, hysteric laugh, more touching than any tears could be; and forthwith, as if to try which was the most touching, a gush of tears would follow; or perhaps the laughter and tears came both at once, and surrounded our poor Hepzibah, in a moral sense, with a kind of pale, dim rainbow. Towards Phoebe, as we have said, she was affectionate,--far tenderer than ever before, in their brief acquaintance, except for that one kiss on the preceding night,--yet with a continually recurring pettishness and irritability. She would speak sharply to her; then, throwing aside all the starched reserve of her ordinary manner, ask pardon, and the next instant renew the just-forgiven injury. Durante todos esos preparativos, Hepzibah no había dejado de estremecerse. Su agitación era tan grande que Phoebe podía ver el temblor de su desvaída sombra, cuando el fuego la reflejaba sobre la pared de la cocina o el sol sobre el suelo del salón. Sus órdenes eran tan variadas y contradictorias, que la muchacha no sabía a qué atenerse. A veces, Hepzibah parecía sumida en un éxtasis. En estos momentos abría los brazos, abrazaba a Phoebe y la cubría de besos tiernos como los de una madre; hacía eso por impulso inevitable, como si se ahogara por exceso de ternura y tuviera que derramar el sobrante para poder respirar. Pero al momento siguiente, sin ninguna causa visible, desvanecíase su alegría o bien se iba a esconder, por decirlo así, en el calabozo del corazón de la solterona, donde tanto tiempo había permanecido encadenada y a la que sucedía un dolor frío y espectral, un dolor que parecía asustarse de verse libre y que era tan tenebroso como brillante fue la alegría. A menudo estallaba en una risa histérica, más conmovedora que las lágrimas, seguida de un sollozo contenido. Otras veces, las lágrimas y las risas acudían a la par, rodeando a la pobre Hepzibah, en el sentido moral de la frase, con un arco iris pálido y deslucido. Ya hemos dicho que se mostraba afectuosa con Phoebe -mucho más tierna que hasta entonces, excepto el beso de la noche anterior-; pero eso no hacía disminuir su irascibilidad y aspereza. Hablábale con dureza y después, despojándose de su reserva habitual, pedía perdón para renovar, al cabo de un instante, la injuria que acababan de perdonarle.
At last, when their mutual labor was all finished, she took Phoebe′s hand in her own trembling one. Terminado el trabajo, cogió la mano de Phoebe entre las dos suyas, que temblaban, y le dijo:
"Bear with me, my dear child," she cried; "for truly my heart is full to the brim ! Bear with me; for I love you, Phoebe, though I speak so roughly. Think nothing of it, dearest child ! By and by, I shall be kind, and only kind !" -Ten paciencia, chiquilla, porque tengo el corazón lleno hasta los bordes. Ten paciencia, porque te quiero mucho, aunque te hable con brusquedad. No hagas caso... Ya verás como después seré cariñosa.
"My dearest cousin, cannot you tell me what has happened ?" asked Phoebe, with a sunny and tearful sympathy. "What is it that moves you so ?" -¿No puedes explicarme qué ocurre, prima ? -preguntó Phoebe-, ¿qué es lo que tanto te emociona ?
"Hush ! hush ! He is coming !" whispered Hepzibah, hastily wiping her eyes. "Let him see you first, Phoebe; for you are young and rosy, and cannot help letting a smile break out whether or no. He always liked bright faces ! And mine is old now, and the tears are hardly dry on it. He never could abide tears. There; draw the curtain a little, so that the shadow may fall across his side of the table ! But let there be a good deal of sunshine, too; for he never was fond of gloom, as some people are. He has had but little sunshine in his life,--poor Clifford,--and, oh, what a black shadow. Poor, poor Clifford !" -¡Pst ! Ahora viene -susurró Hepzibah secándose rápidamente los ojos-. Es mejor que te vea primero a ti, porque eres joven y linda y nadie puede evitar una sonrisa al contemplarte. Siempre le gustaron las caras alegres y la mía es vieja y las lágrimas aún no se han secado. Jamás pudo soportar los llantos... Baja un poco la cortina, para que la sombra llegue a ese extremo de la mesa. Pero deja mucho sol, sin embargo, porque nunca le gustó la sombra... ¡Ha tenido tan poca luz en su vida, pobre Clifford, y tanta sombra !... ¡Pobre Clifford !
Thus murmuring in an undertone, as if speaking rather to her own heart than to Phoebe, the old gentlewoman stepped on tiptoe about the room, making such arrangements as suggested themselves at the crisis. Hablando así, en un susurro, la vieja dama recorrió la estancia de puntillas, dando los últimos toques.
Meanwhile there was a step in the passage-way, above stairs. Phoebe recognized it as the same which had passed upward, as through her dream, in the night-time. The approaching guest, whoever it might be, appeared to pause at the head of the staircase; he paused twice or thrice in the descent; he paused again at the foot. Each time, the delay seemed to be without purpose, but rather from a forgetfulness of the purpose which had set him in motion, or as if the person′s feet came involuntarily to a stand-still because the motive-power was too feeble to sustain his progress. Finally, he made a long pause at the threshold of the parlor. He took hold of the knob of the door; then loosened his grasp without opening it. Hepzibah, her hands convulsively clasped, stood gazing at the entrance. Se oían pasos en el corredor de arriba: Phoebe los reconoció: eran como los de la víspera. El huésped, quienquiera que fuese, se detuvo en lo alto de la escalera y luego hizo dos o tres pausas más mientras bajaba y otra al pie de la escalera sin causa aparente. Por último volvió a pararse a la entrada de la sala. Movió el pomo de la puerta. Hepzibah, con las manos convulsivamente apretadas, miraba con fijeza a la puerta.
"Dear Cousin Hepzibah, pray don′t look so !" said Phoebe, trembling; for her cousin′s emotion, and this mysteriously reluctant step, made her feel as if a ghost were coming into the room. "You really frighten me ! Is something awful going to happen ?" -Prima, por favor, no mires así -murmuró Phoebe, temblando, pues la emoción de la anciana y aquel paso misterioso y vacilante le daban la sensación de que un espíritu iba a entrar en el cuarto-. Me asustas... ¿Va a ocurrir algo espantoso, quizá ?
"Hush !" whispered Hepzibah. "Be cheerful ! whatever may happen, be nothing but cheerful !" -¡Pst ! -susurró Hepzibah-. Ponte alegre y, suceda lo que suceda, sigue risueña.
The final pause at the threshold proved so long, that Hepzibah, unable to endure the suspense, rushed forward, threw open the door, and led in the stranger by the hand. At the first glance, Phoebe saw an elderly personage, in an old-fashioned dressing-gown of faded damask, and wearing his gray or almost white hair of an unusual length. It quite overshadowed his forehead, except when he thrust it back, and stared vaguely about the room. After a very brief inspection of his face, it was easy to conceive that his footstep must necessarily be such an one as that which, slowly and with as indefinite an aim as a child′s first journey across a floor, had just brought him hitherward. Yet there were no tokens that his physical strength might not have sufficed for a free and determined gait. It was the spirit of the man that could not walk. The expression of his countenance--while, notwithstanding it had the light of reason in it--seemed to waver, and glimmer, and nearly to die away, and feebly to recover itself again. It was like a flame which we see twinkling among half-extinguished embers; we gaze at it more intently than if it were a positive blaze, gushing vividly upward,--more intently, but with a certain impatience, as if it ought either to kindle itself into satisfactory splendor, or be at once extinguished. La pausa final hacíase tan larga que Hepzibah, incapaz de soportarla, se acercó a la puerta, la abrió de golpe e hizo entrar al forastero. A primera vista, Phoebe vio a un anciano, con una anticuada bata de damasco y de cabellera gris, mejor dicho, blanca y larguísima. Casi le cubría la frente. Después de una breve inspección de su semblante, era fácil imaginar que sus pisadas tenían que ser forzosamente como las de un niño que da sus primeros pasos y se encuentra de súbito lejos del punto de partida. Sin embargo, nada daba a entender que no poseyera fuerza física suficiente para andar firme y resuelto. Era el espíritu del hombre lo que no podía marchar. La expresión de su semblante, que no carecía de inteligencia, parecía ondular, rielar débilmente, y casi extinguirse para recobrarse luego. Era como una llama que vemos lucir entre las ascuas, y a la cual miramos más intensamente que si fuese una hoguera -más intensamente, pero con cierta impaciencia- esperando a ver si se convierte en esplendoroso fuego o si se extingue de una vez.
For an instant after entering the room, the guest stood still, retaining Hepzibah′s hand instinctively, as a child does that of the grown person who guides it. He saw Phoebe, however, and caught an illumination from her youthful and pleasant aspect, which, indeed, threw a cheerfulness about the parlor, like the circle of reflected brilliancy around the glass vase of flowers that was standing in the sunshine. He made a salutation, or, to speak nearer the truth, an ill-defined, abortive attempt at curtsy. Imperfect as it was, however, it conveyed an idea, or, at least, gave a hint, of indescribable grace, such as no practised art of external manners could have attained. It was too slight to seize upon at the instant; yet, as recollected afterwards, seemed to transfigure the whole man. Durante un momento, el huésped retuvo la mano de Hepzibah, casi instintivamente, como hace un niño con la persona mayor que le guía. Su rostro se iluminó al observar la juventud y el aspecto sano y risueño de la muchacha, que irradiaba alegría por el salón, igual que el brillante círculo que rodeaba al ramillete de flores resplandeciente bajo el sol. Hizo un saludo, o, a decir verdad, un intento de saludo, que a pesar de su imperfección suscitaba una idea, o por lo menos una insinuación, de indescriptible gracia, esa gracia innata que no se obtiene con la práctica, demasiado sutil para ser comprendida al instante, y que transformaba por completo la figura del anciano.
"Dear Clifford," said Hepzibah, in the tone with which one soothes a wayward infant, "this is our cousin Phoebe,--little Phoebe Pyncheon,--Arthur′s only child, you know. She has come from the country to stay with us awhile; for our old house has grown to be very lonely now." -Querido Clifford -dijo Hepzibah con el tono con que se llama a un niño-. Esta es nuestra prima Phoebe... la pequeña Phoebe Pyncheon, la hija única de Arthur, ¿sabes ? Ha venido del campo para pasar una temporada con nosotros, porque nuestra vieja casa se está volviendo demasiado solitaria...
"Phoebe--Phoebe Pyncheon ?--Phoebe ?" repeated the guest, with a strange, sluggish, ill-defined utterance. "Arthur′s child ! Ah, I forget ! No matter. She is very welcome !" -¿Phoebe ?... ¿Phoebe Pyncheon ?... ¿Phoebe ? -balbuceó el huésped-. ¿La hija de Arthur ?... Lo voy olvidando todo... Pero no importa... ¡Que sea bienvenida !
"Come, dear Clifford, take this chair," said Hepzibah, leading him to his place. "Pray, Phoebe, lower the curtain a very little more. Now let us begin breakfast." -Ven, Clifford, toma esta silla -dijo Hepzibah, llevándole a su sitio-. Phoebe, ¿quieres bajar algo más la cortina ?... Así... Y ahora, ¡a desayunar !
The guest seated himself in the place assigned him, and looked strangely around. He was evidently trying to grapple with the present scene, and bring it home to his mind with a more satisfactory distinctness. He desired to be certain, at least, that he was here, in the low-studded, cross-beamed, oaken-panelled parlor, and not in some other spot, which had stereotyped itself into his senses. But the effort was too great to be sustained with more than a fragmentary success. Continually, as we may express it, he faded away out of his place; or, in other words, his mind and consciousness took their departure, leaving his wasted, gray, and melancholy figure--a substantial emptiness, a material ghost--to occupy his seat at table. Again, after a blank moment, there would be a flickering taper-gleam in his eyeballs. It betokened that his spiritual part had returned, and was doing its best to kindle the heart′s household fire, and light up intellectual lamps in the dark and ruinous mansion, where it was doomed to be a forlorn inhabitant. El huésped se sentó y miró extrañado a su alrededor. Intentaba ponerse a tono con aquel escenario y captar sus detalles. Deseaba estar seguro de que se hallaba allí, en el salón, bajo de techo, con artesonado de roble, y no en otro lugar. Pero el esfuerzo era demasiado grande para sostenerlo mucho tiempo. Continuamente se ausentaba su mente, dejando su figura gris y melancólica -una substancia vacía, un fantasma material- ocupando la silla y comiendo. Pasado un momento, brilló en sus ojos un destello que señalaba el regreso de la parte espiritual de aquel ser que se esforzaba en reanimar el corazón y en despertar las facultades intelectuales en su cuerpo, mansión sombría y ruinosa de la cual estaba condenado a ser un habitante desvaído.
At one of these moments of less torpid, yet still imperfect animation, Phoebe became convinced of what she had at first rejected as too extravagant and startling an idea. She saw that the person before her must have been the original of the beautiful miniature in her cousin Hepzibah′s possession. Indeed, with a feminine eye for costume, she had at once identified the damask dressing-gown, which enveloped him, as the same in figure, material, and fashion, with that so elaborately represented in the picture. This old, faded garment, with all its pristine brilliancy extinct, seemed, in some indescribable way, to translate the wearer′s untold misfortune, and make it perceptible to the beholder′s eye. It was the better to be discerned, by this exterior type, how worn and old were the soul′s more immediate garments; that form and countenance, the beauty and grace of which had almost transcended the skill of the most exquisite of artists. It could the more adequately be known that the soul of the man must have suffered some miserable wrong, from its earthly experience. There he seemed to sit, with a dim veil of decay and ruin betwixt him and the world, but through which, at flitting intervals, might be caught the same expression, so refined, so softly imaginative, which Malbone--venturing a happy touch, with suspended breath--had imparted to the miniature ! There had been something so innately characteristic in this look, that all the dusky years, and the burden of unfit calamity which had fallen upon him, did not suffice utterly to destroy it. En uno de esos momentos de animación menos torpe aunque todavía imperfecta, Phoebe se convenció de lo que antes había rechazado como idea absurda y extravagante: vio que el anciano era el modelo de la hermosa miniatura que poseía Hepzibah. Con la habilidad de un ojo femenino identificó la bata de damasco como la que vestía el personaje del retrato y acabó por hacer lo mismo con la persona que ahora lo llevaba. Esa vieja prenda ajada, extinguido su prístino brillo, revelaba el infortunio del que la llevaba. Ayudaba a discernir qué gastados y envejecidos estaban los adornos visibles del alma del anciano, es decir, aquella figura y aquel rostro bellos y graciosos que habían dado motivo para que un hábil artista luciese su arte. Veíase que el alma de aquel hombre había sido víctima de una tragedia. Allí sentado, con un velo opaco de ruina y decadencia entre él y el mundo, a través del cual, en fugaces intervalos, podía entreverse la misma expresión, tan refinada, tan suavemente imaginativa, que Malbone, aventurando una feliz pincelada, dejó marcada en el marfil. Había algo tan característico en el aspecto del anciano, que los años cargados de calamidades no pudieron borrar ni destruir.
Hepzibah had now poured out a cup of deliciously fragrant coffee, and presented it to her guest. As his eyes met hers, he seemed bewildered and disquieted. Hepzibah sirvió una taza de café deliciosamente aromático y la presentó a su huésped.
"Is this you, Hepzibah ?" he murmured sadly; then, more apart, and perhaps unconscious that he was overheard, "How changed ! how changed ! And is she angry with me ? Why does she bend her brow so ?" -¿Eres tú, Hepzibah ? -murmuró él, tristemente, y luego aparte, inconscientemente quizá de que le oían, agrego-: ¡Qué cambio ! ¡Qué cambio !... ¿Estás enfadada conmigo ?
Poor Hepzibah ! It was that wretched scowl which time and her near-sightedness, and the fret of inward discomfort, had rendered so habitual that any vehemence of mood invariably evoked it. But at the indistinct murmur of his words her whole face grew tender, and even lovely, with sorrowful affection; the harshness of her features disappeared, as it were, behind the warm and misty glow. ¿Por qué frunces las cejas ? ¡Pobre Hepzibah ! Era aquel maldito ceño que el tiempo, la cortedad de su vista y las penas habían hecho tan habitual que cualquier agitación lo hacía aparecer inmediatamente. Pero al escuchar el murmullo de sus palabras, su rostro se enterneció, adquiriendo una expresión cariñosa. Desapareció la dureza de sus facciones, fundidas por el fuego de sus sentimientos.
"Angry !" she repeated; "angry with you, Clifford !" -¿Enfadada ? -repitió-. ¿Enfadada contigo, Clifford ?
Her tone, as she uttered the exclamation, had a plaintive and really exquisite melody thrilling through it, yet without subduing a certain something which an obtuse auditor might still have mistaken for asperity. It was as if some transcendent musician should draw a soul-thrilling sweetness out of a cracked instrument, which makes its physical imperfection heard in the midst of ethereal harmony,--so deep was the sensibility that found an organ in Hepzibah′s voice ! El tono con que pronunció esta exclamación contenía una melodía plañidera y exquisita, sin abandonar, empero, lo que un obtuso oyente tomaría, equivocadamente, por aspereza. Era como si un músico invisible arrancara sonidos dulces, melodiosos, de un instrumento cascado o quebrado, que deja adivinar sus imperfecciones materiales en medio de una armonía etérea; así de profunda era la sensibilidad que la voz de Hepzibah reflejaba.
"There is nothing but love here, Clifford," she added,--"nothing but love ! You are at home !" -Aquí no hay más que amor, Clifford -agregó-, nada más que amor... ¡Estás en casa, en tu hogar !
The guest responded to her tone by a smile, which did not half light up his face. Feeble as it was, however, and gone in a moment, it had a charm of wonderful beauty. It was followed by a coarser expression; or one that had the effect of coarseness on the fine mould and outline of his countenance, because there was nothing intellectual to temper it. It was a look of appetite. He ate food with what might almost be termed voracity; and seemed to forget himself, Hepzibah, the young girl, and everything else around him, in the sensual enjoyment which the bountifully spread table afforded. In his natural system, though high-wrought and delicately refined, a sensibility to the delights of the palate was probably inherent. It would have been kept in check, however, and even converted into an accomplishment, and one of the thousand modes of intellectual culture, had his more ethereal characteristics retained their vigor. But as it existed now, the effect was painful and made Phoebe droop her eyes. El huésped contestó con una sonrisa que apenas iluminó su rostro. Débil y fugitiva, tuvo, sin embargo, el encanto de una maravillosa belleza. La siguió una expresión fosca, por lo menos producía el efecto de la hosquedad, porque no había nada espiritual que la amortiguase. Fue una expresión de hambre. El anciano comía con lo que podemos llamar voracidad y en el goce sensual que le ofrecía la mesa repleta, pareció olvidarse de él mismo, de Hepzibah, de Phoebe y de todo cuanto le rodeaba. Su naturaleza, delicadamente refinada, poseía una especial sensibilidad para los placeres del paladar. El efecto era penoso e hizo bajar los ojos a Phoebe.
In a little while the guest became sensible of the fragrance of the yet untasted coffee. He quaffed it eagerly. The subtle essence acted on him like a charmed draught, and caused the opaque substance of his animal being to grow transparent, or, at least, translucent; so that a spiritual gleam was transmitted through it, with a clearer lustre than hitherto. A poco, el huésped percibió la fragancia del café y lo bebió ávidamente. La sutil esencia obró sobre él como un filtro mágico; la opaca sustancia de su vida animal se volvió transparente o, por lo menos, translúcida, dejando pasar un rayo de vida espiritual.
"More, more !" he cried, with nervous haste in his utterance, as if anxious to retain his grasp of what sought to escape him. "This is what I need ! Give me more !" -¡Más, más ! -exclamó-. Eso es lo que necesito... Dame otra taza...
Under this delicate and powerful influence he sat more erect, and looked out from his eyes with a glance that took note of what it rested on. It was not so much that his expression grew more intellectual; this, though it had its share, was not the most peculiar effect. Neither was what we call the moral nature so forcibly awakened as to present itself in remarkable prominence. But a certain fine temper of being was now not brought out in full relief, but changeably and imperfectly betrayed, of which it was the function to deal with all beautiful and enjoyable things. In a character where it should exist as the chief attribute, it would bestow on its possessor an exquisite taste, and an enviable susceptibility of happiness. Beauty would be his life; his aspirations would all tend toward it; and, allowing his frame and physical organs to be in consonance, his own developments would likewise be beautiful. Such a man should have nothing to do with sorrow; nothing with strife; nothing with the martyrdom which, in an infinite variety of shapes, awaits those who have the heart, and will, and conscience, to fight a battle with the world. To these heroic tempers, such martyrdom is the richest meed in the world′s gift. To the individual before us, it could only be a grief, intense in due proportion with the severity of the infliction. He had no right to be a martyr; and, beholding him so fit to be happy and so feeble for all other purposes, a generous, strong, and noble spirit would, methinks, have been ready to sacrifice what little enjoyment it might have planned for itself,--it would have flung down the hopes, so paltry in its regard,--if thereby the wintry blasts of our rude sphere might come tempered to such a man. Bajo el poderoso estimulante del café, irguióse en la silla y paseó una mirada ya despierta y escudriñadora a su alrededor. No es que su expresión se hiciese más intelectual; eso ocurrió, pero no fue la característica del cambio. Comenzaba a reflejarse, a insinuarse, un temperamento refinado, capaz de apreciar todas las cosas bellas y deleitosas. Cuando este temperamento es el atributo de un carácter, le dota de un gusto exquisito, de una envidiable sensibilidad. La belleza es su vida y sus aspiraciones tienden a la belleza; y si sus órganos físicos están en consonancia con esta aspiración, su desarrollo será igualmente bello. Semejante hombre no debiera conocer las penas ni los dolores, ni las luchas, ni el martirio que bajo tan diversas formas aguarda a los que poseen voluntad y valor para luchar. Para estos temperamentos heroicos, el martirio es la mejor recompensa que puede concederles el mundo. Mas para los que son como el anciano que está sentado en la mesa, sólo puede ser una tragedia. Este anciano está hecho para la dicha y es tan débil para lo que no sea esto, que sospecho que todo espíritu noble y generoso estaría dispuesto a sacrificar un placer proyectado para sí mismo -que por cierto habría decepcionado sus mezquinas esperanzas- con tal de que las tempestades de la vida llegaran al anciano como ligeras brisas.
Not to speak it harshly or scornfully, it seemed Clifford′s nature to be a Sybarite. It was perceptible, even there, in the dark old parlor, in the inevitable polarity with which his eyes were attracted towards the quivering play of sunbeams through the shadowy foliage. It was seen in his appreciating notice of the vase of flowers, the scent of which he inhaled with a zest almost peculiar to a physical organization so refined that spiritual ingredients are moulded in with it. It was betrayed in the unconscious smile with which he regarded Phoebe, whose fresh and maidenly figure was both sunshine and flowers,--their essence, in a prettier and more agreeable mode of manifestation. Not less evident was this love and necessity for the Beautiful, in the instinctive caution with which, even so soon, his eyes turned away from his hostess, and wandered to any quarter rather than come back. It was Hepzibah′s misfortune,--not Clifford′s fault. How could he,--so yellow as she was, so wrinkled, so sad of mien, with that odd uncouthness of a turban on her head, and that most perverse of scowls contorting her brow,--how could he love to gaze at her ? But, did he owe her no affection for so much as she had silently given ? He owed her nothing. A nature like Clifford′s can contract no debts of that kind. It is--we say it without censure, nor in diminution of the claim which it indefeasibly possesses on beings of another mould--it is always selfish in its essence; and we must give it leave to be so, and heap up our heroic and disinterested love upon it so much the more, without a recompense. Poor Hepzibah knew this truth, or, at least, acted on the instinct of it. So long estranged from what was lovely as Clifford had been, she rejoiced--rejoiced, though with a present sigh, and a secret purpose to shed tears in her own chamber that he had brighter objects now before his eyes than her aged and uncomely features. They never possessed a charm; and if they had, the canker of her grief for him would long since have destroyed it. Para no expresarnos con dureza ni despectivamente, diremos que Clifford era un sibarita. Se percibía incluso en el sombrío salón por la atracción que los temblorosos rayos de sol ejercían sobre sus ojos. Se veía en la manera de mirar las flores, cuyo aroma aspiraba con el deleite peculiar de un ser refinado. Se reflejaba en la sonrisa con que contemplaba a Phoebe, cuya fresca y sonrosada figura era a la vez sol y flor -la esencia del sol y de la flor-, pero manifestándose de modo mucho más agradable. No menos evidente era este amor y necesidad de belleza en el modo con que sus ojos se apartaban de Hepzibah y vagaban por los rincones antes de volver a posarse en ella. Era la mala suerte de Hepzibah... no era culpa de Clifford. ¿Cómo podía él encontrar placer en mirarla, amarilla y arrugada, con aire triste, con aquel extraño turbante en la cabeza y aquel perverso ceño ? Pero, ¿no le debía hondo cariño por todo lo que ella le había dado silenciosamente ?. No. No le debía nada. Una naturaleza como la de Clifford no puede contraer deudas de esa clase. Es -lo decimos sin censurarle- egoísta por esencia y hemos de darle derecho a serlo y rodearle de nuestro amor heroico y desinteresado, sin esperar ninguna recompensa. La pobre Hepzibah conocía esa verdad, o, por lo menos, obraba bajo el instinto de esa verdad. Apartada ya de lo agradable y lo bello, se alegraba -aunque con un suspiro y con el propósito de sollozar una vez en su cuarto- de haber podido poner ante los ojos de él objetos más brillantes que su rostro añoso y nada atractivo. Nunca poseyó encanto, y de haberlo poseído, su pena por Clifford lo habría destruido mucho tiempo antes.
The guest leaned back in his chair. Mingled in his countenance with a dreamy delight, there was a troubled look of effort and unrest. He was seeking to make himself more fully sensible of the scene around him; or, perhaps, dreading it to be a dream, or a play of imagination, was vexing the fair moment with a struggle for some added brilliancy and more durable illusion. El huésped se reclinó en su silla. Mezclada con el soñador deleite en su rostro se veía una expresión de esfuerzo y fatiga. Intentaba recrearse más con aquella escena o, quizá, temiendo que fuera un sueño, un producto de la imaginación, pretendía que la ilusión fuese más duradera.
"How pleasant !--How delightful !" he murmured, but not as if addressing any one. "Will it last ? How balmy the atmosphere through that open window ! An open window ! How beautiful that play of sunshine ! Those flowers, how very fragrant ! That young girl′s face, how cheerful, how blooming !--a flower with the dew on it, and sunbeams in the dew-drops ! Ah ! this must be all a dream ! A dream ! A dream ! But it has quite hidden the four stone walls !" -¡Qué agradable ! ¡Qué hermoso ! -murmuró sin dirigirse a nadie-. ¿Durará mucho ? ¡Qué aire más suave y fragante entra por esta ventana abierta !... ¡Una ventana abierta ! ¡Qué hermosos juegos de luces !... ¡Qué bien huelen esas flores ! ¡Qué alegre y floreciente el rostro de esa muchacha !... ¡Una flor cubierta de rocío y rayos de sol en las gotas de rocío ! ¡Todo eso debe ser un sueño ! ¡Un sueño ! ¡Un sueño ! ¡Pero un sueño que me oculta por completo las cuatro paredes de piedra !
Then his face darkened, as if the shadow of a cavern or a dungeon had come over it; there was no more light in its expression than might have come through the iron grates of a prison-window--still lessening, too, as if he were sinking farther into the depths. Phoebe (being of that quickness and activity of temperament that she seldom long refrained from taking a part, and generally a good one, in what was going forward) now felt herself moved to address the stranger. Luego se obscureció su rostro, como si la sombra de un calabozo o de una cueva lo cubriese. No había en su expresión más luz que la que puede entrar por las rejas de una cárcel e iba disminuyendo, como si él fuera hundiéndose en su profundidad... Phoebe se sintió impulsada a dirigirse al forastero. Era su temperamento demasiado vehemente para poder refrenar sus ansias de tomar parte, en general con éxito, en todo lo que ocurría.
"Here is a new kind of rose, which I found this morning in the garden," said she, choosing a small crimson one from among the flowers in the vase. "There will be but five or six on the bush this season. This is the most perfect of them all; not a speck of blight or mildew in it. And how sweet it is !--sweet like no other rose ! One can never forget that scent !" -Esta rosa es de una clase nueva, que hoy he descubierto en el jardín -dijo, escogiendo una pequeña y carmesí de entre las del jarrón-. No habrá más que cinco o seis en el rosal, durante toda la estación. Esta es la más perfecta. No tiene ni un pulgón... ¡Y qué suave es... no he visto ninguna que lo sea tanto ! Es imposible olvidar este aroma.
"Ah !--let me see !--let me hold it !" cried the guest, eagerly seizing the flower, which, by the spell peculiar to remembered odors, brought innumerable associations along with the fragrance that it exhaled. "Thank you ! This has done me good. I remember how I used to prize this flower,--long ago, I suppose, very long ago !--or was it only yesterday ? It makes me feel young again ! Am I young ? Either this remembrance is singularly distinct, or this consciousness strangely dim ! But how kind of the fair young girl ! Thank you ! Thank you !" -Déjemela... -exclamó el huésped, cogiendo vivamente la flor, que por el encanto de otros olores recordados despertó innumerables asociaciones con su fragancia-. ¡Gracias ! Eso me ha hecho mucho bien. Recuerdo cómo solía coger esas rosas, hace tanto tiempo... ¿O quizá fue ayer ? Me hace sentirme joven otra vez... ¿Soy joven realmente ? ¡Qué generosa es esta linda muchacha ! ¡Gracias, gracias !...
The favorable excitement derived from this little crimson rose afforded Clifford the brightest moment which he enjoyed at the breakfast-table. It might have lasted longer, but that his eyes happened, soon afterwards, to rest on the face of the old Puritan, who, out of his dingy frame and lustreless canvas, was looking down on the scene like a ghost, and a most ill-tempered and ungenial one. The guest made an impatient gesture of the hand, and addressed Hepzibah with what might easily be recognized as the licensed irritability of a petted member of the family. La excitación provocada por la rosa carmesí dio a Clifford el momento más feliz de que disfrutó durante el desayuno. Hubiera podido durar más, pero sus ojos se clavaron en el rostro del viejo puritano que, desde el marco deslustrado y la tela resquebrajada, contemplaba la escena como un fantasma, por cierto de mal genio y peor humor. El huésped hizo un gesto de impaciencia y se dirigió a Hepzibah con lo que puede llamarse la irritabilidad del miembro más mimado de la familia.
"Hepzibah !--Hepzibah !" cried he with no little force and distinctness, "why do you keep that odious picture on the wall ? Yes, yes !--that is precisely your taste ! I have told you, a thousand times, that it was the evil genius of the house !--my evil genius particularly ! Take it down, at once !" -¡Hepzibah ! ¡Hepzibah ! -gritó-. ¿Por qué conservas ese odioso retrato ?... Sí; sí... Ya sé que es de tu gusto. Te he dicho mil veces que era el genio malo de la casa... Mi genio malo, en especial. ¡Quítalo en seguida !
"Dear Clifford," said Hepzibah sadly, "you know it cannot be !" -Querido Clifford -respondió tristemente Hepzibali-: ya sabes que no puede ser.
"Then, at all events," continued he, still speaking with some energy, "pray cover it with a crimson curtain, broad enough to hang in folds, and with a golden border and tassels. I cannot bear it ! It must not stare me in the face !" -Entonces -siguió diciendo el anciano con energía- cúbrelo, por favor, con una tela carmesí, bastante ancha para que caiga en pliegues, y con cenefa y borlas de oro. ¡No puedo soportarlo ! No quiero que siga mirándome.
"Yes, dear Clifford, the picture shall be covered," said Hepzibah soothingly. "There is a crimson curtain in a trunk above stairs,--a little faded and moth-eaten, I′m afraid,--but Phoebe and I will do wonders with it." -Bien, querido Clifford, cubriremos el cuadro -contestó Hepzibah dulcemente-. Arriba, en un cofre, tengo una cortina grande, aunque temo que esté ajada... Pero Phoebe y yo haremos maravillas con ella.
"This very day, remember" said he; and then added, in a low, self-communing voice, "Why should we live in this dismal house at all ? Why not go to the South of France ?--to Italy ?--Paris, Naples, Venice, Rome ? Hepzibah will say we have not the means. A droll idea that !" -Hoy mismo, por favor -insistió el viejo y agregó con voz queda y confidencial-: ¿Por qué tenemosque vivir en esta casa solitaria ? ¿Por qué no nos vamos al sur de Francia, a Italia ? París, Ñapóles, Venecia, Roma... Hepzibah dirá que no tenemos medios... ¡Qué idea más extraña !
He smiled to himself, and threw a glance of fine sarcastic meaning towards Hepzibah. Sonrió y miró a Hepzibah con aire sarcástico.
But the several moods of feeling, faintly as they were marked, through which he had passed, occurring in so brief an interval of time, had evidently wearied the stranger. He was probably accustomed to a sad monotony of life, not so much flowing in a stream, however sluggish, as stagnating in a pool around his feet. A slumberous veil diffused itself over his countenance, and had an effect, morally speaking, on its naturally delicate and elegant outline, like that which a brooding mist, with no sunshine in it, throws over the features of a landscape. He appeared to become grosser,--almost cloddish. If aught of interest or beauty--even ruined beauty--had heretofore been visible in this man, the beholder might now begin to doubt it, and to accuse his own imagination of deluding him with whatever grace had flickered over that visage, and whatever exquisite lustre had gleamed in those filmy eyes. La variada sucesión de sus sentimientos, por débilmente que se marcaran y en tan corto espacio de tiempo, había fatigado al forastero. Probablemente estaba acostumbrado a una triste monotonía, no fluyendo como un arroyo perezoso, sino estancada cual un pantano. Un velo soñoliento se extendió por su semblante modificando su perfil, como la bruma modifica las líneas de un paisaje. Parecía más grosero, más tosco. El espectador podía dudar de que en aquel rostro hubiera habido algo interesante y bello, aunque fuese de una belleza decadente.
Before he had quite sunken away, however, the sharp and peevish tinkle of the shop-bell made itself audible. Striking most disagreeably on Clifford′s auditory organs and the characteristic sensibility of his nerves, it caused him to start upright out of his chair. Antes de que Clifford se sumiera por completo en el sueño, sonó aguda y gruñona la campanilla. Hirió desagradablemente el oído de Clifford y sus nervios se sobresaltaron.
"Good heavens, Hepzibah ! what horrible disturbance have we now in the house ?" cried he, wreaking his resentful impatience--as a matter of course, and a custom of old--on the one person in the world that loved him. "I have never heard such a hateful clamor ! Why do you permit it ? In the name of all dissonance, what can it be ?" -¡Dios mío, Hepzibah ! ¿Qué es ese horrible ruido ? -exclamó, descargando su enojo, por descontado y por costumbre, en la única persona del mundo que le quería-. Jamás he oído un estruendo tan detestable. ¿Cómo puedes permitirlo ? En nombre de todas las disonancias, ¿qué puede ser ?
It was very remarkable into what prominent relief--even as if a dim picture should leap suddenly from its canvas--Clifford′s character was thrown by this apparently trifling annoyance. The secret was, that an individual of his temper can always be pricked more acutely through his sense of the beautiful and harmonious than through his heart. It is even possible--for similar cases have often happened--that if Clifford, in his foregoing life, had enjoyed the means of cultivating his taste to its utmost perfectibility, that subtile attribute might, before this period, have completely eaten out or filed away his affections. Shall we venture to pronounce, therefore, that his long and black calamity may not have had a redeeming drop of mercy at the bottom ? Era notable el relieve que adquirió el carácter de Clifford a la luz de aquel minúsculo incidente, como si un retrato saltara de súbito de la tela. El secreto era que un individuo de su temperamento se siente herido más agudamente en su sentido de la belleza y la armonía que en el corazón. Es posible -han acaecido casos semejantes- que Clifford, en su vida interior, gozara de medios para cultivar su gusto y puede que este sutil atributo predominara sobre sus afectos. ¿Podemos, pues, aventurarnos a decir que su vida desgraciada tuvo, en el fondo, un algo de misericordia redentora ?
"Dear Clifford, I wish I could keep the sound from your ears," said Hepzibah, patiently, but reddening with a painful suffusion of shame. "It is very disagreeable even to me. But, do you know, Clifford, I have something to tell you ? This ugly noise,--pray run, Phoebe, and see who is there !--this naughty little tinkle is nothing but our shop-bell !" -Querido Clifford, quisiera evitarte esos ruidos -contestó Hepzibah, pacientemente, pero sonrojándose como avergonzada-. A mí también me resulta muy desagradable. Pero ¿sabes Clifford ? tengo que decirte algo... Ese feo ruido... Por favor, Phoebe, ve a ver quién es... Ese tintineo desagradable lo produce la campanilla de la tienda.
"Shop-bell !" repeated Clifford, with a bewildered stare. -¿La campanilla de la tienda ? -replicó Clifford, perplejo.
"Yes, our shop-bell," said Hepzibah, a certain natural dignity, mingled with deep emotion, now asserting itself in her manner. "For you must know, dearest Clifford, that we are very poor. And there was no other resource, but either to accept assistance from a hand that I would push aside (and so would you !) were it to offer bread when we were dying for it,--no help, save from him, or else to earn our subsistence with my own hands ! Alone, I might have been content to starve. But you were to be given back to me ! Do you think, then, dear Clifford," added she, with a wretched smile, "that I have brought an irretrievable disgrace on the old house, by opening a little shop in the front gable ? Our great-great-grandfather did the same, when there was far less need ! Are you ashamed of me ?" -Sí, la campanilla de nuestra tienda -afirmó Hepzibah con cierta dignidad mezclada de honda emoción-. Porque has de saber, querido Clifford, que somos muy pobres. No me quedaba más remedio que aceptar la ayuda de una mano que yo rechazaré siempre y tú también... incluso si me trajera pan cuando estuviese muriéndome de hambre..., o bien ganarme la vida con mis propias manos. De estar sola, quizá me hubiera dejado morir de hambre. ¡Pero tú te hallabas a punto de regresar !... ¿Entonces, querido Clifford, opinas que he deshonrado nuestra casa abriendo en ella una tienda ? Nuestro tatarabuelo hizo lo mismo y con menos necesidad que nosotros. ¿Te avergÜenzas de mí ?
"Shame ! Disgrace ! Do you speak these words to me, Hepzibah ?" said Clifford,--not angrily, however; for when a man′s spirit has been thoroughly crushed, he may be peevish at small offences, but never resentful of great ones. So he spoke with only a grieved emotion. "It was not kind to say so, Hepzibah ! What shame can befall me now ?" -¿VergÜenza ? ¿Deshonra ? ¿Y tú me dices esas palabras a mí, Hepzibah ? -contestó Clifford, sin enojo, pues cuando el hombre ha sido torturado, puede enfadarse por las ofensas leves, pero jamás se resiente por las graves. Hablaba, pues, como si estuviera herido-. No debías haberme dicho eso, Hepzibah. ¿Qué es lo que puede avergonzarme ?
And then the unnerved man--he that had been born for enjoyment, but had met a doom so very wretched--burst into a woman′s passion of tears. It was but of brief continuance, however; soon leaving him in a quiescent, and, to judge by his countenance, not an uncomfortable state. From this mood, too, he partially rallied for an instant, and looked at Hepzibah with a smile, the keen, half-derisory purport of which was a puzzle to her. Y entonces, el hombre sin nervio -nacido para el goce, que había sufrido tanto en su vida- estalló en un llanto verdaderamente femenino. Corto, sin embargo, pues pronto dio paso a una tranquila modorra. Despertó por un instante, y mirando a la vieja dama, le dirigió una sonrisa entre bondadosa e irónica que para ella fue un enigma.
"Are we so very poor, Hepzibah ?" said he. -¿Somos muy pobres, Hepzibah ? -preguntó.
Finally, his chair being deep and softly cushioned, Clifford fell asleep. Hearing the more regular rise and fall of his breath (which, however, even then, instead of being strong and full, had a feeble kind of tremor, corresponding with the lack of vigor in his character),--hearing these tokens of settled slumber, Hepzibah seized the opportunity to peruse his face more attentively than she had yet dared to do. Her heart melted away in tears; her profoundest spirit sent forth a moaning voice, low, gentle, but inexpressibly sad. In this depth of grief and pity she felt that there was no irreverence in gazing at his altered, aged, faded, ruined face. But no sooner was she a little relieved than her conscience smote her for gazing curiously at him, now that he was so changed; and, turning hastily away, Hepzibah let down the curtain over the sunny window, and left Clifford to slumber there. Finalmente, sin esperar respuesta, se durmió, pues el asiento de la silla era blando. Escuchando su respiración regular, Hepzibah aprovechó la ocasión para mirarle al rostro más detenidamente que hasta entonces se había atrevido a hacerlo. Su corazón lloró y de lo más hondo de su alma brotó una voz quejumbrosa, suave, inefablemente triste. En las profundidades de su pena y de su piedad, sintió que no era irreverencia contemplar aquel rostro, alterado, viejo, marchito. Pero apenas se repuso, la conciencia le remordió por mirarle con curiosidad, ahora que había cambiado tanto. Volviéndose a toda prisa, bajó las cortinas y dejó a Clifford que dormitara tranquilo.