as i lay dying mientras agonizo - rodriguez alvarez william ''as i lay... · guiendo el...

1

__________ Faulkner’s As I lay dying tr. de Javier Coy notas

5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

AS I LAY DYING

byWilliam Faulkner

to Hal Smith

1DARL (1)

JEWEL and I come up from thefield, following the path in singlefile. Al though I am f i f teen fee tahead of him, anyone watching usf r o m t h e c o t t o n - h o u s e c a n s e eJewel’s frayed and broken s t rawhat a ful l head above my own.

The path runs straight as aplumb-line, worn smooth by feet andbaked brick-hard by July, between thegreen tows of laid-by cotton, to thecotton-house in the centre of the field,where it turns and circles thecotton-house at four soft right anglesand goes on across the field again,worn so by feet in fading precision.

The cotton-house is of roughlogs, f rom between which thechinking has long fallen. Square, witha broken roof set at a single pitch, itl e a n s i n e m p t y a n ds himmering dilapidation in thesunlight, a single broad window in twoopposite walls giving on to theapproaches of the path. When we reachit I turn and follow the path whichcircles the house. Jewel, fifteen feetbehind me, looking straight ahead, stepsin a single stride through the window.Still staring straight ahead, his pale eyeslike wood set into his wooden face, hecrosses the floor in four strides with therigid gravity of a cigar-store Indiandressed in patched overalls andendued with life from the hips down,and steps in a single stride throughthe opposite window and into the pathagain just as I come around the corner.In single file and five feet apart andJewel now in front, we go on up thepath toward the foot of the bluff.

Tull’s wagon stands beside thespring, hitched to the rail, the reinswrapped about the seat stanchion. Inthe wagon-bed are two chairs. Jewelstops at the spring and takes the gourdfrom the willow branch and drinks. Ipass him and mount the path,beginning to hear Cash’s saw.

When I reach the top he has quitsawing. Standing in a litter of chips, heis fitting two of the boards together.Between the shadow spaces they areyellow as gold, like soft gold, bearing ontheir flanks in smooth undulations themarks of the adze blade: a good carpenter,Cash is. He holds the two planks on thetrestle, fitted along the edges in a quarterof the finished box. He kneels andsquints along the edge of them, then helowers them and takes up the adze. Agood carpenter. Addie Bundren could notwant a better one, a better box to lie in.It will give her confidence and comfort.I go on to the house, followed by the

Mientras Agonizode

William Faulknertr. de Javier Coy

_______________

1DARL

JEWEL y yo salimos del campo si-guiendo el sendero en fila india. Aun-que voy cinco metros delante de él, cual-quiera que nos observe desde el coberti-zo del algodón verá el roto sombrero depaja, medio deshecho, de Jewel sobresa-lir una cabeza por encima de la mía.

El sendero, alisado por pies y recocido,igual que _____________ adobe por julio,corre derecho como tirado a cordel por entrelas hileras verdes de algodón preparado has-ta el cobertizo del algodón del campo, dondese tuerce y rodea el cobertizo formando cua-tro ángulos de suaves vértices, y vuelve a atra-vesar el campo, alisado por muchos pies conprecisión que se va desvaneciendo.

El cobertizo del algodón es de ásperostroncos de entre los que hace tiempo quecayó la argamasa. Cuadrado, con la rotatechumbre de una sola vertiente, seencorva como una desolada ruinadeslumbrante bajo el sol, con unaventana alargada en cada una de lasdos paredes, una frente a otra, quedan al sendero. Cuando llegamos aél, giro y sigo el sendero que lo ro-dea. Jewel, cinco metros detrás demí, y mirando al frente, entra de una_____ zancada por la ventana. Miran-do todavía al frente, con sus ojos claros comomadera incrustados en su cara de madera, cruza elcobertizo de cuatro zancadas con la rígida grave-dad de un indio de muestra de un estanco**,que fuera vestido con un mono remendado yestuviese dotado de vida de cintura para aba-jo, y de una sola zancada atraviesa la ventanade enfrente y sale de nuevo al sendero justocuando yo doblo la esquina. En fila india yseparados por cinco metros y ahora Jewel de-lante, seguimos sendero arriba hacia el pie dela escarpada cuesta.

La carreta de Tull está junto al ma-nantial, atada al poste, con las riendasenrolladas en el________pescante. En lacarreta hay dos asientos. Jewel se paraen el manantial y coge la calabaza dela rama del sauce y bebe. Me adelan-to y remonto el sendero; empiezo aoír la sierra de Cash.

Cuando llegó arriba ha dejado de serrar.De pie, parado entre un montón de virutas,ensambla dos tableros. Entre los espa-cios en sombra son amarillos como eloro, como oro blando, mostrando ensus flancos las suaves ondulaciones delas huellas ______ de la azuela: ¡québuen carpintero es Cash! Mantiene lasdos tablas en el banco, ajustando los bor-des para que formen una cuarta parte de lacaja. Se arrodilla y enfila su superficie, lue-go los deja y coge la azuela. Buen carpin-tero. Addie Bundren no podría desear otromejor, ni una caja mejor donde descansar.Le proporcionará confianza y comodidad.Sigo a la casa acompañado del

Darl (1)

In this section, Darl’s unspokenthoughts as he walks towards thehouse are recorded; he noticesmany things in his environment,for instance, that, although he iswalking ahead of his brotherJewel, anyone watching themfrom the house would still be ableto see Jewel’s head. We deducefrom this that Jewel must be muchtaller than Darl.

** Los estancos, o su aproximado equivalente(cigarstore), se solían anunciar al público pormedio de una talla de madera, en tamaño natu-ral, de un indio con sus adornos de plumas, co-locada a la puerta del establecimiento. En lenguaje coloquial, wooden indian, o «in-dio de madera», llegó a emplearse a principiosdel siglo XX como sinónimo de persona muycallada, o incluso estúpida.

COMMENTARY: The wordsin this section are unspokenthoughts, none of them goingbeyond the possible limits ofDarl’s vocabulary. It is significantthat Jewel is the very first wordin the section, for we laterdiscover that Darl is obsessivelyjealous of him.

When he thinks ‘anyonewatching us from the cotton-house can see Jewel’s frayed andbroken straw hat a full head abovemy own’, we realise that Darl isrevealing his concern with howJewel and he are regarded in awider context, especially byAddie.

The second and thirdparagraphs of the section showDarl’s acute observation of all theparticulars of his world; there aremathematical images, ‘aplumb-line’, ‘circles’, ‘four softright angles’ and ‘square’, andthe whole passage gives animpression of preciseness ofobservation. The description ofJewel creates an image ofrigidity, with references to ‘awooden face’ and ‘the rigidgravity of a cigar-store Indian’.

As Darl approaches the house,he notices Tull’s wagon and Cashcutting wood. These, we realiselater, both relate to Addie’simpending death. Darl is notdisturbed by the fact that Addiecan hear and see the preparationsfor her own burial, in fact hethinks ‘Addie Bundren could notwant a better box to lie in. It willgive her confidence and comfort.’

The section ends with Darlhearing the noise of the adze:

‘Chuck Chuck Chuck’.The wide spacing of the words

represents the pauses between thenoises, an indication of howFaulkner tries to get close to theactual experience of the character.

laid-by: stored for later use

chinking: (Am. English) materialused to fill the spaces betweenlogs in a building of logs

a cigar-store Indian: (Am. English)flat figure of an Am. Indian, cutout of plywood and used toadvertise cigars

the bluff: a perpendicular piece ofrock or ground upright, peñas-co, risco

stanchion: support, soporte, montan-te, puntal

chips : slivers of wood

adze:a cutting tool with a curved bladeset at right angles to its handle

X

[duros ladrillos de] X

stored for later use

(Am. English) material used to fill the spaces between logs in a building of logs

slope of a roof

X X

[puntal del ]

de la cuchilla

trestle: supporting structure for a table, caballete

los cantos

los posa

lie in: seguir en la cama, no levantarse, yacer, morar, permanecer

self-reliance, security seguridad confortabilidadwell-being

slivers of woodrefuse, waste basura, desperdicios

suave adj.1 (of a person, esp. a man) smooth; polite;sophisticated. Afable, amable fino, cortés, diplo-mático / zalamero. 2 (of a wine etc.) bland, smooth.

suave 1. adj. Liso y blando al tacto, en contraposi-ción a tosco y áspero. 2. Blando, dulce, grato alos sentidos. 3. V. espíritu, manjar suave. 4. fig.Tranquilo, quieto, manso. 5. fig. Lento, modera-do. 6. fig. Dócil, manejable o apacible. Aplícase,por lo común, al genio o natural.

«pale» es cognado y significa ‘claros’ cuando va concolor como ‘pale blue’; pero en los demás casoscomo aquí es mejor ‘pálido’ o falto de color

invested

Xshimmer shine with a tremulous or faint diffusedlight. Reluciente, centelleante, radiante,

titilar 1. intr. Agitarse con ligero temblor algunaparte del organismo animal. 2. Centellear conligero temblor un cuerpo luminoso. Relucir

deslumbrar 1. tr. Ofuscar la vista o confundirlacon el exceso de luz. 2. fig. Dejar a alguienconfuso o admirado. 3. fig. Producir gran im-presión con estudiado exceso de lujo.

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Xfrayed deshilachado

X

2


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Chuck Chuck Chuck

of the adze.

2CORA (1)

SO I saved out the eggs andbaked yesterday. The cakes turnedout right well. We depend a lot onour chickens. They are good layers,what few we have left after thepossums and such. Snakes, too, in thesummer. A snake will break up ahen-house quicker than anything. Soafter they were going to cost so muchmore than Mr. Tull thought, and afterI promised that the difference in thenumber of eggs would make it up, Ihad to be more careful than everbecause it was on my final say-so wetook them. We could have stockedcheaper chickens, but I gave mypromise as Miss Lawington saidwhen she advised me to get a goodbreed, because Mr. Tull himselfadmits that a good breed of cows orhogs pays in the long run. So whenwe lost so many of them we couldn’tafford to use the eggs ourselves,because I could not have had Mr. Tullchide me when it was on my say-sowe took them. So when MissLawington told me about the cakes Ithought that I could bake them andearn enough at one time to increasethe net value of the flock theequivalent of two head. And that bysaving the eggs out one at a time, eventhe eggs wouldn’t be costinganything. And that week they laid sowell that I not only saved out enougheggs above what we had engaged to sell,to bake the cakes with, I had savedenough so that the flour and the sugarand the stove wood would not becosting anything. So I bakedyesterday, more careful than ever Ibaked in my life, and the cakesturned out right well. But when wegot to town this morning MissLawington told me the lady hadchanged her mind and was not goingto have the party after all.

“She ought to taken those cakesanyway,” Kate says.

“Well,” I say, “I reckon she neverhad no use for them now.”

“She ought to taken them,” Katesays. “But those rich town ladies canchange their minds. Poor folks can’t.”

Riches is nothing in the face of theLord, for He can see into the heart.“ M a y b e I c a n s e ll t h e m a t t h eb a z a a r S a t u r d a y , ” I s a y .T h e y t u r n e d o u t r e a l w e l l .

“You can’t get two dollars a piecefor them,” Kate says.

“Well, it isn’t like they cost meanything,” I say. I saved them outand swapped a dozen of them forthe sugar and flour. It isn’t like

Chack Chack Chack

de la azuela.

2CORA

CONQUE ayer recogí los huevos ypreparé el horno. Los bollos me salie-ron muy bien. Dependemos mucho denues t ras ga ll inas . Son buenasponedoras; las pocas que nos dejan laszarigüeyas** y alimañas así. También lasserpientes, en verano. Una serpiente se cuelaen un gallinero más rápido que nada. Con-que después de que nos costaran mucho másde lo que creía Mr. Tull, y después de pro-meterle yo que pagaríamos la diferencia conlos huevos que pusieran, tengo que andarmecon mucho más cuidado que nunca, porquefue por mí «de acuerdo» final por lo que lascompramos. Podríamos haber compradounas gallinas más baratas, pero yo estuvede acuerdo cuando Miss Lawington meaconsejó que las comprásemos de bue-na raza, porque el propio Mr. Tull ad-mite que una buena raza de vacas ocerdos a la larga compensa. De modoque como nos hemos quedado sin tantasno nos atrevemos a quedarnos con loshuevos para nosotros, porque no podríasoportar los gruñidos de Mr. Tull, puessi las compramos fue por mí. Conquecuando Miss Lawington me habló de losbollos pensé que podría hacerlos yo yganar lo suficiente de una vez comopara aumentar el valor neto del corralen el equivalente a dos gallinas. Y queechando un huevo menos cada vez, in-cluso los huevos no me costarían nada.Y esta semana pusieron tantos que nosólo ahorré bastantes más huevos delos que pensaba vender, con los quehacer los bollos, además había ahorra-do los bastantes como para que la ha-rina y el azúcar y la leña del horno mesalieran por nada. Conque preparé losbollos ayer, con más cuidado que nun-ca en mi vida, y los bollos me salie-ron muy bien. Pero cuando fuimose s t a m a ñ a n a a l p u e b l o M issLawington me dijo que la señora ha-bía cambiado de idea y al final no ibaa celebrar la fiesta.

—De todos modos debiera quedarsecon los bollos —dice Kate.

—Claro —digo yo—, aunque para míque ahora ya no le hacen falta.

—Debiera quedarse con ellos —diceKate—. Pero estas sañoras ricas del pueblopueden cambiar de idea. Los pobres, no.

La riqueza no es nada delante del Se-ñor, pues Él ve dentro de los corazones.

—A lo mejor el sábado los puedo venderen el mercadillo de la parroquia —digo—.

Me salieron bien de verdad.

—No sacarás ni dos dólares por cadauno —dice Kate.

—Bueno, es como si no me hubierancostado nada —digo yo.

Los cogí en el corral y cambié una do-cena por el azúcar y la harina. Es como si

Cora (1)

In this section we find the spokenand unspoken words of Cora Tull,a neighbour of the Bundrens. Sheis sitting by Addie’s bed, keepingthe dying woman company butfollowing her own train of thought.When her thoughts eventually turnto the dying Addie they conflictwith her spoken words. She saysthat Addie will soon be well enoughto bake cakes, but she believes thatAddie will die.

COMMENTARY: This sectiondemonstrates the efectiveness ofFaulkner’s technique, for we seehow the unspoken thoughts of thecharacter reveal that character’spersonality and how they flowaround and away from theimmediate environment of thecharacter. Cora is exposed as awoman of limited vision, liable tothink long and hard on the smallincidents of her life and to thinkof them in a passive way. Thispassivity is encouraged by Cora’sreligious beliefs and the only timethat her vocabulary goes beyondthe narrowly colloquial is whenshe thinks of God, using thelanguage which the preachermust use, such as ‘eternal andeverlasting salvation’. Cora’spassivity and limited responsescontrast sharply with those ofDarl, two of whose sectionsappear either side of Cora (1).They also contrast sharply, intheir acceptance of the world asit is, with the feelings of thewoman beside whose bed Corasits, feelings revealed in Addie’sonly section in the book.

Cora uses the language ofreligion in an incantatory way, thelong words providing a soothingchorus against which thehardships of life may be set anddiminished. Religion has alsogiven Cora an idea of how otherpeople should behave and wesense that she does not altogetherapprove of the Bundrens. Shetalks of Addie’s ‘blindness’,something which is made moreexplicit in Cora’s later sectionsbut which obviously implies somesort of moral judgement onAddie. More generally, Faulknersuccessfully creates theatmosphere of the sick room inthis section, with Cora sitting insilence most of the time,thinking her own thoughts andonly occasionally becomingaware of those around her. Thewords which are actually spokenare sporadic and infrequent, thusheightening the sense of timehanging heavily for those who sitby Addie’s bedside.

Opossum: any mainly tree-living marsupialof the family Didelphidae, native to America,having a prehensile tail and hind feet with anopposable thumb** Mamífero marsupial de tamaño mediano opequeño y aspecto que recuerda a la rata; lasextremidades tienen cinco dedos y las de atrásel pulgar oponible; la cola es prensil, lisa ydesnuda. Es mamífero nocturno y omnívoro,que hace nido en los árboles y su preñez duratrece días.

X

X

animales perjudiciales a la caza menor, como la zorra, el gato montés, el milano, etc.

X X

Los he ido apartando poco a poco

X

3


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

the cakes cost me anything, as Mr.Tull himself realizes that the eggsI saved were over and beyondwhat we had engaged to sell, so itwas like we had found the eggs orthey had been given to us.

“She ought to taken those cakes whenshe same as gave you her word,” Kate says.The Lord can see into the heart. If itis His will that come folks hasdifferent ideas of honesty from otherfolks, it is not my place to questionHis decree.

“I reckon she never had any use forthem,” I say. They turned out real well, too.

The quilt is drawn up to her chin,hot as it is, with only her two handsand her face outside. She is proppedon the pillow, with her head raisedso she can see out the window, andwe can hear him every time he takesup the adze or the saw. If we weredeaf we could almost watch her faceand hear him, see him. Her face iswasted away so that the bones drawjust under the skin in white fines. Hereyes are like two candles when youwatch them gutter down into thesockets of iron candle-sticks. But theeternal and the everlasting salvationand grace is not upon her.

“They turned out real nice,” Isay. “But not like the cakes Addieused to bake.” You can see thatgirl’s washing and ironing in thepillow-slip, if ironed it ever was.Maybe it will reveal her blindnessto her, laying there at the mercyand the ministration of four menand a tom-boy girl. “There’s not awoman in this section could ever bakewith Addie Bundren,” I say. “Firstthing we know she’ll be up andbaking again, and then we won’thave any sale for ours at all.” Underthe quilt she makes no more of a humpthan a rail would, and the only wayyou can tell she is breathing is by thesound of the mattress shucks. Even thehair at her cheek does not move, evenwith that girl standing right over her,fanning her with the fan. While wewatch she swaps the fan to the otherhand without stopping it.

“Is she sleeping?” Kate whispers.

“ S h e ’ s j u s t w a t c h i n gC a s h y o n d e r , ” t h e g i r l s a y s .We can hear the saw in the board. Itsounds like snoring. Eula turns on thetrunk and looks out the window. Hernecklace looks real nice with her redhat. You wouldn’t think it only costtwentyfive cents.

“She ought to taken those cakes,”Kate says.

I could have used the money realwell. But it’s not like they cost meanything except the baking. I can tellhim that anybody is likely to make amiscue, but it’s not all of them that

los bollos no me hubieran costado, pues elpropio Mr. Tull comprende que los huevosque ahorré eran muchos más de los quepensábamos vender, conque era como sihubiéramos encontrado los huevos o noslos hubieran dado.

—Debiera quedarme con esos bollos,pues te los encargó ella —dice Kate.

* El señor ve dentro de los corazo-nes. Si es su voluntad que unas perso-nas tengan ideas sobre la honradez dis-tintas que otras, no me toca discutir susdesignios.

—Para mí que nunca los necesitó —digo—. *Pero me salieron ricos de verdad.

Tiene la colcha subida hasta la barbilla,con todo el calor que hace, y sólo las dosmanos y la cara destapadas. Está apoyada enla almohada, con la cabeza erguida demodo que pueda mirar por la ventana, ynosotros oímos a Cash* cada vez que cojela azuela o la sierra. Si fuéramos sor-dos, con sólo mirarle la cara a ella casipodríamos oír a Cash, verle. Tiene la caratan consumida que los huesos se le dibujandebajo de la piel como línes blancas. Susojos son igual que dos velas a las queves derretirse en los soportes de uncandelabro de hierro. Pero la salvacióneterna y perdurable y la gracia no handescendido sobre ella.

—Me salieron ricos de verdad —digo—.Pero no como los bollos que solía hacerAddie. — Se puede ver cómo lava y plan-cha esa chica fijándose en la funda de laalmohada, si es que la ha planchado algunavez. Puede que eso hiciera a Addie conscientede su ceguera: estar allí tumbada a merced____________ de cuatro hombres y unamarimacho—. No hay mujer en estosc o n t o r n o s c a p a z d e a m a s a r c o m oA d d i e B u n d r e n — d i g o — . S i s el e v a n t a r a y a m a s a s e o t r a v e z , l os a b r í a m o s e n s e g u i d a p o r q u e l a sd e m á s n o v e n d e r í a m o s n a d a .

Debajo de la colcha no abulta másque una tabla, y el único modo de sa-ber que respira es oyendo el crujido delas [58] hojas** del jergón***. Ni si-quiera se le mueve el pelo que tiene pe-gado a la cara, ni con esa chica de pie,a su lado, dándole aire con el abanico.Mientras miramos se pasa el abanico ala otra mano sin dejar de moverlo.

—¿Duerme? —susurra Kate.

—Está mirando a Cash, allá abajo —dice la chica.

Podemos oír la sierra en la tabla. Sue-na como a ronquido. Eula vuelve el tron-co y mira por la ventana. El collar le que-da bien de verdad con el sombrero rojo.Nadie pensaría que sólo le costó veinti-cinco centavos.

—Debiera haberse quedado con esosbollos —dice Kate.

Habría empleado el dinero bien de ver-dad. Pero es como si no me hubieran costadonada, excepto el cocerlos en el horno. Puedodecirle que cualquiera puede cometer unerror, pero que no todos son capaces de

* El punto y aparte no da la di-mensión que son palabras no di-chas de Kate pero sí pensadas porella. Habría que dejar comillas.

Si arriba pone punto y coma, ¿porqué no aquí?

Demasiado descriptivo y nadasugestivo.

** Las hojas secas de las mazorcas de maíz, que se usancomo relleno de los colchones en las zonas rurales.*** Colchón de paja, esparto o hierba y sin bastas.

real nice: (col.) really nice

tom-boy girl: a girl who behaves likea boy, virago, hombruna

mattress shucks: (Am. English) thestraw or springs in the mattress

a miscue: a mistake

X

X

X

X cuencos de los brazos

X

X

X

really nice

a girl who behaves like a boy

X

straw or springs

listón, maderobar

mistake

X

X

X

gutter 1 (de una casa) canalón; (on roof) canaletaf, canalón m desagüe 2 (en la calle) alcanta-rilla, cuneta: someone was lying in the gutter,alguien estaba tendido en la cuneta 3 (los)barrios bajos (lowest section of society) the ~el arroyo, desagüe; (before n) the ~ press laprensa sensacionalista

laying yaciendo

4


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

can get out of it without loss, I cantell him. It’s not everybody can eattheir mistakes, I can tell him.

Someone comes through the hall.It is Darl. He does not look in as hepasses the door. Eula watches him ashe goes on and passes from sightagain toward the back. Her hand risesand touches her beads lightly, andthen her hair. When she finds mewatching her, her eyes go blank.

3DARL (2)

PA and Vernon are sitting on theback porch. Pa is tilting snuff fromthe lid of his snuff-box into his lowerlip, holding the lip outdrawn betweenthumb and fingen. They look aroundas I cross the porch and dip the gourdinto the water bucket and drink.

“ W h e r e ’s J e w e l ? ” p a s a y s .When I was a boy I first learnedhow much be t t e r wa te r t a s t e swhen it has set a while in a cedarbucke t . Warmish -coo l , w i th afaint taste like the hot July windin cedar trees smells. It has to setat least six hours, and be drunkfrom a gourd. Water should neverbe drunk from metal.

And at night it is better still. Iused to lie on the pallet in the hall,waiting until I could hear them allasleep, so I could get up and go backto the bucket. It would be black, theshelf black, the still surface of thewater a round orifice in nothingness,where before I stirred it awake with thedipper I could see maybe a star or twoin the bucket, and maybe in the dippera star or two before I drank. Afterthat I was bigger, older. Then Iwould wait until they all went tos leep so I could l ie wi th myshirt-tail up, hearing them asleep,feeling myself without touchingmyself, feeling the cool silenceblowing upon my parts andwondering if Cash was yonder in thedarkness doing it too, had beendoing it perhaps for the last twoyears before I could have wanted toor could have.

Pa’s feet are badly splayed, hist o e s c r a m p e d a n d b e n t a n dwarped, with no toenail at all onhis little toes, from working so hardin the wet in homemade shoes whenhe was a boy. Beside his chair hisbrogans sit. They look as thoughthey had been hacked with a bluntaxe out of pig-iron. Vernon hasbeen to town. I have never seenhim go to town in overalls. Hiswife, they say. She taught schooltoo, once.

I fling the dipper dregs to theground and wipe my mouth on mysleeve. It is going to rain beforemorning. Maybe before dark.“Down to the barn,” I say.“Harnessing the team.”

salir de él sin pérdidas, puedo decirle. Notodo el mundo puede comerse sus erro-res, puedo decirle.

Alguien atraviesa el zaguán. Es Darl.No mira dentro cuando pasa delante dela puerta. Eula le observa fijamente mien-tras él siguie y se pierde nuevamente devista por la parte de atrás. Levanta unamano y se toca levemente las cuentas delcollar; después el pelo. A1 darse cuentade que la miro, se le turba la vista.

DARL

PADRE y Vernon están sentados enel porche de atrás. Padre se echa rapé**,de la tapa de la caja en el labio inferior,manteniendo el labio estirado _____ en-tre pulgar e índice. Levantan la vista cuan-do cruzo el poche y meto la calabaza**en el cubo de agua y bebo.

—¿Qué es de Jewel? —dice padre.Cuando era pequeño me enteré por

primera vez de cuánto mejor sabe el aguacuando ha pasado un buen rato en uncubo de cedro. Fresquita, con un levesabor parecido al olor del viento calien-te de julio en los cedros. Tiene que pasarseis horas por lo menos, y hay que be-berla con calabaza. El agua nunca se debebeber con nada de metal.

Y de noche todavía sabe mejor. En-tonces muchas veces me quedaba tum-bado en el jergón, en el zaguán, esperan-do hasta oír que todos se habían dormi-do para levantarme y volver al cubo. Es-taba oscuro, la quieta superficie del aguaera un orificio redondo en la nada, don-de antes de agitarla y despertarla con elcacillo a veces veía una estrella o dos enel cubo, y hasta puede que en el cacillo,antes de beber, una estrella o dos. Des-pués de eso crecí, me hice mayor. Enton-ces esperaba hasta que todos se hubieranido a dormir para poderme tumbar conlos faldones de la camisa levantados, yles oía dormir, y me notaba sin necesi-dad de tocarme, sentía el frío silencioalrededor de mis partes y me pregunta-ba si Cash estaría también allí fuera, enla oscuridad, haciendo lo mismo, y si lohabría estado haciendo los dos últimosaños antes de que yo hubiera deseado opodido hacerlo.

Los pies de padre están deformados demala manera; los dedos retorcidos y dobla-dos y engarabitados*, los meñiques sinnada de uña, por trabajar tan penosamen-te en la humedad con zapatos hechos encasa cuando era niño. Junto a su silla es-tán sus zapatones. Parece como si los hu-biera cortado con un hacha embotada apartir de un lingote de hierro. Vernon haestado en el pueblo. Nunca le había vis-to ir al pueblo en mono. Por su mujer,dicen, que también daba clase en la es-cuela, antes.

Tiro al suelo el agua que sobra yme seco la boca con la manga. Va allover antes de que vuelva a ser de día.Puede que antes de que oscurezca.

—Ha bajado a la cuadra —digo—.A enjaezar el tiro.

Darl (2)

This section consists largely ofthe unspoken and unverbalisedthoughts of Darl. It begins as hegoes to take a drink from the gourd.When Anse asks, ‘Where’s Jewel?’,Darl has already started on a trainof thought relating to previousexperiences of drinking from thewooden bucket. He follows thistrain of thought to its end beforereplying to his father’s questionwith ‘Down to the barn. Harnessingthe team’, and this reply immediatelyleads him into another train of thoughtin which he imagines in detail a scenebetween Jewel and the horse.

** Polvo de tabaco que se consumía aspirándo-lo por la nariz. Su efecto inmediato se traducíaen fuertes estornudos que despejaban la cabeza.

** En el original, gourd: recipiente para líqui-dos fríos que se obtenía vaciando una calabazay dejándola secar.

COMMENTARY: Darl’s imaginativeconstruction of the scene betweenJewel and the horse is a sign ofhow obsessed he is with hisbrother. The image which hecreates of Jewel and the horse ishighly poetic and many of thewords used are far beyond theprobable reach of Darl’svocabulary and are, therefore,unverbalised. What the characterhimself has at this moment is avisual image of the events and thatimage is translated into words bythe author. Of course, the imageis not purely visual, so there aresome words in the paragraphsfollowing Darl’s reply to hisfather which do in fact belong toDarl himself, ‘Down there . . . thepasture’. When we get to ‘ThenJewel is . . . limberness of asnake’, we are in the realms ofDarl’s visual image as translatedby Faulkner. There has been amarked change in Darl’s image ofJewel from Darl (1), where he sawhim as rigid. Here he is seen asbeing as supple as a snake.

Dar] is ambivalent in hisfeelings towards Jewel; theunverbalised image is beautiful,yet Darl dislikes Jewel and thehorse which is an emblem of hisdifference from the rest of thefamily. This confused attitude islater explained when we see thatDarl suffers because Addierefused to give him her love,giving it to Jewel instead. ButDarl has a highly developed senseof beauty and Jewel possessesbeauty in the shape of the horseand in his mastery of the animal,so Darl both admires and isjealous of his brother.

orifice: round hole, opening

my parts: my genitals

brogans: coarse shoes of untannedleather

hacia fuera

round hole, opening

my genitals

coarse shoes of untanned leather

despertarla al agitarla

spread out=extendidos (sin gracia)* 1. Trepar, subir a lo alto. 2. Engarabatar, hablando especialmentede los dedos entumecidos (hinchados) por el frío.

X

Xdeformed, out of shape

salidos

fling throw or hurl (an object) forcefully,enérgicamente

contractedsplay outstretch, est i rar, spread outward

awkwardly / biselar, achaflanar 1 spread out; broad and flat 2 turned outwards

in an awkward manner 3 to spread out;turn out or expand 4 (Vet. science) todislocate (a bone) 5 a surface of a wall thatforms an oblique angle to the main f latsurfaces, esp. at a doorway or window opening6 enlargement (Pies planos)

hack I n. 1 corte 2 pey & hum (periodista) gacetillero3 (caballo) jamelgo II v.tr. cortar a hachazos tohack sthg/sb to pieces, hacer trizas algo/a alguienIII vi Inform piratear

5


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Down there fooling with that horse. Hewill go on through the barn, into the pasture.The horse wi l l no t be in s igh t : he i sup there am o n g t h e p i n e s e e d l i n g s ,i n t h e c o o l . J ewel whis t l es, onceand shrill. The horse snorts, thenJewel sees him, gl in t ing for agaudy instant among the blue shad-ows. Jewel whistles again; the horsecomes dropping down the slope,stiff-legged, his ears cocking andflicking, h i s mis -matched eyesrolling, and fetches up twenty feetaway, broadside on, watching Jewelover his shoulder in an attitudekittenish and alert.

“Come here, sir,” Jewel says. Hemoves. Moving that quick his coat,bunching, tongues swirling like somany flames. With tossing maneand tail and rolling eye the horsemakes another short curveting rusha n d s t o p s a g a i n , f e e tbunched, watching Jewel. Jewelwalks steadily toward him, hishands at his sides. Save for Jewel’slegs they are like two figures carvedfor a tableau savage in the sun.

When Jewel can almost touchhim, the horse stands on his hindlegs and slashes down at Jewel.T h e n J e w e l i s e n c l o s e d b y aglittering maze of hooves as by anillusion of wings; among them,beneath the upreared chest , hemoves with the flashing limbernessof a snake. For in instant before thejerk comes on to his arms he seeshis whole body ear th- f ree ,horizontal, whipping snake-limber,until he finds the horse’s nostrilsand touches earth again. Then theyare rigid, motionless, terrific, thehorse back-thrust on st iffened,quivering legs, with lowered head;Jewel with dug heels, shutting offthe horse’s wind with one hand,with the other patting the horse’sneck in short strokes myriad* andcaressing, cursing the horse withobscene ferocity.

They stand in rigid terrific hiatus,the horse trembling and groaning.Then Jewel is on the horse’s back.He flows upward in a stoopingswirl like the lash of a whip, hisbody in mid-air shaped to the horse.For another moment the horsestands spraddled, with loweredhead, before it bursts into motion.They descend the hill in a series ofspine-jolting jumps, Jewel high,leech-like on the withers*, to thefence where the horse bunches toa scuttering halt again.

“Well,” Jewel says, “you can quitnow, if you got a-plenty.”

Inside the barn Jewel slidesrunning to the ground before the horsestops. The horse enters the stall, Jewelfollowing. Without looking back thehorse kicks at him, slamming a single

Bajó a divertirse con ese caballo.Cruzará la cuadra hasta el prado. Elcaballo no está a la vista: está alláarriba entre los brotes de pino, a las o m b r a . J e w e l s i l b a , u n a v e z yestridentemente. El caballo resoplay entonces Jewel lo ve: brilla duran-te un instante magnífico entre lassombras azules. Jewel vuelve a sil-bar; el caballo va hacia él ladera abajo,las patas rígidas, las orejas erguidas ya g i t á n d o s e , l o s d e s i g u a l e s o j o sdesorbitados, y se para a unos diezpasos, de costado, mirando a Jewelpor encima del hombro en actitud ju-guetona y alerta.

—Venga acá, señor mío —dice Jewel.El caballo se mueve. Su piel recorrida

por rápidos temblores, lenguas que se arre-molinan como otras tantas llamas. Agitan-do crin y cola y poniendo los ojos en blanco, elcaballo emprende otra breve ___ carrera,s e v u e l v e a d e t e n e r, p a t a s b i e nasentadas, y observa a Jewel. Jewelavanza decidido hacia él, las manos enla cadera. A no ser por las piernas deJewel, son como dos figuras talladaspara un grupo salvaje al sol.

Cuando Jewel casi le puede tocar,el caballo se alza sobre los cuartostraseros y se deja caer encima de él.Entonces Jewel queda rodeado porun laberinto resplandeciente de cas-cos igual que una ilusión de alas; entreellos, debajo del pecho alzado, se mue-ve con la relampagueante flexibilidadde una serpiente. Durante un instante,antes de que la sacudida le llegue a losbrazos, Jewel ve todo su cuerpo en vilo,horizontal, serpenteando fulgurante,hasta que agarra las ventanas de la narizdel caballo y se aferra nuevamente a tie-rra. Entonces los dos se quedan rígidos,inmóviles, terroríficos; el caballo apoya-do en las patas traseras, tiesas y temblo-rosas, con la cabeza baja; Jewel con lostalones clavados, tapando el resoplar delcaballo con una mano, con la otraacariciéndole el cuello, dándole _____golpecitos cariñosos, mientras le insul-ta con obscena ferocidad.

Permanecen en un vacío rígido y terro-rífico: el caballo temblando y gimiendo.Luego Jewel está montado en el caballo.Cabalga cuesta arriba, como un torbellino,como el coletazo de un látigo, con el cuer-po en el aire continuando el del caballo.Durante otro momento el caballo quedadespatarrado, con la cabeza baja, antes delanzarse a la carrera. Descienden por elcerro con una serie de saltos y sacudidasde lomo, Jewel erguido, agarrado comouna sanguijuela a la cruz del caballo, has-ta la cerca donde el caballo vuelve a inte-rrumpir su precipitada carrera.

—Bien —dice Jewel—, ya puedesrendirte, si es que ya tienes bastante.

Dentro de la cuadra Jewel se deja caeral suelo a toda prisa antes de que el caballose pare. El caballo entra en el pesebre conJewel detrás. Sin mirar atrás, el caballole suelta una coz, alcanzando con uno

This sense of beauty is alsoevident when Darl finds the waterin the wooden bucket redolent(perfumado) of ‘hot July wind incedar tree smells’. Even withinthe limits of his unspokenvocabulary he emerges as acharacter with an almost lyricallove of the minute things in hisworld. His world is not, however,wholly beautiful and his sensitivenature must also confront muchthat is ugly. When he begins toreturn from his memories of pastevenings, he becomes aware ofhis father. The imagery ceases tobe beautiful and shades into thegrotesque and misshapen. ‘Pa’sfeet are badly splayed, his toescramped and bent and warped,with no toenails at all on his littletoes.’

It is this awareness of thegrotesque possibilities of liisworld which eventually drivesDarl to try to destroy his mother’sstinking corpse when it is housedin Gillespie’s barn.

The gap between Anse’squestion and Darl’s reply in thissection is filled with Darl’sthoughts. We may assume thatDarl would not in actuality havetaken so long to answer. Faulknercreates the delay to show that afleeting moment of time maycontain a great deal of thought.Where, in Cora’s section, timeseemed to hang heavily, here itmoves with a rapidity whichreflects the difference betweenDarl’s questing temperament andCora’s passive one.

curveting: leaping, by a horse, withthe forelegs together then theback legs raised before theforelegs have touched the ground

snake-limber: (neologism) assupple as a snake

hiatus: break, a moment frozen intime

spraddled: with legs outstretched

leech-like: clinging like a leech (aninsect known for its tenacity)

withers: ridge between the shoulderblades of a horse

scuttering: scurrying, hasty

* myriad 1 an indefinitely great number. 2 ten thousand.— of an indefinitely great number.

break, a moment frozen in timemiríada: cantidad muy grande, pero indefinida

with legs outstretched

clinging like a leech (known for its tenacity)

scurrying, hasty

* ridge between the shoulder blades of a horse X

gathers, (frena)

gaudy 1 tastelessly or extravagantly brightor showy.

stall 1 (= stable) establo m (= manger) pesebre m

(for single horse etc) casilla f 2 (in market)puesto m (in fair) caseta f; casilla f 3 (British)(theatre) the stalls el patio de butacas

1 parar; calar 2 [+ person] entretener 1 [car] pararse [plane] perder velocidad 2 (=

delay) andar con rodeos; esquivar

glitter : brillo, oropel, tinsel, sparkle, glint;relucir, centellear, fulgir, fulgente, cen-telleante, chispeante,

limber 1 adj. 1 lithe, agile, nimble. 2 flexible.Ágil, flexible; he’s very limber for hisage, está muy agil para su edad limberup vi entrar en calor limber up (sports) vihacer precalentamiento

v. (usu. foll. by up) 1 tr. make (oneself or apart of the body etc.) supple. 2 intr. warmup in preparation for athletic etc. activity.

limber 2 n. the detachable front part of agun-carriage, consisting of two wheels,axle, pole, and ammunition-box. Armónde artillería

v. 1 tr. attach a limber to (a gun etc.). 2intr. fasten together the two parts of a gun-carriage.

X

flick mover rápidamente

X

curveting haciendo corvetas, swirling,

6


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

hoof into the wall with a pistol-likereport. Jewel kicks him in thestomach; the horse arches his neckback, crop-toothed; Jewel strikes himacross the face with his fist and slideson to the trough and mounts upon it.Clinging to the hay-rack he lowershis head and peers out across the stalltops and through the doorway. Thepath is empty; from here he cannoteven hear Cash sawing. He reachesup and drags down hay in hurriedarmfuls and crams it into the rack.

“Eat,” he says. “Get the goddamnstuff out of sight while you got achance, you pussel-gutted bastard.You sweet son of a bitch,” he says.

4JEWEL (1)

IT’S because he stays out there,right under the window, hammeringand sawing on that goddamn box.Where she’s got to see him. Whereevery breath she draws is full of hisknocking and sawing where she cansee him saying See. See what a goodone I am making for you. I told himto go somewhere else. I said GoodGod do you want to see her in it. It’slike when he was a little boy and shesays if she had some fertilizer shewould try to raise some flowers andhe taken the bread-pan and broughtit back from the barn full of dung.

And now them others sitting there,like buzzards. Waiting, fanningthemselves. Because I said If youwouldn’t keep on sawing and nailingat it until a man can’t sleep even andher hands laying on the quilt like twoof them roots dug up and tried to washand you couldn’t get them clean. I cansee the fan and Dewey Dell’s arm. Isaid if you’d just let her alone. Sawingand knocking, and keeping the airalways moving so fast on her face thatwhen you’re tired you can’t breatheit, and that goddamn adze going Onelick less. One lick less. One lick lessuntil everybody that passes in the roadwill have to stop and see it and saywhat a fine carpenter he is. If it hadjust been me when Cash fell off of thatchurch and if it had just been me whenpa laid sick with that load of wood fellon him, it would not be happening withevery bastard in the county comingin to stare at her because if there is aGod what the hell is He for. It wouldjust be me and her on a high hill andme rolling the rocks down the hill attheir faces, picking them up andthrowing them down the hill, facesand teeth and all by God until she wasquiet and not that goddamn adzegoing One lick less. One lick less andwe could be quiet.

5DARL (3)

WE watch him come around thecorner and mount the steps. He doesnot look at us. “You ready?” he says.

de los cascos la pared con un estampidocomo de pistola. Jewel le da patadas enel estómago; el caballo arquea el cue-llo, enseñando los dientes; Jewel le gol-pea la cara con el puño y se desliza has-ta la artesa y se sube encima de ella.Pegándose al montón de heno, agachala cabeza y mira por encima de los tabi-ques del pesebre hacia la entrada. Elsendero está desierto; desde aquí ni si-quiera puede oír a Cash serrando. Seestira y _______ llena apresuradamen-te, a manos llenas, el comedero.

— C o m e — d i c e — . L l é n a t ee s a h i n c h a d a p a n z a m i e n -t r a s p u e d a s , c a b r ó n , ______h i j o d e l a g r a n p u t a — d i c e .

JEWEL

POR qué se tiene que quedar ahíafuera, justo debajo de la ventana, cla-vando y serrando esa maldita caja. Endonde ella le vea. Donde cada bocana-da que ella aspire esté llena de su mar-tillear y serrar. Donde ella pueda verlediciendo: Mira. Mira qué buena es laque te estoy haciendo. Yo ya le dije quese fuera a cualquier otro sitio. Le dije:Santo Dios, ¿es que quieres verla den-tro de ella? Es como cuando era niño yella dijo que si tuviera un poco de abo-no intentaría cultivar unas flores y élcogió la cesta del pan y se la trajo lle-na de estiércol de la cuadra.

Y ahora los demás ahí sentados, comobuitres. Esperando, abanicándose. Por-que yo dije: ¿Es que no puedes dejar deserrar y clavar sin parar? No dejas dor-mir a nadie. Y las manos de ella encimade la colcha como dos de esas raíces [62]retorcidas que tratas de lavar y nuncaconsigues que queden limpias. Veo elabanico y el brazo de Dewey Dell. Le dijeque si nunca la iba a dejar en paz. Serran-do y martillando, y haciendo que el airese mueva siempre tan deprisa por delantede su cara que cuando estás cansado ni lopuedes respirar; y esa maldita azuela re-pitiendo: Ya queda menos. Ya queda me-nos. Ya queda menos, hasta que todos losque pasan por el camino se paren y lo veany digan: Qué buen carpintero es. Si hu-biera sido yo y no Dash el que se cayó deaquella iglesia y si hubiera sido yo y no pa-dre el que se accidentó con aquella carga deleña que le cayó encima, no vendría a verlacualquier hijo de puta de la comarca,porque si hay Dios para qué demo-nios existe . Sólo estar íamos yo yel la en la c ima de un cer ro y yoecharía a rodar piedras cerro abajocontra sus caras, y las subiría y selas tiraría otra vez cerro abajo, caras ydientes y todo, por Dios, hasta que seestuviese tranquila y esa maldita azuelano dijera: Ya queda menos. Ya queda me-nos, y estaríamos tranquilos.

DARL

LE vemos doblar la esquina y subirlos escalones. No nos mira.

—¿Listos? —dice él.

Jewel (1)

Jewel has only one section inthe book, but it is revealing,consisting of his unspokenthoughts. He resents Cash sawingthe wood outside Addie’swindow, constantly reminding herof her impending death and heresents the others sitting aroundwaiting for her to die. He imagi-nes himself and his motherisolated on a hill, rolling rocksdown on anyone who tríes tointrude upon their solitude.

COMMENTARY: The brevityof Jewel’s section underlines hisgeneral taciturnity. Until now, wehave seen Jewel only through theeyes of Darl, two conflictingimages of rigidity and suppleness.Here, Jewel emerges as anembittered man, sensitive as noneof the others are to his mother’sfeelings.

When Jewel talks of the othersas ‘buzzards’, we sense thebitterness he feels on behalf of hismother, aware that their presencemust be a constant reminder to herthat she is about to die. At the endof the section, his resentmenttakes a more generalised form andwe realise, when he imagineshimself alone with Addie on topof a hill, how profound his dislikeof the rest of the world is and howclosely he sympathises with hismother, ‘it would just be me . . .was quiet’.

This is an image full ofviolence, eloquent of deepresentment, and of isolation. Itsuggests to the reader that Jewelhas over the years built up thishatred of his family and this bondwith his mother. Later in the book,he proves the depths of hisfeelings for Addie by selling hishorse and by risking his life in thefire to save her corpse. Thesection shows us Jewel’spersonality and gives us the firstindication of the crucial andpowerful role played by AddieBundren in shaping thepersonalities of her sons.

Darl (3)

This section consists largely ofthe words overheard by Darl asthe family take the wagon and setoff to collect some wood, thusrisking being absent when Addiedies. In the early part of thesection, the words which Darloverhears are supplemented byhis own unspoken thoughts, sothat the spoken words are put inthe context of Darl’s opinion of

crop-toothed: with teeth shortened(presumably by filing down)

pussel-gutted: (Am. col.) fat,overfed

dung: manure

buzzards: birds of prey

X

X

7


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“ I f y o u ’ r e h i t c h e d u p , ”I s a y . I s a y “ W a i t . ” Hestops, looking at pa. Vernon spits,without moving. He spits withdecorous and deliberate precision intothe pocked dust below the porch. Parubs his hands slowly on his knees.He i s g a z i n g o u t b e y o n d t h ecrest of the bluff, out across the land.Jewel watches him a moment, then hegoes on to the pail and drinks again.

“I mislike undecision as much asere a man,” pa says.

“It means three dollars,” I say. Theshirt across pa’s hump is faded lighterthan the rest of it. There is no sweatstain on his shirt. I have never seen asweat stain on his shirt. He was sickonce from working in the sun whenhe was twenty-two years old, and hetells people that if he ever sweats, hewill die. I suppose he believes it.

“But if she don’t last until you get back,”he says. “She will be disappointed.”

Vernon spits into the dust. But itwill rain before morning.

“She’s counted on it,” pa says.“She’ll want to start right away. Iknow her. I promised her I’d keep theteam here and ready, and she’scounting on it.”

“We’ll need that three dollarsthen, sure,” I say. He gazes outover the land, rubbing his hands onhis knees. Since he lost his teethh i s mouth co l l apses in s lowrepe t i t i on when he dips . Thestubble gives his lower face thatappearance that old dogs have.“You’d better make up your mindsoon, so we can get there and geta load on before dark,” I say.

“Ma ain’t that sick,” Jewel says.“Shut up, Darl.”

“That’s right,” Vernon says. “Sheseems more like herself to-day thanshe has in a week. Time you andJewel get back, she’ll be setting up.”

“You ought to know,” Jewel says.“You been here of ten enoughlooking at her. You or your folks.”Vernon looks at him. Jewel’s eyeslook like pale wood in hishigh-blooded face. He is a head tallerthan any of the rest of us, always was.I told them that’s why ma alwayswhipped him and petted him more.Because he was peakling around thehouse more. That’s why she namedhim Jewel I told them.

“ S h u t u p , J e w e l , ” p a s a y s ,but as though he is not l is teningmuch. He gazes out across theland, rubbing his knees.

“You could borrow the loan ofVernon’s team and we could catch up with

—Si has enganchado el caballo —digo yo. Digo—: Espera.

Se para, mirando a padre. Vernon es-cupe, sin moverse. Escupe con correctay deliberada precisión en el polvopicado de viruelas del pie del porche. Pa-dre se restriega lentamente las manos enlas rodillas. Mira a algo que está más alláde la cresta del farallón, por encima delcampo. Jewel le observa un momento, lue-go sigue hasta el cubo y vuelve a beber.

—Me revienta la indecisión como acualquiera —dice padre.

—Eso significa tres dólares —digo yo. La ca-misa está [63] más descolorida en la joroba depadre que en el resto. No hay ni una mancha desudor en su camisa. _____ ______ ___________ _________ Una v e z , c u a n d ot e n í a v e i n t i d ó s a ñ o s , s e p u s om a l o p o r t r a b a j a r a p l e n o s o l ycuenta a la gente que si volviera a sudar,se moriría. Supongo que se lo cree.

—Pero si ella no dura hasta que volváis—dice—. Le molestaría mucho.

Vernon escupe al polvo. Pero lloveráantes de que vuelva a ser de día.

—Ella cuanta con eso —dice padre—. Querrá ponerse en marcha inmediata-mente. La conozco. Le prometí que ten-dría el tiro aquí y preparado, y cuentacon ello.

—Entonces necesitaremos esos tresdólares, seguro —digo. Él mira porencima del campo, frotándose lasmanos en las rodillas. Desde que sequedó sin dientes la boca se le hundeen lentas repeticiones cuando traga.Los cañones de la barba dan a la parte deabajo de su cara ese aspecto que tienen losperros viejos—. Será mejor que se decida en-seguida, así podríamos ir allí y traer una car-ga antes de que oscurezca —digo.

—Madre no está tan grave —diceJewel—. Cállate, Darl.

—Es cierto —dice Vernon—. Hoyparece mejor que en toda la semana. Paracuando tú y Jewel volváis, estará levan-tada.

—Eso usted lo sabrá —dice Jewel—.Se ha pasado mucho tiempo aquí mirán-dola. Usted y los suyos.

Ve r n o n l e m i r a . L o s o j o s d eJewel parecen madera c lara en sucara rubicunda. Nos saca la cabe-za a todos los demás, s iempre nosla ha sacado. Les di je que por esole pegaba madre más y le mimabamás. Porque era el más enfermizod e l a c a s a . P o r e s o l e l l a m a r o nJewel , joya, les d i je . [64]

—Cállate, Jewel —dice padre, perocomo si no hubiera prestado demasiada aten-ción a lo que decíamos. Mira por encimadel campo, se frota las rodillas.

—Podrías pedirle prestado el tiro aVernon y podríamos salir a vuestro encuen-

the speaker.

COMMENTARY: In thissection Darl’s powers of preciseobservation are used to recordwith apparent accuracy the actualwords spoken by his father,himself, Vernon, Tull and Jewel.The personalities of the variousspeakers are implicit in the wordswhich they use. When, forexample, Anse hesitates and thensays ‘1 mislike undecision asmuch as ere a man’, the words areempty. The words spoken byJewel also expose his basicnature. We have already seen himdistressed by the sound of theadze in Jewel (1). It is consistent,therefore, to find that Darl recallsJewel repeatedly trying to registera protest against the noise and ‘thebuzzards’. Darl also notices thatJewel cannot bring himself to saythe word ‘coffin’. This tells ussomething not revealed in Jewel’sown section, namely that Jeweldoes not want to acknowledgethat his mother is dying andcannot bear to utter the word‘coffin’ which would set the sealof death on the proceedings.

Thus in this section we seeAnse successfully deceivinghimself and insisting that hewants to do his best for Addie andwe see Jewel trying to deceivehimself by refusing toacknowledge that his mother isdying. The recorder of both thesedeceptions is Darl, whose role inthis particular interaction is toadvocate that they should take thewagon and go, leaving Addiealone. He has clearly analysed theweak points of his father’scharacter, playing on Anse’s loveof money, and he also tries to hurtJewel by reminding him thatAddie is very ill. This jealousy ofhis brother is an ever-presentaspect of Darl’s outlook.

At the end of the section Darlnotices that the physical layout ofthe house leads to an apparentseparation between the voices andthe speakers from whom theyemanate, ‘As you enter the hall,they sound as though they werespeaking out of the air about yourhead’. As the book progressessuch sensitivity to hisenvironment proves to be aburden to Darl. His worldbecomes increasingly odd and sohis experience of it, coming tohim through his finely attunedsenses, also becomes increasinglyodd.

hitched up: having the horses ormules harnessed to the wagon

pocked: marked with holes

mislike: (Am. col.) dislike

hump: deformity of the spine

dips: dips his head to drink waterstubble: growth of facial haircañón : 6. Lo más recio, inmediato

a la raíz, del pelo de la barba.

ain’t: (col.) is not

peakling: (neologism) wanderingweakly

X

X

8


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

you,” I say. “If she didn’t wait for us.”

“Ah, shut your goddamn mouth,”Jewel says.

“She’ll want to go in ourn,” pasays. He rubs his knees. “Don’t ere aman mislike it more.”

“It’s laying there, watching Cashwhittle on that damn . . .” Jewel says.He says it harshly, savagely, but hedoes not say the word. Like a littleboy in the dark to flail his courageand suddenly aghast into silence byhis own noise.

“She wanted that like she wants togo in our own wagon,” pa says. “She’llrest easier for knowing it’s a goodone, and private. She was ever aprivate woman. You know it well.”

“ T h e n l e t i t b e p r i v a t e , ”J e w e l s a y s . “ B u t h o w t h e hel lc a n y o u e x p e c t i t t o b e ——”He looks at the back of pa’s head, hiseyes like pale wooden eyes.

“Sho,” Vernon says, “she’ll holdon till it’s finished. She’ll hold ontill everything’s ready, till her owngood time. And with the roads likethey are now, it won’t take you notime to get her to town.”

“It’s fixing up to rain,” pa says. “Iam a luckless man. I have ever been.”He rubs his hands on his knees. “It’sthat durn doctor, fiable to come atany time. I couldn’t get word tohim tiff so late. If he was to cometo-morrow and tell her the time wasnigh, she wouldn’t wait. I know her.Wagon or no wagon, she wouldn’twait. Then she’d be upset, and Iwouldn’t upset her for the livingworld. With that family burying-ground in Jefferson and them of herblood waiting for her there, she’ll beimpatient. I promised my word me andthe boys would get her there quick asmules could walk it, so she could restquiet.” He rubs his hands on his knees.“No man ever misliked it more.”

“If everybody wasn’t burning hellto get her there,” Jewel says in thatharsh, savage voice. “With Cash all daylong right under the window,hammering and sawing at that ——”

“It was her wish,” pa says. “Yougot no affection nor gentleness forher. You never had. We would bebeholden to no man,” he says, “meand her. We have never yet been,and she wi l l res t qu ie te r forknowing it and that it was her ownblood sawed out the boards anddrove the nails. She was ever oneto clean up after herself.”

“It means three dollars,” I say. “Doyou want us to go, or not?” Pa rubshis knees. “We’ll be back byto-morrow sundown.”

tro —digo yo—. Si ella no nos espera.

—Cierra esa maldita boca —diceJewel.

—Querrá ir en el nuestro —dice pa-dre. Se frota las rodillas—. Nada me re-ventaría más.

—Estar ahí tumbada, viendo a Cashcepillando esa maldita... —dice Jewel.Lo dice áspera, salvajemente, pero nollega a pronunciar la palabra. Como unniño en la oscuridad para darse valorque, de repente, calla aterrorizado porsu propia voz.

—Ella lo quiso así, igual que quiereir en nuestra carreta —dice padre—. Des-cansará más tranquila si sabe que estábien hecha, y es suya. Siempre fue unamujer muy suya. Lo sabéis bien.

—Entonces dejemos que se salga con la suya—dice Jewel—. Pero cómo demoniossois capaces de esperar que sea... —m i r a l a n u c a d e p a d r e ;sus ojos como madera clara.

—Claro —dice Vernon—,esperaráhasta que esté terminada. Esperará hastaque esté todo preparado; hasta el momen-to adecuado. Y con los caminos tal ycomo están ahora, no os supondrá mu-cho tiempo llevarla hasta el pueblo.

—Va a llover —dice padre—. Soyun hombre sin suerte. Siempre lo hesido —se frota las manos en los panta-lones—. Es ese maldito médico, vienecuando le apetece. No le pude avisarhasta muy tarde. Si viniera mañana yle dijera que había llegado el momen-to, ella no esperaría. La conozco. Concarreta o sin carreta, ella no esperaría.Quedaría toda trastornada y yo no que-rría trastornarla por nada del mundo.Con esa tumba de la famil ia enJefferson y [65] todos los de su sangreesperándola allí, se impacientará. Le dimi palabra de que yo y los chicos la lle-varíamos allí todo lo deprisa que an-den las mulas; así descansará tranquila—se frota las manos en las rodillas—.Nada me reventaría más.

—Si no os estuvieseis quemando lasangre todos por llevarla allí —diceJewel con esa voz áspera, salvaje—. ConCash todo el santo día justo debajo de laventana, clavando y serrando esa...

—Fue su voluntad —dice padre—. Nosientes ningún afecto ni dulzura por ella.Nunca lo sentiste. No queremos tener queagradecerle nada a nadie —dice—, niyo ni ella. Todavía no lo tenemos queagradecer, y ella descansará tranquila sa-biéndolo; y que sea uno de su propia san-gre el que sierre las tablas y clave los cla-vos. Siempre fue de las que lo dejan todolimpio antes de irse.

—Eso significa tres dólares —digoyo—. ¿Quiere que vayamos a no? —pa-dre se frota las rodillas—. Estaremos devuelta mañana al ponerse el sol.

ourn: (Am. col.) our own one

don’t ere a man mislike: (Am. col.)no man ever disliked

sho: (Am. col.) surely, certainly

fixing up to: (Am. col.) preparingto

beholden: indebted

flail (=mayal 1. m. Palo del cual tira la caballeríaque mueve los molinos de aceite, tahonas ymalacates. 2. Instrumento compuesto de dos pa-los, uno más largo que otro, unidos por medio deuna cuerda, con el cual se desgrana el centenodando golpes sobre él.)

flail a threshing-tool consisting of a wooden staff witha short heavy stick swinging from it. Batir, sacu-dir, desgranar con un mayal

1 tr. beat or strike with or as if with a flail (mayal=dos palos unidos por cuero). 2 intr. wave or swingwildly or erratically (went into the fight with armsflailing).

whittle v. 1 tr. & (foll. by at) intr. pare (wood etc.) withrepeated slicing with a knife. 2 tr. (often foll. byaway, down) reduce by repeated subtractions.

reducir poco a poco

beholden to no man estar en deuda con nadie

9


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Well . . .” pa says. He looks outover the land, awry-haired, mouthingthe snuff slowly against his gums.

“Come on,” Jewel says. He goesdown the steps. Vernon spits neatlyinto the dust.

“By sundown, now,” pa says. “Iwould not keep her waiting.”

Jewel glances back, then he goeson around the house. I enter the hall,hearing the voices before I reach thedoor. Tilting a little down the hill, asour house does, a breeze drawsthrough the hall all the time,upslanting. A feather dropped nearthe front door will rise and brushalong the ceiling, slanting backward,until it reaches the downturningcurrent at the back door: so withvoices. As you enter the hall, theysound as though they were speakingout of the air about your head.

6CORA (2)

IT was the sweetest thing I eversaw. It was like he knew he wouldnever see her again, that AnseBundren was driving him from hismother’s death-bed, never to see herin this world again. I always said Darlwas different from those others. Ialways said he was the only one ofthem that had his mother’s nature, hadany natural affection. Not that Jewel,the one she laboured so to bear andcoddled and petted so and himflinging into tantrums or sulkingspells, inventing devilment to devilher till I would have frailed him timeand time. Not him to come and tellher good-bye. Not him to miss achance to make that extra threedollars at the price of his mother’sgood-bye kiss. A Bundren throughand through, loving nobody, caringfor nothing except how to getsomething with the least amount ofwork. Mr. Tull says Darl asked themto wait. He said Darl almost beggedthem on his knees not to force him toleave her in her condition. Butnothing would do but Anse and Jewelmust make that three dollars. Nobodythat knows Anse could have expecteddifferent, but to think of that boy, thatJewel, selling all those years ofself-denial and down-rightpartiality—they couldn’t me: Mr. Tullsays Mrs. Bundren liked Jewel theleast of all, but I knew better. I knewshe was partial to him, to the samequality in him that let her put up withAnse Bundren when Mr. Tull said sheought to poisoned him—for threedollars, denying his dying mother thegood-bye kiss.

Why, for the last three weeks Ihave been coming over every time Icould, coming sometimes when Ishouldn’t have, neglecting my ownfamily and duties so that somebodywould be with her in her last moments

—Bueno —dice padre. Mira hacia el cam-po; el pelo enmarañado, mascando el taba-co lentamente con las encías desdentadas.

—Vámonos —dice Jewel. Baja losescalones. Vernon escupe limpiamenteen el polvo.

—Hasta que se ponga el sol, entonces —dicepadre—. No quiero que tenga que esperar.

Jewel echa un vistazo atrás, luego ro-dea la casa. Yo entro en el zaguán, oyen-do las voces antes de alcanzar la puerta.Ladeándose un poco cerro abajo, comohace nuestra casa, una brisa sopla todoel tiempo en el zaguán arriba. Una plu-ma que cayera cerca de la puerta de de-lante se levantaría y rozaría el techo, os-cilando hacia el fondo, hasta alcanzar lacorriente que da vueltas alrededor de lapuerta de atrás: lo mismo las voces.Cuando entras en el zaguán, suenan comosi estuvieran hablando en el aire por en-cima de tu cabeza. [66]

CORA

FUE la cosa más bonita que he vis-to jamás. Fue como si él supiera queno la volvería a ver nunca; que AnseBundren le estaba alejando del lechomortuorio de su madre y nunca la vol-vería a ver en este mundo. Siempre dijeque Darl era distinto a los demás. Siem-pre dije que era el único de ellos quetenía el carácter de su madre, que sentíaafecto ____ por ella. No ese Jewel, porquien tanto padeció para traerlo al mun-do y consintió y mimó tanto y él siem-pre cogiendo rabietas o enfurruñándose,inventando diabluras paraendemoniarla; yo le habría sacudidouna y otra vez. No será él quien vengaa decirle adiós. No será él quien des-perdicie la ocasión de ganar tres dóla-res de más por darle un beso de adiósa su madre. Un Bundren de cabo arabo; a nadie quiere, de nada se pre-ocupa a no ser de cómo conseguir algocon la menor cantidad de trabajo posi-ble. Mr. Tull dice que Darl les pidió queesperaran. Dijo que Darl casi les supli-có de rodillas que no le obligasen aapartarse de ella en tal estado. Pero nadapodría impedir que Anse y Jewel deja-ran de ganar esos tres dólares. Nadie queconozca a Anse esperaría otra cosa, peropensar que ese chico, Jewel, vende to-dos esos años de abnegación y de lamás completa predilección (no me en-gañan : Mr. Tu l l d ice que a Mrs.Bundren el que menos le gustaba de to-dos era Jewel, pero yo estoy mejor entera-da. Sé que sentía debilidad por él, que veíaen él la misma cualidad que le permitía so-portar a Anse Bundren cuando Mr. Tull dijoque ella le debería envenenar), por tresdólares, negándole a su madre moribun-da el beso de adiós.

Porque durante las tres últimas sema-nas he estado viniendo siempre que po-día, a veces viniendo cuando no debía,descuidando a mi propia familia y misobligaciones para que estuviera alguiencon ella en sus últimos momentos y así

Cora (2)

This section consists of Cora’sobservations as Darl and Jewelprepare to leave the farm, her self-congratulatory thoughts and, witha sudden alteration in the time-scale, some recollections of a timeafter Addie has died.

COMMENTARY: This sectionhas three main features. Firstly, itunderlines the disparity betweenappearance and reality; secondly,it gives the reader an insight intoCora’s self-satisfied ‘Christian’character and, thirdly, it abandonsthe normal chronologicalordering of events.

The first feature is particularlyobvious in relation to Darl. In theimmediately preceding section,Darl (3), he tried to force Jewelto leave the farm. Yet Corachooses to believe that it is Anseand Jewel who are driving Darlaway from his dying mother. Thesecond aspect, Cora’s smugness,(complacency, suficiencia) isapparent in both what she saysand what she thinks. She isconvinced that her code ofconduct is the right one and shejudges people according to howfar their conduct departs from herstandard. At the same time, sheis convinced that she is not smugabout her goodness ‘not that Ideserve any credit for it’. On thebasis of her standards, Coradisapproves of the Bundrens,thinking it wrong that they shouldrefuse to bury Addie with theother members of the family atNew Hope. According to Cora,Addie’s body is being taken toJefferson not because Addiewishes to be buried there butbecause the family want to get ridof her. Cora’s reliance on arbitrarystandards when assessing otherpeople does tend to lead her tomisinterpret their motives andtheir characters.

However, not all of heranalyses of the Bundrens’situation are wrong; Faulknerleaves the reader to separate thecorrect from the incorrect

awry-haired: (neologism) with hairuntidily ruffled

frailed: (Am. English) punished

tantrum n. an outburst of bad temper or petulance(threw a tantrum). rabietas, pataletas, berrinche

X

partial Los adjetivos partial y parcial compartenla idea de incompleto y, en sentido ético, in-justo, prejuiciado, pero partial se usa ademáspara aficionado, affect ionate, fond, k ind,at tached.

10


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

and she would not have to face theGreat Unknown without one familiarface to give her courage. Not that Ideserve credit for it: I will expect thesame for myself. But think God it willbe the faces of my loved kin, myblood and flesh, for in my husbandand children I have been more blessedthan most, trials though they havebeen at times.

She l ived , a lone ly woman,lonely with her pride, trying tomake folks believe different, hidingthe fact that they just suffered her,because she was not cold in thecoffin before they were carting herfor ty mi les away to bury her,flouting the will of God to do it.Refusing to let her lie in the sameearth with those Bundrens.

“But she wanted to go,” Mr. Tullsaid. “It was her own wish to lieamong her own people.”

“Then why didn’t she go alive?”I said. “Not one of them would havestopped her, with even that littleone almost old enough now to beselfish and stone-hearted like therest of them.”

“It was her own wish,” Mr. Tullsaid. “I heard Anse say it was.”

“And you would believe Anse, ofcourse,” I said. “A man like youwould. Don’t tell me.”

“I’d believe him about something hecouldn’t expect to make anything off ofme by not telling,” Mr. Tull said.

“Don’t tell me,” I said. “A woman’splace is with her husband and children,alive or dead. Would you expect meto want to go back to Alabama andleave you and the girls when my timecomes, that I left of my own will tocast my lot with yours for better andworse, until death and after?”

“Well, folks are different,” he said.

I should hope so. I have tried tolive right in the sight of God and man,for the honour and comfort of myChristian husband and the love andrespect of my Christian children. Sothat when I lay me down in theconsciousness of my duty and rewardI will be surrounded by loving faces,carrying the farewell kiss of each ofmy loved ones into my reward. Notlike Addie Bundren dying alone,hiding her pride and her broken heart.Glad to go. Lying there with her headpropped up so she could watch Cashbuilding the coffin, having to watchhim so he would not skimp on it, likeas not, with those men not worryingabout anything except if there wastime to earn another three dollarsbefore the rain came and the river gottoo high to get across it. Like as not,if they hadn’t decided to make thatlast load, they would have loaded her

no tuviera que encarar lo Desconocidosin una cara familiar que le diera valor.Y no es que yo merezca que se me pre-mie por ello: espero que hagan lo mismo[67] conmigo. Pero gracias a Dios ten-dré cerca las caras de los que quiero, losde mi sangre y mi carne, pues gracias ami marido y mis hijos he sido más felizque la mayoría, aunque a veces haya ha-bido problemas.

Addie vivía, era una mujer solitaria,a solas con su orgullo, tratando de hacerque la gente creyera otra cosa, ocultandoel hecho de que los suyos se limitaban asoportarla; porque no se había enfriadoen el ataúd y ya habían recorrido sesentay cinco kilómetros para enterrarla, me-nospreciando la voluntad de Dios al ha-cerlo. Negándose a dejarla descansar enla misma tierra que esos Bundren.

—Pero ella quería ir —dijo Mr.Tull—. Era deseo suyo decansar entrelos de su familia.

—¿Entonces por qué no se fue envida? —dije yo—. Ninguno de ellos selo habría impedido, ni siquiera el peque-ño que ya casi es lo bastante mayor comopara ser tan egoísta y duro de corazóncomo los demás.

—Era deseo suyo —dijo Mr. Tull—.Se lo oí decir a Anse_____.

—Y tú creerías a Anse, claro —dijeyo—. Un hombre como te gustaría sera ti. No me digas.

—¿Por qué no iba a creer una cosa dela que él no espera sacar nada por decir-la? —dijo Mr. Tull.

—No me digas —le dije—. E1 pues-to de una mujer está al lado de su maridoe hijos, viva o muerta. ¿Esperarías queyo quisiera volver a Alabama y dejarte ati y a las chicas cuando me llegue la hora,después de que los dejé por propia vo-luntad para vivir contigo en lo bueno yen lo malo, hasta la muerte y después?

—Bueno, la gente no es igual —dijo él.

Eso espero. He tratado de vivir recta-mente ante Dios y los hombres, para hon-rar y animar a mi cristiano marido y que-rer y respetar a mis cristianos hijos. Demodo que cuando deje esta vida cons-ciente de mis obligaciones y del pago quemerezco estaré rodeada de los rostros delos que me quieren, llevándome comorecompensa el beso de adiós de todos alos que quiero. No como Addie Bundrenque muere sola, escondiendo su orgu-llo y su corazón destrozado. Conten-ta de irse. Allí tumbada con la cabezaen [68] alto para poder ver a Cash fabri-cándole el ataúd, obligada a vigilarle paraque no haga una chapuza, con esoshombres que no se preocupan de nada ex-cepto de si tendrán tiempo de ganar otrostres dólares antes de que llueva y el ríocrezca demasiado para poder cruzarlo. Sino hubieran decidido llevar esa últimacarga, lo mismo hubieran sido capacesde haberla cargado en la carreta encima

analysis, a process which forcesthe reader to concentrate on thesituation of the characters and soencourages him to have a deeperunderstanding of the Bundrens.

The third aspect of this sectionis the abandonment of the linearmeasure of time so that Cora isapparently sitting with the still li-ving Addie yet can, in herthoughts, remember a time afterAddie has died. In a situationwhere memory, not strictchronology, rules, the characterremembering a past event relivesit as though it were happening inthe present. So, when Cora thinksof her vigil by Addie’s bed, thenshe is ‘living’ at that time; whenshe thinks of her conversationwith Tull after Addie’s death, thenshe is ‘living’ in that latermoment. The order in which themoments appear is dictated not byany considerations of linear timebut by the order in which thecharacter remembers them.

the Great Unknown: a euphemismfor what lies beyond death

skimp: use too little wood or othermaterial

skimp 1 tr. (often foll. by in) supply (a person etc.)meagrely with food, money, etc. 2 tr. use ameagre or insufficient amount of, stint (mate-rial, expenses, etc.). 3 intr. be parsimonious

skimp: use too little wood or other material; econo-mizar; to skimp on fabric/work/food escatimartela/trabajo/alimento

skimpy meagre; not ample or sufficient, insignifi-cante, insuficiente

adj. scanty, ligera n. colloq. a small or scanty thing, esp. a skimpy

garment. ligera de ropas

11


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

into the wagon on a quilt and crossedthe river first and then stopped andgive her time to die what Christiandeath they would let her.

Except Darl. It was the sweet-est thing I ever saw. Sometimes Ilose faith in human nature for atime; I am assailed by doubt. Butalways the Lord restores my faithand reveals to me His bounteouslove for His creatures. Not Jewel,the one she had always cherished,not him. He was after that threeextra dollars. It was Darl, the onetha t fo lks say i s queer, lazy,pottering about the place no betterthan Anse, with Cash a good carpen-ter and always more building than hecan get around to, and Jewel alwaysdoing something that made him somemoney or got him talked about, and thatnear-naked girl always standing overAddie with a fan so that every time abody tried to talk to her and cheer herup, would answer for her right quick,like she was trying to keep anybodyfrom coming near her at all.

It was Darl. He come to the doorand stood there, looking at his dyingmother. He just looked at her, and Ifelt the bounteous love of the Lordagain and His mercy. I saw that withJewel she had just been pretending,but that it was between her and Darlthat the understanding and the truelove was. He just looked at her, noteven coming in where she could seehim and get upset, knowing that Ansewas driving him away and he wouldnever see her again. He said nothing,just looking at her.

“What you want, Darl?” DeweyDell said, not stopping the fan,speaking up quick, keeping evenhim from her. He didn’t answer. Hejust stood and looked at his dyingmother, h i s hea r t too fu l l f o rwords.

7DEWEY DELL (1)

THE firs t t ime me and Lafepicked on down the row . Padassent sweat because he will catchhis death from the sickness so everybodythat comes to help us. And Jewel don’tcare about anything he is not kin to usin caring, not care-kin. And Cashlike sawing the long hot sad yellowdays up into planks and nailing themto something. And pa thinks becauseneighbours will always treat oneanother that way because he hasalways been too busy lettingneighbours do for him to find out.And I did not think that Darl would,that sits at the supper table with hiseyes gone further than the food andthe lamp, full of the land dug out ofhis skull and the holes filled withdistance beyond the land.

We picked on down the row, thewoods getting closer and closer and

de una colcha y cruzar el río y luego de-tenerse y darle tiempo a que muriera demuerte tan cristiana como hubieran de-cidido dejarle tener.

Excepto Darl. Fue la cosa más bo-nita que haya visto jamás. A veces pier-do la fe en la naturaleza humana du-rante cierto tiempo; me asalta la duda.Pero el Señor siempre me devuelve lafe y me revela su bondadoso amor ha-cia sus criaturas. Pero no Jewel, al queella siempre quiso tanto; él no. Sólo ibadetrás de esos tres dólares de más. Encambio tuvo que ser Darl ése del quela gente dice que es raro, perezoso, quepierde el tiempo por ahí igual queAnse, al contrario de Cash, un buencarpintero y siempre con más trabajodel que puede, y Jewe1 que siemprehace cosas que le proporcionen dine-ro o da que hablar, y esa chica mediodesnuda que siempre anda encima deAddie con un abanico de modo quecada vez que alguien trata de hablarcon ella y animarla, contesta en su lu-gar a toda prisa, como si tratara deimpedir que se le acerque nadie.

Tuvo que ser Darl. Vino hasta la puer-ta y se quedó allí, mirando a su madremoribunda. Se limitó a mirarla, y yo noténuevamente el bondadoso amo r d e lSeñor y su miser icordia . Vi que[con] Jewe l só lo aparen taba , peroque lo que hab ía en t re e l l a y Dar lera comprensión y autént ico amor.Se l imi tó a mi ra r la , n i s iqu ie ra seacercó adonde e l l a l e pudie ra very s o b r e s a l t a r s e , s a b i e n d o q u eAnse le iba a l l evar l e jos y nuncala vo lver ía a ver. No d i jo nada , sel imi tó a mi ra r la .

—¿Qué quieres, Darl? —dijo DeweyDell, sin dejar de abanicar, hablandomuy deprisa, apartándole incluso a él.El no contestó. Se limitó a estar allí depie y mirar a su madre moribunda, conel corazón demasiado abrumado parapalabras. [69]

DEWEY DELL

La primera vez que yo y Lafe reco-gíamos algodón surco abajo. Padre noquiere sudar porque se pondrá malo ymorirá así que todos nos vienen a ayu-dar. Y a Jewel no le importa nada ni leimportamos nosotros sus parientes, nole importa su familia. Y a Cash le gustaserrar los días largos y cálidos y tristes yamarillos y convertirlos en tablas y cla-varlos a algo. Y padre cree que los veci-nos siempre se portarán unos con otrosdel mismo modo porque siempre ha es-tado demasiado ocupado dejando que losvecinos trabajen por él para averiguarlo.Y creí que Darl tampoco se enteraría,sentado a la mesa con la mirada perdidamás allá de la cena y la lámpara, llenadel campo que se saca del cráneo y conlas órbitas de los ojos llenas de lejaníade más allá del campo.

Recogíamos algodón surco abajo, losárboles y la sombra secreta acercándose

Dewey Dell (1)

This section begins withDewey Dell recalling the day onwhich she was picking cottonwith someone called Lafe andwhen she allowed him to makelove to her. She believes that itwas not her responsibility,because she had decided to makelove only if her sack was fullwhen they reached the end of therow. She then begins to think ofDarl, who has not said anythingto her but who, she senses, knowswhat she has done. Darl himselfthen enters the sick-room.

COMMENTARY: By thisstage in the novel, the reader isbeginning to see certain eventsand observations recurring insections belonging to differentcharacters. This is naturalenough, for the world of theBundren family is a small one anddifferent people are liable to re-cord and reflect on the samethings. In these unspokenthoughts of Dewey Dell’s we seethat she believes her father’s story

picked down the row: picked cottonfrom a row of cotton plants

dassent: (Am. col.) dare not

care-kin: (neologism) not related tothe rest of the family in feeling

potter 1 v. (US putter) 1 intr. a (often foll. by about,around) work or occupy oneself in a desultory(unmethodically) but pleasant manner (likespottering about in the garden). b (often foll. by at,in) dabble (chapotear) in a subject or occupation.2 intr. go slowly, dawdle, loiter (pottered up to thepub). 3 tr. (foll. by away) fritter (waste) away (one’stime etc.).

fritter : waste, dissipate, (desperdiciar, malgastar) waste (money, time,energy, etc.) triflingly, indiscriminately, or on divided aims

desultory adj.1 going constantly from one subject to another, esp. in a half-hearted way. 2 disconnected; unmethodical; superficial. Inconstante,intermitente,inconexo, irregular, poco metódico, intemitente, variable, vo-luble, inconstante, erratic, insconstant, irrelevant, tedious, pointless, boring,diufused

12


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

the secret shade, picking on into thesecret shade with my sack and Lafe’ssack. Because I said will I or won’t Iwhen the sack was half-full becauseI said if the sack is full when we getto the woods it won’t be me. I said ifit don’t mean for me to do it the sackwill not be full and I will turn up thenext row but if the sack is full, Icannot help it. It will be that I had todo it all the time and I cannot help it.And we picked on toward the secretshade and our eyes would drowntogether touching on his hands andmy hands and I didn’t say anything. Isaid “What are you doing?” and hesaid “I am picking into your sack.”And so it was full when we came tothe end of the row and I could not helpit.

And so it was because I could nothelp it. It was then, and then I sawDarl and he knew. He said he knewwithout the words like he told me thatma is going to die without words, andI knew he knew because if he had saidhe knew with the words I would nothave believed that he had been thereand saw us. But he said he did knowand I said “Are you going to tell paare you going to kill him?” withoutthe words I said it and he said “Why?”without the words. And that’s why Ican talk to him with knowing withhating because he knows.

He stands in the door, looking at her.

“What you want, Darl?” I say.

“She is going to die,” he says.And o ld turkey-buzzard Tul lcoming to watch her die but I canfool them.

“When is she going to die?” I say.

“Before we get back,” he says.

“Then why are you takingJewel?” I say.

“I want him to help me load,” hesays.

8TULL (1)

ANSE keeps on rubbing hisknees. His overalls are faded; on oneknee a serge patch cut out of a pairof Sunday pants, wore ironslick.“No man mislikes it more than me,”he says.

“A fellow’s got to guess aheadnow and then,” I say. “But, come longand short, it won’t be no harm doneneither way.”

“She’ll want to get started rightoff,” he says. “It’s far enough toJefferson at best.”

“But the roads is good now,” I. say.It’s fixing to rain to-night, too. H i sf o l k s b u r i e s a t N e w - H o p e ,

cada vez más; recogíamos copos hacia lasombra secreta en mi saco y en el sacode Lafe. Porque ¿lo haré o no lo haré?,dije cuando el saco estaba medio lleno,porque si el saco está lleno, dije, cuandolleguemos a los árboles no será por miculpa. No dependerá de mí, dije, si no lohago sino de si el saco no está lleno ytengo que dar la vuelta y coger el surcosiguiente pero si el saco está lleno, no lopodré evitar. Será que lo tenía que hacertodo el tiempo y no lo podía evitar. Yrecogíamos algodón hacia la sombra se-creta y nuestros ojos se hundían juntosal tocarse sus manos y mis manos y yosin decir nada. Dije: «¿Qué estás hacien-do?» —y él dijo: « Recogiendo en tusaco.» Y así éste estaba lleno cuando lle-gamos al final del surco y no lo pude evi-tar.

Y así fue porque no lo pude evitar.Fue entonces, y entonces vi a Darl ylo sabía. Dijo sin decir palabra quelo sabía igual que me dijo sin decirpalabra que madre se moría, y me dicuenta de que lo sabía porque si hu-biera dicho con palabras que lo sabíayo no habría creído que había estadoallí y nos vio. Pero dijo que lo sabíay yo [70] dije: «¿Vas a contárselo apadre, lo vas a matar?» —sin decir pa-labra lo dije y él dijo: «¿Por qué?»—sin decir palabra. Y por eso es porlo que puedo hablar con él que lo sabey al que odio porque lo sabe.

Está en la puerta, mirándola.

—¿Qué quieres, Darl? —digo.

—Se va a morir —dice él.Y ese viejo buitre de Tull viene a

verla morir, pero puedo engañarlos atodos ellos.

—¿Cuándo se va a morir? —digo.

—Antes de que volvamos —dice él.

—¿Entonces por qué te llevas aJewel? —digo yo.

—Quiero que me ayude a cargar —dice él.

TULL

ANSE sigue restregándose las rodillas.Tiene el mono descolorido; en una rodilla unremiendo de sarga cortado de unos pantalo-nes de los domingos, lustroso por el uso.

—No hay hombre al que le revientemás que a mí —dice.

—Un individuo tiene que barruntarlas cosas de vez en cuando —digo yo—.Pero, pase lo que pase, en ningún casoserá nada malo.

—Ella querrá ponerse en marcha in-mediatamente —dice él—. Jefferson estábastante lejos en el mejor de los casos.

—Pero ahora los caminos están bien —digo yo.Además parece que esta noche va a

llover. Además los parientes de Anse es-

that if he sweats he will die. Theidea has already been mentionedby Darl, who does not believe thestory.

Dewey Dell’s sexual encounterwith Lafe takes place against abackground of brothers and afather who seem to be whollypreoccupied with their ownaffairs. Jewel is seen here, aselsewhere, as remote from thefamily, Cash as only beingconcerned with sawing, Ansewith avoiding work and Darl withinscrutable thoughts. Yet, aftershe has had intercourse, DeweyDell realises that Darl knows whatshe has done, ‘he said he knewwithout the words like he told methat ma is going to die without thewords’. This unspokencommunication between DeweyPell and Darl may be no morethan a figment of Dewey Dell’simagination, but it is equallypossible that in this close andclosed family circle Darl wouldbe able to sense that his sister hada guilty secret and so would knowwithout anything being said.Dewey Dell resents this intrusioninto her privacy, so when Darlappears at the door of thesickroom (the same moment asrecorded in Cora (2) immediatelybefore) the exchange which takesplace is hostile. By puttingtogether pieces from Darl (3),Cora (2) and Dewey Dell (1) thereader begins to see that Darl istaking revenge on his mother,insisting that they go to collect thewood so that Addie will have todie without the presence of Jewelwhom she loves and of whomDarl is so jealous.

Tull (1)

This section consists of Tull’sunspoken thoughts about theBundrens and his conversationswith the people around him asthey sit waiting for Anse to deci-de whether or not the wagonshould be sent to collect wood andso risk Addie’s death occurring inthe absence of Darl and Jewel.When he and his family at lastmount their wagon to depart, theybegin to discuss the possiblerepercussions of Addie’s deathand Tull notices that there is astorm brewing.

COMMENTARY: The senseof time hanging heavily on thehands of those who await Addie’sdeath is as strong here as it was

turkey-buzzard: a bird of prey

Sunday pants: (Am. English)trousers kept for specialoccasions

barruntar. 1. Prever, conjeturar o pre-sentir por alguna señal o indicio.

barrunto 1 indicio, sospecha, noticia,inkling, suspicion, doubt, hope,desire, indication, conjecture,reason. Asomo, atisbo, augurio.

13


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

t o o , n o t t h r e e m i l e s a w a y .B u t i t ’ s j u s t l i k e h i m t om a r r y a w o m a n b o r n ad a y ’ s h a n d r i d e a w a y a n dh a v e h e r d i e o n h i m .

H e l o o k s o u t o v e r t h el a n d , r u b b i n g h i s k n e e s .“ N o m a n s o m i s l i k e s i t , ”h e s a y s .

“They’ll get back in plenty oftime,” I say. “I wouldn’t worry none.”

“It means three dollars,” he says.

“Might be it won’t be no need forthem to rush back, noways,” I say. “Ihope it.”

“ S h e ’ s a - g o i n g , ” h es a y s . “ H e r m i n d i s s e t o n i t . ”It’s a hard life on women, for a fact.Some women. I mind my mammylived to be seventy and more .Worked every day, rain or shine;never a sick day since her lastchap was born until one day shekind of looked around her and thenshe went and taken that lace-trimmednightgown she had had forty-fiveyears and never wore out of the chestand put it on and laid down on thebed and pulled the covers up and shuther eyes. “You all will have to lookout for pa the best you can,” shesaid. “I’m tired.”

Anse rubs his hands on his knees.“The Lord giveth,” he says. We canhear Cash a-hammering and sawingbeyond the corner.

I t ’ s t r u e . N e v e r a t r u e rb r e a t h w a s e v e r b r e a t h e d .“The Lord giveth,” I say.

That boy comes up the hill. He iscarrying a fish nigh long as he is. Heslings it to the ground and grunts“ H a h ” a n d s p i t s o v e r h i ss h o u l d e r l i k e a m a n . D u r nnigh long as he is .

“What’s that?” I say. “A hog?Where’d you get it?”

“Down to the bridge,” he says. Heturns it over, the under-side caked overwith dust where it is wet, the eyecoated over, humped under the dirt.

“Are you aiming to leave it layingthere?” Anse says.

“I aim to show it to ma,” Vardamansays. He looks toward the door. Wecan hear the talking, coming out onthe draught. Cash, too, knocking andhammering at the boards. “There’scompany in there,” he says.

“Just my folks,” I say. “They’denjoy to see it, too.”

He says nothing, watching thedoor. Then he looks down at the fishlaying in the dust. He turns it over

tán enterrados en New Hope, ni a cincokilómetros de distancia. Pero sólo a él sele ocurre casarse con una mujer que hanacido a un día largo de camino y queencima tenga que morírsele.

Mira hacia el campo, restregándoselas rodillas.

—No hay hombre al que le revientetanto —dice.

—Volverán con tiempo de sobra —digo—. Yo no me preocuparía nada.

—Es que supone tres dólares —dice él.

—Puede que no necesiten volver atoda prisa, en ningún caso —digo—. Esoespero.

—Se está yendo —dice él—. No pien-sa en otra cosa.

Es dura la vida para las mujeres, porcierto. Para algunas mujeres. Recuerdoque mi madre vivió hasta los setenta añosy pico. Trabajaba todo el santo día, conlluvia o con sol; nunca estuvo enfermadesde que le nació el último crío hastaque un día hizo que miraba a su alrede-dor y luego fue y cogió aquel camisónadornado con encaje que hacía cuarentay cinco años que tenía y nunca había sa-cado del arca y se lo puso y se metió enla cama y se tapó con la ropa y cerró losojos. «Ahora todos tendréis que cuidarde papá lo mejor que podáis» —dijo—.«Estoy cansada.»

Anse se restriega las manos en las rodillas.—El Señor nos lo d io —dice .

O ímos a Cash mar t i l l a r y s e r r a rpasada l a esqu ina .

Es cierto. Nunca se ha dicho nada máscierto.

—El Señor nos lo dio —digo.

E s e c h i c o s u b e e l c e r r o .T r a e u n p e z c a s i t a n g r a n d ec o m o é l . L o t i r a a l s u e l o .

—Aj —gruñe y escupe por encima delhombro como un hombre. Condenado,casi tan grande como él.

—¿Qué es eso? —digo—. ¿Un cerdo?¿De dónde lo sacaste?

—De allá abajo, junto al puente —diceél. Le da la vuelta; la parte de abajo tieneuna costra de polvo donde está húmedo; elojo tapado, hinchado bajo el polvo.

—¿Es que piensas dejarlo ahí tirado?—dice Anse.

—Voy a enseñárselo a madre —diceVardaman. Mira hacia la puerta. Oímosla conversación, viene con la corrientede aire. A Cash también, martillando yclavando las tablas—. Ahora tiene com-pañía —dice.

—Sólo son mis parientes —digo yo—. También les gustará verlo.

No dice nada y mira la puerta. Lue-go baja la vista hacia el pez que yaceen el polvo. Le da la vuelta con el pie

in Cora (1). Like Cota and Darl,Tull has time to observe in detailthe world around him. Althoughmany of the details are repeatedfrom section to section, somebelong specifically to individualcharacters.

Tull’s unspoken observationthat the fish caught by Vardamanseems to be ‘hiding into the dustlike it was ashamed of being dead,like it was in a hurry to get backhid again’ is a simple one, yet itis also prophetic of what happensin Vardaman’s section.

Collectively, the Tull familyshare a view of the Bundrens,believing that they are heldtogether by Addie. As they rideaway, the Tulls imagine each ofthe sons seeking a wife to replacethe lost mother. In a sense, theyare right in assuming that Addieis central but, as the book shows,she is central in a far more subtleand complicated way than anythat the Tulls might suspect.

noways: (Am. English) in no way

nigh: near, nearly

14


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

with his foot and prods at theeye-bump with his toe, gouging at it.Anse is looking out over the land.Vardaman looks at Anse’s face, thenat the door. He turns, going towardthe corner of the house, when Ansecalls him without looking around.

“You clean that fish,” Anse says.

V a r d a m a n s t o p s .“Why can’t Dewey Del l c leanit?” he says.

“You clean that fish,” Anse says.

“Aw, pa,” Vardaman says.

“You clean it,” Anse says. He don’tlook around. Vardaman comes backand picks up the fish. It slides out ofhis hands, smearing wet dirt on to him,and flops down, dirtying itself again,gap-mouthed, goggle-eyed, hidinginto the dust like it was ashamedof being dead, like it was in a hurryto get back hid again. Vardamancusses it. He cusses it like a grownman, standing a-straddle of it. Ansedon’t look around. Vardaman picksit up again. He goes on around thehouse, toting it in both arms likean armful of wood, it overlappinghim on both ends, head and tail.Durn nigh big as he is.

Anse’s wrists dangle out of hissleeves: I never see him with a shirton that looked like it was his in allmy life. They all looked like Jewelmight have give him his old ones. NotJewel, though. He’s long-armed, evenif he is spindling. Except for the lackof sweat. You could tell they ain’tbeen nobody else’s but Anse’s that waywithout no mistake. His eyes look likepieces of burnt-out cinder fixed in hisface, looking out over the land.

When the shadow touches thesteps he says “It’s five o’clock.”

Just as I get up Cora comesto the door and says i t’s t ime tog e t o n . A n s e r e a c h e s fo r h i sshoes. “Now, Mr. Bundren,” Corasays, “don’t you get up now.” Heputs his shoes on, stomping into them,like he does everything, like he ishoping all the time he really can’t doit and can quit trying to. When we goup the hall we can hear them clumpingon the floor like they was iron shoes.He comes toward the door where sheis, blinking his eyes, kind of lookingahead of hisself before he sees, likehe is hoping to find her setting up, ina chair maybe or maybe sweeping, andlooks into the door in that surprisedway like he looks in and finds her stillin bed every time and Dewey Dell stilla-fanning her with the fan. He standsthere, like he don’t aim to moveagain nor nothing else.

“ We l l , I r e c k o n w e b e t t e rg e t o n , ” C o r a s a y s . “ I g o tt o f e e d t h e c h i c k e n s . ” I t ’ s

y le pincha el globo del ojo con el dedogordo, barrenándoselo. Anse está mi-rando hacia el campo. Vardaman mirala cara [72] de Anse, luego a la puer-ta. Se vuelve, dirigiéndose hacia la es-quina de la casa, cuando Anse le lla-ma sin mirarle.

—Limpia ese pescado —dice Anse.

Vardaman se para.—¿Es que no lo puede limpiar Dewey

Dell? —dice.

—Límpialo tú —dice Anse.

—Padre, es que... —dice Vardaman.

—Que lo limpies —dice Anse. Nole mira. Vardaman vuelve y coge elpescado. Se le escurre de entre lasmanos, manchádose de barro húmedo,y cae al suelo, manchándose todavíamás, la ____ boca, los ojos saltones, yse esconde en el polvo como si le aver-gonzara estar muerto, como si tuvieraprisa en volver a esconderse. Vardamanlo insulta. Lo insulta como un hombrehecho y derecho, a caballo encima deél. Anse no mira. Vardaman lo vuelvea coger. Se aleja rodeando la casa,agarrándole con las dos manos como auna brazada de leña mientras el pescado aso-ma por ambos extremos, cabeza y cola.Maldito, casi tan grande como él.

Las muñecas de Anse le asoman porlas mangas. En toda mi vida nunca le hevisto con una camisa que pareciera suya.Todas parecen como si Jewel le hubieradado las suyas viejas. No son de Jewel,con todo. Es largo de brazos, como siestuviera dando un estirón. Y no es-tán sudadas. Puedes asegurar que nohan sido de nadie más que de Ansesin equivocarte. Sus ojos parecen doscarbones quemados y clavados en sucara, y miran hacia el campo.

Cuando la sombra alcanza los escalones dice:—Son las cinco.

En cuanto me levanto Cora sale a lapuerta y dice que es hora de ponerse enmarcha. Anse alcanza sus zapatos.

—Oiga, Mr. Bundren —dice Cora—,no se levante ahora.

Se pone los zapatos, haciendo fuerza,como lo hace todo, igual que si todo eltiempo pensara que no lo iba a poder ha-cer y tendrá que dejar de intentarlo.Cuando llegamos al zaguán les oímosandar pesadamente por el suelo como sifueran unos zapatos de hierro. Va haciala puerta [73] donde está ella, guiñandolos ojos, como adivinando lo que va a verantes de verlo, igual que si esperara en-contrársela levantada, en una silla, tal vezbarriendo, y mira adentro de ese modoasombrado en que suele hacerlo y se laencuentra todavía en cama y Dewey Delltodavía abanicándola con el abanico. Sequeda allí como si no tuviera intenciónde volverse a mover ni de nada.

—Bueno, para mí que será mejor quenos vayamos —dice Cora—. Tengo queecharles de comer a las gallinas.

goggle-eyed: (Am. col.) with staringeyes

cusses: (Am. col.) curses

toting: (Am. col.) carrying

spindling: (Am. English) long andthin, like a spindle

don’t aim to: (Am. English) do notintend to

gouge 1 a a chisel with a concave blade, used incarpentry, sculpture, and surgery. b an indentationor groove made with or as with this. Gubia 2 UScolloq. a swindle.

1 tr. cut with or as with a gouge. creuser à la gouge(bois). (escarbar con gubia) 2 tr. a (foll. by out)force out (esp. an eye with the thumb) with or aswith a gouge. b force out the eye of (a person). 3tr. US colloq. swindle; extort money from. (US.sl.) refaire, estamper, soutirer, extorquer, se sucrer.estafar, swindle

X

15


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

fixing to rain, too. Clouds liketha t don’t l i e , and the co t tonmaking every day the Lord sends.That’ll be something else for him.Cash i s s t i l l tr imming a t t heboards. “If there’s ere a thing wecan do,” Cora says.

“Anse’ll let us know,” I say.

Anse don’t look at us. He looksaround, blinking, in that surprisedway, like he had wore hisself downbeing surprised and was evensurprised at that. If Cash just worksthat careful on my barn.

“I told Anse it likely won’t be noneed,” I say. “I so hope it.”

“Her mind is set on it,” he says. “Ireckon she’s bound to go.”

“It comes to all of us,” Cora says.“Let the Lord comfort you.”

“About that corn,” I say. I tellhim again I will help him out ifhe gets into a tight, with her sickand all. Like most folks aroundhere, I done holp him so muchalready I can’t quit now.

“I aimed to get to it to-day,” hesays. “Seems like I can’t get my mindon nothing.”

“Maybe she’ll hold out till you arelaid by,” I say.

“If God wills it,” he says.

“Let Him comfort you,” Cora says.

I f C a s h j u s t w o r k s t h a tc a r e f u l o n m y b a r n . H el o o k s u p w h e n w e p a s s .“Don’t r eckon I ’ l l ge t to youth is week ,” he says .

“’Tain’t no rush,” I say.“Whenever you get around to it.”

We get into the wagon. Cora setsthe cake-box on her lap. It’s fixing torain, sho.

“I don’t know what he’ll do,” Corasays. “I just don’t know.”

“Poor Anse,” I say. “She kept himat work for thirty-odd years. I reckonshe is tired.”

“And I reckon she’ll be behind himfor thirty years more,” Kate says. “Orif it ain’t her, he’ll get another onebefore cotton-picking.”

“I reckon Cash and Darl can getmarried now,” Eula says.

“That poor boy,” Cora says. “Thepoor little tyke.”

“What about Jewel?” Kate says.

“He can, too,” Eula says.

Va a llover, además. Nubes comoésas no engañan, y el algodón ha-ciéndose día a día como Dios man-da. Otra cosa que le dará que hacer.Cash todavía ajusta los tablones.

—Si hay algo que podamos hacer —dice Cora.

—Ya nos lo dirá Anse —digo yo.

Anse no nos mira. Pasea la vista a sualrededor, guiñando los ojos, de ese modoasombrado, como si estuviera destroza-do por la sorpresa y le asombrara estarlo.Si Cash por lo menos trabajase con esemismo cuidado en mi granero...

—Ya le dije a Anse que probablementeno sea necesario —digo—. Eso espero.

—Se la ha metido en la cabeza —diceél—. Para mí que está decidida a irse.

—A todos nos llegará la hora —dice Cora—.Que el Señor le dé resignación.

—A propósito de ese maíz —digo.Le vuelvo a decir que le ayudaré si se

encuentra en un apuro, con ella enfermay todo. Como la mayoría de la gente depor aquí, le he ayudado tantas veces queahora no puedo dejar de hacerlo.

—Tenía intención de haber ido hoy —dice él—. Parece como si no pudiera pen-sar en nada.

—Puede que ella dure hasta que us-ted lo tenga listo —digo yo.

—Si Dios lo quiere —dice él.

—Que Él le dé resignación —dice Cora.

Si Cash por lo menos trabajasecon ese cuidado en mi granero... Le-vanta la vista cuando pasamos. [74]

—No creo que pueda ocuparme de losuyo esta semana —dice.

—No hay ninguna prisa —digo—.Cuando te venga bien.

Subimos a la carreta. Cora se ponela caja de los bollos en el regazo. Va allover, seguro.

—No sé qué será de é l —diceCora—. No lo sé.

—Pobre Anse —digo yo—. Ella le hadado trabajo durante más de treinta años.Creo que está cansada.

—Y yo creo que ella va a seguir de-trás de él otros treinta años —dice Kate—. O si no sigue, ya se buscará él otra an-tes de la recogida del algodón.

—Para mí que Cash y Darl podríancasarse ya —dice Eula.

—Ese pobre chico —dice Cora—. Esepobre granujilla.

—¿Y qué pasa con Jewel? —dice Kate.

—También podría —dice Lula.

hisself: (Am. col.) himself

holp: (Am. col. help

’taint: Am. col.) it is not

tyke, 1 a small child, especially a boy, fry, nestling,childa young person of either sex; «she writes booksfor children»; «they’re just kids»; «`tiddler’ is aBritish term for youngsters» 2 peasant, barbarian,boor, churl, Goth, tike a crude uncouth ill-bredperson lacking culture or refinement 3 a mongrel,perro mestizo, chucho

16


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Humph,” Kate says. “I reckon hewill. I reckon so. I reckon there’smore gals than one around here thatdon’t want to see Jewel tied down.Well, they needn’t to worry.”

“Why, Kate!” Cora says. Thewagon begins to rattle. “The poorlittle tyke,” Cora says.

It’s fixing to rain this night. Yes,sir. A rattling wagon is mighty dryweather, for a Birdsell. But that’ll becured. It will for a fact.

“ S h e o u g h t t o t a k e n t h e mcakes after she said she would,”Kate says.

9ANSE (1)

DURN that road. And it fixing torain, too. I can stand here and sameas see it with second-sight, a-shuttingdown behind them like a wall,shutting down betwixt them and mygiven promise. I do the best I can,much as I can get my mind onanything, but durn them boys.

A-laying there, right up to mydoor, where every bad luck thatcomes and goes is bound to find it.I told Addie it wasn’t any luckliving on a road when it come byhere, and she said, for the worldlike a woman, “Get up and move,then.” But I told her it wasn’t noluck in it, because the Lord putroads for travelling: why He laidthem down flat on the earth. WhenHe aims for something to be alwaysa-moving, He makes it long ways,like a road or a horse or a wagon,but when He aims for something tostay put, He makes it up-and-downways, like a tree or a man. And sohe never aimed for folks to live ona road, because which gets therefirst, I says, the road or the house?Did you ever know Him to set aroad down by a house? I says. Noyou never, I says, because i t ’salways men can’t rest till they getsthe house set where everybody thatpasses in a wagon can spit in thedoorway, keeping the folks restlessand want ing to ge t up and gosomewheres else when He aimedfor them to stay put like a tree or astand of corn. Because if He’d aa imed for man to be a lwaysa-moving and going somewherese lse , wouldn’ t He a put h imlongways on his belly, like a snake?It stands to reason He would.

Putting it where every bad luckprowling can find it and comestraight to my door, charging me taxeson top of it. Making me pay for Cashhaving to get them carpenter notionswhen if it hadn’t been no road comethere, he wouldn’t a got them; fallingoff of churches and lifting no hand insix months and me and Addie slav-

—Bueno —dice Kate—. Creo quelo hará. Eso creo. Creo que hay másde una chica de por aquí a la que nole gustaría ver a Jewel amarrado. Bue-no, no se deben preocupar.

—¡Vamos, Kate! —dice Cora. La ca-rreta se pone a chirriar—. El pobregranujilla —dice Cora.

Va a llover esta noche. Sí, señor. In-cluso una carreta Birdsell**6 chirríacuando el tiempo está muy seco. Pero esose arreglará. Seguro que sí.

—Podría haberse quedado con losbollos después de decir que los quería —dice Kate. [75]

ANSE

CONDENADO camino. Y va al l ove r, además , puedo queda rmeaquí como si viera la lluvia; espesapor detrás de ellos como una pared,espesa entre ellos y lo que he pro-metido. Hago lo que puedo, hastadonde me da de sí la cabeza, peroesos condenados chicos.. .

Ahí está el camino, justo hasta mipuerta, para que cualquier mal fario delos que van y vienen llegue hasta aquí.Le dije a Addie que no daba ninguna bue-na suerte vivir junto a un camino; queesté tan cerca. Y ella, como mujer quees, dijo: «Entonces carretera y manta.»Pero lo que yo le decía es que no dabaninguna buena suerte, porque el Señorhizo los caminos para ir de un sitio a otro;¿para qué, si no, los iba a poner en la tie-rra? Cuando decide que algo esté siem-pre moviéndose, lo hace alargado, comoun camino o un caballo o una carreta,pero cuando decide que algo se esté quie-to, lo hace que sea de arriba abajo, comoun árbol o un hombre. Y por eso nuncale gustó que las personas vivieran juntoa un camino, porque, ¿qué es lo prime-ro?, pregunto yo, ¿el camino o la casa?¿Se sabe que Dios haya puesto alguna vezun camino junto a una casa? pregunto.Nunca jamás, es lo que yo digo, y contodo los hombres no descansan hasta queponen la casa donde todo el que pase encarreta pueda escupir en el entrada, man-teniendo inquietas a las personas y dán-doles ganas de coger y marcharse a otraparte cuando El quería que los hombresse quedaran quietos como un árbol o uncampo de maíz. Pues si hubiera que-rido que el hombre estuviera siem-pre moviéndose y yendo de un sitioa otro, ¿no lo hubiera hecho alarga-do por la tripa como una serpiente?Es lógico que sí, si lo hubiera querido.

Puesta donde cualquier mal farioque ande por ahí pueda encontrarla ycolarse por mi puerta, y encima los im-puestos. Me obligan a pagar porque aCash se le ocurriera aprender nocionesde carpintería cuando si el camino nollegara hasta ahí, no se le habría ocu-rrido; se cae de las [76] iglesias y noda golpe en seis meses y yo y Addie

Anse (1)

Anse’s section consists of hisunspoken thoughts andrecollections. The first paragraphis a series of curses, as Anseblames the weather, the road andhis sons for his situation. Thesecond, third and fourthparagraphs reveal his unspokenand somewhat superstitiousfeelings about the road.

COMMENTARY: We havealready had several glimpses ofAnse and have realised that he isa lazy man who continually shiftsresponsibility for his predicamenton to the world around him. Thissection confirms this impression.His superstitious belief that theroad is at the root of all histroubles is both evidence ofAnse’s curious brand of simple-mindedness and a comicreflection on the lengths to whichhe will go to find something towhich he can attach blame. He isnot at all critical of himself andcannot conceive of the possibilitythat he might have had somethingto do with the family’s poverty.Indeed, he says and obviouslybelieves that ‘it ain’t that I amafraid of work; I always fed meand mine and kept a roof aboveus’.

tied down: (married)

merodeando

rattle hacer sonar como una carraca ; batir o sacudircon ruido; desatinar, atolondrar, atarantar, aturdir,aturrullar, correr, proferir, articular rápidamente;(mar.) atar con rebenques. - v. intr. zurri(a)r, ma-traquear, rechinar, sonar, guachapear,zangolotearse, repiquetear; charlatanear, parlo-tear; (mec.) ratear, moverse o funcionar con rui-do desapacible: to rattle away, parlotear; rodar adistancia, haciendo ruido; to rattle down (mar.)arreglar los flechastes.

s. rechin(ad)o, rechinamiento, zumba, zurrido; so-najero, sonajillas, matraca; carraca; bramadera;cascabel del crótalo; parla, charla; (in the throat),estertor; rattlebrained, rattle-headed, rattle-pated,ligero de cascos, casquivano; voluble, voltario;rattlehead, ratttepate o rattleskull

rattleI n. 1 (juguete) sonajero (de serpiente) cascabel (para

fiestas) matraca 2 ruido (de tren, carro) traqueteo(de cadena, monedas, llaves) repiqueteo

II v. tr. 1 (llaves, monedas) hacer sonar 2 familiardesconcertar, poner nervioso : she gets rattled overnothing, se pone nerviosa por nada

III vi (tren) traquetear: the train rattled past, el trenpasó traqueteando (metal) repiquetear (ventana)vibrar

predicament apuro, aprieto, lío, dilema, trance,situación difícil: having been robbed on her tripabroad, she was in a real predicament, comole robaron durante su viaje al extranjero, seencontró en un auténtico aprieto

predicament n. 1 a difficult, unpleasant, orembarrassing situation, quandary, plight. 2Philos. a category in (esp. Aristotelian) logic.

predicamento prestige, influence, standing,reputation.

17


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

ing and a-slaving, when there’s plentyof sawing on this place he could do ifhe’s got to saw.

And Darl, too. Talking me out ofhim, durn them. It ain’t that I amafraid of work; I always have fed meand mine and kept a roof above us it’sthat they would short-hand me justbecause be tends to his own business,just because he’s got his eyes full ofthe land all the time. I says to them,he was all right at first, with his eyesfull of the land, because the land laidup-and-down ways then; it wasn’t tillthat ere road come and switched theland around longways and his eyesstill full of the land, that they begunto threaten me out of him, trying toshort-hand me with the law.

Making me pay for it. She waswell and hale as ere a woman everwere, except for that road. Justlaying down, resting herself in herown bed, asking naught of none.“Are you sick, Addie?” I said.

“I am not sick,” she said.

“You lay you down and rest you,”I said. “I knowed you are not sick.You’re just tired. You lay you downand rest. “

“I am not sick,” she said. “I willget up.”

“Lay still and rest,” I said. “Youare just tired. You can get upto-morrow.” And she was layingthere, well and hale as ere a womanever were, except for that road.

“ I n e v e r s e n t f o r y o u , ” Is a i d . “ I t a k e y o u t o w i t n e s s In e v e r s e n t f o r y o u . ”

“I know you didn’t,” Peabody said.“I bound that. Where is she?”

“She’s a-laying down,” I said. “She’sjust a little tired, but she’ll——”

“Get outen here, Anse,” he said.“Go set on the porch a while.”

And now I got to pay for it, mewithout a tooth in my head, hopingto get ahead enough so I could get mymouth fixed where I could eat God’sown victuals as a man should, and herhale and well as ere a woman in theland until that day. Got to pay forbeing put to the need of that threedollars. Got to pay for the way forthem boys to have to go away to earnit. And now I can see same as secondsight the rain shutting down betwixtus, a-coming up that road like a durnman, like it wasn’t ere a other houseto rain on in all the living land.

I have heard men cuss their luck,and right, for they were sinful men.But I do not say it’s a curse on me,because I have done no wrong to becussed by. I am not religious, I

igual que esclavos, cuando hay tantoque serrar y él lo podría haber hecho sihubiera podido serrar.

Y Darl lo mismo. Dicen que me des-prenda de él, condenados. Y no es que measuste el trabajo; siempre he dado de co-mer a los míos y no les ha faltado techo:el caso es que querían dejarme sin él, ysólo porque se ocupa de sus cosas, sóloporque le preocupa la tierra todo el tiem-po. Les digo que al principio iba bien,preocupado siempre de la tierra, porqueentonces la tierra se extendía arriba yabajo; no fue hasta que el camino llegóaquí y cambió la tierra ______ __________ ________ ___ ____ _____ ___ y élseguía preocupándose de ella, cuandoempezaron a amenazarme con quitárme-lo por medio de la ley.

Me lo han hecho pagar. Ella era unamujer sana y fuerte como la que más,la culpa es del camino. Ahí está tum-bada, descansando en su propia cama,sin decirle nada a nadie.

—¿Estás mala, Addie? —le dije.

—No, no estoy mala —dijo ella.

—Quédate echada y descansa —dijeyo—. Sabía que no estabas mala. Quesólo estabas cansada. Quédate echada ydescansa.

—No estoy mala —dijo ella—. Mevoy a levantar.

—Estate quieta y descansa —dijeyo—. Sólo estás cansada. Puedes levan-tarte mañana —y allí seguía tumbada;una mujer sana y fuerte como la que más;la culpa es del camino.

—A usted nunca le he mandado lla-mar —dije yo—. Es usted testigo de quenunca le he mandado llamar...

—Ya sé que no —dijo Peabody—. Nilo dudo. ¿Y ella, dónde está?

—Se ha echado —dije yo—. Sólo estáun poco cansada, pero...

—Salga de aquí, Anse —dijo él—.Vaya a sentarse al porche un momento.

Y ahora me lo hacen pagar, a mí queno tengo ni un diente en la boca y espe-raba levantar cabeza lo suficiente paraque me arreglaran la boca y poder comercomo Dios manda, y era una mujer sanay fuerte como la que más hasta [77] aqueldía. Las voy a pagar todas juntas por ne-cesitar esos tres dólares. Las tengo quepagar porque los chicos se tengan que ira ganar por ahí fuera. Y ahora puedo verigual que si lo adivinara la lluvia espesaentre nosotros, apareciendo por ese ca-mino como un hombre endemoniado,como si no hubiera otra casa en todasestas tierras encima de la que llover.

He oído a hombres renegar de su suer-te, y con razón, pues eran pecadores. Perono digo que lo mío sea una maldición,porque no he hecho nada malo por lo quese me puediera maldecir. No soy religio-

short-hended: reduced the numberof people available to work to anunacceptably low level

tends: (Am. col.) attends

outen: (Am. col.) out of

victuals: food

hale :drag or draw forcibly. HAUL, PULL 2 : to compel to go free from defect, disease, or infirmity : SOUND; also

: retaining exceptional health and vigor <a haleand hearty old man> synonym see HEALTHY

hale :drag or draw forcibly. HAUL, PULL 2 : to compel to go free from defect, disease, or infirmity : SOUND; also :

retaining exceptional health and vigor <a hale andhearty old man> synonym see HEALTHY

X

18


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

reckon. But peace is my heart: I knowit is. I have done things but neitherbetter nor worse than them thatpretend otherlike, and I know that OldMarster will cace for me as for ere asparrow that falls. But it seems hardthat a man in his need could be soflouted by a road.

Vardaman comes around the house,bloody as a hog to his knees, and thatere fish chopped up with the axe likeas not, or maybe throwed away for himto lie about the dogs et it. Well, Ireckon I ain’t no call to expect no moreof him than of his man-growedbrothers. He comes along, watchingthe house, quiet, and sits on the steps.“Whew,” he says, “I’m pure tired.”

“Go wash them hands,” I say. Butcouldn’t no woman strove harder thanAddie to make them right, man andboy: I’ll say that for her.

“It was full of blood and guts as ahog,” he says. But I just can’t seemto get no heart into anything, with thishere weather sapping me, too. “Pa,”he says, “is ma sick some more?”

“Go wash them hands,” I say. But Ijust can’t seem to get no heart into it.

10DARL (4)

HE has been to town this week: theback of his neck is trimmed, with awhite fine between hair and sunburnlike a joint of white bone. He has notonce looked back.

“Jewel , ” I say. Back runn ing ,tunnelled between the two sets of bobbingmule ears, the road vanishes beneath thewagon as though it were a ribbon and thefront axle were a spool. “Do you knowshe is going to die, Jewel?”

It takes two people to make you,and one people to die. That’s how theworld is going to end.

I said to Dewey Dell: “You wanther to die so you can get to town: isthat it?” She wouldn’t say what weboth knew. “The reason you will notsay it is, when you say it, even toyourself, you will know it is true: isthat it? But you know it is true now. Ican almost tell you the day when youknew it is true. Why won’t you sayit, even to yourself?” She will not sayit. She just keeps on saying Are yougoing to tell pa? Are you going to killhim? “You cannot believe it is truebecause you cannot believe thatDewey Dell, Dewey Dell Bundren,could have such bad luck: is that it?”

The sun, an hour above thehorizon, is poised like a bloody eggupon a crest of thunderheads; the lighthas turned copper: in the eyeportentous, in the nose sulphurous,smelling of lightning. When Peabodycomes, they will have to use the rope.

so, lo reconozco. Pero tengo el corazónen paz: sé que es así. He hecho cosas,pero ni peores ni mejores que los quepretenden otra cosa, y sé que Dios Nues-tro Señor se ocupará de mí como de ungorrión que cae. Pero me parece cruel queun hombre en apuros pueda verse tanperjudicado por un camino.

Vardaman viene rodeando la casa conlas rodillas llenas de sangre como un cer-do, y como si a ese pez de antes lo hubie-ra hecho trozos con un hacha, o a lo me-jor lo tiró por ahí y mentirá que se lo co-mieron los perros. Bueno, para mí que nose puede esperar más de él que de sus her-manos mayores. Se acerca mirando lacasa, callado, y se sienta en los escalones.

—¡Uf —dice—. Estoy muy cansado.

—Vete a lavarte las manos —le digo.Pero no hay mujer como Addie para ha-cer que anden derechos, sean hombres ochicos: lo tengo que confesar.

—Estaba lleno de sangre y de tripascomo un cerdo —dice él. Pero no tengoánimo para nada, y encima con estetiempo que me consume—. Padre —dice—, ¿está madre peor?

—Vete a lavarte las manos —digo yo.Pero no tengo ánimo para nada. [78]

DARL

HA estado esta semana en la ciudad:la nuca rapada, con una línea blanca en-tre el pelo y la piel quemada por el solcomo una articulación de hueso blanco.No ha vuelto la vista ni una vez.

—Jewel —digo yo. Corriendo haciaatrás, entre los dos pares de inquietasorejas de las mulas, el camino desaparecedebajo de la carreta como si fuera una cintay el eje delantero una devanadera—. Jewel,¿sabes que se va a morir?

Se necesitan dos personas para hacer-te, y una persona para morir. Así es comoel mundo se encamina a su fin.

Le dije a Dewey Dell:—Quieres que se muera para así

poder irte a la ciudad, ¿es eso? —Ellano diría lo que los dos sabemos—. Elmotivo por el que no lo dices es que si lodices, aunque sea a ti misma, comprenderásque es verdad, ¿Es eso? Pero sabes que escierto. Casi puedo decirte desde qué díasabes que es cierto. ¿Por qué no te loquieres decir, ni a ti misma? —No loquiere decir. No deja de decir: ¿Se lo vasa contar a padre? ¿Es que lo quieres ma-t a r ?—. No puedes c r ee r que seacierto porque no puedes creer queDewey Dell, Dewey Dell Bundren, pue-da tener tan mala suerte, ¿es eso?

El sol, que lleva una hora sobre elhorizonte, está suspendido como un hue-vo ensangrentado encima de una crestade cúmulos; la luz se ha vuelto cobre:amenazadora para el ojo, sulfurosa parala nariz, huele a relámpago. Cuando lle-gue Peabody, tendrán que usar la soga.

Darl (4)

This section contains Darl’sunspoken thoughts as he andJewel ride off on the wagon. Henotices the way in which the roadappears to run between the earsof the mules, ponders briefly onthe mystery of birth and death,thinks of Dewey Dell and theunspoken secret they share andthen returns to the present. Heregisters that the sun is setting andthen imagines what is happeningback at the farm.

COMMENTARY: By thistime, the reader is aware that Darlis likely to record his environmentin minute detail and also that heis guilty of putting pressure onother members of the family.When he says to Jewel ‘do youknow she is going to die’, Darl istrying to hurt Jewel, to make himaware that he has left his dyingmother behind and that he is notlikely to see her alive again.

Darl’s reflection on the mysteryof birth and death brings DeweyDell to mind, for to him she isequated with birth. His statement,‘it takes two people to make youand one people to die’ is strangebut accurate. Darl’s use of theword ‘people’ instead of personmight be seen as an earlyindication that at the end of thebook he effectively splits intotwo separate people. Hisreactions to the environment are,

Old Marster: (Am. col.) God

et: (Am. col.) eaten

man-growed: (Am. col.) fullygrown, adult

bob 1 : to strike with a quick light blow 2 : to moveup and down in a short quick movement <bob thehead> 3 : to polish with a bob 5 bobsled, bobride a bobsled; «The boys bobbed down the hillscreaming with pleasure» menearse, agitarse,bazucar= menear o revolver una cosa líquida mo-viendo la vasija en que está

1 a : to move up and down briefly or repeatedly <acork bobbed in the water> b : to emerge, arise, orappear suddenly or unexpectedly <the questionbobbed up again> 2 : to nod or curtsy briefly 3 :to try to seize a suspended or floating object withthe teeth <bob for apples>

bob I verbo intransitivo 1 balancearse en el agua:the boats bobbed up and down, los barcos sebalanceaban en el agua 2 cortarse el pelo porencima de los hombros pero cubriendo la nuca IInombre 1 movimiento sobre las olas 2 pelo corto3 Bob, sobrenombre de Robert 4 GB chelín

19


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

He has pussel-gutted himself eatingcold greens. With the rope they willhaul him up the path, baloon-like upthe sulphurous air.

“Jewel,” I say, “do you know thatAddie Bundren is going to die? AddieBundren is going to die?”

11PEABODY (1)

WHEN Anse f inal ly sent forme o f h i s own acco rd , I s a id“He has wore her out at last.” And Isaid a damn good thing and at first Iwould not go because there might besomething I could do and I wouldhave to haul her back, by God. Ithought maybe they have the samesort of fool ethics in heaven theyhave in the Medical College and thatit was maybe Vernon Tull sending forme again, getting me there in the nickof time, as Vernon always doesthings, getting the most for Anse’smoney like he does for his own. Butwhen it got far enough into the dayfor me to read weather sign I knewit couldn’t have been anybody butAnse that sent. I knew that nobodybut a luckless man could ever need adoctor in the face of a cyclone. AndI knew that if it had finally occurredto Anse himself that he needed one,it was already too late.

When I reach the spring and getdown and hitch the team, the sun hasgone down behind a bank of blackcloud like a top-heavy mountainrange, like a load of cinders dumpedover there, and there is no wind. Icould hear Cash sawing for a milebefore I got there. Anse is standing atthe top of the bluff above the path.

“Where’s the horse?” I say.

“Jewel’s taken and gone,” he says.“Can’t nobody else ketch hit. You’llhave to walk up, I reckon.”

“Me, walk up, weighing twohundred and twenty-five pounds?” Isay. “Walk up that durn wall?” Hestands there beside a tree. Too bad theLord made the mistake of giving treesroots and giving the Anse Bundrens Hemakes feet and legs. If He’d justswapped them, there wouldn’t ever bea worry about this country beingdeforested some day. Or any other country.“What do you aim for me to do?” I say.“Stay here and get blowed clean outof the county when that cloudbreaks?” Even with the horse it wouldtake me fifteen minutes to ride upacross the pasture to the top of theridge and reach the house. The pathlooks like a crooked limb blownagainst the bluff. Anse has not beenin town in twelve years. And how hismother ever got up there to bear him,he being his mother’s son.

“Vardaman’s gittin’ the rope,” he says.

Se le ha inflado la tripa de tanto comerverdura. Con la soga tirarán de él sende-ro arriba; ascenderá como un globo porel aire sulfuroso.

—Jewel —digo—, ¿sabes que AddieBundren se va a morir? ¿Que AddieBundren se está muriendo? [79]

PEABODY

CUANDO Anse por fin mandó por mípor su propia voluntad yo me dije: «Alfin ha terminado con ella.» Y dije: «Yaera hora», y al principio no me apetecíair porque a lo mejor era algo que yo po-dría hacer y, Dios mío, tal vez podría re-cuperarla. Pensé que a lo mejor en el cielotienen el mismo tipo de ética idiota queen la Facultad de Medicina y que a lomejor era Vernon Tull el que mandabaotra vez por mí para que llegara en elmomento justo, pues Vernon siemprehace esas cosas, mira más por el dinerode Anse que por el suyo. Pero cuando eldía avanzó lo suficiente para interpretarlas señales que indicaban el tiempo queiba a hacer, comprendí que sólo me po-dría haber llamado Anse. Comprendí quesólo un hombre sin suerte podría necesi-tar un médico cuando estaba a punto deempezar un ciclón. Y comprendí que si aAnse al fin se le había ocurrido que ne-cesitaba un médico es que ya era dema-siado tarde.

Cuando llego al manantial y me apeoy ato las caballerías, el sol se había es-condido detrás de un banco de nubes ne-gras como un macizo de montañas máspesadas por arriba, como una carga deceniza allí vertida; y no hay viento.Oigo serrar a Cash más de un kilóme-tro antes de llegar. Anse está de pie enlo alto del farallón, encima del sendero.

—¿Dónde está el caballo? —digo.

—Jewel lo pilló y se fue —dice—.Nadie más lo puede coger. Para mí queva a tener usted que subir andando.

—¿Andando yo con mis ciento y picokilos de peso? —digo—. ¿Subir andandoa ese maldito despeñadero? —Allí siguede pie junto a un árbol. Una desgracia queel Señor cometiera el error de dar raíces alos árboles y, en cambio, dar a los AnseBundren que hizo pies y piernas. Si hubie-ra hecho al revés, nunca habría que pre-ocuparse de que algún día esta comarcaquedase deforestada. O cualquier otra comar-ca—. ¿Qué intenta que haga? —digo—.¿Que me quede aquí y que el vientome borre de la faz de tierra cuandoestalle esa nube? —Incluso con el ca-ballo me llevaría un cuarto de horasubir por el prado hasta lo alto delrisco y llegar a la casa. El senderoparece una rama retorcida lanzadacontra el despeñadero. Anse hace doceaños que no va a la ciudad. ¿Y cómo selas arreglaría su madre para subir allí aparirle, pues es hijo de su madre?

—Vardaman traerá la cuerda —dice.

as usual, lyrical. The sun islikened to ‘a bloody egg upon thecrest of thunderheads’, a phrasewhich clearly belongs to theunverbalised as opposed to theunspoken level, the words beingtoo long and erudite to belong toDarl’s own vocabulary.

Peabody (1)

This section contains theunspoken thoughts of DoctorPeabody. He seems to know thefamily well and takes a tolerant,even a faintly amused, view oftheir idiosyncrasies. When hereaches Addie’s bedside, Peabodysees at once that she has given upall desire to live. Nevertheless, hedemands why Anse did not sendfor him sooner. He receives nosatisfactory answer and at thatmoment Dewey Dell summonsthem both back to the sickroom.Peabody feel that Addie does notwant him there, and, reflecting onhow strange it is that womenattach themselves to worthlessmen, he prepares to leave.Suddenly, Addie speaks for thefirst time, calling on Cash.

COMMENTARY: Peabody’ssection is very useful to thereader, for it lets him see theBundrens and the backgroundthrough the eye of an intelligent,humorous outsider, someone whois not bound by religious beliefslike the Tulls. He confirms thenotion that Anse is unfortunate,‘nobody but a luckless man couldever need a doctor in the face ofa cyclone’. Peabody also confirmswhat the reader has by now cometo suspect, namely that beingmarried to Anse is not a desirablestate for any woman. Hisreluctance (renuencia) to go outto the farm if there is any chancethat he might save Addie showsthat he feels for Addie’s suffering.Later in the section, in the linesfrom ‘she has been dead these tendays’ to ‘a tenement or a town’,Peabody puts her death into amore general perspective.

The idea that Addie is findingit difficult to make the transitionfrom the state of being alive tothat of being dead ties in withPeabody’s notion that life withAnse must have been a form ofliving death for her. Peabody alsorejects the idea that death is eitheran end or a beginning, preferringto see it simply as the movementof one individual away from hishabitual place. The rest of theworld, the ‘tenement or the town’,continues to function and exist,as does the dead individual, albeitin a different place. This notionis prophetic; after Addie’s deathwe see the continuing evidencethat she has been in the‘tenement’ of the family in themarks she has left on her sons.

Peabody’s section is full ofreflections of equal profundity,

pussel-gutted: (Am. col.) fat,overfed

has wore: (Am. col.) has worn, hasexhausted

fool ethics: (Am. English) foolishmoral codes

ketch hit: : (Am. col.) catch it

gittin’ (Am. col.) getting

20


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

After a while Vardaman appearswith the ploughline. He gives the endof it to Anse and comes down thepath, uncoiling it.

“You hold it tight,” I say. “I donealready wrote this visit on to mybooks, so I’m going to charge you justthe same, whether I get there or not.”

“I got hit,” Anse says. “You kincome on up.”

I’ll be damned if I can see whyI don’t quit. A man seventy yearsold, weighing two hundred andodd pounds, being hauled up anddown a damn mountain on a rope.I reckon it’s because I must reachthe fifty-thousand dollar mark ofdead accounts on my books beforeI can quit. “What the hell does yourwife mean,” I say, “taking sick ontop of a durn mountain?”

“I’m right sorry,” he says. He letthe rope go, just dropped it, and hehas turned toward the house. Thereis a little daylight up here still, of thecolour of sulphur matches . Theboards look like strips of sulphur.Cash does not look back. Vernon Tullsays he brings each board up to thewindow for her to see it and say it isall right. The boy overtakes us. Anselooks back at him. “Where’s therope?” he says.

“It’s where you left it,” I say. “Butnever you mind that rope. I got to getback down that bluff. I don’t aim forthat storm to catch me up here. I’dblow too durn far once I got started.”

The girl is standing by the bed,fanning her. When we enter she turnsher head and looks at us. She has beendead these ten days. I suppose it’shaving been a part of Anse for so longthat she cannot even make thatchange, if change it be. I canremember how when I was young Ibelieved death to be a phenomenonof the body; now I know it to bemerely a function of the mind--andthat of the minds of the ones whosuffer the bereavement. The nihilistssay it is the end; the fundamentalists,the beginning; when in reality it is nomore than a single tenant or familymoving out of a tenement or a town.

She looks at us. Only her eyes seemto move. It’s like they touch us, notwith sight or sense, but like the streamfrom a hose touches you, the streamat the instant of impact as dissociatedfrom the nozzle as though it had neverbeen there. She does not look at Anseat all. She looks at me, then at the boy.Beneath the quilt she is no more thana bundle of rotten sticks.

“Well, Miss Addie,” I say. Thegirl does not stop the fan. “Howare you, sister?” I say. Her headlies gaunt on the pillow, lookingat the boy. “You picked out a fine

Al cabo de un rato aparece Vardamancon la cuerda del arado. Le da un extre-mo a Anse y baja por el sendero,desenrrollándola.

—Agár re l a fue r t e —digo—. Yahe ano tado e s t a v i s i t a en e l l i b ro ,c o n q u e s e l a t e n g o q u e c o b r a r,t an to s i subo como s i no .

—Ya agarro bien —dice Anse—. Pue-de usted subir.

Que el demonio me lleve si entien-do por qué no lo dejo. Que a un hom-bre de setenta años, que pesa ciento ypico kilos, le suban y le bajen por unacondenada montaña con una cuerda...Supongo que es porque debo llegar ala cifra de cincuenta mil dólares decuentas sin cobrar antes de dejarlo. —¿Cómo se le ocurre ponerse mala a tumujer —digo—, ponerse mala en lacima de una maldita montaña?

—Lo siento mucho —dice él. Hasoltado la cuerda, la ha dejado caer,y se ha vuelto hacia la casa. Aquíarriba todavía hay un poco de luz,del color del azufre_____. Los tablo-nes parecen tiras de azufre. Cash nomira hacia atrás. Vernon Tull diceque l leva cada tabla a la ventanapara que las vea ella y diga si estánbien. El chico nos adelantaba. Ansese vuelve a mirarle—. ¿Dónde estála cuerda? —dice.

—Donde usted la dejó —digo—. Pero nose preocupe por esa cuerda. Tendré que vol-ver a bajar por esos riscos. No tengo inten-ción de que esa tormenta me coja aqui arri-ba. Me iba a hacer volar demasiado lejos.

La chica está de pie junto a lacama, abanicándola. Cuando entra-mos vuelve la cabeza y nos mira. Lle-va diez días como muerta. Supongo quecomo ha sido una parte de Anse duran-te tanto tiempo ni siquiera puede hacerese [81] cambio, si eso es un cambio.Recuerdo que cuando yo era jovencreía que la muerte era un fenómenodel cuerpo; ahora sé que es meramen-te una fu n c i ó n d e l a m e n t e . . . y d el a s m e n t e s d e q u i e n e s s u f r e n l ap é r d i d a . Los nihilistas dicen que esel final; los fundamentalistas, que elcomienzo; cuando en realidad no esmás que un inquilino o familia quedeja una casa alquilada o un pueblo.

Nos mira. Sólo sus ojos parecen mo-verse. Es como si nos tocaran, y no comola vista o sentido, sino igual que te tocael chorro de una manguera, un chorro queen el instante del impacto se disociara dela boca de la manguera como si no hu-biera salido de ella. No mira a Anse enabsoluto. Me mira a mí, luego al chico.Debajo de la colcha no es más que unmanojo de palos podridos.

—Bien, Miss Addie —digo. La chi-ca no deja de abanicar—. ¿Cómo vaeso, mujer? —digo. Su cabeza descan-sa demacrada en la almohada y mira alchico—. Valiente tiempecito ha elegido

though of less seriousness and itprovides a useful, ironical viewof the Bundrens. The Doctor isnot simply ironic, however, healso evinces a large measure ofhuman sympathy, feeling concernfor the silent Vardaman and forthe dying Addie. In the end,Peabody makes a remark whichallows the reader to see theBundrens in a new context, ‘Thatdurn little tyke . . . and broodingimage.’ Such things as therepetition of the sound of sawing,the resentment of Jewel by Darl,even the slow indolence of Anse,are seen here against a back-ground of a country where thingsdo move slowly, where everythingseems to continue for longperiods. Isolated on the bluff, theBundrens’ world would appear, inthe light of this remark byPeabody, to be a little worldwhich mirrors the larger worldbeyond in the sense that it is aplace of slow, almost impercepti-ble change.

I done already: (Am. col.) I havealready

kin: (Am. col.) can

bereave deprive of a relation, friend, etc., esp. bydeath.

bereavement n. sorrow, condolencia, pérdida, Luto,duelo, desgracia, aflicción

X

21


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

time to get me out here and bringup a storm.” Then I send Anse andthe boy out. She watches the boyas he leaves the room. She has notmoved save her eyes.

He and Anse are on the porch whenI come out, the boy sitting on thesteps, Anse standing by a post, noteven leaning against it, his armsdangling, the hair pushed and mattedup on his head like a dipper rooster.He turns his head, blinking at me.

“Why didn’t you send for mesooner?” I say.

“Hit was jest one thing and thenanother,” he says. “That ere corn meand the boys was aimin’ to git upwith, and Dewey Dell a-takin’ goodkeer of her, and folks comin’ in,a-offerin’ to help and sich, till I jestthought . . .”

“Damn the money,” I say. “Did youever hear of me worrying a fellowbefore he was ready to pay?”

“Hit ain’t begrudgin’ the money,” hesays. “I jest kept a-thinkin’ . . . . She’sgoin’, is she?” The durn little tyke issitting on the top step, lookingsmaller than ever in thesulphur-coloured light. That’s the onetrouble with this country everything,weather, all, hangs on too long. Likeour rivers, outland: opaque, slow,violent; shaping and creating the lifeof man in its implacable andbrooding image. “I knowed hit,”Anse says. “All the while I made sho.Her mind is sot on hit.”

“And a damn good thing, too,” Isay. “With a trifling——” He sits onthe top step, small, motionless infaded overalls. . When I came outhe looked up at me, then at Anse.But now he has stopped looking atus. He just sits there.

“Have you told her yit?” Anse says.

“What for?” I say. “What thedevil for?”

“Shell know hit. I knowed thatwhen she see you she would know hit,same as writing. You wouldn’t needto tell her. Her mind ——”

Behind us the girl says, “Paw.” Ilook at her, at her face.

“You better go quick,” I say.

When we enter the room she iswatching the door. She looks at me.Her eyes look like lamps blaring upj u s t b e f o r e t h e o i l i s g o n e .“S h e wan t s you to go ou t , ” t heg i r l s a y s .

“Now, Addie,” Anse says, “whenhe come all the way from Jeffersonto git you well?” She watches me: Ican feel her eyes. It’s like she was

usted para hacerme venir hasta aquí y quétormenta nos ha preparado. —Entoncesmando a Anse y al chico fuera. Ella sigueal chico con la mirada cuando éste saledel cuarto. Sólo ha movido los ojos.

El chico y Anse están en el porchecuando salgo; el chico sentado en los es-calones, Anse de pie junto a un poste,pero no apoyado en él, con los brazoscaídos, el pelo revuelto y desgreñadocomo un pollo mojado. Vuelve la cabe-za, mirándome con ojos semicerrados.

—¿Por qué no me mandó a buscarantes? —digo.

— P o r u n a c o s a u o t r a f u i d e -j á n d o l o — d i c e — . E s t a b a e s em a í z q u e t e n í a m o s q u e r e c o g e ry o y l o s c h i c o s , y D e w e y D e l ll a c u i d a b a b i e n , y l a g e n t e v e -n í a , n o s o f r e c í a a y u d a , h a s t aq u e p e n s é . . .

—Maldito dinero —digo—. ¿Ha oídode alguna vez que molestase a un vecinoporque no me pagara?

—No trataba de ahorrar dinero —dice—. Sólo pensaba que... ¿Es quese nos va? —el condenado chico estásentado en el escalón de arriba y pa-rece más pequeño que nunca a laluz color azufre. Ese es el problemacon esta comarca: todo, el tiempo,todo, dura demasiado. Como nuestrosríos, nuestras tierras, opacas, lentas,violentas; modelando y creando lav ida de l hombre a su implacable________ imagen. Lo sabía —diceAnse—. Todo el tiempo estuve seguro.Ella no piensa más que en eso.

—Pues hace muy bien —digo—. Unapizca más y... —está entado en el esca-lón de arriba, pequeño, inmóvil en sumono descolorido. Cuando salí alzó lavista hacia mi, luego hacia Anse. Peroya ha dejado de mirarnos. Se limita a es-tar allí sentado.

—¿Se lo ha dicho ya? —dice Anse.

—¿Para qué? —digo yo—. ¿Para quédemonios?

—Ya lo sabrá. Yo sabía que en cuantole viera a usted, lo sabría igual que siestuviera escrito. No tenía ninguna ne-cesidad de decírselo. Sólo piensa en...

Detrás de nosotros la chica dice:—Padre.La miro, a la cara.—Será mejor que vaya enseguida —digo.

Cuando entramos en el cuarto, estámirando a la puerta. Me mira a mí. Susojos parecen lámparas que chisporroteanjusto antes de que se les termina el aceite.

—Quiere que salga usted —me dicela chica.

—Vamos, vamos, Addie —diceAnse—, si ha venido desde Jerfersonpara que te pongas buena... —ella memira: noto sus ojos. Es como si me es-

dipper (cazo) rooster: (Am.English) like a cockerel which hasbeen soaked with water

hit: (Am. col.) itjest: (Am. col.) just

keer: (Am. col.) care

sich: (Am. col.) such

sot: (Am. col.) set

yit: (Am. col.) yet

hit: (Am. col.) it

matted (of a colour, surface, etc.) dull, withoutlustre. 1 a border of dull gold round a framedpicture. 2 (in full matt paint) paint formulatedto give a dull flat finish (cf. gloss 1). 3 theappearance of unburnished gold.

— v.tr. (matted, matting) 1 make (gilding etc.)dull. 2 frost (glass) (escarchar).

matted 1a tr. (esp. as matted adj.) entangle in athick mass (matted hair). b intr. becomematted. 2 tr. cover or furnish with mats.

matted A adj. 1 matted tangled in a dense mass;“tried to push through the matted undergowth”2 flat, mat, matt, matte, matted not reflectinglight; not glossy; “flat wall paint”; “a photographwith a matte finish”

matted adj. (pelo) enmarañado

X

22


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

shoving at me with them. I have seenit before in women. Seen them drivefrom the room them coming withsympathy and pity, with actual help,and clinging to some trifling animalto whom they never were more thanpack-horses. That’s what they meanby the love that passethunderstanding: that pride, that furiousdesire to hide that abject nakednesswhich we bring here with us, carrywith us into operating rooms, carrystubbornly and furiously with usinto the earth again. I leave theroom. Beyond the porch Cash’s sawsnores steadily into the board. Aminute later she calls his name, hervoice harsh and strong.

“Cash,” she says; “you, Cash!”

12DARL (5)

PA stands beside the bed. Frombehind his leg Vardaman peers,with his round head and his eyesround and his mouth beginning toopen. She looks a t pa; a l l herfailing life appears to drain intoher eyes, urgent , i rremediable.“It’s Jewel she wants ,” DeweyDell says.

“Why, Addie,” pa says, “him andDarl went to make one more load.They thought there was time. Thatyou would wait for them, and thatthree dollars and all . . .” He stoops,laying his hand on hers. For a whileyet she looks at him, withoutreproach, without anything at all, asif her eyes alone are listening to theirrevocable cessation of his voice.Then she raises herself, who has notmoved in ten days. Dewey Dell leansdown, trying to press her back.

“Ma,” she says, “ma.”

She is looking out the window, atCash stooping steadily at the boardin the failing light, labouring ontoward darkness and into it as thoughthe stroking of the saw illumined itsown motion, board and sawengendered.

“You, Cash,” she shouts, her voiceharsh, strong, and unimpaired. “You,Cash!”

He looks up at the gaunt face framedby the window in the twilight. It is acomposite picture of all time since hewas a child. He drops the saw and liftsthe board for her to see, watching thewindow in which the face has notmoved. He drags a second plank intoposition and slants the two of them intotheir final juxtaposition, gesturingtoward the ones yet on the ground,shaping with his empty hand inpantomime the finished box. For a whilestill she looks down at him from thecomposite picture, neither with censure norapprobation. Then the face disappears.

tuviera barriendo de allí con ellos. Yalo he visto antes en las mujeres. Las hevisto echar del cuarto a las que vienencon simpatia y piedad, con ayuda efec-tiva, y aferrarse a un insignificanteanimal para el que nunca fueron másque bestias de carga. Eso es lo que paraellas significa amar por encima de todo:orgullo, ese furioso deseo de esconderesa abyecta desnudez que traemos connosotros, que arrastramos hasta la salade operaciones , que terca yfuriosamente arrastramos de nuevo connosotros a la tierra. Salgo del cuarto.Más allá del porche la sierra de Cashronca con fuerza en la tabla. Un minu-to después, ella dice su nombre, con vozáspera y enérgica.

—Cash —dice—. Oye, Cash. [83]

___DARL

PADRE está de pie al lado de la cama.Desde detrás de su pierna Vardaman atis-ba, con su cabeza redonda y sus ojos re-dondos y la boca que se le empieza aabrir. Ella mira a padre; toda su desfalle-ciente vida parece derramársele por losojos, urgente, irremediablemente.

—Es a Jewel a quien quiere —diceDewey Dell.

—Oye, Addie —dice padre—, él yDarl fueron a traer una carga más. Pen-saron que había tiempo. Que los espe-rarías; y esos tres dólares, además...—se agacha descansando su mano enlas de ella. Durante un rato ella toda-vía le mira, sin reproche alguno, sinniguno en absoluto, como si sólo susojos esperasen el irrevocable cese dela voz de padre. Luego se incorpora,aunque lleva diez días sin moverse.Dewey Dell se inclina, tratando deobligarla a tumbarse de nuevo.

—Madre —le dice—; madre.

Está mirando afuera por la ventana; aCash inclinado continuamente sobre latabla a la luz del anochecer, trabajandohacia la oscuridad y dentro de ella comosi el sonido de la sierra iluminase su pro-pio movimiento, engendrase tabla y sie-rra.

—Oye, Cash —grita ella; su voz esáspera, enérgica, e inalterable—. ¡Oye,Cash!

Cash levanta la vista hacia la cara de-macrada que enmarca la ventana en elcrepúsculo. Es el mismo cuadro de todaslas veces desde que era niño. Deja la sie-rra y levanta la tabla para que ella vea,mirando hacia la ventana en la que el ros-tro no se ha movido. Alza con esfuerzoun segundo tablón y pone a los dos en suunión definitiva, señalando a los que to-davía están en el suelo e imitando con lamano que tiene libre la forma de la cajacuando esté terminada. Durante un ratoella todavía le mira desde su cuadro dela ventana, sin censura, ni aprobación.Luego la cara desaparece.

Darl (5)

In this section, Darlimaginatively reconstructs thescene around his mother’s death-bed. He becomes so preoccupiedwith his imaginings that hescarcely seems to notice either thewagon on which he is travellingor his companion, Jewel.

COMMENTARY: It istempting to think that Darlintuitively knows when hismother dies, but it is quite likelythat he would imagine the scenearound her death-bed in precisedetail without knowing that she isin fact dead. It is easy for him toimagine the reactions of hisfamily to her death as extensionsof their habitual patterns ofbehaviour. The whole scene as heimagines it is convincing becauseit is based on his observations ofhis family and on their predictablereactions and customary attitudes.

One observation in thissection, ‘He (Cash) looks up atthe gaunt face framed by thewindow in the twilight. It is acomposite picture of all time sincehe was a child’, stresses thepredictability of experience whichmarks the lives of the Bundrens.It also echoes the significantstatement by Peabody about‘things hanging on in this land’.

ABJECT, - Qui inspire l'aversion, le dégoût, la répulsion;qui attire le mépris, l'opprobre.“

Abject adj.1 miserable, wretched. 2 degraded, self-abas-ing, humble. 3 despicable. Miserable, bestial, vil.

Abjecto 1. adj. Despreciable, vil en extremo. 2. desus.Humillado, abatido. Acobardado

X

23


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

She lies back and turns her headwithout so much as glancing at pa.She looks at Vardaman; her eyes, thelife in them, rushing suddenly uponthem; the two flames glare up for asteady instant. Then they go out asthough someone had leaned down andblown upon them.

“ M a , ” D e w e y D e l l s a y s ;“ma!” Leaning above the bed,her hands lifted a little, the fanstiff moving like it has for tendays , she begins to keen . Herv o i c e i s s t r o n g , y o u n g ,tremulous and clear, rapt with itsown timbre and volume, the fan stillmoving steadily up and down,whispering the useless air. Then sheflings herself across Addie Bundren’sknees, clutching her, shaking her withthe furious strength of the youngbefore sprawling suddenly across thehandful of rotten bones that AddieBundren left, jarring the whole bedinto a chattering sibilance of mattressshucks, her arms outflung and the fanin one hand still beating with expiringbreath into the quilt.

From behind pa’s leg Vardamanpeers, his mouth full open and all colourdraining from his face into his mouth,as though he has by some meansfleshed his own teeth in himself,sucking. He begins to move slowlybackward from the bed, his eyes round,his pale face fading into the dusk like apiece of paper pasted on a failing wall,and so out of the door.

Pa leans above the bed in thetwilight, his humped silhouettepartaking of that owl-like quality ofawryfeathered, disgruntled outragewithin which lurks a wisdom tooprofound or too inert for eventhought.

“Durn them boys,” he says.

Jewel, I say. Overhead the daydrives level and grey, hiding the sunby a flight of grey spears. In therain the mules smoke a l i t t le ,splashed yellow with mud, the offone clinging in sliding lunges to theside of the road above the ditch.The t i l t ed lamber g leams dul lyellow, water-soaked and heavy aslead, tilted at a steep angle into thedi tch above the broken wheel;about the shattered spokes andabout Jewel’s ankles a runnel ofyellow neither water nor earth swirls,curving with the yellow road neither ofearth nor water, down the hill dissolvinginto a streaming mass of dark greenneither of earth nor sky. Jewel, I say.

Cash comes to the door, carryingthe saw. Pa stands beside the bed,humped, his arms dangling. He turnshis head, his shabby profile, his chincollapsing slowly as he works thesnuff against his gums.

“She’s gone,” Cash says.

Se vuelve a tumbar y gira la ca-beza sin siquiera mirar a [84] padre.Mira a Vardaman; sus ojos, la vidaen ellos, regresa a toda prisa; lasdos l lamas chisporrotean duranteun intenso instante. Luego se apa-gan como si alguien se hubiera aga-chado y soplado.

—Madre, ¡madre! —dice Dewey Dell,e inclinándose sobre la cama, con lasmanos un poco levantadas, moviendo to-davía el abanico como viene haciendodesde hace diez días, empieza a proferirlamentos. Su voz es sonora, juvenil, tré-mula y clara, arrobada en su propio tim-bre y volumen, mientras el abanico toda-vía se mueve enérgicamente arriba y aba-jo, haciendo susurrar al aire ya inútil.Luego se echa sobre las rodillas de AddieBundren, la agarra, la sacude con la fu-riosa energía de los jóvenes antes de des-parramarse de repente entre el manojo dehuesos carcomidos que dejó AddieBundren, haciendo crujir toda la camacon el seco chirrido de las hojas del jer-gón; sus brazos están extendidos y elabanico todavía se mueve en una de susmanos como sin aliento sobre la colcha.

Desde detrás de la pierna de padre atis-ba Vardaman, boquiabierto y con todo elcolor de la cara asomándosele a la boca,como si de alguna manera se hubiera cla-vado los dientes en su propia carne, chu-pando. Se aparta poco a poco de la cama,redondos los ojos, pálida la cara que sedesvanece en las sombras como un trozode papel pegado a una pared que se cae, yasí sale por la puerta.

Padre inclina sobre la cama en el cre-púsculo su silueta encorvada que com-parte esa cualidad propia de la lechuzade plumas ahuecadas ofendida, que es-conde dentro una sabiduría demasiadoprofunda o demasiado inerte para poderser comprendida.

—¡Condenados chicos! —dice.

Jewel, digo yo. El día pasa liso y grispor encima, ocultando el sol con un vue-lo de lanzas grises. Bajo la lluvia lasmulas humean un poco, salpicadas delamarillo del barro, la de la derecha seagarra con arremetidas deslizantes alborde del camino, sobre la cuneta.La leña inclinada brilla amarillo apa-gado, empapada de agua y pesada comoplomo, volcada en un ángulo empinadoen la cuneta encima de la rueda rota;entre los radios rotos y entre los to-billos de Jewel corre un arroyo ama-r i l lento , n i de agua ni de t ierra ,____ ___________ ________ ____ _____ _____ cerro abajo, disolviéndose enuna [85] masa que fluye verde oscuro,ni de tierra ni de cielo. Jewel, digo.

Cash aparece en la puerta, trae la sie-rra. Padre está de pie al lado de la cama,encorvado; le cuelgan los brazos. Vuel-ve la cabeza y muestra su perfil ajado, subarbilla que se hunde poco a poco mien-tras aprieta el rapé contra las encías.

—Se nos ha ido —dice Cash.

X

24


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“She taken and left us,” pa says.Cash does not look at him. “How nighare you done?” pa says. Cash does notanswer. He enters, carrying the saw.“I reckon you better get at it,” pa says.“You’ll have to do the best you can,with them boys gone off that-a-way.”Cash looks down at her face. He isnot listening to pa at all. He does notapproach the bed. He stops in themiddle of the floor, the saw againsthis leg, his sweating arms powderedlightly with sawdust, his facecomposed. “If you get in a tight,maybe some of them’ll get hereto-morrow and help you,” pa says.“Vernon could.” Cash is not listening.He is looking down at her peaceful,rigid face fading into the dusk asthough darkness were a precursor ofthe ultimate earth, until at last the faceseems to float detached upon it,lightly as the reflection of a dead leaf.“There is Christians enough to helpyou,” pa says. Cash is not listening.After a while he turns without lookingat pa and leaves the room. Then thesaw begins to snore again. “They willhelp us in our sorrow,” pa says.

The sound of the saw is steady,competent, unhurried, stirring thedying light so that at each stroke herface seems to wake a little into anexpression of listening and of waiting,as though she were counting thestrokes. Pa looks down at the face, atthe black sprawl of Dewey Dell’s hair,the outflung arms, the clutched fannow motionless on the fading quilt. “Ir e c k o n y o u b e t t e r g e t s u p p e ron,” he says.

Dewey Dell does not move.

“Git up, now, and put supper on,”pa says. “We got to keep our strengthup. I reckon Doctor Peabody’s righthungry, coming all this way. AndCash’ll need to eat quick and get backto work so he can finish it in time.”

Dewey Dell rises, heaving to herfeet. She looks down at the face. Itis like a casting of fading bronzeupon the pillow, the hands alonestill with any semblance of life: acurled, gnarled inertness; a spentye t a le r t qua l i ty f rom whichweariness, exhaustion, travail hasnot yet departed, as though theydoubted even yet the actuality ofrest , guarding with horned andpenurious alertness the cessationwhich they know cannot last.

Dewey Dell stoops and slides thequilt from beneath them and draws itup over them to the chin, smoothingit down, drawing it smooth. Thenwithout looking at pa she goes aroundthe bed and leaves the room.

She will go out where Peabody is,where she can stand in the twilightand look at his back with such anexpression that, feeling her eyes and

—Se ha ido y nos deja —dice padre.Cash no le mira. ¿Cuánto te falta? —dice padre. Cash no responde. Entra, conla sierra—. Para mí que es mejor quesigas con eso —dice padre—. Tienesque hacerla lo mejor que puedas, mien-tras los chicos estén de camino —Cashbaja la vista hacia la cara de madre. Noescucha en absoluto a padre. No se acer-ca a la cama. Se detiene en medio delcuarto, con la sierra junto a la pierna,los brazos sudorosos ligeramente espol-voreados de serrín, el rostro tranquilo—. Si andas corto de tiempo, a lo mejormañana viene alguien a ayudarte —dicepadre—. Puede que Vernon —Cash noescucha. Está mirando el rostro pacífi-co y rígido de madre que se desvaneceen el crepúsculo como si la oscuridadfuera precursora de la tierra primordial,hasta que por fin el rostro parece flotardesprendido por encima de ella, levecomo el reflejo de una hoja seca—. Que-dan suficientes cristianos que te ayuden—dice padre. Cash no escucha. Al cabode un rato se vuelve sin mirar a padre ysale del cuarto. Luego la sierra empiezaa roncar de nuevo—. Nos ayudarán ennuestra desgracia —dice padre.

El sonido de la sierra es seguro, com-petente, reposado, y remueve la mori-bunda claridad de modo que a cada gol-pe parece despertar en el rostro de ma-dre una expresión de atención y espera,como si estuviera contando los golpes.Padre baja la vista a su rostro, al pelonegro y lacio de Dewey Dell, a sus bra-zos extendidos, al abanico cerrado e in-móvil de encima de la colcha borrosa.

—Para mí que es hora de que preparesla cena —dice él.

Dewey Dell no se mueve.

—Venga, vete a preparar la cena —dice padre—. Tenemos que recobrar fuer-zas. Para mí que el doctor Peabody tienehambre, después de la caminata. Y Cashtiene [86] que comer rápido para volveral trabajo y terminarlo a tiempo.

Dewey Dell se levanta apoyándose enlos pies. Baja la vista hacia el rostro. Estees como un molde de bronce que se desva-nece encima de la almohada; sólo las ma-nos conservan algo parecido a la vida: unainercia retorcida, nudosa; una cierta cuali-dad consumida, aunque todavía alerta, dela que todavía no sé han ausentado el can-sancio ni el agotamiento, ni el trabajo,como si todavía dudasen de la realidad delreposo, manteniendo con encorvaday avara vigilancia el cese de lo quesaben que no puede durar.

Dewey Dell se agacha y le quita lacolcha de debajo de las manos y estiraaquélla sobre éstas, hasta la barbilla,alisándola, estirándola con suvaidad.Luego, sin mirar a padre, rodea lacama y sale del cuarto.

Irá has ta donde es tá Peabody,donde pueda permanecer en penum-bra y mirarle la espalda con tal ex-presión que él, al notar sus ojos y

actual (En) real, verdadera, efectivo, concreto, au-téntico, mismo [very],

actual (Sp) 1. adj. presente, en el mismo momen-to. 2. Que existe, sucede o se usa en el tiempode que se habla. Reciente, reinante, palpitante

actuality n. (pl. -ies) 1 reality; what is the case[constatación, implementación]. 2 (in pl.)existing conditions.

25


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

turning, he will say; I would not let itgrieve me, now. She was old, and sicktoo. Suffering more than we knew. Shecouldn’t have got well. Vardaman’sgetting big now, and with you to takegood care of them all. I would try notto let it grieve me. I expect you’dbetter go and get come supper ready.It don’t have to be much. But they’llneed to eat, and she looking at him,saying You could do so much for meif you just would. If you just knew. Iam I and you are you and I know itand you don’t know it and you coulddo so much for me f you just wouldand if you just would then I could tellyou and then nobody would have to itexcept you and me and Darl.

Pa stands over the bed,dangle-armed, humped, motionless.He raises his hand to his head,scouring his hair, listening to the saw.He comes nearer and rubs his hand,palco and back, on his thigh and laysit on her face and then on the humpof quilt where her hands are. Hetouches the quilt as he saw DeweyDell do, trying to smoothe it up to thechip, but disarranging it instead. Hetries to smoothe it again, clumsily,his hand awkward as a claw,smoothing at the wrinkles which hemude and which continue to emergebeneath his hand with perverseubiquity, so that at last he desists, hishand falling to his side and strokingitself again, palm and back, on histhigh. The sound of the saw snoressteadily into the room. Pa breatheswith a quiet , rasping sound,mouthing the snuff against his gums.“God’s will be done,” he says. “NowI can get them teeth.”

Jewel’s hat droops limp abouthis neck, channell ing water ont o t h e s o a k e d t o w- s a c k t i e da b o u t h i s s h o u l d e r s a s ,ankle-deep in the running ditch,h e p r i e s w i t h a s l i p p i n gt w o - b y - f o u r, w i t h a p i e c e o frott ing log for fulcrum , at theaxle. Jewel, I say, she is dead,Jewel. Addie Bundren is dead.

13VARDAMAN (1)

THEN I begin to run . I runtoward the back and come to theedge of the porch and stop. Then Ibegin to cry. I can feel where thefish was in the dust. It is cut up intopieces of not-fish now, not-bloodon my hands and overalls. Then itwasn’t so. It hadn’t happened then.And now she is getting so far aheadI cannot catch her.

The trees look like chickens whenthey ruffle out into the cool dust onthe hot days. If I jump off the porch Iwill be where the fish was, and it allcut up into not-fish now. I can hearthe bed and her face and them and Ican feel the floor shake when hewalks on it that came and did it. That

volverse, dirá: Yo no me apenaríatanto. Era vieja, y además estaba en-ferma. Sufría más de lo que nos ima-g inamos . Nunca podr ía curarse .Vardaman ya es bastante mayor, y túpuedes ocuparte de todos. Yo trataríade no apenarme tanto. Creo que es me-jor que vayas a preparar algo de cenar.No importa que no sea mucho. Pero ne-cesitan comer, y ella con la mirada de-cía: Usted podría hacer mucho por mísólo con quererlo. Si usted lo supiera.Yo soy yo y usted es usted y yo lo sé yusted no lo sabe y usted podría hacermucho por mí con sólo quererlo y siusted quisiera entonces yo se lo diríay entonces nadie tendría que saberloa no ser usted y yo y Darl

Padre está de pie junto a la cama, losbrazos caídos, encorvado, inmóvil. Selleva la mano a la cabeza, rascándose elpelo, escuchando la sierra. Se acercamás y se restriega la mano, palma y dor-so, en el muslo y la deja descansar en lacara de madre y luego en el bulto de lacolcha donde están sus manos. Tocal a c o l c h a c o m o v i o q u e h a c í aDewey Del l , t ra tando de a l i sa r lahasta la barbil la , pero la desarre-g l a . I n t e n t a a l i s a r l a d e n u e v o ,desmañadamente , con mano torpecomo una garra, alisando las arrugasque h izo é l y que con t inúanemergiendo bajo su mano con perversaubicuidad, conque al final desiste, dejacaer la mano a un lado y se la restrie-ga otra vez, palma y dorso, en el mus-lo. [87] El sonido de la sierra roncaconstante dentro del cuarto. Padre res-pira con un sonido tranquilo, rasposo,mascando el tabaco entre las encías.

—Que sea lo que Dios quiera —dice—. Ahora podré conseguir la dentadura.

A Jewel le cuelga el sombrero flácci-do hasta el cuello, canalizando el aguahacia el empapado saco de arpillera ata-do en torno a sus hombros mientras, conel agua que corre por la cuneta hasta lostobillos, hace palanca en el eje con unrebaladizo tronco, usando un trozo demadero podrido como punto de apoyo.Jewel, digo yo, madre ha muerto, Jewel.Addie Bundren está muerta

VARDAMAN

ENTONCES empiezo a correr. Corrohacia la parte de atrás y llego al bordedel porche y me paro. Entonces me pon-go a llorar. Noto dónde estuvo el pez, enel polvo. Ahora está cortado en pedazosy ya no es pez, y no tengo sangre en lasmanos ni en el mono. Entonces no eraasí. Eso entonces no había pasado. Y aho-ra madre me ha tomado tanta delanteraque no la puedo alcanzar.

Los árboles parecen pollos cuandose revuelcan en el polvo fresco los díasde calor. Si saltara del porche estaríadonde estuvo el pez que ahora está cor-tado en pedazos y ya no es pez. Distin-go el sonido, el de la cama, y veo sucara y las de ellos y noto que el suelohace ruido cuando él entró y lo hizo.

Vardaman (1)

This section consists of theunspoken thoughts of theyoungest of Addie’s children ashe strives to come to grips withthe idea that she is dead. He runsfrom the house and sees the spotwhere Vernon Tull saw him dropthe dead fish. He thinks that thefish, which he has cut up, is now‘not-fish’, a childish way ofdescribing death.

COMMENTARY: Vardamanhas not so far contributed to thebook but has been glimpsed inother sections as ‘a poor littletyke’. Here, Faulkner brilliantlyportrays the unreasoning violenceof the child who is suffering a

ruffle— v. arrugar, agitar, rizar, despeinar encrespar, eri-

zar, descomponer, perturbar, ofender, alisar1tr. disturb the smoothness or tranquillity of.2tr. upset the calmness of (a person).3tr. gather (lace etc.) into a ruffle.4tr. (often foll. by up) (of a bird) erect (its feathers) in

anger, display, etc.5intr. undergo ruffling.6intr. lose smoothness or calmness.— n. arruga, volante fruncido, rizo1 an ornamental gathered or goffered frill of lace etc.

worn at the opening of a garment esp. round thewrist, breast, or neck. ruffled skirt=falda devolantes;(o pechera o manga de volantes)

2 perturbation, bustle.3 a rippling effect on water.4 the ruff of a bird etc. (see ruff 1 2).5Mil. a vibrating drum-beat.

fulcro punto de apoyo de la palanca.

perverse 1 perverso, malvado, depravado 2 obstinado, terco, caprichoso,

contumaz, adverso, contrario

X

26


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

came and did it when she was all rightbut he came and did it.

“The fat son of a bitch.”

I jump from the porch, running.The top of the barn comes swoopingup out of the twilight. If I jump I cango through it like the pink lady in thecircus, into the warm smelling,without having to wait. My handsgrab at the bushes; beneath my feetthe rocks and dirt go rubbling down.

Then I can breathe again, in thewarm smelling. I enter the stall, tryingto touch him, and then I can cry thenI vomit the crying. As soon as he getsthrough kicking I can and then I cancry, the crying can.

“He kilt her. He kilt her.”

The life in him runs under the skin,under my hand, running through thesplotches, smelling up into my nosewhere the sickness is beginning tocry, vomiting the crying, and then Ican breathe, vomiting it. It makes alot of noise. I can smell the liferunning up from under my hands, upmy arms, and then I can leave thestall.

I cannot find it . In the dark,along the dust, the walls I cannotfind it. The crying makes a lot ofnoise. I wish it wouldn’t make somuch noise. Then I find it in thewagon-shed, in the dust, and I runacross the lot and into the road,t h e s t i c k j o u n c i n g o n m yshoulder.

They watch me as I run up,beginning to jerk back, their eyesrolling, snorting, jerking back on thehitch rein. I strike. I can hear the stickstriking; I can see it hitting theirheads, the breastyoke, missingaltogether sometimes as they rear andplunge, but I am glad.

“You kilt my maw!”

The stick breaks, they rearing andsnorting, their feet popping loud onthe ground; loud because it is goingto rain and the air is empty for therain. But it is still long enough. I runthis way and that as they rear and jerkat the hitch-rein, striking.

“You kilt her!

I strike at them, striking, they wheelingin a long lunge, the buggy wheeling onto two wheels and motionless like itis nailed to the ground and the horsesmotionless like they are nailed by thehind feet to the centre of awhirling-plate.

I run in the dust. I cannot see,running in the sucking dust where thebuggy vanishes tilted on two wheels.I strike, the stick hitting into theground, bouncing, striking into the

Que entró y lo hizo cuando ella estababuena. Entró y lo hizo.

—Ese hijo de la gran puta.

Salto de porche y corro. La partede arriba del granero cae como un avesurgiendo del crepúsculo. Si doy unsalto puedo atravesarlo como la seño-ra de rosa del circo y llegar al olorcálido sin tener que esperar. Me aga-rro al matorral; bajo mis pies, piedrasy barro se desprenden hacia abajo.

Luego puedo volver a respirar en elolor caliente. Entro [88] en la cuadra, tra-to de tocarle, y luego ya puedo llorar;luego vomito los lloros. Puedo en cuan-to deja de soltar coces, y luego puedo llo-rar, puedo soltar los lloros.

—La mató él. La mató él.

L a v i d a l e c o r r e d e b a j o d e l ap i e l b a j o m i m a n o , l e c o r r e p o rl a s manchas ; me echa olor a la na-riz donde el mareo está empezandoa llorar, a vomitar los lloros, y lue-go puedo respirar, vomitarlos. Hacemucho ruido. Huelo la vida corrién-dome debajo de las manos, por lasmanos arriba, y luego ya puedo irmede la cuadra.

No lo consigo encontrar. Ni en lo os-curo, ni en el polvo, ni en las paredes loconsigo encontar. Los lloros hacen mu-cho ruido. Quisiera que no hicieran tan-to ruido. Luego lo encuentro en el cober-tizo de la carreta, en el polvo, y echo acorrer por el descampado y llego al ca-mino con el palo dándome saltos en elhombro.

Me miran mientras corro cuesta arri-ba, empiezan a dar tirones, reculando; aabrir mucho los ojos, a resoplar, dandotirones de la riendas. Pego. Oigo cómopega el palo. Veo cómo les pega en lacabeza, en las colleras, y aunque no lesalcanza cuando se encabritan ycorcovean, estoy contento.

—¡Vosotros matasteis a mi madre!

El palo se rompe, ellos se encabritany resoplan, sus cascos _______ fuerte enel suelo; fuerte porque va a llover y elaire tiene ganas de lluvia. Pero todavíafalta mucho. Corro de aquí para allámientras se encabritan y dan tirones delas riendas, pegándoles.

—¡Vosotros la matasteis!

Les pego, les pego; ellos giran de unaembestida, la calesa gira sobre dos rue-das y sigue sin moverse como si estu-viera clavada al suelo y los caballos si-guen sin moverse como si estuvieranclavados por las patas traseras en el cen-tro de una plancha que gira.

Corro por el polvo. No veo al co-rrer por el polvo que se levanta hastadonde la calesa desaparece basculan-do sobre dos ruedas. Pego, el palo pegaal suelo, rebota, pegando en el polvo

shock it cannot understand.Vardaman runs about, finding lifein Jewel’s horse, rememberingdeath in relation to the fish andstriking out at the world in gene-ral, especially Peabody. Thedifficulties Vardaman will have ingetting the idea of death intoperspective are underlined whenwe realise that he is still not quitesure of his own status in theworld; he feels that the sound ofcrying is separate from himself,‘the crying makes a lot of noise’,and wonders what gives the horsean existence separate from hisown, ‘an is different from my is’.It is part of Faulkner’s strategythat the family, being isolated andof necessity close-knit, shouldshare certain personalitycharacteristics among itsmembers. For example, Darl andVardaman share the sameuneasiness about their ownexistences and both tend to recordexperiences as though they, asrecorders, were no part of thoseexperiences.

kilt: (Am. col.) killed

kilt: (Am. col.) killed

jounce bump, bounce, jolt, bounce up anddown repeatedly, traquetear, oscilar

X

X

27


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

dust and then into the air again andthe dust sucking on down the roadfaster than if a car was in it. And thenI can cry, looking at the stick. It isbroken down to my hand, not longerthan stove wood that was a long stick.I throw it away and I can cry. It doesnot make so much noise now.

The cow is standing in the barndoor, chewing. When she sees mecome into the lot she lows, her mouthfull of flopping green, her tongueflopping.

“I ain’t a-goin’ to milk you. I ain’ta-goin’ to do nothing for them.”

I hear her turn when I pass. WhenI turn she is just behind me with hersweet, hot, hard breath.

“Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t?”

She nudges me, snuffing. She moansdeep inside, her mouth closed. I jerkmy hand, cursing her like Jewel does.

“Git, now.”

I stoop my hand to the ground andrun at her. She jumps back and whirlsaway and stops, watching me. Shemoans. She goes on to the path andstands there, looking up the path.

It is dark in the barn, warm,smelling, silent. I can cry quietly,watching the top of the hill.

Cash comes to the hill, limpingwhere he fell off of the church. Helooks down at the spring, then up theroad and back toward the barn. Hecomes down the path stiffly and looksat the broken hitchrein and at the dustin the road and then up the road,where the dust is gone.

“I hope they’ve got clean pastTull’s by now. I so hope hit.”

Cash turns and limps up the path.

“ D u r n h i m . I s h o w e d h i m .Durn him.”

I am not crying now. I am notanything. Dewey Dell comes to thehill and calls me. “Vardaman.” I amnot anything. I am quiet. “You,Vardaman.” I can cry quiet now,feeling and hearing my tears.

“Then hit want. Hit hadn’thappened then. Hit was a-layin’ rightthere on the ground. And now she’sgittin’ ready to cook hit.”

I t is dark. I can hear wood,silence: I know them. But not livingsounds, not even him. It is as thoughthe dark were resolving him out ofhis integri ty, into an unrelatedscattering of components-snuffingsand stampings; smells of coolingflesh and ammoniac hair; an illusionof a coordinated whole of splotched

y luego de nuevo al aire y el polvo quese levanta se va camino abajo más deprisa que si fuera un carro. Y [89] en-tonces lloro mirando al palo. Está rotopoco más abajo de mi mano y no esmás largo que una astilla lo que fueun palo largo. Lo tiro por ahí y lloro.Ahora ya no hace tanto ruido.

La vaca está asomada a la puerta delgranero, rumia. Cuando me ve llegarpor el descampado muge con la bocallena de baba verdosa y la lenguababeando.

—No te voy a ordeñar. No voy a ha-cer nada por ellos.

La oigo volverse cuando paso. Cuan-do me vuelvo está justo detrás de mí consu dulce, caliente, acre ____.

—¿No te dije que no lo haría?

Me empuja, olfateando. Se queja muyadentro, con la boca cerrada. Muevo lamano, amenazándola como hace Jewel.

—Vete.

Dejo caer la mano al suelo y co-rro hacia ella. Da un salto atrás y segira y se para, sin perderme de vis-ta. Muge. Se va al sendero y se que-da allí, mirando sendero arriba.

Está oscuro dentro del establo, calien-te, oloroso, callado. Lloro tranquilamentemirando a lo más alto del cerro.

Cash l l ega a l ce r ro , co jea pordonde se h izo daño a l caer de laiglesia . Mira abajo, a l manantial ,luego arriba, al camino, y atrás, ha-cia el granero. Baja el sendero muytieso y mira las riendas rotas y elpolvo del camino y luego el caminopor donde se marchó el polvo.

—Espero que ya habrán dejado bienatrás casa de Tull. Eso espero.

Cash se vuelve y cojea sendero arriba.

—El condenado. Lo he visto. Elcondenado.

Ya n o l l o r o . N o h a g o n a d a .Dewey De l l l l ega a l c e r ro y mel l a m a . «Va r d a m a n . » N o h a g on a d a . E s t o y c a l l a d o . «O y e ,Vardaman .» Ahora l l o ro en s i l en -c io , no to y o igo mi s l ág r imas .

— E n t o n c e s n o h a b í a p a s a -d o . E n t o n c e s e s t a b a a h í m i s -m o , e n e l s u e l o . Y a h o r a l op r e p a r a p a r a c o c i n a r l o .

Está oscuro. Oigo el bosque, el silen-cio: los conozco bien. Pero ningún soni-do vivo; ni siquiera a él. Era como [90]si la oscuridad lo sacara de su integridadconvirtiéndose en una dispersión inco-nexa de elementos: mucosidades y pa-taleos; olor de carne tibia y pelo apes-tando a amoniaco; una ilusión de un con-junto coordinado de piel con manchas y

I ain’t a-goin’ to: (Am. col.) I amnot going to

X

maloliente

28


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

hide and strong bones within which,detached and secret and familiar, anis different from my is. I see himdissolve—legs, a rolling eye, agaudy splotching like cold flames—and float upon the dark in fadingsolution; all one yet neither; all eitheryet none. I can see hearing coiltoward him, caressing, shaping hishard shape—fetlock, hip, shoulderand head; smell and sound. I am notafraid.

“Cooked and et. Cooked and et.”

14DEWEY DELL (2)

HE could do so much for me ifh e j u s t w o u l d . H e c o u l d d oe v e r y t h i n g f o r m e . I t ’ s l i k eeverything in the world for me isinside a tub full of guts , so thatyou wonder how there can be anyroom in it for anything else veryimportant. He is a big tub of gutsand I am a little tub of guts andi f t h e r e i s n o t a n y r o o m f o ranything else important in a bigtub of guts, how can it be roomin a little tub of guts. But I knowi t i s t h e r e b e c a u s e G o d g a v ewomen a sign when somethinghas happened bad.

It’s because I am alone. If I couldjust feel it, it would be different,because I would not be alone. But if Iwere not alone, everybody wouldknow it. And he could do so muchfor me, and then I would not be alone.Then I could be all right alone.

I would let him come in betweenme and Lafe, like Darl came inbetween me and Lafe, and so Lafe isalone too. He is Lafe and I am DeweyDell, and when mother died I had togo beyond and outside of me and Lafeand Darl to grieve because he coulddo so much for me and he don’t knowit. He don’t even know it.

From the back porch I cannot seethe barn. Then the sound of Cash’ssawing comes in from that way. It islike a dog outside the house, goingback and forth around the house towhatever door you come to, waitingto come in. He said I worry more thanyou do and I said You don’t knowwhat worry is so I can’t worry. I tryto but I can’t think long enough toworry.

I light the kitchen lamp. Thef i s h , c u t i n t o j a g g e d p i e c e s ,bleeds quietly in the pan. I put itinto the cupboard quick, listeninginto the hall, hearing. It took herten days to die; maybe she don’tknow it is yet. Maybe she won’tgo unt i l Cash. Or maybe unt i lJewel. I take the dish of greensf r o m t h e c u p b o a r d a n d t h ebread-pan from the cold stove ,and I stop, watching the door.

huesos poderosos dentro de la cual, dis-perso y secreto y familiar, hay un ser di-ferente de mi ser. Le veo disolverse—laspatas, un ojo muy abierto, manchas ale-gres como llamas frías— y flotar en laoscuridad en solución que se desvanece;todo uno y sin embargo ninguno; todoslos dos pero ninguno. Veo con el oído quese enrosca hacia él, le acaricia, le da suforma definitiva: cernejas, lomo,brazuelo y cabeza; olor y sonido. No es-toy asustado.

—Guisado y comido. Guisado y comido.

DEWEY DELL

PODRÍA hacer tanto por mí sólo conquererlo. Sí, podría hacer cualquier cosapor mí. Es como si para mí todo lo quehay en el mundo estuviera metido en untonel lleno de tripas, de modo que unose maravillaría de que en él hubiera sitiopara cualquier otra cosa, por muy impor-tante que fuera. Sí, el mundo es un tonelde tripas grande y yo soy un tonel de tri-pas pequeño y si en un tonel de tripasgrande no hay sitio para ninguna otracosa importante, ¿cómo puede haber si-tio en un tonel de tripas muy pequeño?Pero yo sé que lo hay porque Dios lesdio a las mujeres una señal para cuandoocurre algo malo.

Bueno, pues estoy sola. Si al me-nos lo notara, sería distinto, porqueno estaría sola. Pero si no estuvierasola, todos lo sabrían. Y él podríahacer tanto por mí, y entonces yo noestaría sola. Entonces incluso esta-ría bien aunque estuviera sola.

Le de ja r í a ponerse en t re mí yLafe , como Darl se puso entre míy Lafe , y por tanto Lafe tambiénes tá so lo . E l es Lafe y yo DeweyDell, y cuando murió madre tuve quesalir más allá y fuera, de mí y de Lafe yde Darl para sufrir [91]porque él podríahacer tanto por mí y no se da cuenta.Ni siquiera se da cuenta.

Desde el porche de atrás no alcanzo aver el granero. Luego el sonido de Cashserrando llega de esa dirección. Es comoun perro que, fuera de la casa, va de unsitio a otro alrededor de la casa, haciacualquier puerta a la que uno se dirija,esperando entrar. Dijo él: Me preocupamás que a ti y yo dije: No sabes lo que espreocuparse, así que no puedo preocupar-me. Lo intento pero no puedo concentrar-me lo bastante como para preocuparme.

Enciendo la lámpara de la cocina. Elpescado, cortado en trozos irregulares,sangra tranquilamente en la sartén. Lometo rápidamente en la alacena, prestan-do oído al zaguán, escuchando. Le llevódiez días morir; puede que todavía nosepa que ya le ha llegado la hora. Puedeque no quiera irse hasta que venga Cash.O puede que hasta que venga Jewel. Sacoel plato de verdura de la alacena y la ban-deja del pan del horno apagado, y meparo, mirando la puerta.

Dewey Dell (2)

Here we find Dewey Dell’sunspoken thoughts as shelongingly watches Peabody,wishing that he knew she needsan abortion. Her reflections aboutthe gulf between herself and theDoctor make her aware of theseparateness of their existences,and this leads to a more generalconsideration of the distancebetween herself and other people.

COMMENTARY: It isapparent that the outwardly placidDewey Dell has been affected byher mother’s death as deeply asVardaman. Like her brother, sheevinces an awareness of theseparateness of other people, ‘It’sbecause I am alone . . . alrightalone’, but it is less acute thanVardaman’s and hinges on hersense of isolation. The ‘he’ towhom she refers in these lines isPeabody, who seems to her tohave her salvation in his hands butwho is oblivious to her needs. Inthe third paragraph, Dewey Dellrepeats the same ideas in adifferent way, ‘he is Lafe and 1am Dewey Dell, and when motherdied I had to go beyond andoutside of me’. The idea of ‘goingbeyond’ herself in order to grieveimplies that Dewey Dell seesherself as consisting of a complexof feelings centred on her ownpredicament; to feel anythingbeyond that predicament involvesgoing beyond the circle that isherself. It is clear from all this thather mother’s death has madeDewey Dell feel very isolated,surrounded by men who do notknow and can never hope tounderstand her situation.

Dewey Dell is left, at the endof the section, to face theproblems which she cannot reallyformulate. The cow seems to actas a reminder of her ownfemininity, both because of its ac-tual sex and because its breathmake Dewey Dell aware of herown shape, ‘the cow breathesupon my hips and back, her breathwarm, sweet, stertorous,moaning’. The world around heris threatening with the comingstorm, but it is also as a result ofAddie’s death, ‘dead earth, deaddarkness, dead air’. Inside herself,Dewey Dell feels utterly lost,unable to sense whether or not she

tub full of guts: an unpleasantmetaphor for a human being, abody containing organs

jagged adj. 1 with an unevenly cut or torn edge.2 deeply indented; with sharp points.Lacerated irregularly. Dentado, mellado, raí-do, rasgado, irregular,

29


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Where’s Vardaman?” Cash says.In the lamp his sawdusted arms looklike sand.

“I don’t know. I ain’t seen him.”

“Peabody’s team run away. See ifyou can find Vardaman. The horsewill let him catch him.”

“Well. Tell them to come to supper.”

I cannot see the barn. I said, I don’tknow how to worry. I don’t know howto cry. I tried, but I can’t. After a whilethe sound of the saw comes around,coming dark along the ground in thedustdark. Then I can see him, goingup and down above the plank.

“You come in to supper,” I say.“Tell him.” He could do everythingfor me. And he don’t know it. He ishis guts and I am my guts. And I amLafe’s guts. That’s it. I don’t seewhy he didn’t stay in town. We arecountry people not as good as townpeople. I don’t see why he didn’t.Then I can see the top of the barn.The cow stands at the foot of thepath, lowing. When I turn back,Cash is gone.

I carry the buttermilk in. Pa andCash and he are at the table.

“Where’s that big fish Bud caught,sister?” he says.

I se t the mi lk on the tab le .“I never had no time to cook it.”

“Plain turnip greens is mightyspindling eating for a man my size,”he says. Cash is eating. About hishead the print of his hat is sweatedinto his hair. His shirt is blotchedwith sweat. He has not washed hishands and arms.

“You ought to took time,” pa says.“Where’s Vardaman?”

I go toward the door. “I can’t findhim.”

“Here, sister,” he says; “nevermind about the fish. It’ll save, Ireckon. Come on and sit down.”

“I ain’t minding it,” I say. “I’m goingto milk before it sets in to rain.”

Pa helps himself and pushes thedish on. But he does not begin toeat. His hands are half-closed oneither side of his plate, his headbowed a l i t t le , his awry hairstanding into the lamplight. Helooks like right after the maul hitsthe steer and it no longer alive anddon’t yet know that it is dead.

But Cash is eating, and he is too.“You better eat something,” he says.He is looking at pa. “Like Cash andme. You’ll need it.”

—¿Dónde está Vardaman? —diceCash. A la luz de lámpara sus brazos cu-biertos de serrín parecen de arena.

—Y yo qué sé. No lo he visto.

—El tiro de Peabody se ha escapado.A ver si encuentras a Vardaman. El ca-ballo se dejará coger por él.

—Bueno. Diles que vengan a cenar.

No alcanzo a ver el granero. Dije:No sé cómo preocuparme. No sé cómollorar. Lo intenté, pero no puedo. Alcabo de un rato llega el ruido de l as ie r ra , l l ega a ras de l sue lo en t rel a oscuridad polvorienta. Entonces le veo,arriba y abajo sobre el tablón.

—Entra a cenar —digo—. Avísale —lo podría hacer todo por mí. Y no se dacuenta. El es sus tripas y yo soy las mías.Y yo soy las tripas de Lafe. Eso es. Noconsigo entender por qué no se ha que-dado en la ciudad. Somos gente del cam-po, no tan buenos como la gente de laciudad. No consigo entender por qué nose quedó. Luego alcanzo a ver la partede arriba del granero. La vaca está al piedel sendero, mugiendo. Cuando me vuel-vo, Cash se ha ido.

Les llevo la cuajada. Padre y Cash yél están a la mesa. [92]

—¿Dónde está ese pez tan grande quepescó Bud, hermana? —dice.

Pongo la leche en la mesa.—No he tenido tiempo de guisarlo.

—Sólo nabos verdes es una comidademasiado escasa para un hombre de mitamaño —dice. Cash come. Alrededor dela cabeza el sombrero le ha dejado unaseñal sudorosa en el pelo. Tiene la cami-sa manchada de sudor. No se ha lavadolas manos ni los brazos.

—Debería haberte dado tiempo —dice padre—. ¿Dónde anda Vardaman?

Voy hacia la puerta.—No lo encuentro.

—Ven, hermana —dice él—, no tepreocupes del pez. Para mí que no se es-tropeará. Ven a sentarte.

—No me preocupa eso —digo yo—. Voya ordeñar antes de que empiece a llover.

P a d r e s e s i r v e y p a s a l a f u e n -t e . P e r o n o e m p i e z a a c o m e r .Ti e n e l a s m a n o s m e d i o c e r r a d a sa c a d a l a d o d e l p l a t o , l a c a b e z au n p o c o a g a c h a d a , e l p e l o r e -v uel to a la luz de la lámpara . Pa-rece que es un buey al que le acabande dar la puntilla y ya no vive y sinembargo no sabe que está muerto.

Pero Cash come, y él también.—Mejor comes algo —dice. Está

mirando a padre—.Como Cash y yo.Lo necesitas.

is worrying, unable to knowwhether or not she can cry. Hersneak: final words are ‘I feel likea wet seed wild in the hot blindearth’, an image which evokes herfecundity, her sadness (she leesherself as wet) and the fact thatthe world seems to beuncomfortable and oblivious toher troubles, ‘the hot blind earth’.

turnip greens: the leaves of a rootvegetable used as food; grelos

minding: (Am. col.) caring about

the maul hits the steer: (Am.English) the wooden-headedhammer hits the cow

maul to handle roughly. Atacar y malherir, maltratar,estropear, magullar, destrozar BEAT, BRUISE, MAN-GLE

spindling: (Am. English) long and thin,like a spindle (huso)

30


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Ay,” pa says. He rouses up, like asteer that’s been kneeling in a pondand you run at it. “She would notbegrudge me it.”

When I am out of sight of thehouse, I go fast. The cow lows at thefoot of the bluff. She nuzzles at me,snuffing, blowing her breath in asweet, hot blast, through my dress,against my hot nakedness, moaning.“You got to wait a little while. ThenI’ll tend to you.” She follows me intothe barn where I set the bucket down.She breathes into the bucket,moaning. “I told you. You just got towait, now. I got more to do than I cantend to.” The barn is dark. When Ipass, he kicks the wall a single blow.I go on. The broken plank is like apale plank standing on end. Then Ican see the slope, feel the air movingon my face again, slow, pale, withlesser dark and with empty seeing, thepine clumps blotched up the tiltedslope, secret and waiting.

The cow in silhouette against thedoor puzzles at the silhouette of thebucket, moaning.

Then I pass the stall. I have almostpassed it. I listen to it saying for a longtime before it can say the word andthe listening part is afraid that theremay not be time to say it. I feel mybody, my bones and flesh beginningto part and open upon the alone, andthe process of coming unalone isterrible. Lafe. Lafe. “Lafe” Lafe. Lafe.I lean a little forward, one footadvanced with dead walking. I feelthe darkness rushing past my breast,past the cow; I begin to rush uponthe darkness but the cow stops meand the darkness rushes on upon thesweet blast of her moaning breath,filled with wood and with silence.

“Vardaman. You, Vardaman.”

He comes out of the stall. “Youdurn little sneak! You durn little sneak!”

He does not resist; the last ofrushing darkness flees whistlingaway. “What? I ain’t done nothing.”

“You durn little sneak!” My handsshake him, hand. Maybe I couldn’tstop them. I didn’t know they couldshake so hard. They shake both of us,shaking.

“I never done it,” he says. “I nevertouched them.”

My hands stop shaking him, but Istill hold him. “What are you doinghere? Why didn’t you answer when Icalled you?”

“I ain’t doing nothing.”

“You go on to the house and get your supper.”

He draws back. I hold him. “You

—Eso —dice padre. Se despabilacomo un buey que ha estado arrodilladojunto a la alberca y que se espanta—.Ellano me lo reprocharía.

Cuando ya no me ven desde la casa,echo a correr. La vaca muge al pie deldespeñadero. Me empuja con el morro,olfatea, echa una bocanada de alientodulce y caliente a través de mi vestido,contra mi caliente desnudez; se queja.

—Tienes que esperar un poco. Teatenderé luego —me sigue dentro delgranero donde dejo el cubo. Resopla enel cubo, se queja—. Ya te lo dije. Tienesque esperar. Tengo más cosas que hacerde las que puedo atender.

El granero está oscuro. Cuandopaso, da una coz a la pared [93]. Sigo.La tabla rota es como una pálida tablaen punta. Entonces alcanzó a ver la la-dera, vuelvo a sentir el aire en la cara,lentamente; pálidos donde está menososcuro, distingo los brotes de pinoque salpican de manchas la _____ladera, en secreto y esperando.

La vaca, en silueta contra la puer-ta, empuja con el morro la silueta delcubo; se queja.

Luego paso junto al establo. Casi lohe pasado. Escuchó largo rato lo que diceantes de que diga nada y la parte que es-cucha tiene miedo de que no tenga tiem-po de decirlo. Noto que mi cuerpo, hue-sos y piel, empiezan a separarse y a abrir-se a la soledad, y el proceso de interrum-pir la soledad es terrible. Lafe. Lafe.

—Lafe —Lafe. Lafe.Me inclino un poco hacía delante, avan-

zando un pie con paso muerto. Noto que laoscuridad me pasa rápida por delante delpecho, de la vaca; me pongo a correr ha-cia la oscuridad pero la vaca me paray la oscuridad me trae la dulce bo-canada de su aliento quejumbroso,lleno de bosque y de silencio.

—Vardaman. Oye, Vardaman.

Sale del pesebre.—¡Maldito soplón! ¡Maldito soplón!

No se resiste; la última acometida deoscuridad se aleja volando y silbando.

—¿Qué pasa? No he hecho nada.

—¡Maldito soplón!Mis manos le dan meneos. Puede que

no consiga pararlas. No sabía que podíandar unos meneos tan fuertes. Nos danmeneos a los dos al darle meneos.

—Yo no lo hice —dice él—. Nuncalos he tocado.

Mis manos dejan de darle meneos,pero todavía lo tengo agarrado.

—¿Qué hacías aquí? ¿Por qué no res-pondiste cuando te llamaba?

—No estaba haciendo nada.

—Vete a casa y ponte a cenar.

Se echa hacia atrás. Le agarro.

sneak: (Am. English) a person whoreveals another’s secrets

durn: (Am. col.) darned (mild cur-se)

X

31


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

quit now. You leave me be.”

“What were you doing down here? Youdidn’t come down here to sneak after me?”

“I never. I never. You quit, now. Ididn’t even know you was down here.You leave me be.”

I hold him, leaning down to see hisface, feel it with my eyes. He is aboutto cry. “Go on, now. I done put supperon and I’ll be there soon as I milk.You better go on before he eatseverything up. I hope that team runsclean back to Jefferson.”

“He kilt her,” he says. He beginsto cry.

“Hush.”

“She never hurt him and he comeand kilt her.”

“Hush.” He struggles. I hold him.“Hush.”

“He kilt her.” The cow comes upbehind us, moaning. I shake himagain.

“You stop it, now. Right thisminute. You’re fixing to makeyourself sick and then you can’t goto town. You go on to the house andeat your supper.”

“I don’t want no supper. I don’twant to go to town.”

“We’ll leave you here, then.L e s s e n y o u b e h a v e , w e w i l lleave you. Go on, now, beforethat old green-eating tub of gutseats everything up f rom you.”He goes on, disappearing slowly intothe hill. The crest, the trees, the roofof the house stand against the sky.The cow puzzles at me, moaning.“You’ll just have to wait. What yougot in you ain’t nothing to what I gotin me, even if you are a woman too.”She follows me, moaning. Then thedead, hot, pale air breathes on my faceagain. He could fix it all right, if hejust would. And he don’t even knowit. He could do everything for me ifhe just knowed it. The cow breathesupon my hips and back, her breathwarm, sweet, stertorous, moaning.The sky lies flat down the slope, uponthe secret clumps. Beyond the hillsheet-lightning stains upward andfades. The dead air shapes the deadearth in the dead darkness, furtheraway than seeing shapes the deadearth. It lies dead and warm upon me,touching me naked through myclothes. I said You don’t know whatworry is. I don’t know what it is. Idon’t know whether I am worryingor not. Whether I can or not. I don’tknow whether I can cry or not. I don’tknow whether I have tried to or not. Ifeel like a wet seed wild in the hotblind earth.

—Estate quieta. Déjame en paz. [94]

—¿Qué es tabas haciendo aquí?¿Has venido a espiarme?

—No. No. Es ta te qu ie ta . Ni s i -q u i e r a s a b í a q u e e s t a b a s a q u í .Dé jame en paz .

Le tengo agarrado; al agacharme a verle lacara, lo noto con los ojos. Está a punto de llorar.

—Anda, vete. Te he puesto la cena yvolveré en cuanto ordeñe. Será mejor quevayas antes de que él se lo coma todo.Espero que el tiro ya haya llegado hastael mismo Jefferson.

—La mató él —dice. Se pone allorar.

—A callar.

—Ella nunca le hizo daño y él va y lamata.

—A callar —se resiste. Le sujeto—.A callar.

—La mató él —la vaca se nos acercapor detrás quejándose. Vuelvo a darle unmeneo.

— D é j a l o y a . A h o r am i s m o . T e v a s a p o n e rm a l o y e n t o n c e s n o p o d r á s i r al a c i u d a d . V e t e a c a s a yt ó m a t e l a c e n a .

—No quiero cenar. No quiero ir a laciudad.

—Bueno, entonces te dejaremosaquí . O te por tas b ien , o t e de ja -mos . Anda ya , an t e s de que e sevie jo cubo de t r ipas comeverdurasse coma todo lo tuyo .

Echa a andar, y desaparece lentamen-te en el cerro. La cresta, los árboles, eltecho de la casa se destacan en el cielo.La vaca me empuja, quejándose.

—Tendrás que esperar. Lo que tienesdentro no es nada comparado con lo que lle-vo dentro yo, aunque también seas hembra.Me sigue, se queja. Luego el aire ca-liente, muerto, pálido me vuelve a so-plar en la cara. Si quisiera, podríaarreglarlo todo. Y ni siquiera lo sabe.Podría hacerlo todo por mí si lo su-piera. La vaca resopla en mis caderasy espalda su aliento caliente, dulce,jadeante, quejumbroso. El cielo se haposado en la ladera, sobre los secre-tos brotes. Más allá del cerro relám-pagos tiñen la parte de arriba y se des-vanecen. Aire muerto envuelve a latierra muerta en la oscuridad muerta,y fuera de la vista envuelve a la tie-rra muerta. El aire muerto y calientepesa _____ sobre mí, y me alcanza pordebajo de la ropa. Yo dije: No sabeslo que es estar [95] preocupado. Yono sé lo que es . No sé s i me pre-ocupo o no. Si puedo o no. No sés i puedo l lorar o no. No sé s i lo hein t en t ado o no . Me s i en to comouna semilla silvestre húmeda enci-ma de la tierra caliente y ciega.

team: a pair of horses for pulling awagon or cart

lessen: (Am. col.) unless

stertorous: (of breathing) makingsnoring noises, estertóreo

X

32


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

15VARDAMAN (2)

WHEN they ge t i t f i n i shedthey are going to put her in i tand then for a long time I coudn’tsay it. I saw the dark stand up andg o w h i r l i n g a w a y a n d I sa id“Are you going to nail her up init, Cash? Cash? Cash?” I got shutup in the crib the new door it wastoo heavy for me it went shut Icouldn’t breathe because the ratwas breathing up all the air. I said“Are you going to nail i t shut,Cash? Nail it? Nail it?”

Pa walks around. His shadow walksaround, over Cash going up and downabove the saw, at the bleeding plank.

Dewey Dell said we will get somebananas. The train is behind theglass, red on the track. When it runsthe track shines on and off. Pa saidflour and sugar and coffee costs somuch. Because I am a country boybecause boys in town. Bicycles. Whydo flour and sugar and coffee cost somuch when he is a country boy.“Wouldn’t you ruther have somebananas instead?” Bananas are gone,eaten. Gone. When it runs on the trackshines again. “Why ain’t I a town boy,‘ pa?” I said God made me. I did notsaid to God to made me in thecountry. If He can make the train, whycan’t He make them all in the townbecause flour and sugar and coffee.“Wouldn’t you ruther have bananas?”

He walks around. His shadowwalks around.

It was not her. I was there, looking.I saw. I thought it was her, but it wasnot. It was not my mother. She wentaway when the other one laid down inher bed and drew the quilt up. She wentaway. “Did she go as far as town?”“She went far ther than town.”“D i d a l l t h o s e r a b b i t s a n dp o s s u m s g o f a r t h e r t h a nt o w n ? ” G o d m a d e t h e r a b b i t sa n d p o s s u m s . He made the train.Why must He make a different place forthem to go if she is just like the rabbit.

Pa walks around. His shadowdoes. The saw sounds like it isasleep.

And so if Cash nails the box up,she is not a rabbit. And so if she isnot a rabbit I couldn’t breathe in thecrib and Cash is going to nail it up.And so if she lets him it is not her. Iknow. I was there. I saw when it didnot be her. I saw. They think it is andCash is going to nail it up.

It was not her because it was layingright yonder in the dirt. And now it’sall chopped up. I chopped it up. It’sl ay ing in the k i t chen in thebleeding pan, waiting to be cookedand et. Then it wasn’t and she was,and now it is and she wasn’t. And

15VARDAMAN

CUANDO la tengan terminada, irány la meterán dentro, y luego, durantemucho tiempo, no podré decirlo. He vis-to a la oscuridad que se levantaba y semarchaba haciendo remolinos y dije:

—¿La vas a clavar dentro, Cash?¿Cash? ¿Cash? —me quedé encerra-do en el pesebre. La nueva puerta erademasiado pesada para mí y se cerróy no podía respirar porque la rata res-piraba todo el aire. Dije—: ¿Vas a cla-varla y cerrarla, Cash? ¿La vas a cla-var? ¿La vas a clavar?

Padre anda por ahí. Su sombra andapor ahí, por encima de Cash que sube ybaja la sierra sobre la tabla que sangra.

Dewey Dell dijo que tomaremos pláta-nos. El tren está detrás del cristal, rojo en-cima de la vía. Cuando corre, la vía brillaaquí y allá. Padre dijo que la harina y elazúcar y el café cuestan mucho. Porque yosoy un chico del campo por culpa de loschicos de la ciudad. Bicicletas. ¿Por quécuestan tanto la harina y el azúcar y el cafécuando uno es un chico del campo?

—¿No preferirías plátanos en lugar deeso? —los plátanos se han ido, comidos.Idos. Cuando corre, la vía brilla otra vez.

—¿Por qué no soy un chico de laciudad, padre? —dije. Me hizo Dios.No le dije a Dios que me hiciera chicodel campo. Si puede hacer el tren, ¿porqué no hace que todos sean chicos deciudad con harina y azúcar y café?

—¿No preferirías los plátanos?

A n d a p o r a h í . S u s o m b r aa n d a p o r a h í .

Eso no era ella. Yo estaba allí, mira-ba. Lo vi. Creí que eso era ella, pero noera. Eso no era mi madre. Ella se marchó[96] cuando la otra se echó en la cama yestiró la colcha. Se marchó.

—¿Habrá llegado hasta el pueblo?—Se fue más lejos todavía.—¿Y t o d o s e s o s c o n e j o s y

zarigüeyas se van tan le jos?Dios hizo a los conejos y a las

zarigüeyas. Hizo el tren. ¿Para qué va ahacer un sitio diferente para que vayansi ella es igual que los conejos?

Padre anda por ahí. Lo mismo su som-bra. La sierra suena como si estuvieradurmiendo.

Y entonces Cash clava la caja por arri-ba y ella no es un conejo. Y si ella no esun conejo y yo no podía respirar en elpesebre y Cash se pone a clavarla porarriba. Y si ella le deja es que no es ella.Lo sé. Yo estaba allí. Yo vi cuando esoya no era ella. Lo vi. Ellos creen que síes y Cash va a clavar la tapa.

Eso no era ella porque eso estabatirado por ahí, entre la porquería. Yahora todo está cortado en pedazos. Locorté yo. Está en la cocina, sangrandoen la sartén, esperando a que lo coci-nen y se lo coman. Entonces eso noestaba aquí y ella sí estaba, y ahora

Vardaman (2)

This section consists ofVardaman’s unspoken andunverbalised thoughts as hewatches his mother’s body beingput into the coffin.

COMMENTARY: Theconfusion in this section indicatesthe enormous difficultiesVardaman is having in trying tofind some shape in his world nowthat it no longer contains hismother. The disorganisation of histhoughts is reflected in thebreakdown of grammar andsense, ‘Because I am a countryboy because boys in town.Bicycles. Why do flour and lugarand coffee cost so much when heis a country boy’. The thoughtswhich crowd in upon him docontain some sort of pervertedlogic. In a separate grouping, wefind thoughts of confinement, ofhis own inability to breathe whenenclosed in a small space and ofthe problems his mother willexperience in breathing in thecoffin.

From this, he goes on to thinkthat the object in the bed is nothis mother, ‘she went away whenthe other one laid down in her bedand drew the quilt up’, and beginsto wonder where his real motherhas gone, whether she has gonefarther than the town. In the finalparagraph, Vardaman links up thedead fish with his dead mother,‘then it wasn’t and she was, andnow it is and she wasn’t’, tryingall the time to find where she isand what death means. He seemsto believe that the death of hismother and the fish are closelylinked and that Vernon Tull, whosaw the dead fish, will be able toconfirm this.

ruther: (Am. col.) would rather

possums: (Am. English) opossums,small animals

33


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

to-morrow it will be cooked and etand she will be him and pa and Cashand Dewey Dell and there won’t beanything in the box and so she canbreathe. It was laying right yonder onthe ground. I can get Vernon. He wasthere and he seen it, and with both ofus it will be and then it will not be.

16TULL (2)

IT was nigh to midnight and it hadset in to rain when he woke us. It hadbeen a misdoubtful night, with thestorm making; a night when a fellowlooks for most anything to happenbefore he can get the stock fed andhimself to the house an supper et andin bed with the rain starting, andwhen Peabody’s team come up,lathered, with the broke harnessdragging and the neck-yoke betwixtthe off critter’s legs, Cora s ays“It’s Addie Bundren. She’s gone atlast.”

“Peabody mought have been to erea one of a dozen houses hereabouts,”I says. “Besides, how do you knowit’s Peabody’s team?”

“Well, ain’t it?” she says. “Youhitch up, now.”

“What for?” I says. “If she is gone,we can’t do nothing till morning. Andit fixing to storm too.

“It’s my duty,” she says. “You putthe team in.

B u t I w o u l d n ’ t d o i t . “ I ts tands to reason they’d send forus i f they needed us . You don’teven know she’s gone yet .”

“Why, don’t you know that’sPeabody’s team? Do you claim itain’t? Well, then.” But I wouldn’t go.When folks wants a fellow, it’s bestto wait till they sends for him, I’vefound. “It’s my Christian duty,” Corasays. “Will you stand between me andmy Christian duty?”

“You can stay there all dayto-morrow, if you want,” I says.

So when Cora waked me it hadset in to rain. Even while I was go-ing to the door with the lamp and itshining on the glass so he could seeI am coming, it kept on knocking.Not loud, but steady, like he mighthave gone to sleep thumping, but Inever noticed how low down on thedoor the knocking was till I openedit and never seen nothing. I held thelamp up, with the rain sparkling acrossit and Cora back in the hall saying“Who is i t , Ve r n o n ? ” b u t Ic o u l d n ’ t s e e n o b o d y a - t a l la t f i r s t u n t i l I l o o k e d d o w na n d a r o u n d t h e d o o r , l o w e r -i n g t h e l a m p .

He looked like a drowned puppy,

está eso y ella no está. Y mañana lococinarán y se lo comerán y ella seráél, y padre y Cash y Dewey Dell, y enla caja no habrá nada y así podrá res-pirar. Eso estaba por ahí tirado en elsuelo. Puedo preguntarle a Vernon. Elestaba allí y lo vio, y eso estará connosotros dos y luego no estará.

TULL

ERA cerca de la medianoche y yaestaba lloviendo cuando nos despertó.Había sido una noche inquietante ,amenazando tormenta; una noche enque uno espera que pase algo antes depoder recoger el ganado y llegar a casay cenar y meterse en cama, con la llu-via empezando a caer, así que cuandollega el tiro de Peabody, cubierto deespuma, con los arneses rotos arras-trando y con el yugo entre las patas delanimal de la derecha, Cora dice: [97]

—Es Addie Bundren. Por fin se haido.

—Peabody podría estar en cualquie-ra de la docena de casas de los alrededo-res —digo yo—. Además, ¿cómo sabesque es el tiro de Peabody?

—Pero ¿es que no lo es? —dice ella—. Anda, ve enganchando.

—¿Para qué? —digo yo—. Si Addiese ha ido, hasta mañana no podemos ha-cer nada. Amenaza tormenta, además.

—Es mi obligación —dice ella—.Trae la yunta.

Pero yo no quería.—Es más sensato que manden por

nosotros si nos necesitan. Todavía nosabes si se ha ido.

—¿No sabes que es el t iro dePeabody? ¿Atrévete a decir que no lo es?Por lo tanto... —pero yo no quería ir.Cuando la gente necesita a un vecino, esmejor, según mi experiencia, esperar has-ta que manden por él—. Es un deber decristiana —dice Cora—. ¿Te vas a meterentre mis deberes de cristiana y yo?

—Mañana, si quieres, puedes pasarteallí el día entero —digo yo.

Conque cuando Cora me despertóhabía empezado a llover. Ni cuandoiba a la puerta con la lámpara y éstabrillaba en el cristal para que pudieraver que me acercaba dejó de llamar.No fuerte, pero sin parar, como si se hu-biera quedado dormido mientras llamaba,pero no me di cuenta de lo abajo quellamaban de la puerta hasta que abríy no vi nada. Levanté la lámpara yla l luvia relucía delante de ella y deCora que, detrás, en el zaguán, decía:

—¿Quién es, Vernon?Pero al principio no conseguí ver a

nadie en absoluto; no hasta que me aga-ché y miré la parte de abajo de la puerta,bajando la lámpara.

Parecía un perrillo ahogado, con su

Tull (2)

This section consists of VernonTull’s unspoken thoughts on theevening of Addie’s death. Aftermidnight, Vernon hears a noiseand finds Vardaman standingoutside, soaking wet and talkingunintelligibly about a fish. Coraand Vernon take him back to hishome where Vernon is put to worknailing Addie into her coffin.Vardaman tries to make it easierfor her to ‘breathe’ by boringholes in the coffin lid. After dawn,Vernon gets home, still upset byVardaman’s odd behaviour, buttrying to accept Cora’s insistencethat Vardaman’s behaviour is thejudgement of God on AnseBundren but that they, the Tulls,are so good that no suchjudgement will ever be passed onthem.

COMMENTARY: Theimpression that Vernon Tull is asympathetic man is continued inthis section. Vardaman’s distressupsets him deeply, making himthink about ‘the sorrows andafflictions in this world’. Tull’sattempts at thought, however,serve only to reveal how limitedhe is in his potential for thought.He relies heavily on the words ofhis wife and generally believesthat ‘the Lord aimed for him(man) to do and not to spend toomuch time thinking’.

Apart from giving an insightinto Tull’s character, this sectionshows the reader the outwardefects of the inner turmoil whichwe saw in Vardaman (2). Havingseen what is going on inVardaman’s mind, we now see thelittle boy set against the back-ground of other people, peoplewho fail to understand what hefeels.

misdoubtful: (Am. col.) disturbing

lathered: covered in sweat

critter’s: (Am. col.) creature’s

mought: (Am. col.) might

sleep thumping: banging whilstwalking in sleep

34


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

in them overalls, without no hat,splashed up to his knees where he hadwalked them four miles in the mud.“Well, I’ll be durned,” I says.

“Who is it, Vernon?” Cora says.

He looked at me, his eyes roundand black in the middle like whenyou throw a light in a owl’s face.“You mind that ere fish,” he says.

“Come in the house,” I says. “Whatis it? Is your maw——”

“Vernon,” Cora says.

He stood kind of around behind thedoor, in the dark. The rain wasblowing on to the lamp, hissing on itso I am scared every minute it’llbreak. “You was there,” he says. “Youseen it.”

Then Cora come to the door. “Youcome right in outen the rain,” shesays, pulling him in and him watchingme. He looked just like a drownedpuppy. “I told you,” Cora says. “I toldyou it was a-happening. You go andhitch.”

“But he ain’t said——” I says.

He looked at me, dripping on tothe floor. “He’s a-raining the rug,”Cora says. “You go get the team whileI take him to the kitchen.”

But he hung back, dripping,wa tch ing me wi th them eyes .“You was there. You seen it layingthere. Cash is fixing to nail herup, and it was a-laying right thereon the ground. You seen it. Youseen the mark in the dirt. The rainnever come up t i l l af ter I wasa-coming here. So we can get backin time.”

I be durn if it didn’t give me thecreeps, even when I didn’t know yet.But Cora did. “You get that teamquick as you can,” she says. “He’souten his head with grief and worry.”

I be durn if it didn’t give me thecreeps. Now and then a fellow getsto thinking. About all the sorrows andafflictions in this world; how it’sliable to strike anywhere, likelightning. I reckon it does take apowerful trust in the Lord to guard afellow, though sometimes I think thatCora’s a mite over-cautious, like shewas trying to crowd the other folksaway and get in closer than anybodyelse. But then, when something likethis happens, I reckon she is right andyou got to keep after it and I reckonI am blessed in having a wife thatever str ives for sanctity andwell-doing like she says I am.

Now and then a fellow gets toth inking about i t . Not of ten ,though. Which is a good thing. Forthe Lord aimed for him to do and

mono, sin gorro, salpicado hasta las ro-dillas pues había tenido que andar seiskilómetros por el barro.

—Bueno, que me maten... —digo yo.

—¿Quién es, Vernon? —dice Cora.

Me miraba con sus ojos redondos ynegros como cuando se lanza un rayo deluz a la cara de una lechuza. [98]

—Tenga cuidado con el pez —dice.

—Entra a casa —digo yo—. ¿Quépasa? Es que tu madre...

—Vernon —dice Cora.

Seguía más o menos a un lado de lapuerta, en la oscuridad. La lluvia golpea-ba la lámpara, sonando en ella de tal modoque a cada minuto temía que se rompiera.

—Usted estaba allí —dice él—. Us-ted lo vio.

Entonces Cora sale a la puerta.—Ven ahora mismo y quítate de la

lluvia —le dice, tirando de él que memiraba. Parecía un perrillo ahogado—.Ya te lo había dicho —dice Cora—. Tehabía dicho lo que estaba pasando. Vetea aparejar.

—Pero si él no ha dicho... —digo yo.

Me miraba, chorreando en el suelo.—Me está destrozando la estera —

dice Cora—. Vete a traer la yunta mien-tras me lo llevo a la cocina.

Pero él se soltó, chorreando, obser-vándome sin quitarme ojo.

—Usted estaba allí. Usted lo ha vistoallí tirado. Cash lo está preparando todopara clavarla y el pez estaba allí mismotirado en el suelo. Usted lo vio. Vio lamarca que dejó en el polvo. La lluvia noempezó hasta después de venir caminode aquí. Así que puede que lleguemos atiempo.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Maldita sea, me dieron escalofríos.De vez en cuando se piensan cosas.En el dolor y tristeza de este mundo;en cómo son capaces de golpear encualquier parte, como el relámpago.Para mí que hay que confiar m u c h oe n e l S e ñ o r p a r a e s t a r p r o t e -g i d o , a u n q u e a v e c e s c r e o q u eCora es un poquito precavida en exceso,como si tratara de apartar a los de-más y estar más cerca que nadie. Peroluego, cuando pasa algo como esto,para mí que tiene razón y hay quehacer lo que dice y para mí que es unabendición tener una mujer que siem-pre se esfuerza por conseguir la san-tidad y que me dice cómo obrar bien.

De vez en cuando se piensan co-sas. No con demasiada frecuencia,sin embargo. Lo que es una buenacosa. Pues el Señor quiere que obre-

the creeps: (col.) an unnervingfeeling

a mite: a little, small quantity, pizca[ácaro / chiquillo]

X

35


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

not to spend too much time think-ing, because his brain it’s like apiece of machinery: it won’t standa whole lot of racking . It’s bestwhen it all runs along the same,doing the day’s work and not noone part used no more than needful.I have said and I say again, that’sever living thing the matter withDarl: he just thinks by himself toomuch. Cora’s right when she saysall he needs is a wife to straightenhim out. And when I think aboutthat, I think that if nothing butbeing married will help a man, he’sdurn nigh hopeless. But I reckonCora’s right when she says thereason the Lord had to c rea tewomen is because man don’t knowhis own good when he sees it.

When I come back to the housewith the team, they was in thekitchen. She was dressed on top ofher nightgown with a shawl overher head and her umbrella and herBible wrapped up in the oilcloth,and him si t t ing on a up-turnedbucket on the stove-zinc where shehad put him, dripping on to the floor.“I can’t get nothing outen him exceptabout a fish,” she says. “It’s ajudgment on them. I see the hand ofthe Lord upon this boy for AnseBundren’s judgment and warning.”

“The rain never come up till afterI left,” he says. “I had done left. I wason the way. And so it was there in thedust. You seen it. Cash is fixing tonail her, but you seen it.”

When we got there it was raininghard, and him sitting on the seatbetween us, wrapped up in Cora’sshawl. He hadn’t said nothing else,just sitting there with Cora holdingthe umbrella over him. Now and thenCora would stop singing long enoughto say “It’s a judgment on AnseBundren. May it show him the pathof sin he is a-trodding.” Then shewould sing again, and him sittingthere between us, leaning forward alittle like the mules couldn’t go fastenough to suit him.

“It was laying right yonder,” hesays, “but the rain come up after Itaken and left. So I can go and openthe windows, because Cash ain’tnailed her yet.”

It was long a-past midnight whenwe drove the last nail, and almostdust-dawn when I got back homeand taken the team out and got backin bed, with Cora’s nightcap layingon the other pillow. And be durnedif even then it wasn’t like I couldstill hear Cora singing and feel thatboy leaning forward between uslike he was ahead of the mules, andstill see Cash going up and downwith that saw, and Anse standingthere like a scarecrow, like he wasa steer standing knee-deep in apond and somebody come by and

mos y no perdamos demasiado tiem-po pensando, porque nuestro cerebroes como una pieza [99] de relojería:no necesita estar siempre en marcha.Es mejor cuando funciona siempreigual, cuando hace su tarea diaria yno usa ninguna de sus partes más delo necesario. Lo he dicho y lo vuel-vo a decir, que eso es lo que le pasaa Darl: piensa demasiado. Cora tie-ne razón cuando dice que lo únicoque necesita es una mujer que lo en-derece . Y cuando p ienso en eso ,pienso que si sólo el matrimonio pue-de ayudar a un hombre, este hombreestá casi perdido. Pero para mí queCora tiene razón cuando dice que larazón por la que el Señor creó a lamujer es porque el hombre no sabelo que le conviene aunque lo vea.

C u a n d o v u e l v o a c a s a c o n e lt i ro , es taban en la cocina. El la sehabía vest ido encima del camisón,y se había puesto un chal en la ca-beza , y l l evaba e l pa raguas y l aBibl ia envuel ta en hule , y é l , sen-tado en un cubo boca abajo enci-ma del fogón, donde le había pues-to e l la , seguía goteando a l suelo .

—No consigo sacarle más que algode un pez —dice Cora—. Es un casti-go de Dios. Veo que Dios ha puestosu mano sobre este chico para casti-go y advertencia de Anse Bundren.

—No empezó a llover hasta despuésde irme —dice él—. Ya me había mar-chado. Estaba de camino. Y eso estabaallí, en el polvo. Usted lo vio. Cash seprepara a clavarla, pero usted lo vio.

Cuando llegamos llovía con fuerza,y él iba en el asiento entre nosotros, en-vuelto en el chal de Cora. No había di-cho nada más, limitándose a sentarseallí con Cora tapándole con el paraguas.De cuando en cuando Cora dejaba decanturrear lo suficiente para decir: «Esun castigo de Dios a Anse Bundren.Puede que esto le enseñe que no se debeseguir el camino del pecado.» Luegovolvía a canturrear, y él sentado entrenosotros, un poco inclinado hacia de-lante como si las mulas no fueran lobastante deprisa para su gusto.

—Eso estaba por al l í t i rado —dice—, pero la lluvia no empezó has-ta que cogí y me fui. Conque puedoir y abrir las ventanas, porque Cashtodavía no la ha clavado.

Hacía tiempo que había pasado lamedianoche cuando pusimos el últimoclavo, y casi amanecía cuando volvícasa y desuncí el tiro y volví a acostar-me; el gorro de dormir de Cora descan-saba en la otra almohada. Y que mecondene si incluso entonces no parecíaque seguía oyendo canturrear a Cora ynotando al niño echado hacia adelante,entre nosotros como si fuera delante delas mulas, y todavía veía a Cash daleque dale a la sierra, y a Anse allí de piecomo un espantapájaros, como unbuey que se hubiera hundido hasta elcorvejón en un charco y se le acercara

racking: stretching

bucket: pail

36


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

set the pond up on edge and he ain’tmissed it yet.

It was nigh toward daybreak whenwe drove the last nail and toted it intothe house, where she was laying onthe bed with the window open and therain blowing on her again. Twice hedid it, and him so dead for sleep thatCora says his face looked like one ofthese here Christmas masks that haddone been buried a while and then dugup, until at last they put her into itand nailed it down so he couldn’topen the window on her no more. Andthe next morning they found him inhis shirt-tail laying asleep on the floorlike a felled steer, and the top of thebox bored clean full of holes andCash’s new auger broke off in thelast one. When they taken the lidoff they found that two of themhad bored on into her face.

If it’s a judgment, it ain’t right.Because the Lord’s got more to dothan that . He’s bound to have.Because the only burden AnseBundren’s ever had is himself .And when folks talks him low, Ithink to myself he ain’t that lessof a man or he couldn’t a borehimself this long.

It ain’t right. I be durn if it is.Because He sa id Suffer l i t t l echildren to come unto Me don’tmake it right, neither. Cora said,“I have bore you what the Lord Godsent me. I faced it without fear norterror because my faith was strong inthe Lord, a-bolstering and sustainingme. If you have no son, it’s becausethe Lord has decreed otherwise in Hiswisdom. And my life is and has everbeen a open book to ere a man orwoman among His creatures becauseI trust in my God and my reward.”

I reckon she’s right. I reckon ifthere’s ere a man or woman anywherethat He could turn it all over to andgo away with His mind at rest, itwould be Cora. And I reckon shewould make a few changes, no matterhow He was running it. And I reckonthey would be for man’s good.Leastways, we would have to likethem. Leastways, we might as wellgo on and make like we did.

17D A R L (6)

THE lantern sits on a stump.Rusted, grease-fouled, bits crackedchimney smeared on one side with asoaring smudge of soot, it sheds afeeble and sultry glare upon thetrestles and the boards and theadjacent earth. Upon the dark groundthe chips look like random smearsof soft pale paint on a black canvas.The boards look like long smoothtatters torn from the flat darknessand turned backside out.

Cash labours about the trestles,

al guien y lo sacara al borde y él si-guiera sin reaccionar.

Casi iba a romper el día cuando pu-simos el último clave y llevamos la cajadentro de la casa, donde ella estabatumbada en la cama con la ventanaabierta y la lluvia cayéndo le encima.Dos veces la abrió y estaba tan muertode sueño que Cora dice que su cara pa-recía una careta de Navidad que hantenido enterrada y luego la sacaron,hasta que por fin la metieron dentro yla clavaron de modo que él no pudieravolver a dejarla a la intemperie. Y a lamañana siguiente lo encontraron tum-bado en el suelo en camisa dormidocomo un buey muerto, y la t a p a d el a c a j a l l e n a d e a g u j e r o s y e lberbiquí nuevo de Cash roto en el úl-timo de ellos. Cuando levantaron latapa descubr ieron que dos de lostaladros le habían agujereado la cara.

Si esto es un castigo de Dios, no esjusto. Porque el Señor tiene cosas mejo-res que hacer. A la fuerza tiene que te-nerlas. Porque la única carga de AnseBundren no ha sido más que él mismo. Ycuando la gente habla mal de él piensopara mis adentros que de haber sido me-nos hombre de lo que es no habría aguan-tado tanto.

No hay derecho. Que me condenesi lo hay. Porque que El dijera: De-jad que los niños se acerquen a Mí,no lo arregla tampoco. Cora dijo:

—Te he dado lo que me mandó DiosNuestro Señor. Lo he afrontado sin mie-do ni terror porque mi fe en el Señorera firme, y me sostuvo y ayudó. Si notienes un hijo es porque el Señor, consu sabiduría, ha decretado que no lotengas. Y mi vida es y siempre ha sidoun libro abierto para cualquier hom-bre o mujer, criaturas suyas, porqueconfío en mi Dios y en mi recompensa.

Para mí que ella tiene sazón. Paramí que si hay un hombre o una mujeren que É1 pueda descansar y confiar,no puede ser nadie más que Cora. Ypara mí que ella haría unos cuantoscambios sin importarle cómo habíadispuesto É1 las cosas. Y para mí queredundarían en bien de los hombres.Al menos, nos tendrían que gustar. Almenos podríamos comportarnos así yhacer como si nos gustaran.

DARL

EL farol está encima de un tocón.Ox idado , suc io de g r a sa , con e ltubo roto y manchado de barro, yuno de los lados t iznado de holl ín,arroja una luz débil y cálida sobrelos caballetes y las tablas y la tierraadyacente. Encima del oscuro suelo lasvirutas parecen borrones de color páli-do suave pintados al azar en un lienzonegro. Las tablas parecen largos y pu-lidos andrajos desgarrados de la chataoscuridad y puestos al revés.

Cash se afana junto a los caballetes,

Darl (6)

This section consists of Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as he reconstructs ingreat detail the scene which takesplace after the Tulls have returnedwith Vardaman to the farm. At theend of the section, he returns tothe present and wonders about thestatus of the words ‘is’ and ‘was’in relation to people.

felled steer: (Am. English) a deadcow

auger: an instrument for makingholes in wood

a stump: the remains of a tree trunk

bolster cabezal m; almohadón m (con forma cilíndri-ca) (also bolster up) reforzar [+ morale] levantar

1 : a long pillow or cushion 2 : a structural part designed to eliminate friction

or provide support or bearing 1 : to support with or as if with a bolster : REINFORCE 2 : to give a boost to <news that bolstered his

spirits>

37


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

moving back and forth, lifting and placingthe planks with long clatteringreverberations in the dead air asthough he were lifting and droppingthem at the bottom of an invisiblewell, the sounds ceasing withoutdeparting, as if any movement mightdislodge them from the immediateair in reverberant repetition. He sawsagain, his elbow flashing slowly, athin thread of fire running alongthe edge o f the saw, los t andrecovered at the top and bottom ofeach stroke in unbroken elongation,so that the saw appears to be sixfeet long, into and out of pa’sshabby and a imless s i lhou t te .“Give me t h a t P l a n k , ” C a s hs a y s . “ N o ; t h e o t h e r o n e . ”He puts the saw down and comes andpicks up the plank he wants, sweepingpea away with the long swinginggleam of the balanced board.

The air smells like sulphur. Uponthe impalpable plane of it theirshadows form as upon a wall, asthough like sound they had not gonevery far away in falling but hadmerely congealed for a moment,immediate and musing. Cash workson, half turned into the feble light, onethigh and one pole-thin arm braced,his face sloped into the light with arapt, dynamic immobility above histireless elbow. Below the skysheet-lightning slumbers lightly;against it the trees, motionless, areruffled out to the last twig, swollen,increased as though quick withyoung.

I t beg ins t o r a in . The f i r s tharsh, sparse, swift drops rushthrough the leaves and across theground in a long sigh, as thoughof re l ief f rom intolerable sus-pense. They are big as buckshot,warm as though fired from a gun;they sweep across the lantern in avicious hissing. Pa lifts his face,slackmouthed, the wet black rim ofsnuff plastered close along the baseof his gums; from behind hisslackfaced astonishment he muses asthough from beyond time, upon theultimate outrage. Cash looks onceat the sky, then at the lantern.The saw has not faltered, the runninggleam of its pistoning edge unbroken.“G e t s o m e t h i n g t o c o v e r t h elan te rn ,” he says .

Pa goes to the house. The rainrushes suddenly down, withoutthunder, without warning of any sort;he is swept on to the porch upon theedge of it and in an instant Cash is wetto the skin. Yet the motion of the sawhas not faltered, as though it and thearm functioned in a tranquil convictionthat rain was an illusion of the mind.Then he puts down the saw and goesand crouches above the lantern,shielding it with his body, his backshaped lean and scrawny by his wetshirt as though he had been abruptlyturned wrong-side out, shirt and all.

va y viene, levanta y coloca las tablas queproducen largas reverberaciones restallantesen el aire muerto igual que si estuvie-ra levantándolas y luego dejándolascaer al fondo de un pozo invisible,donde cesan los sonidos sin desapare-cer del todo, como si algún movimientolos desalojara del aire inmediato conreverberaciones repetidas. Vuelve a se-rrar, su codo relampaguea lentamente,una fina hebra de fuego recorre losdientes de la sierra, se pierde y se re-cupera en cada uno de los extremos concada golpe en continua prolongación,de modo que la sierra parece que midedos metros de largo, al entrar y salir dela silueta miserable e inútil de padre.

—Deme e s a t a b l a — d i c eC a s h — . N o ; l a o t r a .

Deja l a s i e r ra y va y coge la t a -b la que quiere, borrando a padre cone l a l a rgado r e sp l ando r o sc i l an t ede l a t ab l a equ i l i b r ada .

E1 aire huele como a azufre. Encimade su impalpable superficie las sombrasse disponen como encima de una pared,como si, al igual que los sonidos, no fue-ran a caer muy lejos, sino que meramen-te se cuajaran durante un momento, in-mediato y contemplativo. Cash trabajamedio vuelto hacia la débil luz, un mus-lo y un brazo delgado como un palo entensión, la cara hundida en la luz conarrobada y dinámica inmovilidad enci-ma de su codo infatigable. Bajo el cielolos relámpagos se adormecen levemen-te; contra éste los árboles, inmóviles,agitan hasta su última rama, hinchados,desarrollados como una súbita juven-tud

Se pone a llover. Las primeras gotas,desaparecidas, dispersas, repentinas, re-corren rápidamente las hojas y caer alsuelo con un largo suspiro, como libera-das de una incertidumbre insoportable.Son como grandes perdigones, calientesigual que si las hubiera disparado unaescopeta; se deslizan por el farol con unsiseo maligno. Padre levanta la cara, bo-quiabierto, el cerco negro y húmedo delrapé emplastado a lo largo de la base desus encías; desde detrás de su boca abier-ta por el asombro suelta palabrasentrecortadas, como si llegaran desdemás allá del tiempo, acerca de esta afren-ta definitiva. Cash mira al cielo, luego alfarol. La sierra no ha callado, el resplan-dor móvil de sus dientes no se ha roto.

— Tr a i g a a l g o p a r a t a p a r e lf a r o l — d i c e .

Padre va a casa. La lluvia aumentade repente, sin truenos, sin aviso de nin-gún tipo; la lluvia lo barre contra el bor-de del porche, y en un instante Cashqueda calado hasta los huesos. Con todo,no ha cesado el movimiento de la sie-rra, como si ésta y el brazo funciona-sen con la tranquila convicción de quela lluvia era una ilusión mental. Lue-go deja la sierra y va y se agacha en-cima del farol, potegiéndolo con elcuerpo; su espalda apa rece flaca yesquelética bajo la camisa empapadacomo si se le hubiese vuelto bruscamentedel revés, con camisa y todo. [103]

COMMENTARY: Instead ofallowing the reader to see theseevents directly, Faulkner choosesto present them through the eyesof the absent Darl. This serves adual purpose; it furtherstrengthens our idea of howobsessed Darl is with his homeand his mother and it gives thereader a description of the eventsin the words of the best observerin the book. Absent though he is,Darl’s imaginings are asmeticulous as his actualobservations. In Darl’sreconstruction, the scene takes onsurrealistic undertones, grotesqueshadows throwing things out ofproportion, the image lit by thelurid (fantasmagórica) light of thelightning and the rain sweepingthe figures along in a way whichanticipates the scene in the river.Of all the characters in the book,only Darl could credibly be giventhe unverbalised response to theevents which brings out all themacabre and surreal elements inthem.

The last paragraph containsDarl’s personal attempt to resolvethe problem of his own existence,a problem brought to mind notonly by the impending death ofhis mother but also by his ownsituation. Settling down to sleepin a strange place, Darl wondersabout the difference between thesleeping state and the state of not-being, that is, death. ‘And whenyou are filled for sleep . . . Andthen I must be . . .’, these linescontain an odd, apparentlyunintelligible reflection on themeaning of existence. They hingeon the words ‘is’ and ‘was’ andon the confirmation of theexistence of anything or anyoneby some agency beyond that thingor person. Thus the wagon sittingoutside in the rain ‘is’ in Darl’sterminology because the fallingrain takes on the shape of thewagon. When he sets out to go tosleep, he abandons his ‘shape’,ceases to have his existenceconfirmed by any outside agency.In the end, Darl uses a variationof the ‘I think therefore I am’notion to confirm his ownexistence, ‘I must be, or I couldnot empty myself for sleep’. Thismeditation on the nature ofexistence takes place at anunspoken but not an unverbalisedlevel, for the terms are simplealthough the ideas are complex.When we come to Addie’ssection, we see that Darl’s doubtsabout his own existence have agreat deal to do with the tensionbetween words and deeds,between terms and ideas. Thissections gives us an earlyindication of the nature of hisproblem and also, in passing,reveals the lonely inner depths ofhis character.

impalpable: incapable of beingtouched or felt

quick with young: pregnant

buckshot: the pellets used in a gun

pistoning: (neologism) going backand forwards like a piston

vicious 1 bad-tempered, spiteful (a vicious dog; viciousremarks). 2 violent, severe (a vicious attack). 3 of thenature of or addicted to vice. 4 (of language orreasoning etc.) faulty or unsound.

Malicioso, horroroso, feroz, despiadadovicious feroz, salvaje, fiero, despiadado, sangui-

nario, virulento, atroz, malicioso, malintencio-nado, nefasto, fatal, abominable, depravado

scrawny bony, lean, scraggy ( 1 thin and bony, des-carnado adj. 2 Enjuto, flaco y descolorido 3 beinglean and long)

ruffle— v. arrugar, agitar, rizar, despeinar encrespar, eri-

zar, descomponer, perturbar, ofender, alisar1tr. disturb the smoothness or tranquillity of.2tr. upset the calmness of (a person).3tr. gather (lace etc.) into a ruffle.4tr. (often foll. by up) (of a bird) erect (its feathers) in

anger, display, etc.5intr. undergo ruffling.6intr. lose smoothness or calmness.— n. arruga, volante fruncido, rizo1 an ornamental gathered or goffered frill of lace etc.

worn at the opening of a garment esp. round thewrist, breast, or neck. ruffled skirt=falda devolantes;(o pechera o manga de volantes)

2 perturbation, bustle.3 a rippling effect on water.4 the ruff of a bird etc. (see ruff 1 2).5Mil. a vibrating drum-beat.

dislodge [stone, obstruction] sacar, extraer [party, ruler] desbancar = cause to fall) hacer caer to remove from or leave a lodging place, hiding pla-

ce, or previously fixed position

clatter estrépito n. a rattling noise (often producedby rapid movement); “the shutters clattered againstthe house”; “the clatter of iron wheels oncobblestones”

v. clatter hacer ruido estrepitoso, clack, brattlemake a rattling sound; “clattering dishes”

1 : to make a rattling sound <the dishes clatteredon the shelf> 2 : to talk noisily or rapidly 3 : tomove or go with a clatter <clattered down thestairs> pound, thump

38


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Pa returns. He is wearing Jewel’sraincoat and carrying Dewey Dell’s.Squatting over the lantern, Cashreaches back and picks up four sticksand drives them into the earth andtakes Dewey Dell’s raincoat from pa andspreads it over the sticks, forming a roofabove the lantern. Pa watches him.“I don’t know what you’ll do,” hesays. “Darl taken his coat with him.”

“Get wet,” Cash says. He takesup the saw again; again it movesup and down, in and out of thatunhurried imperviousness as a pis-ton moves in the oil; soaked, scrawny,tireless, with the lean light body of aboy or an old man. Pa watches him,blinking, his face streaming; again helooks up at the sky with that expres-sion of dumb and brooding outrageand yet of vindication, as though hehad expected no less; now and thenhe stirs, moves, gaunt and streaming,picking up a board or a tool and thenlaying it down. Vernon Tull is therenow, and Cash is wearing Mrs. Tull’sraincoat and he and Vernon are hunt-ing the saw. After a while they find itin pa’s hand.

“Why don’t you go on in the house,out of the rain?” Cash says. Pa looksat him, his face streaming slowly. Itis as though upon a face carved by asavage caricaturist a monstrousburlesque of all bereavementflowed. “You go on in,” Cash says.“Me and Vernon can finish it.”

Pa looks at them. The sleevesof Jewel’s coat are too short forh i m . U p o n h i s f a c e t h e r a i nstream, slow as cold glycerine. “Idon’t begrudge her the wetting,” he says.He mover again and falls to shiftingthe planks, picking them up, layingthem down again carefully, as thoughthey are glass. He goes to the lanternand pulls at the propped raincoatuntil he knocks it down and Cashcomes and fixes it back.

“You go on to the house,” Cash says.He leads pa to the house and returnswith the raincoat and folds it andplaces it beneath the shelter where thelantern sits. Vernon has not stopped.He looks up, still sawing.

“You ought to done that at first,” he says.“You knowed it was fixing to rain.”

“It’s his fever,” Cash says. Helooks at the board.

“Ay,” Vernon says. “He’d a come,anyway.”

Cash squints at the board. Onthe long flank of it the rain crashessteadi ly, m y r i a d , f l u c t u a n t .“I’m going to bevel it,” he says.

“It’ll take more time,” Vernon says.Cash sets the plank on edge; amoment longer Vernon watches him,

Padre vuelve. Se ha puesto el imper-meable de Jewel y trae el de Dewey Dell.Protegiendo el farol, Cash se echa haciaatrás y coge cuatro palos y los clava enel suelo y le quita a padre el impermea-ble de Dewey Dell y lo despliega encimade los palos, formando un techo sobre elfarol. Padre le mira.

—No sé lo que vas a hacer —dice—.Darl se la llevado su impermeable.

—Empaparme —dice Cash. Vuelvea coger la sierra; vuelve a moverlaarriba y abajo, dentro y fuera de esaimpenetrabilidad inalterable como unpistón se mueve en el aceite; empapado,esquelético, infatigable, tiene el cuerpoflaco y ligero de un muchacho o un an-ciano. Padre le mira, pestañea, le chorreala cara; vuelve a levantar la vista al cielocon esa expresión de idiota y de ultrajey, con todo, de vindicación, como si noesperase menos; de vez en cuando se agi-ta, se mueve, demacrado y chorreando,para coger una tabla o una herramientaque luego deja caer. Vernon Tull ahoraestá allí, y Cash se ha puesto el imper-meable de Mrs. Tull y él Vernon buscanla sierra. A1 cabo de un rato la encuen-tran en la mano de padre.

—¿Por qué no se mete en casa al abri-go de la lluvia? —dice Cash. Padre lemira, su cara chorrea lentamente. Escomo si sobre una cara tallada por uncar ica tur i s ta bru ta l f luye ra unaburla monstruosa de la aflicción.

—Métase dentro —dice Cash—. Yoy Vernon la podemos terminar.

Padre les mira. Las mangas del im-permeable de Jewel le quedan dema-siado cortas. Sobre la cara le chorreala lluvia, lenta como glicerina fría.

—No voy a regatearle la mojadura —dice.Vuelve a moverse y se agacha a

remover los tableros, los levanta yluego los deja de nuevo cuidadosamen-te como si fueran de cristal. Va hasta el fa-rol y estira el __________ impermeablehas ta que lo t i r a y Cash va y lovue lve a poner como estaba.

—Entre en casa —dice Cash.Lleva a padre a casa y vuelve con el

impermeable y lo dobla y lo coloca de-bajo de la protección donde está el [104]farol. Vernon no ha parado. Levanta lavista, sin dejar de serrar.

—Deberías haberlo hecho al princi-pio —dice—. Sabía que iba a llover.

—Tiene f i eb re —dice Cash , ymira la tabla .

—Sí —dice Vernon—. De todos mo-dos hubiera venido.

Cash enfila la tabla con la vista.En su largo costado 1a lluvia chocaf i r m e , e s p e s a , a g i t a d a .

—La voy a contar a bisel —dice.

—Eso te llevará más tiempo —dice Vernon.Cash coloca la tabla de canto ,

Vernon le mira durante un momento,

caricaturist: one who makesgrotesque representations of peopleor things by exaggerating certainfeatures of them

burlesque: imitation for the purposeof deriding or amusing

fluctuant: falling and risingirregularly

bereave deprive of a relation, friend, etc., esp. bydeath. Luto, duelo, desgracia, aflicción

impervious 1 a : not allowing entrance orpassage : IMPENETRABLE <a coat imperviousto rain> b : not capable of being damaged orharmed <a carpet impervious to roughtreatment> 2 : not responsive to an argumentetc ; not capable of being affected or disturbed<impervious to criticism>= impermeable, im-penetrable, insensible

impervious adj. (usu. foll. by to) 1 not responsiveto an argument etc. 2 not affording passageto a fluid.

bevel: make slopingbisel. Corte oblicuo en el borde o en la extremidad

de una lámina o plancha, como en el filo de unaherramienta, en el contorno de un cristal labrado,etc.

X

39


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

then he hands him the plane.

Vernon holds the board steadywhile Cash bevels the edge of it withthe tedious and minute care of ajeweller. Mrs. Tull comes to theedge of the porch and calls Vernon.“How near are you done?” she says.

Ve r n o n d o e s n o t l o o k u p .“ N o t l o n g . S o m e , y e t .

She wa tches Cash s toop inga t the p lank , the turgid savageg leam o f t he l an t e rn s l i ck ingo n t h e r a i n c o a t a s h e m o v e s .“You go down and get some planksoff the barn and finish it and come inout of the rain,” she says. “You’ll bothcatch your death.” Vernon does notmove. “Vernon,” she says.

“We won’t be long,” he says.“We’l l be done af ter a spel l .”Mrs. Tull watches them a while. Thenshe re-enters the house.

“If we get in a tight, we could takecome of them planks,” Vernon says.“I’ll help you put them back.”

Cash ceases the plane and squintsalong the plank, wiping it with his palm.“Give me the next one,” he says.

Some time toward dawn the rainceases. But it is not yet day whenCash drives the last nail and standsstiffly up and looks down at thef in i shed co ff in , t he o the r swatching him. In the lanternlighthis face is calm, musing; slowly hestrokes his hands on his raincoatedthighs in a gesture deliberate, finaland composed. Then the four ofthem —Cash and pa and Vernon andPeabody—raise the coffin to theirshoulders and turn toward the house.It is light, yet they move slowly;empty; yet they carry it carefully;lifeless, yet they move with hushedprecautionary words to one another,speaking of it as though, complete, itnow slumbered lightly alive, waitingto come awake. On the dark floortheir feet clump awkwardly, asthough for a long time they have notwalked on floors.

T h e y s e t i t d o w n b y t h eb e d . P e a b o d y s a y s q u i e t l y :“Let’s eat a snack. It’s almostdaylight. Where’s Cash?”

He has returned to the trestles,stooped again in the lantern’s feebleglare as he gathers up his tools and wipesthem on a cloth carefully and puts theminto the box with its leather sling to goover the shoulder. Then he takes up box,lantern and raincoat and returns to thehouse, mounting the steps into faintsilhouette against the paling east.

In a strange room you must emptyyourself for sleep. And before you areemptied for sleep, what are you. Andwhen you are emptied for sleep, you

luego le da el cepillo.

Vernon sostiene la tabla con fuerzamientras Cash bisela el canto con elcuidado aburrido y minucioso de unjoyero. Mrs. Tull sale al borde delporche y llama a Vernon.

—¿Os falta mucho? —dice.

Vernon no levanta la vista.—No mucho. Pero todavía un poco.

Ella contempla a Cash encorvadosobre la tabla; el túrgido y brutal res-plandor del farol hace brillar el im-permeable cada vez que se mueve.

—Anda, baja y trae unos tableros delgranero y termina y entra a ponerte a cu-bierto de la lluvia —dice ella—. O vaisa quedar tiesos —Vernon no se mueve—. Vernon —dice ella.

—No tardaremos mucho —dice él—.Lo terminaremo en un santiamén.

Mrs. Tull le mira durante un rato. Lue-go vuelve a entrar en la casa.

—Si nos vemos en un aprieto, podemoscoger alguno de esos tableros —diceVernon—. Yo te ayudaría a reponerlos.

Cash deja de cepillar y enfila la tabla conla vista, secándola con la palma de la mano.

—Deme el siguiente —dice.

Casi al amanecer deja de llover.Pero todavía no es de día cuando Cashclava el último clavo y se estira entu-mecido y baja la vista hacia el ataúdya terminado, mientras los otros leobservan. A la luz del farol tiene lacara tranquila, pensativa; se restriegalentamente las manos en el impermea-ble, a la altura de las caderas, con ungesto decidido, final y sereno. Luegolos cuatro —Cash y padre y Vernon yPeabody— cogen el ataúd a hombrosy se dirigen a casa. No pesa mucho,pero se mueven despacio; está vacío,pero lo llevan con cuidado; carece devida, pero se mueven diciéndose unosa otros palabras de advertencia, ha-blando de él como si, ya terminado,ahora estuviera medio dormido a laespera del despertar. Sobre el oscurosuelo sus pies andan pesados comosi llevaran mucho tiempo sin andarsobre suelos de madera.

Lo dejan junto a la cama. Peabodydice en voz baja:

—Vamos a comer algo. Ya casi esde día. ¿Dónde está Cash?

Éste ha vuelto a los caballetes; incli-nado nuevamente al débil resplandor delfarol, recoge sus herramientas y las secacuidadosamente con un trapo y las guar-da en la caja que tiene una correa paracolgársela del hombro. Luego, coge caja,farol e impermeable y vuelve a casa, su-biendo los escalones con su tenuesilueta destacándose sobre el pálido este.

En un cuarto extraño, para dor-mir, t ienes que vaciarte. Y antes devaciarte para dormir, ¿qué eres? Ycuando te vacías para dormir, no

turgid hinchado, abultado, túrgido, turgente, cam-panudo, ampuloso, rimbombante, cargado (aire)

40


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

are not. And when you are filled withsleep, you never were. I don’t knowwhat I am. I don’t know if I am ornot. Jewel knows he is, because hedoes not know that he does not knowwhether he is or not. He cannot emptyhimself for sleep because he is notwhat he is and he is what he is not.Beyond the unlamped wall I can hearthe rain shaping the wagon that isours, the load that is no longer theirsthat felled and sawed it nor yet theirsthat bought it and which is not ourseither, lie on our wagon though itdoes, since only the wind and the rainshape it only to Jewel and me, thatare not asleep. And since sleep isis-not and rain and wind are was, it isnot. Yet the wagon is, because whenthe wagon is was, Addie Bundren willnot be. And Jewel is , so AddieBundren must be. And then I must be,or I could not empty myself for sleepin a strange room. And so if I am notemptied yet, I am is.

H o w o f t e n h a v e I l a i nb e n e a t h r a i n o n a s t r a n g er o o f , t h i n k i n g o f h ome .

18CASH (1)

I MADE it on the bevel.

1 . There is more surface for thenails to grip.

2. There is twice thegripping-surface to each seam.

3. The water will have to seep intoit on a slant. Water moves easiest upand down or straight across.

4. In a house people are uprighttwo-thirds of the time. So the seamsand joints are made up-and-down.Because the stress is up-and-down.

5. In a bed where people lie downall the time, the joints and seams aremade sideways, because the stressis sideways.

6. Except.

7. A body is not square like across-tie.

8. Animal magnetism.

9. The animal magnetism of a deadbody makes the stress come slanting,so the seams and joints of a coffin aremade on the bevel.

10. You can see by an old gravethat the earth sinks down on the bevel.

11. While in a natural hole it sinksby the centre, the stress beingup-and-down.

12. So I made it on the bevel. .

13. It makes a neater job.

eres. Y cuando estás lleno de sueño,nunca fuiste. No sé lo que soy. Nosé si soy yo o no lo soy. Jewel sabeque es, porque no sabe que él no sabesi es o no. No puede vaciarse paradormir porque no es lo que es y es loque no es. Más allá de la pared os-cura oigo la lluvia dar forma a la ca-rreta que es nuestra, a la carga queya no es de los que la cortaron y se-rraron ni siquiera de los que la com-praron y que tampoco es nuestra ,aunque yace en nuestra carreta, pues-to que sólo el viento y la lluvia ledan forma y sólo para Jewel y paramí, que no estamos dormidos. Y comoel sueño es no ser y la lluvia y el vien-to son fue, la carreta no es. Sin em-bargo, la carreta es, porque cuando lacarreta es fue, Addie Bundren no será. YJewel es, conque Addie Bundren tiene queser. Y entonces yo tengo que ser, o no po-dría vaciarme a mí mismo para dormir eun cuarto extraño. Y así si yo todavía noestoy vacío, es que soy.

Cuántas veces he estado acostado acubierto de la lluvia bajo un techo extra-ño, pensando en el hogar.

CASH

Lo he hecho en bisel.

1. Hay más superficie para que aga-rren los clavos.

2. Hay el doble de superficie de aga-rre para cada junta.

3. Él agua tendría que colarseoblicuamente. Él agua se desliza más fácil-mente de arriba abajo u horizontalmente.

4. Dentro de una casa la gente está de piedos terceras partes del tiempo. De modo que lasjuntas y h uniones están hechas de arriba abajo.Porque la presión viene de arriba abajo.

5. En una casa donde la gente estátumbada todo el tiempo, las juntas y unio-nes se hacen de lado, porque la presiónviene de lado.

6. Excepto.

7. Un cuerpo no es cuadrado comouna traviesa.

8. El magnetismo animal.

9. El magnetismo animal de un cuer-po muerto hace que la presión venga delado, de modo que las juntas y unionesde un ataúd tienen que hacerse en bisel.

10. Se ve que en una tumba vieja latierra se hunde en bisel.

11. Mientras que en un agujero nor-mal se hunde por e centro, la presión esde arriba abajo.

12. De modo que lo he hecho en bisel.

13. Es un trabajo mejor hecho.

Cash (1)

This brief section takes theform of a list, reflecting Cash’sunspoken thoughts about thecoffin and about the shape ofthings.

COMMENTARY: Theappearance of this section givesthe impression that Cash is a veryorganised, practical and ratherlimited thinker. Closer inspectionreveals, however, that there is atension between the numbers inthe list and what is put alongsidethe numbers. For example, wefind ‘6. Except.’ This suggeststhat Cash tries to think in anorganised, numerical way, but thathis thoughts often run contrary tothe imposed organisation. Hethinks in terms of his first love,carpentry, but within thisframework he is not withoutimagination or fancy.

seep ooze out; percolate slowly, flow, rezuma.US a place where petroleum etc. oozes slowlyout of the ground. filtrarse, rezumar, esca-parse, penetrar, aflorar, brotar, manar

41


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

19VARDAMAN (3)

MY mother is a fish.

20TULL (3)

IT was ten o’clock when I gotback, with Peabody’s team hitched onto the back of the wagon. They hadalready dragged the buckboard backfrom where Quick found it upsidedown straddle of the ditch about a milefrom the spring. It was pulled out ofthe road at the spring, and about a dozenwagons was already there. It was Quickfound it. He said the river was up andstill rising. He said it had alreadycovered the highest water-mark onthe bridge-piling he had ever seen.“That bridge won’t stand a wholelo t of water,” I sa id . “Hassomebody told Anse about it?”

“I told him,” Quick said. “He sayshe reckons them boys has heard andunloaded and are on the way back bynow. He says they can load up andget across.”

“He better go on and bury her atNew Hope,” Armstid said. “That bridgeis old. I wouldn’t monkey with it.”

“His mind is set on taking her toJefferson,” Quick said.

“ T h e n h e b e t t e r g e t a ti t s o o n a s h e c a n , ”A r m s t i d s a i d .

Anse meets us at the door. He hasshaved, but not good. There is a longcut on his jaw, and he is wearing hisSunday pants and a white shirt withthe neckband buttoned. It is drawnsmooth over his hump, making itlook bigger than ever, like a whiteshirt will, and his face is differenttoo. He looks folks in the eye now,dignif ied, his face t ragic andcomposed, shaking us by the handas we walk up on to the porch andscrape our shoes, a little stiff in ourSunday clothes, our Sunday clothesrustling , not looking full at himas he meets us.

“The Lord giveth,” we say.

“The Lord giveth.”

That boy is not there. Peabodytold about how he come into thekitchen, hollering, swarming andclawing at Cora when he found hercooking that fish, and how DeweyDell taken him down to the barn.“My team all right?” Peabody says.

“All right,” I tell him. “I give thema bait this morning. Your buggyseems all right too. It ain’t hurt.”

“And no fault of somebody’s,” hesays. “I’d give a nickel to know

19VARDAMAN

Mi madre es un pez.

20TULL

ERAN las diez cuando volví, con eltiro de Peabody atado a la parte de atrásde la carreta. Ya habían sacado la calesade donde la encontró Quick, volcada,hundida en la cuneta, a unos dos kilóme-tros del manantial. La arrastraron fueradel camino junto al manantial, y ya ha-bía como una docena de carretas allí. FueQuick el que la encontró. Dijo que el ríoiba crecido y seguía creciendo. Dijo queya había subido por encima de la señalmás alta del pilar del puente, algo quenunca se había visto.

—Ese puente no va a resistir tal can-tidad de agua —dije yo—. ¿Le ha conta-do alguien a Anse lo que pasa?

—Se lo conté yo —dijo Quick—. Diceque cree que los chicos ya lo habrán oídoy que habrán descargado y que deben deestar de camino. Dice que pueden cargary cruzar.

—Mejor sería que fuera y la enterra-ra en New Hope —dijo Armstid—. Esepuente es viejo. Yo no jugaría con él.

—Está decidido a llevarla a Jefferson—dijo Quick.

—Entonces será mejor que se pongaen marcha lo más pronto que pueda —dijo Armstid.

Anse nos recibe a la puerta. Se ha afei-tado, pero no bien. Hay un gran corte ensu mandíbula y lleva los pantalones delos domingos y una camisa blanca con latira del cuello abrochada. Está suavemen-te tirante sobre su joroba, haciendo queésta parezca mayor que nunca, por loblanco de la camisa; y su cara tambiénestá distinta. Ahora mira a la gente a losojos, digno, con cara trágica y serena, ynos estrecha la mano según vamos llegan-do al porche y nos restregamos los zapa-tos, un tanto envarados con nuestra ropade los domingos, una ropa de los domingosque cruje, sin mirarle directamente cuan-do nos acercamos a él.

—El Señor nos lo dio —decimos.

—El Señor nos lo dio.

E l c h i c o n o a n d a p o r a h í .Peabody nos contó que entró en lacocina gr i tando, muy nervioso , yque arañó a Cora cuando vio queguisaba ese pez, y que Dewey Del lse lo l levó a l granero.

—¿Está bien mi tiro? —dice Peabody.

—Está bien —le contestó—.Les di decomer esta mañana. Y su calesa tambiénparece que está bien. No ha sufrido daño.

—No será porque alguien no lo hayapretendido —dice él—. Daría dinero por

Vardaman (3)

This section consists of oneline, showing that Vardaman hasfinally consolidated the idea of hismother and the idea of the deadfish and made them into one.

Tull (3)

In this section, Tull recalls thefuneral service for AddieBundren conducted by theminister, Whitfield.

COMMENTARY: Here, aselsewhere, Faulkner gives thereader a sense of time hangingheavily on the hands of peoplewho are sitting waiting forsomething to happen. The menfeel awkward in their best clothesand their conversation shows thatthey all think and react in muchthe same way as Tull. When theservice starts, they move as onetowards the front steps but notinto the house. There is a senseof community evoked by thissection but the Bundrens are notreally a part of that community.

Xswarm 2 v. intr. (foll. by up) & tr. climb (a rope or treeetc.), esp. in a rush, by clasping or clinging withthe hands and knees etc.

claw 1 a a pointed horny nail on an animal’s or bird’sfoot. b a foot armed with claws. 2 the pincers of ashellfish. 3 a device for grappling, holding, etc.

rustling: crackling, susurrante, rumoroso, makinga sound as dry leaves blown in the wind, susu-rrar, crujir

monkey 1 tr. mimic or mock. 2 intr. (often foll.by with) tamper or play mischievous tricks. 3intr. (foll. by around , about) fool around.

42


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

where that boy was when that teambroke away.”

“If it’s broke anywhere, I’ll fix it,”I say.

The women folks go on into thehouse. We can hear them, talking andfanning. The fans go whish, whish,whish and them talking, the talkingsounding kind of like bees murmuringin a waterbucket. The men stop on theporch, talking some, not looking atone another.

“Howdy, Vernon,” they say.“Howdy, Tull.”

“Looks like more rain.”

“It does for a fact.”

“Yes, sir. It will rain some more.”

“It come up quick.”

“And going away slow. It don’t fail.”

I go around to the back. Cash isfilling up the holes he bored in the topof it. He is trimming out plugs forthem, one at a time, the wood wet andhard to work. He could cut up a tincan and hide the holes and nobodywouldn’t know the difference.Wouldn’t mind, anyway. I have seenhim spend a hour trimming out a wedgelike it was glass he was working, whenhe could have reached around andpicked up a dozen sticks and drovethem into the joint and made it do.

When we finished I go back to thefront. The men have gone a littlepiece from the house, sitting on theends of the boards and on thesaw-horses where we made it lastnight, some sitting and some squatting.Whitfield ain’t come yet.

T h e y l o o k u p a t m e , t h e i reyes asking.

“It’s about,” I say. “He’s readyto nail.”

While they are getting up Ansecomes to the door and looks at usand we return to the porch. Wescrape our shoes again, careful,waiting for one another to go in first,milling a little at the door. Ansestands inside the door, dignified,composed. He waves us in andleads the way into the room.

They had laid her in it reversed.Cash made i t c lock-shape, likethis with every jointand seam bevelled and scrubbed withthe plane, tight as a drum and neat asa sewing basket, and they had laid herin it head to foot so it wouldn’t crushher dress. It was her wedding dressand it had a flare-out bottom, and theyhad laid , her head to foot in it so thedress could spread out, and they hadmade her a veil out of a mosquito bar

saber dónde estaba ese chico cuando seescapó el tiro.

—Si se ha roto algo, yo se lo arreglaré—digo.

Las mujeres entran en la casa. Lasoímos hablar y abanicarse. Los aba-nicos hacen fis, fis, fis, y ellas hablany su charla suena a algo así como elmurmullo de las abejas dentro de uncubo de agua. Los hombres, paradosen el porche, hablan sin mirarse unosa otros.

—¿Qué tal, Vernon? —dicen—. ¿Quétal, Tull?

—Parece que va a volver a llover.

—Es seguro.

—Sí, señor. Va a volver a llover.

—Y pronto.

—Y tardará en parar. Nunca falla.

Voy a la parte de atrás de la casa.Cash está tapando los agujeros que elchico hizo en la tapa. Está cortando ta-cos para meterlos, uno a uno, la made-ra mojada y difícil de trabajar. Podríacortar una hojalata y tapar los agujerosy nadie notaría la diferencia. O a nadiele importaría, en todo caso. Le he vistopasarse una hora cortando una cuñacomo si estuviese trabajando con cris-tal, cuando podría darse la vuelta y co-ger una docena de palos y meterlos enla grieta, y harían el mismo papel.

Cuando terminamos volví a la partedelantera. Los hombres se habían aleja-do un poco de la casa, sentándose en losextremos de los tableros y en los caba-lletes donde hicimos la caja la noche pa-sada, unos sentados y otros en cuclillas.Whitfield todavía no ha llegado.

Levantan la vista hacia mí, interrogán-dome con la mirada.

—Ya casi está —digo yo. Está listopara clavarla.

Mientras se ponen de pie, Anse salea la puerta y nos mira y volvemos alporche. Otra vez nos restregamos loszapatos cuidadosamente, esperando quesea otro el que entre el primero mien-tras nos apiñamos a la puerta. Anses i g u e e n e l u m b r a l , d i g n o ,sereno. Con la mano hace señas de que entremosy nos precede hasta el cuarto.

La habían metido en la caja al revés.Cash la ha hecho en forma de reloj de pa-red, así con todas susjuntas y uniones en bisel y bien cepilla-das, estanca como un tambor y pulcra comoun costurero, y la han acostado dentro, conla cabeza a los pies para que el vestido no searrugue. Era su vestido de novia y teníamucho vuelo en la falda y la habían acosta-do con la cabeza a los pies de la caja parapoder extender el vestido, y habían hechoun velo con un trozo de mosquitero para

mill intransitive verb 1 : to hit out with the fists 2 : tomove in a circle or in an eddying mass; move inan aimless manner, esp. in a confused mass; also: WANDER 3 : to undergo milling

verb transitive verb 1 : to subject to an operationor process in a mill: as a : to grind into flour, meal,or powder b : to shape or dress by means of arotary cutter c : to mix and condition (as rubber)by passing between rotating rolls 2 : to give araised rim or a ridged or corrugated edge to (acoin) 3 : to cut grooves in the metal surface of (asa knob)

mill around arremolinarse mill grind with a mill; «mill grain» mill move about in a confused manner ; movérse

por todas partes

43


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

so the auger* holes in her facewouldn’t show.

W h e n w e a r e g o i n g o u t ,Whitfield comes. He is wet andmuddy to the waist, coming in.“The Lord comfort this house,” hesays. “I was late because the bridgehas gone. I went down to the oldford and swum my horse over, theLord protecting me. His grace beupon this house.”

We go back to the trestles andplank-ends and sit or squat.

“I knowed it would go,” Armstidsays.

“It’s been there a long time, thatere bridge,” Quick says.

“The Lord has kept it there, youmean,” Uncle Billy says. “I don’tknow ere a man that’s touchedhammer to it in twenty-five years.”

“How long has it been there, UncleBilly?” Quick says.

“It was built in . . . let me see . . . Itwas in the year 1888,” Uncle Billysays. “I mind it because the first manto cross it was Peabody coming to myhouse when Jody was born.”

“If I’d a crossed it every timeyour wife littered since, it’d a beenwore out long before this, Billy,”Peabody says.

We laugh, suddenly loud, thensuddenly quiet again. We look a littleaside at one another.

“Lots of folks has crossed it thatwon’t cross no more bridges,”Houston says.

“It’s a fact,” Littlejohn says. “It’s so.”

“One more ain’t, no ways,”Armstid says. “It’d taken themtwo-three days to got her to town inthe wagon. They’d be gone a week,getting her to Jefferson and back.”

“What’s Anse so itching to take her toJefferson for, anyway?” Houston says.

“He promised her,” I say. “Shewanted it. She come from there. Hermind was set on it.”

“And Anse is set on it, too,” Quicksays.

“Ay,” Uncle Billy says. “It’s likea man that’s let everything slide allhis life to get set on something thatwill make the most trouble foreverybody he knows.”

“Well, it’ll take the Lord to get herover that river now,” Peabody says.“Anse can’t do it.”

“And I reckon He will,” Quick

que no se le vieran los agujeros del taladro enla cara.

C u a n d o s a l i m o s , l l e g aW h i t f i e l d . E s t á e m p a p a d o y l l e -n o d e b a r r o h a s t a l a c i n t u r a .

—Que el Señor consuele a los de estacasa —dice al entrar—. Llego tarde por-que el puente ha desaparecido. Bajé has-ta el viejo vado y crucé nadando a caba-llo. El Señor me protegió. Que su graciadescienda sobre esta casa.

Volvemos a los caballetes y los tablonesy nos sentamos o nos ponemos en cuclillas.

—Sabía que se lo llevaría el río —diceArmstid.

—Ya estaba durando demasiado, esepuente —dice Quick.

—Querrás decir que el Señor loconservaba —dice el tío Billy—. Nosé de nadie que le haya hecho la menorreparación en veinticinco años.

—¿Y cuánto llevaba allí, tío Billy? —dice Quick.

—Lo construyeron... vamos a ver...Fue el año 1888 [110] —dice el tíoBilly—. Me acuerdo porque el primerhombre que lo cruzó fue Peabody quevenía a mi casa cuando nació Jody.

—Si lo hubiera cruzado todas las ve-ces que parió tu mujer desde entonces,se habría venido abajo mucho antes, Billy—dice Peabody.

Nos reímos, primero muy alto; luegode repente bajito. Nos miramos unos aotros de reojo.

—Muchas personas de las que lo cru-zaron ya no cruzarán más puentes —diceHouston.

—Cierto —dice Littlejohn—. Así es.

—Y sin duda, hay una más que nolo cruzará —dice Armstid—. Les cos-tará de dos a tres días llevarla al pue-blo en la carreta. Y toda una semanallevarla a Jefferson y volver.

—¿Por qué insiste tanto Anse en lle-varla a Jefferson? —dice Houston.

—Se lo prometió —digo yo—. Era loque quería ella. Procedía de allí. Estabaempeñada en ello.

—Y Anse está empeñado también —dice Quick.

—Sí —dice el tío Billy—. Es como siun hombre que nunca en toda su vida seha preocupado de nada, se empeñara enhacer algo que sólo trae problemas a to-dos los que le conocen.

—Bueno, ahora a ver si el Señor lesayuda a cruzar ese río —dice Peabody—.Anse solo no va a poder.

—Para mí que Dios querrá —dice

auger n. 1 a tool resembling a large corkscrew, forboring holes in wood. 2 a similar larger tool for boringholes in the ground.

44


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

says. “He’s took care of Anse a longtime, now.”

“It’s a fact,” Littlejohn says.

“Too long to quit now,” Armstidsays.

“I reckon He’s like everybodyelse around here,” Uncle Bil lysays. “He’s done it so long now Hecan’t quit.”

Cash comes out. He has put on aclean shirt; his hair, wet, is combedsmooth down on his brow, smoothand black as if he had painted it on tohis head. He squats stiffly among us,we watching him.

“You feeling this weather, ain’tyou?” Armstid says.

Cash says nothing.

“A broke bone always feels it,”Littlejohn says. “A fellow with abroke bone can tell it a-coming.”

“Lucky Cash, got off with just abroke leg,” Armstid says. “He mighthave hurt himself bedrid. How far’dyou fall, Cash?”

“Twenty-eight foot, four and a halfinches, about,” Cash says. I moveover beside him.

“A fellow can sho slip quick onwet planks,” Quick says.

“It’s too bad,” I say. “But youcouldn’t a holp it!”

“It’s them durn women,” he says.“I made it to balance with her. I madeit to her measure and weight.”

If it takes wet boards for folks tofall, it’s fixing to be lots of fallingbefore this spell is done.

“You couldn’t have holp it,” I say.

I don’t mind the folks falling. It’sthe cotton and corn I mind.

Neither does Peabody mind thefolks falling. How ’bout it, Doc?

It’s a fact. Washed clean outen theground it will be. Seems like somethingis always happening to it.

’Course it does. That’s why it’sworth anything. If nothing didn’thappen and everybody mude a bigcrop, do you reckon it would be worththe raising?

We l l , I b e d u r n i f I l i k et o s e e m y w o r k w a s h e do u t e n t h e g r o u n d , w o r k Is w a t o v e r.

It’s a fact. A fellow wouldn’t mindseeing it washed up if he could justturn on the rain himself.

Quick—. Lleva tiempo protegiendo aAnse.

—Cierto —dice Littlejohn.

—Demasiado para abandonarle aho-ra —dice Armstid.

—Para mí que el Señor es igual quetodos los de por aquí —dice el tío Billy—. Lleva tanto ayudándole que ahora no lopuede abandonar.

Cash sale. Se ha puesto una camisalimpia; su pelo, mojado, está peinadosuavemente sobre su frente, suave y ne-gro como si se lo hubiese pintado en lacabeza. Se acuclilla tenso entre nosotrosque le miramos.

—¿No te molesta con este tiempo? —dice Armstid.

Cash no dice nada.

—Un hueso roto siempre lo nota —diceLittlejohn—. Alguien con un hueso rotopuede decir el tiempo que va a hacer.

—Por suerte Cash sólo se rom-pió una pierna —dice Armst id—.Podría haberse quedado inúti l . ¿Tecaíste de muy al to, Cash?

—Desde unos nueve metros y cin-cuenta y cinco centímetros, más o me-nos —dice Cash. Me acerco a él.

—Cualquiera puede resbalar en untablón mojado —dice Quick.

—Es una pena —digo yo—. Pero nolo pudiste evitar.

—Es por esas condenadas mujeres —dice él—. Lo hice para quedar en paz conella. Lo hice a su peso y medida.

Si basta con un tablero mojado para quela gente caiga, seguro que van a caersemuchos antes de que cambie el tiempo.

—No lo pudiste evitar —digo yo.

No me importa que se caiga la gente. Loque me importa es el algodón y el maíz.

Tampoco a Peabody le importa que la gen-te se caiga. ¿Qué me dice a eso, doctor?

Cierto. El campo quedará total-men te ar rasado . Parece como s isiempre le pasara algo.

Claro que parece. Por eso vale loque vale. Si no pasara nada y todostuvieran una gran cosecha, ¿parausted que merecería la pena culti-var la tierra?

Bueno, que me condene si a mí megusta ver mi trabajo arrasado por la ria-da, un trabajo que tantos sudores me hacostado.

C i e r t o . A n a d i e l e i m p o r t a r í av e r l o a n e g a d o s i p u d i e r a é lc o n t ro l a r l a l l u v i a .

swat — v.tr.1 crush (a fly etc.) with a sharp blow. 2hit hard and abruptly. — n. a swatting blow.

45


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Who is that man can do that?Where is the color of his eyes?

Ay. The Lord made it to grow. It’s Hisnto wash up if He sees it fitten so.

“You couldn’t have holp it,” I say.

“It’s them durn women,” he says.

In the house the women begin tosing. We hear the first l inecommence, beginning to swell asthey take hold, and we rise and movetoward the door, taking off our hatsand throwing our chews away. Wedo not go in. We stop at the steps,clumped, holding our hats betweenour lax hands in front or behind,standing with one foot advanced andour heads lowered, looking aside,down at our hats in our hands and atthe earth or now and then at the skyand at one another ’s grave,composed face.

The song ends; the voices quaveraway with a rich and dying fall.Whitfield begins. His voice is biggerthan him. It’s like they are not thesame. It’s like he is one, and his voiceis one, swimming on two horses sideby side across the ford and cominginto the house, the mud-splashed oneand the one that never even got wet,triumphant and sad. Somebody in thehouse begins to cry. It sounds like hereyes and her voice were turned backinside her, listening; we move,shifting to the other leg, meeting oneanother’s eye and making like theyhadn’t touched.

Whitfield stops at last. The womensing again. In the thick air it’s liketheir voices come out of the air,flowing together and on in the sad,comforting tunes. When they ceaseit’s like they hadn’t gone away. It’slike they had just disappeared into theair and when we moved we wouldloose them again out of the air aroundus, sad and comforting. Then theyfinish and we put on our hats, ourmovements stiff, like we hadn’t neverwore hats before.

On the way home Cora is still singing.“I am bounding toward my God andmy reward,” she sings, sitting on thewagon, the shawl around her shouldersand the umbrella open over her, thoughit is not raining.

“She has hern,” I say. “Wherevershe went, she has her reward in beingfree of Anse Bundren.” She laid therethree days in that box, waiting forDarl and Jewel to come clean backhome and get a new wheel and goback to where the wagon was in theditch. Take my team, Anse, I said.

We’ll wait for ourn , he said.She’ll want it so. She was ever aparticular woman.

¿Qué hombre puede hacer eso? ¿Dequé color tiene los ojos?

Sí. El Señor hace que crea. Y Él inun-da los campos cuando le parece.

—No pudiste evitarlo —digo yo.

—Es por esas condenadas mujeres —dice él.

En la casa las mujeres empiezan a can-tar. Oímos el comienzo de la primera lí-nea y se ponen a cantar más alto segúnse animan, y nos levantamos y nos diri-gimos a la puerta, quitándonos los som-breros y escupiendo nuestro tabaco demascar. No entramos. Nos detenemos enlos escalones, vacilando, con los som-breros en nuestras indecisa manos, pues-tas delante o detrás, parados con un pieadelantado y la cabeza gacha, mirandode reojo, bien a los sombreros de nues-tras manos o al suelo o de vez en cuandoal cielo y a las caras de los demás, gra-ves, tranquilas.

Termina el cántico; las voces tiem-blan en un final poderoso y moribun-do. Empieza Whitfield. Su voz es másgrande que él. Es como si no fuesesuya. Es como si él y su voz fueran co-sas diferentes que cruzaran el vadouno a lado de la otra, en caballos dis-tintos, y llegaran a la casa, uno cubier-to de barro y la otra ni tan siquieramojada triunfante y triste. En la casaalguien empieza a llorar. Suena comosi sus ojos y su voz se le hubieranmetido en el cuerpo, escuchando; nosmovemos, apoyándonos en 1a otrapierna, cruzando nuestras miradas yhaciendo como si no nos viéramos.

Por fin Whitfield se calla. Las muje-res vuelven a cantar En la espesa atmós-fera es como si sus voces salieran de aire,fluyendo juntas y siguieran en tristes cán-ticos de consuelo. Cuando cesan es comosi no hubieran desaparecido. Es como siacabasen de desaparecer en el aire ycuando nos moviésemos pudiéramos vol-ver a oírlas en el aire que nos rodea, tris-tes y reconfortantes. Han terminado y nosponemos el sombrero con movimientostensos, como si anteriormente nunca hu-biéramos llevado sombrero.

Camino de casa, Cora todavía canta.—Voy hacia mi Dios y espero Su

recompensa —canta sentada en lacarre ta , con e l chal sobre los hom-bros y e l paraguas abier to aunqueno l lueve.

—Ella se ha ganado la suya —digoyo—. Esté donde esté, se ha ganado surecompensa al verse libre de AnseBundren. Tres días tumbada en esa caja,esperando a que Darl y Jewel vuelvanpor fin a casa y traigan una rueda nuevay vuelvan a la cuneta donde estaba la ca-rreta. Llévate mi tiro, Anse, dije yo.

Esperaremos el nuestro, dijo él. Ellaasí lo hubiera querido. Siempre fue unamujer especial.

Xclump 1 (foll. by of) a cluster of plants, esp. treesor shrubs. 2 an agglutinated mass of blood-cells etc. 3 a thick extra sole on a boot orshoe.

1a intr. form a clump. b tr. heap or planttogether. 2 intr. (also clomp) walk with heavytread. 3 tr. colloq. hit.

46


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

On the third day they got back andthey loaded her into the wagon andstarted and it already too late. You’llhave to go all the way round bySamson’s bridge. It’ll take you a dayto get there. Then you’ll be forty milesfrom Jefferson. Take my team, Anse.

We ’ l l w a i t f o r o u r n . She ’ l lwant it so.

It was about a mile from the housewe saw him, sitting on the edge ofthe slough. It hadn’t had a fish in itnever that I knowed. He lookedaround at us, his eyes round and calm,his face dirty, the pole across hisknees. Cora was still singing.

“This ain’t no good day to fish,” I said.“You come on home with us and me andyou’ll go down to the river first thing inthe morning and catch some fish.”

“It’s one in here,” he said. “DeweyDell seen it.

“You come on with us. The river’sthe best place.”

“It’s in here,” he said. “Dewey Dellseen it.”

“I’m bounding toward my God andmy reward,” Cora sung.

21DARL (7)

“I T ’ S n o t y o u r h o r s et h a t ’ s d e a d , J e w e l , ” I say.He sits erect on the seat, leaning alittle forward, wooden-backed. Thebrim of his hat has soaked free of thecrown in two places, drooping acrosshis wooden face so that , headlowered, he looks through it likethrough the visor of a helmet,looking long across the valley towhere the barn leans against thebluff, shaping the invisible horse.“ S e e t h e n ? ” I s a y . H i g ha b o v e t h e house , agains t thequ ick th ick sky, they hang innarrowing circles. From here theyare no more than spe c k s ,implacable, patient, portentous .“B u t i t ’ s n o t y o u r h o r s et h a t ’ s d e a d .”

“Goddamn you,” he says.“Goddamn you.”

I cannot love my mother because Ihave no mother. Jewel’s mother is ahorse.

Motionless, the tall buzzards hangin soaring circles, the clouds givingthem an illusion of retrograde.

Motionless, wooden-backed ,wooden-faced, he shapes the horse ina rigid stoop like a hawk,hook-winged. They are waiting forus, ready for the moving of it, waitingfor him. He enters the still and waits

Al tercer día volvieron y la cargaronen la carreta y se pusieron en marcha[113] y ya era demasiado tarde. Tendréisque dar un rodeo por el puente de junto acasa de Samson. Os llevará un día llegarhasta allí. Luego serán setenta kilómetrosharta Jefferson. Coge mi tiro, Anse.

Esperaremos el nuestro. Ella así lohubiera querido.

A un par de kilómetros más o me-nos de nuestra casa le vimos, sentado ala orilla de la charca. Nunca hubo niun pez en ella, que yo sepa. Nos mirócon ojos redondos y tranquilos, la carasucia, la caña entre las rodillas. Coratodavía cantaba.

—No es un buen día para pescar —dije yo—. Vente a casa con nosotros, yyo y tú bajaremos al río a primera horade la mañana y pescaremos algún pez.

—Hay uno aquí —dijo él—. Lo vioDewey Dell.

—Ven con nosotros. El río es el sitiomejor.

—Hay uno qui dentro —dijo—. Lovio Dewey Dell.

—Voy hacia mi Dios y espero su re-compensa —cantaba Cora.

21DARL

—No es tu caballo el que se ha muer-to, Jewel —digo.

Va erguido en el asiento, echado un pocohacia delante, con la espalda envarada. Elala de su sombrero está empapada y seha soltado de la copa por dos sitios, col-gándole delante de su cara de palo demodo que, agachada la cabeza, mira através de ella como por el visor de uncasco al mirar el valle hasta donde el gra-nero se apoya contra los riscos, evocan-do al invisible caballo.

—¿Los ves? —digo.En lo alto de la casa, contra el cie-

lo cambiante y espeso, se ciernen encírculos cada vez más estrechos. Des-de aquí no son más que motas, impla-cables, pacientes, amenazadoras.

—Pero si no es tu caballo el que seha muerto.

— M a l d i t o s e a s — d i c e é l — .Maldi to seas .

No puedo querer a mi madre porqueno tengo madre. La madre de Jewel esun caballo.

Inmóviles, los enormes buitres se cier-nen en círculos que se elevan; las nubesles prestan una ilusión de retroceso.

Inmóvil, con la espalda encorvada,con cara de palo, él evoca al caballo, enun rígido arco como un halcón, con alasen forma de gancho. Nos esperan a no-sotros, listos para moverlo; l e espe-ran a él. Entra en el establo y espe-

Darl (7)

This section contains Darl’sspoken words and unspokenthoughts as he and Jewelapproach the house. The mostsignificant line of this section,which ends with Darl cursingJewel, is his remark ‘I cannot lovemy mother because I have nomother. Jewel’s mother is ahorse’.

COMMENTARY: The remark‘Jewel’s mother is a horse’ mightseem to indicate that Darl issuffering from a confusion ofideas similar to the one which ledVardaman to say ‘my mother is afish’, but when the remark istaken in the context of thepreceding words, ‘I cannot lovemy mother because I have nomother’, it becomes apparent thatDarl is using the word ‘mother’to refer to an object which allowsthe individual to focus complexfeelings of love. Jewel has hishorse as a substitute for Addie.Darl, as we later discover, hasnever had the love of Addieherself and, now that she is dead,lacks even her physical being asan object of love.

slough: n 1 cenagal 2 n abismo (tristeza) 3 (skin)vt mudar la piel slough off v mudar

slough n. 1 any outer covering that can be shed orcast off (such as the cast-off skin of a snake) 2 astagnant swamp (especially as part of a bayou) 3a hollow filled with mud 4 gangrene, sphacelusnecrotic tissue; a mortified or gangrenous part ormass

v. 1 shed, molt, exuviate, moult, cast off hair, skin,horn, or feathers; «out dog sheds every Spring»

slouch 1. andar o sentarse encorvado 2. nombrewith a slouch, con los hombros caídos, encorva-do, she’s no slouch, no es manca

slouch hat a hat with a wide flexible brim.

portentous adj. 1 grandiloquent, overblown,pompous, pontifical, portentous puffed up withvanity; «a grandiloquent and boastful manner»;«overblown oratory»; «a pompous speech»;«pseudo-scientific gobbledygook and pontificalhooey»- Newsweek 2 fateful, foreboding(a),portentous of ominous significance 3portentous, prodigious of momentous or ominoussignificance; «such a portentous...monster raisedall my curiosity»- Herman Melville; «a prodigiousvision»

portentous : boding evil, threatening, siniestro, demal agüero, ominoso,

portentoso maravilloso, prodigioso

soaring encumbrándose, remontándose, creciente

47


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

until it kicks at him so that he can slippast and mount on to the trough andpause, peering out across theintervening stall-tops toward theempty path, before he reaches into theloft.

“Goddamn him. Goddamn him.”

22CASH (2)

“ I T w o n ’ t b a l a n c e . I f y o uwan t i t t o to te and r ide on abalance, we will have——”

“Pick up. Goddamn you, pick up.”

“Im telling you it won’t tote and itwon’t ride on a balance unless——”

“Pick up! Pick up, goddamn yourthick-nosed soul to hell, pick up!”

It won’t balance. If they want it totote and ride on a balance, they willhave——

23DARL (8)

HE stoops among us above it, twoof the eight hands. In his face theblood goes in waves. In between themhis flesh is greenish looking, aboutthat smooth, thick, pale green ofcow’s cud ; his face suffocated,furious, his lip lifted upon his teeth.“Pick up!” he says. “Pick up,goddamn your thick-nosed soul!”

He heaves, lifting one whole sideso suddenly that we all spring intothe lift to catch and balance it beforehe hurls it completely over. For aninstant i t res is ts , as thoughvolitional, as though within it herpole-thin body clings furiously,even though dead, to a sort ofmodesty, as she would have tried toconceal a soiled garment that shecould not prevent her body soiling.Then it breaks free, rising suddenlyas though the emaciation of herbody had added buoyancy to theplanks or as though, seeing that thegarment was about to be torn fromher, she rushes suddenly after it ina passionate reversal that flouts itsown desire and need. Jewel’s facegoes completely green and I canhear teeth in his breath.

We carry it down the hall, our feet harshand clumsy on the floor, moving withshuffling steps, and through the door.

“Steady it a minute, now,” pa says,letting go. He turns back to shut andlock the door, but Jewel will not wait.

“Come on,” he says in thatsuffocating voice. “Come on.”

We lower it carefully down thesteps. We move, balancing it asthough it were something infinitelyprecious, our faces averted, breathingthrough our teeth to keep our nostrils

ra a que le tire una coz para poder co-larse por detrás y subir al pesebre yespera , mirando por enc ima de lo sd e m á s p e s e b r e s h a c i a e l s e n d e -r o d e s i e r t o , a n t e s d e s u b i r a lp a j a r .

—Maldito sea. Maldito sea.

CASH

— N O s e m a n t e n d r á e l e q u i l i -br io . Si queréis cargarlo y mante-ner e l equi l ibr io , tendremos que...

—Agarra. Maldita sea, agarra.

—Os digo que no lo podréis cargar ymantener el equilibrio si no...

—¡Agarra! ¡Agarra, maldito condena-do, agarra!

No se mantendrá en equilibrio. Siquieren cargarla y mantener el equilibriotendrán que

DARL

SE inclina entre nosotros encima de lacaja, dos de las ocho manos. La sangre lesube a la cara en oleadas. En los intervalossu carne tiene aspecto verdoso, como eseverde, pálido y uniforme del bocado querumia una vaca; su cara sofocada, furio-sa, con el labio levantado sobre dientes.

—¡Agar r a ! —dice—. ¡Aga r r a ,maldito condenado!

Tira hacia arriba, alzando uno de loslados tan repentinamente que todos losdemás saltamos para levantarla y equili-brarla antes de que la vuelque del todo.Durante un instante la caja se resiste,como si tuviera voluntad, como si dentrode ella su cuerpo delgado como un palomantuviera con furia, incluso muerta, unaespecie de pudor; como si tratara de ocul-tar un vestido sucio que no había podidoevitar que le manchara el cuerpo. Luegose alza libre, subiendo repentinamentecomo si la extenuación de su cuerpo hu-biese añadido ligereza a las tablas o comosi, al ver que estaban a punto de arran-carle el vestido, ella se precipitara repen-tinamente detrás de la caja en un vuelcoapasionado que menospreciase su propiodeseo y necesidad. La cara de Jewel sepone completamente verde y oigo el rocede su respiración en los dientes.

Sacamos la caja por el zaguán, pi-sando firme y torpemente el suelo, yarrastramos los pies al cruzar la puerta.

—Esperad un minuto —dice padre,soltándo. Se vuelve para cerrar la puerta yechar la llave, pero Jewel no quiere esperar.

—Vámonos —dice con esa vozahogada—. Vámonos.

La bajamos cuidadosamente por losescalones. Avanzamos, balanceándolacomo si se tratara de algo infinitamen-te precioso, apartando la cara, respi-rando por la boca para mantener la

Cash (2)

This very short sectioncontains only Cash’s frustratedthoughts and words as the familytry to load the coffin on the wagonin a way which makes it liable tooverbalance. No one listens tohim.

Darl (8)

This section consists of Darl’sobservations of the same scene asthe one which was dealt with inCash (2). Darl’s observations aremuch more detailed than those ofCash.

COMMENTARY: As usual,Darl is much concerned withJewel’s reactions and here,amongst his fanciful andunverbalised ideas that the coffinseems to be impelled by themodesty of Addie who is insideit, the reader is given a vision ofJewel acting with a violencewhich covers his very deepemotions, ‘the furious tide ofJewel’s despair’.

cow’s cud: the material chewed bya cow

volitional: having a will of its own

emaciation: wasting away

carry transport

48


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

closed. We go down the path, towardthe slope.

“We better wait,” Cash says. “I tellyou it ain’t balanced now. We’ll needanother hand on that hill.”

“Then turn loose,” Jewel says.He will not stop. Cash begins to fallbehind , hobbl ing to keep up ,breathing harshly; then he is dis-tanced and Jewel carries the en-tire front end alone, so that, tilt-ing as the path begins to slant, itbegins to rush away from me andslip down the air like a sled uponinvisible snow, smoothly evacuat-ing atmosphere in which the senseof it is still shaped.

“Wait, Jewel,” I say. But he willnot wait. He is almost running nowand Cash is left behind. It seems tome that the end which I now carryalone has no weight, as though itcoasts like a rushing straw upon thefurious tide of Jewel’s despair. I amnot even touching it when, turning,he lets it overshoot him, swinging,and stops it and sloughs it into thewagon-bed in the same mot i o na n d l o o k s b a c k a t m e , h i s f a c esuffused with fury and despair.

“Goddamn you. Goddamn you.”

24VARDAMAN (4)

WE are going to town. Dewey Dellsays it won’t be sold because itbelongs to Santa Claus and he hastaken it back with him until nextChristmas. Then it will be behind theglass again, shining with waiting.

Pa and Cash are coming down thehill, but Jewel is going to the barn.“Jewel,” pa says. Jewel does not stop.“Where you going?” pa says. ButJewel does not stop. “You leave thathorse here,” pa says. Jewel stops andlooks at pa. Jewel’s eyes look likemarbles. “You leave that horse here,”pa says. “We’ll all go in the wagonwith ma, like she wanted.”

But my mother is a fish. Vernonseen it. He was there.

“Jewel’s mother is a horse,” Darlsaid.

“Then mine can be a fish, can’t it,Darl?” I said.

Jewel is my brother.

“Then mine will have to be a horse,too,” I said.

“Why?” Darl said. “If pa is yourpa, why does your ma have to be ahorse just because Jewel’s is?”

“Why does it?” I said. “Why doesit, Darl?”

nariz cerrada. Bajamos el sendero ha-cia la ladera.

—Será mejor que esperemos —diceCash—. Te digo que así no se equilibra.Necesitaremos otra mano en ese cerro.

—Entonces suéltala —dice Jewel.No se quiere parar. Cash empieza a

quedarse atrás; se esfuerza por seguir-nos y respira con dificultad; luego se dis-tancia y Jewel aguanta toda la parte de-lantera él solo, de modo que, inclinán-dose a medida que el sendero empieza abajar, la caja empieza a escapárseme yse desliza por el aire como un trineo so-bre nieve invisible, retirándose suave-mente de la atmósfera en la que todavíase nota la huella de su forma.

—Espera, Jewel —digo.Pero él no quiere esperar, Casi ha

echado a correr y Cash se queda detrás.Me parece que la parte que ahora aguan-to yo solo no tiene peso, como si la cajanavegara igual que una paja lanzada a lafuriosa marea de la desesperación deJewel. Ni siquiera la toco cuando, do-blándose, deja que pase por encima deél, oscilando, y la para y la deja caer den-tro de la carreta con el mismo movimien-to, y se vuelve a mirarme con la caraarrebatada de furia y desesperación.

—Maldito seas. Maldito seas.

VARDAMAN

VAMOS a la ciudad. Dewey Delldice que no lo quieren vender porquepertenece a Santa Claus que se lo haquedado hasta las Navidades que vie-nen. Entonces volverá a estar detrásdel cristal, brillando y esperando.

Padre y Cash van cerro abajo, peroJewel se dirige al granero.

Jewel —dice padre . ______ __________ ____ _________ _____ ___. PeroJewel no se para—. Deja ese caballoaquí —dice padre. Jewel se para y miraa padre. Los ojos de Jewel parecen ca-nicas—. Deja ese caballo aquí —dicepadre—. Iremos todos en la carreta conmadre, como ella quería.

Pero mi madre es un pez. Vernon lovio. Estaba allí.

—La madre de Jewel es un caballo —dijo Darl.

—Entonces la mía puede ser un pez,¿verdad Darl? —dije yo.

Jewel es hermano mío.

—Entonces la mía también tiene queser un caballo —dije yo.

—¿Por qué? —dijo Darl—. Si padre estu padre, ¿por qué tu madre va a tener que serun caballo sólo porque lo sea la de Jewel?

—¿Por qué lo es? —dije yo—. ¿Porqué lo es, Darl?

Vardaman (4)

This section consists ofVardaman’s unspoken thoughtsand his spoken words as thefamily prepare to leave for town.

COMMENTARY: Darl’sremark that ‘Jewel’s mother is ahorse’ leads Vardaman toquestion Darl,’ Then mine willhave to be a horse, too’, reasoningthat he and Jewel must have thesame mother because they arebrothers. Exploring the matterfurther, Vardaman elicits fromDarl the remark that he, Darl,does not have a mother. AlthoughVardaman appears to agree to thisand to the proposition that Darlhimself does not exist, hecontradicts this with ‘But youare,’ and gets the response, ‘ «Iknow it,» Darl said. «That’s why1 am not is. Are is too many forone woman to foal.» ‘ Althoughneither brother can fullyunderstand what the other issaying, the reader, who has been‘inside’ both their minds, canappreciate the roots ofVardaman’s confusion betweenhis mother and a fish and seeshere that Darl suffers from thebeing excluded from his mother’saffections. In this section, heattributes this withholding ofaffection to the fact that Addiehad too many children to love.The role played by Addie in

turn loose: (Am. English) let go

sloughs: casts (it) off

suffuse 1 (of colour, moisture, etc.) spread fromwithin to colour or moisten (a blush suffusedher cheeks). 2 cover with colour etc. Impreg-nar, saturar, bañar, inundar, empañar

suffuse 1 (of colour, moisture, etc.) spread fromwithin to colour or moisten (a blush suffusedher cheeks). 2 cover with colour etc.

suffuse [light] bañar [colour, flush] teñir[delight, relief] inundar suffused with lightbañado de luz

hobble 1 intr. a walk lamely; limp. b proceedhaltingly in action or speech (hobbled lamely tohis conclusion). 2 tr. a tie together the legs of (ahorse etc.) to prevent it from straying. b tie (ahorse’s etc. legs). 3 tr. cause (a person etc.) tolimp.

1 an uneven or infirm gait. 2 a rope, clog, etc. usedfor hobbling a horse etc.

Renquear,

X

X

X

49


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Darl is my brother.

“Then what is your ma, Darl?” Isaid.

“I haven’t got ere one,” Darl said.“Because if I had one, it is was. Andif it is was, it can’t be is. Can it?”

“No,” I said.

“Then I am not ,” Darl sa id .“Am I?”

“No,” I said.

I am. Darl is my brother.

“But you are, Darl,” I said.

“I know it,” Darl said. “That’s whyI am not is. Are is too many for onewoman to foal.”

C a s h i s c a r r y i n g h i st o o l - b o x . P a l o o k s a t h i m .“I’l l s top a t Tul l ’s on the wayback ,” Cash says . “Get on tha tbarn roof .”

“It ain’t respectful,” pa says. “It’sa deliberate flouting of her and ofme.”

“Do you want him to come allthe way back here and carry themup to Tull’s afoot?” Darl says.Pa looks at Darl, his mouth chewing.Pa shaves every day now becausemy mother is a fish.

“It ain’t right,” pa says.

Dewey Dell has the package in herhand. She has the basket with ourdinner too.

“What’s that?” pa says.

“Mrs. Tull’s cakes,” Dewey Dellsays, getting into the wagon. “I’mtaking them to town for her.”

“It ain’t right,” pa says. “It’s aflouting of the dead.”

It’ll be there. It’ll be there comeChristmas, she says, shining on thetrack. She says he won’t sell it to notown boys.

25DARL (9)

HE goes on toward the barn,entering the lot, wooden-backed.

Dewey Dell carries the basket onone arm, in the other hand somethingwrapped square in a newspaper. Herface is calm and sullen, her eyesbrooding and alert; within them I cansee Peabody’s back like two roundpeas in two thimbles perhaps inPeabody’s back two of those wormswhich work surreptitious and steadythrough you and out the other side andyou waking suddenly from sleep or

Darl es hermano mío.

—Entonces, ¿qué es tu madre, Darl?—dije yo.

—No tengo ninguna —dijo Darl—.Porque s i la he ten ido , fue . Y s ifue , no puede ser es . ¿O puede?

—No —dije yo.

—Entonces yo no soy es —dijoDarl—, ¿verdad?

—No —dije yo.

Yo sí soy. Darl es hermano mío.

—Pero nosotros somos, Darl —dije yo.

—Ya lo sé —dijo Darl—. Por eso nosoy es . Somos es demasiados paraparirlos una sola mujer.

C a s h l l e v a s u c a j a d e h e r r a -m i e n t a s . P a d r e l e m i r a .

—Cuando volvamos me detendré encasa de Tull —dice Cash—. Me ocuparédel techo de ese granero.

—Eso no es nada respetuoso —dicepadre—. Es un insulto deliberado a ellay a mí.

—¿Quieres que vuelva hasta aquí yque luego lleve a pie las herramientashasta casa de Tull? —dice Darl.

Padre mira a Darl, mascando tabaco.Ahora padre se afeita todos los días por-que mi madre es un pez.

—Eso no está bien —dice padre.

Dewey Dell tiene el envoltorio en lamano. También tiene la cesta con nues-tra comida.

—¿Qué es eso? —dice padre.

—Los bollos de Mrs. Tull —diceDewey Dell, subiendo a la carreta—. Selos llevo a la ciudad.

—Eso no está bien —dice padre—. Esinsultar a la muerta.

Estará allí. Estará allí hasta que lle-gue Navidad, dice ella, brillando en lavía. Dice que no se lo venderán a ningúnchico de la ciudad.

DARL

VA hacia el granero, entra con l aespalda envarada.

Dewey Dell lleva la cesta en un bra-zo, en la otra mano algo cuadrado en-vuelto en papel de periódico. Tiene lacara tranquila y sombría, los ojos pen-sativos y al acecho; dentro de ellos veola espalda de Peabody como dos gui-santes redondos en dos dedales: pue-de que en la espalda de Peabody hayados de esos gusanos que, subrepticiay constantemente, se abren caminodentro de uno y salen por el otro lado

confirming or denying theexistence of her respectivechildren comes across stronglyhere and is reinforced in Addie(1).

Darl (9)

In this section, we find Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as he observes the samescene as in Vardaman (4).

COMMENTARY: Darl is, asusual, concerned with Jewel’sactions, but in this section hefocuses on Dewey Dell. Hisunverbalised thoughts as DeweyDell climbs into the wagon stress

50


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

from waking, with on your face anexpression sudden, intent, andconcerned. She sets the basket intothe wagon and climbs in, her legcoming long from beneath hertightening dress: that lever whichmoves the world; one of that caliperwhich measures the length andbreadth of life. She sits on the seatbeside Vardaman and sets the parcelon her lap.

Then he enters the barn. He has notlooked back.

“It ain’t right,” pa says. “It’s littleenough for him to do for her.”

“Go on,” Cash says. “Leave himstay if he wants. He’ll be all right here.Maybe he’ll go up to Tull’s and stay.”

“He’ll catch us,” I say. “He’ll cutacross and meet us at Tull’s lane.”

“He would have rid that horse,too,” pa says, “if I hadn’t a stoppedhim. A durn spotted critter wilderthan a cattymount. A deliberateflouting of her and of me.”

The wagon moves; the mules’ earsbegin to bob. Behind us, above thehouse, motionless in tall and soaringcircles, they diminish and disappear.

26ANSE (2)

I TOLD him not to bring that horseout of respect for his dead ma,because it wouldn’t look right, himprancing along on a durn circusanimal and her wanting us all to be inthe wagon with her that sprung fromher flesh and blood, but we hadn’t nomore than passed Tull’s lane whenDarl begun to laugh. Setting backthere on the plank seat with Cash,with his dead ma lying in her coffinat his feet, laughing. How many timesI told him it’s doing such things asthat that makes folks talk about him,I don’t know. I says I got some regardfor what folks says about my flesh andblood even if you haven’t, even if Ihave raised such a durn passel ofboys, and when you fixes it so folkscan say such about you, it’s areflection on your ma, I says, not me:I am a man and I can stand it; it’s onyour womenfolks, your ma and sisterthat you should care for, and I turnedand looked back at him setting there,laughing.

“I don’t expect you to have norespect for me,” I says. “But with yourown ma not cold in her coffin yet.”

“Yonder,” Cash says , j e rk ingh i s h e a d t o w a r d t h e l a n e .The horse is still a right smart pieceaway, coming up at a good pace, butI don’t have to be told who it is. I justlooked back at Darl, setting therelaughing.

y tú te despiertas de pronto del sueñoo la vigilia con una expresión repenti-na, resuelta e inquieta, en la cara. Co-loca la cesta en la carreta y salta den-tro: la pierna le aparece por debajo delvestido ajustado como una palanca quemueve el mundo; uno de esos compa-ses que miden la vida a lo largo y a loancho. Ocupa el asiento de al lado deVardaman y se coloca el paquete en elregazo.

Luego él entra en el granero. No seha vuelto a mirar.

—Eso no está bien —dice padre—. No lehubiera costado demasiado hacerlo por ella.

—Venga —dice Cash—. Déjale que-darse si quiere. Estará bien aquí. Puedeque vaya a casa de Tull y se quede allí.

—Nos alcanzará —digo yo—. Cogeráel atajo y se nos unirá en la senda de Tull.

—Se hubiera venido montado en esecaballo —dice padre—, si no se lo hu-biese impedido. Un maldito pinto,, mássalvaje que un gato montés. Un insultodeliberado contra ella y contra mí.

La carreta arranca; las orejas de las mulasempiezan a moverse. Detrás de nosotros, porencima de la casa, inmóviles en grandes círcu-los que se elevan, disminuyen y desaparecen.

ANSE

LE dije que no trajera ese caballo porrespeto a su difunta madre, pues no pare-cería nada bien que anduviera haciendocorvetas por ahí montado en ese malditoanimal de circo cuando ella quería que to-dos estuviéramos en la carreta con ella, quelos trajo al mundo; pero no habíamos he-cho más que llegar a la senda de Tull cuan-do Darl empezó a reírse. Ahí está, sentadoen el banco al lado de Cash, con su difuntamadre tumbada en el ataúd a sus pies, rién-dose. Ya ni sé cuántas veces le he dichoque esas cosas son las que hacen que lagente hable de él. Digo: Me importa loque dice la gente de los que llevan misangre aunque eso a ti no te importe,aunque sea yo el que haya criado a esecondenado grupo de chicos, y cuan-do haces cosas por las que la gentehabla de t i , eso recae en tu madre ,digo, no en mí: yo soy un hombrey lo puedo soportar ; es en las mu-jeres de la casa , en tu madre y tuhermana, en quien deberías pensar;y me vuelco a mirar le y ahí es tá ,r iéndose.

—No espero que me tengas respeto—digo—. Pero con tu madre, que to-davía no está fría, en el ataúd...

—Allá abajo —dice Cash, señalandocon la cabeza hacia la senda.

El caballo todavía es una cosa quese mueve a lo lejos y sube a buen paso,pero nadie me tiene que decir quién es.Sólo vuelvo a mirar a Darl, sentado ahí,riéndose.

her sexuality, ‘her leg . . . thatlever which moves the world; oneof that caliper which measuresthe length and breadth of life’.Obviously Darl, who is muchconcerned with the nature ofexistence, is fascinated by thesource of life which, now thatAddie is dead, lies at the junctureof Dewey Dell’s legs. Heattributes to women a role whichis absolutely central in dictatingthe dimensions of existence, andthis once again indicates that hebelieves his problems stem fromhis mother, the source of his lifewho denied him the affection heneeded in order to take on a solidshape.

Anse (2)

This section contains Anse’sspoken words and unspokenthoughts as the wagon sets off upthe lane from the farm.

COMMENTARY: Anse’sresponses are, as usual, muted.Although he is concerned that thefamily will present an odd oroffensive spectacle to the rest ofthe community, he does nothingto prevent this happening.

It appears that Darl is prone tofits of uncontrolled and inexpli-cable laughter, for Anse says,‘how many times I told him it’sdoing such things as that makesfolks talk about him’, but as ever,Anse can exercise no authorityover his family and contentshimself with selfcongratulationfor his own efforts, ‘1 done mybest’.

passel: (Am. col.) a crowd, a parcel

fixes it so: (Am. col.) arranges it sothat

51


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“I done my best,” I says. “I triedto do as she would wish it. The Lordwill pardon me and excuse theconduct of them He sent me.” AndDarl setting on the plank seat rightabove her where she was laying,laughing.

27DARL (10)

HE comes up the lane fast, yet weare three hundred yards beyond themouth of it when he turns into theroad, the mud flying beneath theflickering drive of the hooves. Thenhe slows a little, light and erect in thesaddle, the horse mincing through themud.

Tull is in his lot. He looks at us,lifts his hand. We go on, the wagoncreaking, the mud whispering on thewheels. Vernon still stands there. Hewatches Jewel as he passes, the horsemoving with a light, high-kneeddriving gait, three hundred yards back.We go on, with a motion so soporific,so dreamlike as to be uninferant ofprogress, as though time and not spacewere decreasing between us and it.

It turns off at right angles, thewheel-marks of last Sunday healedaway now: a smooth, red scoriationcurving away into the pines; a whitesignboard with faded lettering: NewHope Church. 3 mi. It wheels up likea motionless hand lifted above theprofound desolation of the ocean;beyond it the red road lies like aspoke of which Addie Bundren isthe rim. It wheels past , empty,unscarred, the white signboard turnsaway i ts fading and t ranqui lassertion. Cash looks up the roadquietly, his head turning as we passi t l ike an owl’s head, his facecomposed. Pa looks straight ahead,humped. Dewey Dell looks at theroad too, then she looks back at me,her eyes watchful and repudiant, notlike that question which was inthose of Cash, for a smoulderingwhile. The signboard passes; theunscarred road wheels on. ThenDewey Dell turns her head. Thewagon creaks on.

C a s h s p i t s o v e r t h e w h e e l .“ In a couple of days now it’ll besmelling,” he says.

“You might tell Jewel that,” I say.

He is motionless now, sitting thehorse at the junction, upright,watching us, no less still than thesignboard that lifts its fadingcapitulation opposite him.

“It ain’t balanced right for no longride,” Cash says.

“Te l l h im tha t , t oo ,” I s ay.The wagon creaks on.

A mile farther along he passes us,

—Hice lo que pude —digo yo—. Tra-té de hacer lo que a ella le hubiera gusta-do. El Señor me perdonará y disculparála conducta de los que Él me dio.

Y Darl, sentado en el banco, justoencima de donde ella está tumbada,ríe.

DARL

SUBE deprisa por el sendero peronosotros estamos a más de trescientosmetros del comienzo de la carretera cuan-do él la enfila, con el barro revoloteandobajo los enérgicos golpes de los cascos.Luego afloja el paso, ágil y erguido en lasilla, mientras el caballo chapotea en elbarro.

Tull está en el corral. Nos mira, le-vanta la mano. Seguimos, la carreta re-china, el barro susurra en las ruedas.Vernon sigue allí de pie. Mira a Jewelcuando éste pasa, y al caballo que cami-na con trote ligero, unos trescientos me-tros detrás de nosotros. Seguimos con unmovimiento tan soporífero, tan como enun sueño que no parece marcar nuestroprogreso, como si el tiempo y no el espa-cio disminuyera entre nosotros y él.

La carreta toma las curvas en ángulorecto; las marcas de las ruedas del do-mingo pasado ya se han borrado: son unalisa escoriación roja que se pierde hacien-do curvas entre los pinos; un cartel blan-co con letras descoloridas: Iglesia deNew Hope, 4 kilómetros. Señala comouna mano inmóvil alzada sobre la pro-funda desolación del océano; más allá,el rojo camino se extiende como un ra-dio cuya llanta fuera Addie Bundren.Vacío, sin huellas, pasa de largo, el blan-co cartel queda atrás con su descoloriday tranquila afirmación. Cash mira el ca-mino tranquilamente y vuelve la cabezacuando lo rebasamos como si fuera la deuna lechuza, con el rostro sereno. Padremira al frente, encorvado. Dewey Delltambién mira el camino, luego vuelve amirarme con ojos escrutadores y de re-chazo, sin aquella interrogación que ha-bía en los de Cash, durante un intensomomento. El cartel queda atrás; el cami-no sin huellas sigue uniforme. LuegoDewey Dell vuelve la cabeza. La carretasigue rechinando.

Cash escupe por encima de la rueda.—Dentro de un par de días empezará

a oler —dice.

—Deberías decírselo a Jewel —digo yo.

Ahora es tá inmóvi l , montado enel cabal lo , en e l cruce, t ieso, mi-rándonos, no menos quie to que e lcartel que levanta sus descoloridasle t ras f rente a é l .

—No está bien equilibrada para unviaje largo —dice Cash.

—Dile eso también —digo yo.La carreta sigue rechinando.

Un par de kilómetros después nos ade-

Darl (10)

As the wagon moves awayfrom the farm, Darl reflects at anunspoken and an unverbalisedlevel on the events happeningaround him. He sees Jewelmounted on his horse, Tullwaving as they pass, the signboard to New Hope, Dewey Dellgazing straight ahead of her and,once again, Jewel racing past,spattering [salpicando] thecoffin with mud.

COMMENTARY: We knowfrom Anse (2), that during theevents recorded above Darl islaughing. Yet he himself makesno mention of the fact, nor doeshe show any sign of amusementin his unspoken and unverbalisedthoughts. This would appear toindicate that he is unaware of hisown laughter, just as at the end ofthe novel one part of him feelsquite separate from the Darl whois laughing hysterically.

For Darl, time itself takes onan odd quality during this journey,‘we go on, . . . as though time andnot space were decreasingbetween us and it (the road)’. Asthe road is the major element inhis current environment, it is onthe road that he focuses most ofhis attention, noting itssmoothness after the rain, andseeing it as ‘a spoke of whichAddie Bundren is the rim’, animage which suggests that Addiecontains and controls the road.Eventually, Darl begins to talk asif it is the road and not the wagonwhich is moving, ‘it wheels past .. . the unscarred road wheels on’.This is not a symptom of hisderanged senses but simply anaccurate record of whatapparently happens when a roadis seen from a moving vehicle.

smouldering incandescente, latente,en ascuas, abrasadora, encandeci-do,

smoulder 1 burn slowly with smoke butwithout a flame; slowly burninternally or invisibly; burn withing, .2 (of emotions etc.) exist in asuppressed or concealed state. 3 (ofa person) show silent or suppressedanger, hatred, etc.

Xhace remilgos o gestos afectados enexceso

X

flicker 1 brillar con luz mortecina, quiver, waver. Va-cilar, oscilar, titilar, centellear, flamear,

1 (of light) shine unsteadily or fitfully. 2 (of a flame)burn unsteadily, alternately flaring and dying down.3 a (of a flag, a reptile’s tongue, an eyelid, etc.)move or wave to and fro; quiver; vibrate. b (of thewind) blow lightly and unsteadily. 4(of hope etc.)increase and decrease unsteadily andintermittently.

52


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

the horse, arch-necked, reined backto a swift single-foot. He sits lightly,poised, upright, wooden-faced in thesaddle, the broken hat raked at aswaggering angle. He passes usswiftly, without looking at us, thehorse driving, its hooves hissing inthe mud. A gout of mud, back-flung,plops on to the box. Cash leansforward and takes a tool from his boxand removes it carefully. When theroad crosses Whiteleaf, the willowsleaning near enough, he breaks off abranch and scours at the stain withthe wet leaves.

28ANSE (3)

IT’S a hard country on man; it’shard. Eight miles of the sweat of hisbody washed up outen the Lord’searth, where the Lord Himself toldhim to put it. Nowhere in this sinfulworld can a honest, hard-workingman profit. It takes them that runs thestores in the towns, doing nosweating, living off of them thatsweats. It ain’t the hard-working man,the farmer. Sometimes I wonder whywe keep at it. It’s because there is areward for us above, where they can’ttake their motors and such. Every manwill be equal there and it will be takenfrom them that have and give to themthat have not by the Lord.

But it’s a long wait, seems like. It’sbad that a fellow must earn the rewardof his right-doing by flouting hisselfand his dead. We drove all the rest ofthe day and got to Samson’s atdust-dark and then that bridge wasgone, too. They hadn’t never seen theriver so high, and it’s not done rainingyet. There was old men that hadn’tnever seen nor heard of it being so inthe memory of man. I am the chosenof the Lord, for who He loveth, sodoeth He chastiseth. But I be durn ifHe don’t take some curious ways toshow it, seems like.

But now I can get them teeth. Thatwill be a comfort. It will.

29SAMSON (1)

IT was just before sundown. Wewere sitting on the porch when thewagon came up the road with the fiveof them in it and the other one on thehorse behind. One of them raised hishand, but they was going on past thestore without stopping.

“Who’s that?” MacCallum says: Ican’t think of his name: Rafe’s twin;that one it was.

“It’s Bundren, from down beyondNew Hope,” Quick says. “There’s oneof them Snopes horses Jewel’s riding.”

“I didn’t know there was ere a oneof them horses left,” MacCallum says.“I thought you folks down there

lanta; el caballo, con el cuello en arco,va frenado para que mantenga un pasoligero. Jewel va sentado en la silla, ágil,derecho, tieso, con cara de palo, y el som-brero roto inclinado en un ángulo desa-fiante. Nos adelanta rápido, sin mirarnos,el caballo tirando, sus cascos silbando enel barro. Una salpicadura de barro saledespedida y cae a plomo sobre la caja.Cash se echa hacia delante y saca unaherramienta de su caja y quita el barrocuidadosamente. Cuando el camino cru-za Whiteleaf, los sauces lo bastante cer-ca, arranca una rama y limpia la manchacon las hojas húmedas.

ANSE

Es una comarca dura para el hombre,es dura. Trece kilómetros del sudor desu cuerpo barrido de la tierra del Señor,donde el propio Señor le dijo que lo de-jase caer**9. Un hombre honrado y tra-bajador no puede sacar nada de prove-cho en este mundo pecador. Lo sacan esosque tienen las tiendas de la ciudad, queno sudan, que viven de los que sudan. Noel que trabaja de firme, el campesino. Aveces me pregunto por qué seguimos enello. Es porque para nosotros hay unarecompensa en lo alto, donde ellos nopueden llevar sus autos y lo demás. Allítodos los hombres serán iguales y el Se-ñor les quitará a los que tienen y se lodará a los que no tienen**10. [122]

Pero es una larga espera, o eso parece. Noestá bien que uno tenga que ganarse la recom-pensa de su bien obrar despreciándose a sí mis-mo y a sus muertos. Viajamos lo que quedabade día y llegamos a casa de Samson al oscure-cer y entonces ese puente también se lo habíanllevado las aguas. Nunca habían visto el río tancrecido y eso que todavía no ha dejado dellover. Los más viejos del lugar nuncahan visto ni oído hablar, en lo que re-cuerdan, de algo semejante. Soy un ele-gido del Señor, pues Este corrige a aquela quien ama**11. _______________________________________________________________

Pero ahora tendré los dientes. Será ungran alivio. Lo será.

SAMSON

Fue ju s to an t e s de pone r se e lsol . Estábamos sentados en e l por-che cuando la ca r re ta l l egó aqu íarr iba con c inco dentro y e l o t ro acabal lo detrás . Uno de e l los a lzóla mano, pero dejaron atrás la t ien-da s in detenerse .

—¿Quién es ése? —dice MacCallum.No me acuerdo de su nombre: es el ge-melo de Rafe; eso seguro**12—.

—Es Bundren, el de más allá de NewHope —dijo Quick—. El caballo quemonta Jewel es uno de los de Snopes.

—No sabía que todavía quedarancaballos de ésos —dice MacCallum—. Creía que los de allá abajo por fin

Anse (3)

This section is an unspokenlament by Anse in which heblames the world for hismisfortunes, thinks of thesalvation which awaits him inheaven for enduring his troublesand of the set of false teeth whichwill offer him more immediatecomfort.

COMMENTARY: Anse isclearly convinced that he is hard-working. He is tempted toupbraid [reproach] God for hishard lot, but decides instead thatall his suffering must mean thathe is precious to God, ‘I am thechosen of the Lord, for who Heloveth, so doeth He chastiseth’.These archiac expressions showhow the language of religion andthe ideas it propounds serve toreconcile the impoverished andunthinking Anse to his lot in life.They form a species ofcomforting litany, so that even thefact that the bridge he hoped tocross has been washed away canbe accepted as significant.

Samson (1)

This long section allows thereader to see the Bundren familythrough the eyes of Samson, withwhom they spend the first nightof their journey.

COMMENTARY: Samson’smembership of a different groupfrom that of the Bundrens isstressed at the outset of thissection, when we see him sittingamongst a group of men whomhe knows well. All of them arewatching with curiosity theapproach of the Bundren wagon.The similarities between the two

enduring duradero, definitivo, perdurable, sub-sistente, imperecedero, lasting, resistente

endure v. 1 tr. undergo (a difficulty, hardship,etc.). Aguantar 2 tr. a tolerate, soportar (aperson) (cannot endure him). b (esp. withneg.; foll. by to + infin.) bear. 3 intr. remain inexistence; last, perdurar 4 tr. submit to.

X

53


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

finally contrived to give them allaway.”

“Try and get that one,” Quick says.The wagon went on.

“I bet old man Lon never gave itto him,” I says.

“No,” Quick says. “He bought itfrom pappy.” The wagon went on.“They must not a heard about thebridge,” he says.

“What’re they doing up here,anyway?” MacCallum says.

“ Tak ing a ho l iday s ince hegot his wife buried, I reckon,”Quick says. “Heading for town,I r e c k o n , w i t h Tu l l ’ s b r i d g egone too. I wonder if they ain’theard about the bridge.”

“They’ll have to fly, then,” I says.“I don’t reckon there’s ere a bridgebetween here and Mouth ofIshatawa.”

They had something in the wagon.But Quick had been to the funeralthree days ago and we naturallynever thought anything about itexcept that they were heading awayfrom home mighty late and thatthey hadn’t heard about the bridge.“You better holler at them,”MacCallum says. Durn it, the name isright on the tip of my tongue. So Quickhollered and they stopped and he wentto the wagon and told them.

He come back with them. “They’regoing to Jefferson,” he says. “Thebridge at Tull’s is gone, too.” Like wedidn’t know it, and his face lookedfunny, around the nostrils, but theyjust sat there, Bundren and the girland the chap on the seat, and Cashand the second one, the one folks talksabout, on a plank across the tail-gate,and the other one on that spottedhorse. But I reckon they was used toit by then because when I said to Cashthat they’d have to pass by New Hopeagain and what they’d better do, hejust says,

“I reckon we can get there.”

I ain’t much for meddling. Letevery man run his own business to suithimself, I say. But after I talked toRachel about them not having aregular man to fix her and it being Julyand all, I went back down to the barnand tried to talle to Bundren about it.

“I givc her my promise,” he says.“Her mind was set on it.”

I notice how it takes a lazy man, aman that hates moving, to get set onmoving once he does get started off,the same as he was set on stayingstill, like it ain’t the moving he hatesso much as the starting and thestopping. And like he would be kind

había is decidido desprenderos deellos.

—Trata de hacerte con ése —diceQuick. La carreta seguía.

—Para mí que no se lo ha dado el vie-jo Lon —digo. [123]

—No —dice Quick—. Se lo com-pró a mi padre —la carreta seguía—. No deben de saber lo del puente—dice.

—De todos modos, ¿qué hacen poraquí? —dice MacCallum.

—Para mí que tomándose un des-canso después de enterrar a su mujer—dice Quick—. Para mí que van alpueblo, y el puente de Tull también selo llevó la riada. Me extraña que nohayan oído lo del puente.

—Entonces tendrán que cruzar vo-lando —digo yo—. Para mí que no hayotro puente entre aquí y Mouth ofIshatawa.

L l e v a b a n a l g o e n l a c a r r e t a .P e r o Q u i c k h a b í a e s t a d o e n e lf u n e r a l h a c í a t r e s d í a s y n a t u r a l -m e n t e n o p e n s á b a m o s e n n a d am á s q u e e n q u e h a b í a n s a l i d ot a r d e d e c a s a y n o s e h a b í a n e n -t e r a d o d e l o d e l p u e n t e .

—Será mejor darles una voz —diceMacCallum. Maldita sea, tengo el nom-bre en la punta de la lengua. De modo queQuick los llamó y ellos se pararon y lue-go él fue hasta la carreta y se lo contó.

Volvió con ellos.—Van a Jefferson —dice—. El puen-

te de Tull también se lo llevó la riada.Como si nosotros no lo supiéramos.

En su cara, junto a las ventanas de lanariz, había algo raro, pero ahí seguíansentados, Bundren y la chica y el peque-ño en el banco, y Cash y el segundo, ésedel que habla la gente, en una tabla dela parte de atrás, y el otro montando esecaballo pinto. Para mí que ya lo sabían,porque cuando le dije a Cash que ten-drían que volver a New Hope para cru-zar y que era lo mejor que podían hacer,sólo dice:

—Para mí que podremos llegar.

No me gusta andar entrometiéndose.Que cada uno se ocupe de sus cosas digoyo siempre. Pero después de haber habla-do con Rachel de que no habían tenidoa nadie que se la preparase, y encimaestamos en julio, volví a bajar al graneroy traté de hablar con Bundren de eso.

—Se lo prometí —dice él—. Sólopensaba en eso.

Me doy cuenta de que hace falta un hom-bre perezoso, un hombre que odie moverse,para seguir adelante una vez que se pone enmarcha; y la misma persona que siemprequiere estarse quieta, parece que odia másponerse en marcha y pararse que seguir enmovimiento. Y es como si se sintiera

groups, the Bundrens on theirwagon and the men on the stepsof the country store, are used tounderline the fact that the countryhas an identity which is stampedon its inhabitants. Both groupsshare a curiosity about events intheir little world and both are slowto act.

From Samson’s point of view,the Bundrens present a blacklycomic spectacle, spending thenight squatting round Addie’scoffin in the barn, attracting acrowd of buzzards with the smellof death which they carry withthem, led by the lazy yetdetermined Anse and embarkedon a ludicrous enterprise.

holler: (Am. col.) shout

a regular man to fix her: aprofessional undertaker to prepa-re Addie’s corpse

54


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

of proud of whatever come up tomake the moving or the setting stilllook hard. He set there on thewagon, hunched up, bl inking,listening to us tell about how quickthe bridge went and how high thewater was, and I be durn if he didn’tact like he was proud of it, like hehad made the river rise himself.

“You say it’s higher than you ever seeit before?” he says. “God’s will be done,”he says. “I reckon it won’t go down muchby morning, neither,” he says.

“You better stay here to-night,” Isays, “and get a early start for NewHope to-morrow morning.” I wasjust sorry for them bone-gauntedmules. I told Rachel, I says, “Well,would you have had me turn themaway at dark, eight miles fromhome? What else could I do,” I says.“It won’t be but one night, andthey’ll keep it in the barn, andthey’l l sholy get s tar ted bydaylight.” and so I says, “You stayhere to-night and early to-morrowyou can go back to New Hope. I gottools enough, and the boys can goon right after supper and have it dugand ready if they want,” and then Ifound that girl watching me. If hereyes had a been pistols, I wouldn’tbe talking now. I be dog if theydidn’t blaze at me. And so when Iwent down to the barn I come onthem, her talking so she nevernoticed when I come up.

“You promised her,” she says.“She wouldn’t go until you promised.She thought she could depend on you.If you don’t do it, it will be a curseon you.”

“Can’t no man say I don’t aim tokeep my word,” Bundren says. “Myheart is open to ere a man.”

“I don’t care what your heart is,”she says. She was whispering, kindof, talking fast. “You promised her.You’ve got to. You——” Then sheleen me and quit, standing there. Ifthey’d been pistols, I wouldn’t betalking now. So when I talked to himabout it, he says,

“I give her my promise. Her mindis set on it.”

“But seems to me she’d ratherhave her ma buried close by, so shecould——”

“It’s Addie I give the promise to,”he says. “Her mind is set on it.”

So I told them to drive it into thebarn because it was threatening rainagain, and that supper was about ready.Only they didn’t want to come in.

“I thank you,” Bundren says. “Wewouldn’t discommode you. We got alittle something in the basket. We canmake out.”

orgulloso o algo así de que parezcadifícil ponerse en marcha o estarsequieto. Ahí está en la carreta, joro-bado, pestañeando, oyéndonos contar-le lo deprisa que se hundió el puentey lo grande que era la riada, y que mecondene si no se comporta como si es-tuviera orgulloso de eso, como si élmismo hubiera hecho crecer el río.

—Dice que antes nunca había vistouna tan grande? —dice—. Que sea lo queDios quiera —dice—. Para mí que tam-poco disminuirá mucho por la mañana.

—Sería mejor que se quedasen aquíesta noche —digo yo—, y salieran a pri-mera hora de la mañana para New Hope—sólo lo sentía por las esqueléticas mu-las. Se lo conté a Rachel, le digo—: Bue-no, ¿te habría parecido bien que les hu-biera hecho volver de noche y estando adiez kilómetros de su casa? ¿Qué otracosa podían hacer? —digo—. Sólo va aser una noche y la meterán en el granero,y se pondrán en marcha en cuanto ama-nezca. —Total, que les digo—: Quéden-se aquí esta noche y mañana tempranopodrán volver a New Hope. Tengo sufi-cientes herramientas y los chicos puedenempezar después de la cena y cavar y ter-minar pronto —y entonces veo que lachica me está mirando. Si sus ojos hu-bieran sido pistolas, ahora no lo estaríacontando. Que me maten si no me dis-paraba con la mirada. De modo que cuan-do bajé al granero y me acerqué a ellos,ella estaba hablando y no se fijó en queyo había entrado.

—Usted se lo prometió —le diceella—. No quiso irse hasta que se lo pro-metió. Pensaba que podría confiar en us-ted. Si no lo hace, su maldición caerásobre usted.

—No hay hombre capaz de decir que nomantengo mi palabra —dice Bundren—.Tengo el corazón abierto a cualquiera.

—No me importa cómo está su cora-zón —dice ella. Susurraba, o algo así,hablando muy deprisa—. Se lo prome-tió. Tiene que hacerlo. Usted... —luegome vio allí parado y se calló. Si susojos hubieran sido pistolas ahora nolo contaría. Conque cuando le habléde eso, dice: [125]

—Se lo prometí. Estaba empeñada enello.

—Pero a mí me parece que ella prefe-riría tener a su madre enterrada cerca, portanto podríamos...

—Es a Addie a quien se lo prometí —dice él—. Estaba empeñada en ello.

Conque les dije que la metieran en elgranero, porque otra vez amenazaba llu-via y la cena casi estaba lista. Lo que pasaes que no querían entrar en la casa.

—Se lo agradezco —dice Bundren—. Pero no queremos incomodarles. Tene-mos algunas cosas en la cesta. Nos laspodemos arreglar.

bone-gaunted: (neologism) thin tothe point where the bones showthrough the skin

I be dog: (Am. col.) I swear that

55


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Well,” I says, “since you are soparticular about your womenfolks,I am too. And when folks stopswith us at meal-time and won’tcome to the table, my wife takes itas a insult.”

So the girl went on to the kitchento help Rachel. And then Jewel -come to me.

“Sho,” I says. “Help yourselfouten the loft. Feed him when youbait the mules.”

“I ra ther pay you for h im,”he says .

“What for?” I says. “I wouldn’tbegrudge no man a bait for his horse.”

“I rather pay you,” he says; Ithought he said extra.

“Extra for what?” I says. “Won’the eat hay and corn?”

“Extra feed,” he says. “I feed hima little extra and I don’t want himbeholden to no man.”

“You can’t buy no feed from me,boy,” I says. “And if he can eat thatloft clean, I’ll help you load the barnon to the wagon in the morning.”

“He ain’t never been beholden tono man,” he says. “I rather pay youfor it.”

And i f I had my ra thers , youw o u l d n ’ t b e h e r e a - t a l l , Iwanted to say. But I jus t says ,“Then it’s high time he commenced.You can’t buy no feed from me.”

When Rachel put supper on, herand the girl went and fixed some beds.But wouldn’t any of them come in.“She’s been dead long enough to getover that sort of foolishness,” I says.Because I got just as much respect forthe dead as ere a man, but you’ve gotto respect the dead themselves, and awoman that’s been dead in a box fourdays, the best way to respect her is toget her into the ground as quick asyou can. But they wouldn’t do it.

“It wouldn’t be right,” Bundrensays. “Course, if the boys wants togo to bed, I reckon I can set up withher. I don’t begrudge her it.”

So when I went back down therethey were squatting on the groundaround the wagon, all of them.“Let that chap come to the house andget some sleep, anyway,” I says. “Andyou better come too,” I says to thegirl. I wasn’t aiming to interfere withthem. And I sholy hadn’t donenothing to her that I knowed.

“He’s done already asleep,”Bundren says. They had done put himto bed in the trough in a empty stall.

—Muy bien —digo yo—, si ustedesson tan especiales con las mujeres de sucasa, yo también lo soy con la mía. Ycuando alguien llega a la hora de comery no quiere sentarse a nuestra mesa, mimujer lo considera un insulto.

De modo que la chica fue a la cocinaa ayudar a Rachel. Y luego Jewel se meacerca.

—De acuerdo —digo yo—. Cógelo túmismo del pajar. Dale de comer cuandoles hayas dado el pienso a las mulas.

—Prefiero pagarle lo del caballo —dice él.

—¿Y por qué? —digo yo—. A nadiele escatimo el pienso de un caballo.

—Prefiero pagarle —dice él; penséque hablaba de algo especial.

—¿Por algo especial? —digo yo—.¿Es que no come heno y maíz?

—Come mucho —dice él—. Le doyde comer mucho y no quiero que tengaque agradecérselo a nadie.

—Yo no te voy a vender comida, chico—digo yo—. Y si come tanto que puedevaciar el pajar, por la mañana te ayudaré acargar el granero entero en la carreta.

—Nunca le ha tenido que agradecernada a nadie —dice él—. Prefiero pa-gar.

Si yo s iguiera mis preferencias ,no es ta r ías aqu í n i un minuto , meape tec ió dec i r . Pero só lo d igo :

—Entonces llegó la hora de que em-piece. No te voy a vender comida.

Cuando Rachel terminó de servir lacena, ella y la chica fueron a preparar unascamas. Pero ninguno de ellos quería entrar.

—Lleva muerta lo suficiente paradejarse de tonterías —digo. Porque losmuertos me imponen respeto como alque más, pero también hay que ser res-petuoso con los muertos, y a una mu-jer que lleva muerta cuatro días den-tro de una caja, el mejor modo de res-petarla es darle tierra lo más prontoposible. Pero ellos no querían.

—No estaría bien —dice Bundren—.Claro que si los chicos quieren acostar-se, da igual, puedo quedarme yo solo conella. No le regatearé eso.

Conque cuando vo lv í aba jo e s -t a b a n e n c u c l i l l a s e n e l s u e l o a l -r e d e d o r d e l c a r r o , t o d o s e l l o s .

—Por lo menos dejen que ese chicoentre en casa y duerma un poco —digoyo—. Y tú, mejor entras también —ledigo a la chica. No trataba de metermeen sus asuntos. Y que yo supiera nuncale había hecho nada a ella.

—Ya se ha do rmido —diceBundren. Le habían acostado en unode los pesebres vacíos de la cuadra.

a bait: a bale of hay

sholy: (Am. col.) surely

56


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Well, you come on, then,” I saysto her. But still she never said nothing.They just squatted there. You couldn’thardly see them. “How about youboys?” I. says. “You got a full dayto-morrow.” After a while Cash says,

“I thank you. We can make out.”

“We wouldn’t be beholden,”B u n d r e n s a y s . “ I t h a n k y o ukindly.”

So I left them squatting there. Ireckon after four days they wasused to it. But Rachel wasn’t.

“It’s a outrage,” she says. “Aoutrage.”

“What could he ‘a’ done?” I says.“He give her his promised word.”

“Who’s talking about him?” shesays. “Who cares about him?” shesays, crying. “I just wish that youand him and all the men in theworld that torture us alive andflout us dead, dragging us up anddown the country——”

“Now, now,” I says. “You’reupset.”

“Don’t you touch me!” she says.“Don’t you touch me!”

A man can’t tell nothing aboutthem. I lived with the same onefifteen years and I be durn if Ic an . And I imag ined a l o t o fthings coming up between us, butI be durn i f I ever thought i twould be a body four days deadand that a woman. But they makelife hard on them not taking it asit comes up, like a man does.

So I laid there, hearing itcommence to rain, thinking aboutthem down there, squatting aroundthe wagon and the rain on the roof,and thinking about Rachel cryingthere until after a while it was like Icould still hear her crying even aftershe was asleep, and smelling it evenwhen I knowed I couldn’t. I couldn’tdecide even then whether I could ornot, or if it wasn’t just knowing it waswhat it was.

So next morning I never wentdown there. I heard them hitching upand then when I knowed they mustbe about ready to take out, I went outthe front and went down the roadtoward the bridge until I heard thewagon come out of the lot and go backtoward New Hope. And then when Icome back to the house, Racheljumped on me because I wasn’t thereto make them come in to breakfast.You cant tell about them. Just aboutwhen you decide they mean one thing,I be durn if you not only haven’t gotto change your mind, like as not yougot to take a raw-hiding for thinking

—Muy bien, entonces entra tú —ledigo a la chica. Pero ella seguía sin decirnada. Se limitaban a estar allí en cuclillas.Casi ni se los podía ver—. ¿Y vosotros,chicos? —digo—. Mañana tendréis un díadifícil —al cabo de un rato, Cash dice:

—Gracias. Nos las arreglaremos.

—No quisiéramos tener que agradecernada —dice Bundren—. Se lo agradezcode verdad.

Conque los dejé allí en cuclillas. Paramí que después de cuatro días se habíanacostumbrado. Pero Rachel se negó.

— E s u n i n s u l t o — d i c e — . U ninsu l to .

—¿Y qué podría hacer él? —digoyo—. Se lo ha prometido.

—¿Y quién habla de él? —diceella—. ¿A quién le preocupa él? —dice ella, llorando—. Sólo quiero quetú y él y todos los hombres de estemundo que nos atormentáis vivas y nosinsultáis muertas, arrastrándonos porel campo arriba y abajo...

—Oye, oye —le digo—. Te has en-fadado. [127]

—¡No me toques! —dice ella—.¡No me toques!

Un hombre nunca puede decir qué vana hacer. Llevo viviendo con la mismaquince años y que me condene si lo sé. Ysi imaginé un montón de cosas que nospueden separar, que me condene si pen-sé alguna vez en que pudiera hacerlo uncuerpo que lleva cuatro días muerto, yencima el de una mujer. Pero se hacendifícil la vida al no tomarla como viene,que es lo que hacen los hombres.

Conque me tumbé a l l í , oyendocómo empezaba a llover, pensando enl o s q u e e s t a b a n a l l á a b a j o , e ncuclillas alrededor de la carreta. Y oíala lluvia en el tejado y pensaba enRachel que lloró tanto rato que eracomo si la siguiese oyendo despuésde dormirse; y olía aquello aunquesabía que era imposible. Entonces nisiquiera hubiera podido decidir si eraposible o no, o si sólo era que sabíalo que era.

Conque a la mañana siguiente nobajé hasta allí . Les oí enganchar ydespués, cuando me di cuenta de queestaban preparados para irse, salí dela casa y seguí camino abajo haciael puente hasta que oí salir del co-rral la carreta de vuelta a New Hope.Y l u e g o , c u a n d o v o l v í a c a s a ,Rachel se me echó encima porque noestaba en casa para hacerles entrara desayuna r. Con e l l a s nunca sesabe. Justo cuando decides que pien-san una cosa, que me condene si notienes que cambiar de idea, y aguan-tar que te despellejen vivo sólo porpensar que se referían a lo que tú

57


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

they meant it.

But it was still like I could smellit. And so I decided then that it wasn’tsmelling it, but it was just knowing itwas there, like you will get foolednow and then. But when I went to thebarn I knew different. When I walkedinto the hallway I saw something. Itkind of hunkered up when I come inand I thought at first it was one ofthem got left, then I saw what it was.It was a buzzard. It looked around andsaw me and went on down the hall,spraddle-legged, with its wings kindof hunkered out, watching me firstover one shoulder and then over theother, like a old bald-headed man.When it got outdoors it begun to fly.It had to fly a long time before it evergot up into the air, with it thick andheavy and full of rain like it was.

If they was bent on going toJefferson, I reckon they could havegone around up by Mount Vernon, likeMacCallum did. He’ll get home aboutday after to-morrow, horse-back. Thenthey’d be just eighteen miles fromtown. But maybe this bridge beinggone too has learned him the Lord’ssense and judgment.

That MacCallum. He’s beentrading with me off and on for twelveyears. I have known him from a boyup; know his name as well as I do myown. But be durn if I can say it.

30DEWEY DELL (3)

THE signboard comes in sight. Itis looking out at the road now,because it can wait. New Hope. 3 mi.it will say. New Hope. 3 mi. NewHope. 3 mi. And then the road willbegin, curving away into the trees,empty with waiting, saying NewHope three miles.

I heard that my mother is dead.I wish I had time to let her die. Iwish I had time to wish I had. It isbecause in the wild and outragedearth too soon too soon too soon.It’s not that I wouldn’t and will notit’s that it is too soon too soon toosoon.

Now it begins to say it. NewHope three miles. New Hope threemiles. That ’s what they mean byt h e w o m b o f t i m e : t h e a g o n yand t he de spa i r o f sp rea d i n gb o n e s , t h e h a r d g i r d l e i nwhich l ie the outraged en tra i l so f even t s . Cash’s head turns slowlyas we approach, his pale, empty, sad,composed and questioning facefollowing the red and empty curve;beside the back wheel Jewel sits thehorse, gazing straight ahead.

The land runs out of Darl’s eyes;they swim to pin-points. They beginat my feet and rise along my bodyto my face, and then my dress is

pensabas.

Pero todavía era como si lo estuvie-ra oliendo. Y por eso decidí entoncesmismo que no lo olía, sino que sólosabía que había estado allí, pues de vezen cuando uno se engaña. Pero cuan-do entré en el granero pensé otra cosa.Cuando me encontraba en el zaguán vialgo. Algo que estaba en cuclillascuando entré, y al principio pensé queera uno de ellos; luego vi lo que era.Era un buitre. Miró alrededor y me vioy se dirigió al zaguán, con las patasseparadas, las alas como arrastrando,mirándome primero por encima de unhombro y luego por encima del otro,como un viejo calvo. Cuando llegófuera se echó a volar. Tuvo que ale-tear bastante tiempo antes de remon-tarse en el aire, de lo espeso y pesadoy lleno de lluvia que estaba.

Si se dirigen a Jefferson, para míque podían haber rodeado MountVernon, como hizo MacCallum. Pue-de estar en casa pasado mañana, acaballo. Y ellos estaban a veintisie-te kilómetros de la ciudad. Pero pue-de que ese puente que también sellevó la riada lo tome como un avi-so que le manda el Señor.

Ese MacCallum. Lleva tratando conmi-go a intervalos desde hace doce años. Loconozco desde niño; sé cómo se llama tanbien como yo mismo. Pero que me condenesi soy capaz de recordar su nombre.

DEWEY DELL

EL cartel ya está a la vista. Aho-ra se asoma al camino, porque pue-de esperar. New Hope, 5 kms, dirá.New Hope , 5 kms . New Hope , 5kms. Y luego empezará el caminoque serpentea entre los árboles, va-cío con la espera, y que dice NewHope cinco kilómetros.

Oí que mi madre ha muerto. Quisiera ha-ber tenido tiempo para dejarla morir. Quisierahaber tenido tiempo para querer tenerlo. Esporque en la tierra salvaje y ultrajada demasia-do pronto, demasiado pronto, demasiado pron-to. Y no es que yo no quisiera o no querré, esque es demasiado pronto, demasiado pronto,demasiado pronto.

Ahora lo empieza a decir. New Hopecinco kilómetros. New Hope cinco kiló-metros. Esto es lo que quieren decircuando se refieren al vientre del tiempo:la agonía y la desesperación de los hue-sos distendidos, la rígida faja donde ya-cen las ultrajadas entrañas de los acon-tecimientos. La cabeza de Cash se vuel-ve lentamente según nos acercamos, sucara pálida, vacía, triste e interrogantesigue la roja curva vacía; junto a una delas ruedas de atrás, Jewel va montado acaballo, mirando al frente.

La tierra surge de los ojos de Darl quese mueven hasta clavarse en algún pun-to. Comienzan por mis pies y suben porel cuerpo hasta la cara, y luego me que-

Dewey Dell (3)

This section records DeweyDell’s unspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as the wagon leaves theTull farm and heads back alongthe road it travelled the previousday. The girl sits in a sort ofreverie, recalling dreams andpondering on the differencebetween dream and reality.

COMMENTARY: Here, as inDewey Dell (2), we see that thegirl is so engrossed in her ownsituation that everything elseseems beyond the reach of herfeelings. In the lines ‘I heard thatmy mother . . . too soon’ she triesto work out why she cannot makeher mother’s death a reality andrealises that it is because of herown situation. The timing of hermother’s death is ‘too soon’before she has had time to workout her own, all-absorbingproblem. It is significant thatDewey Dell should think again ofthe ‘wild and outraged earth’,something which to her parallelsher womb, a place of growth. ForAddie, the earth is a place of deathand not of life.

In the third paragraph anitalicised passage repeats thenotion that the earth is a place oflife and death, ‘That’s what theymean by the womb of time; theagony and despair of spreading

58


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

gone : I s i t naked on the s ea ta b o v e t h e u n h u r r y i n g m u l e s ,above the travail. Suppose I tellhim to turn. He will do what I say.Don’t you know he will do what Isay? [Once I waked with a blackvoid rushing under me. I could notsee.] I saw Vardaman rise and goto the window and strike the knifeinto the fish, the blood gushing,hissing like steam but I could notsee. He’ll do as I say. He alwaysdoes . I can persuade h im toanything. You know I can. SupposeI say turn here. That was when Idied that time. Suppose I do. We’llgo to New Hope. We won’t have togo to town. I rose and took theknife from the streaming fish stillhissing and I killed Darl.

When I used to s leep withVardaman I had a nightmare once Ithought I was awake but I couldn’tsee and couldn’t feel I couldn’t feelthe bed under me and I couldn’tthink what I was I couldn’t think ofmy name I couldn’t even think I ama girl I couldn’t even think I noreven think I want to wake up norremember what was opposite toawake so I could do that I knew thatsomething was passing but Icouldn’t even think of time then allof a sudden I knew that somethingwas it was wind blowing over me itwas like the wind came and blew meback from where it was I was notblowing the room and Vardamanasleep and all of them back underme again and going on like a pieceof cool silk dragging across mynaked legs.

It blows cool out of the pines,a sad steady sound. New Hope.Was 3 mi. Was 3 mi. I believe inGod I believe in God.

“Why didn’t we go to New Hope,pa?” Vardaman says. “Mr. Samsonsa i d w e w a s , b u t w e d o n epassed the road.”

D a r l s a y s , “ L o o k ,J e w e l . ” B u t h e i s n o tl o o k i n g a t m e . H e i s l o o k i n gat the sky. The buzzard is as stillas if he were nailed to it .

We turn into Tull’s lane. Wep a s s t h e b a r n a n d g o o n , t h ewheels whispering in the mud,passing the green rows of cottonin the wild earth, and Vernon littleacross the field behind the plough.He lifts his hand as we pass andstands there looking after us for along while.

“Look, Jewel,” Darl says. Jewelsits on his horse like they were bothmade out of wood, looking straightahead.

I believe in God, God. God, Ibelieve in God.

do sin vestido: estoy sentada desnuda enel banco, encima de las mulas cansinas,encima de todas las fatigas. Supón quele digo que se dé la vuelta. Hará lo queyo le diga. ¿No sabes que hará lo que lediga [129] yo? Una vez me desperté conun oscuro vacío que se hundía a mis pies.No podía ver. Vi a Vardaman levantarsee ir a la ventana y hundir el cuchillo enel pez que chorreaba sangre que siseabacomo el vapor aunque yo no podía ver.Hará lo que yo le diga. Siempre lohace. Puedo convencerle de lo que sea.Sé que puedo. Supón que le digo: Vuél-vete aquí. Eso fue aquella vez en quemorí. Supón que lo hago. Iríamos a NewHope. No tendríamos que ir a la ciudad.Me levanté y saqué y saqué el cuchillodel chorreante pez que todavía siseaba ymaté a Darl.

Cuando acostumbraba a dormircon Vardaman una vez tuve una pesadi-lla y creí que estaba despierta, pero nopodía ver ni notar ni notar la cama de-bajo de mí y no podía pensar qué era yono podía pensar en cómo me llamo ni si-quiera podía pensar que soy una chicani tampoco podía tan siquiera pensar, nitampoco podio pensar que quería des-pertar ni tampoco recordar qué era loopuesto a despertar de modo que pudie-se hacerlo yo sabía que algo se desliza-ba, pero ni siquiera podía pensar en eltiempo y entonces de repente me di cuen-ta de que había algo que era como vien-to que soplaba sobre mí y era como si elviento viniera y me impulsara hacia atrásdesde donde estaba y yo no soplaba elcuarto y Vardaman dormía y todos de-bajo de mí otra vez como un trozo de sedafría que se arrastraba entre mis piernasdesnudas

De los pinos sale un soplo fresco, untriste y constante sonido. New Hope.Estaba a 5 kms. Estaba a 5 kms. Creo enDios, creo en Dios.

—¿Por qué no fuimos a New Hope,padre? —dice Vardaman—. Mr. Samsondijo que iríamos, pero ya nos hemospasado el camino.

Darl dice:—Mira, Jewel.Pero él no me estaba mirando a mí.

Miraba al cielo. El buitre está inmóvilcomo si lo hubieran clavado en él.

Doblamos hacia el sendero de Tull.Pasamos delante del granero y seguimos,las ruedas susurrando en el barro, pasa-mos por delante de los verdes surcos delalgodón en la tierra salvaje, y de Vernon,que se hace pequeño al otro lado del cam-po, detrás del arado. Levanta la manocuando pasamos y se queda allí mirán-donos largo rato.

—Mira, Jewel —dice Darl. [130]Jewel va montado en su caballo como

si los dos fueran de madera, mirando alfrente.

Creo en Dios, Dios. Dios, creo enDios.

bones, the hard girdle in whichlie the outraged entrails ofevents’. At an unverbalised level,Dewey Dell is sensing thedifference between the ‘bones’,which endure, and the ‘entrails’,which decay.

As usual, the musing charactermoves between the depths ofinner thoughts and the actualityaround them. Dewey Dell returnsfrom the contemplation of ‘thewomb of time’ to look at herbrothers, focusing on Darl andseeing that he has the ability,metaphorically, to strip her bare,‘I sit naked . . . above the travail’.Worried by this exposure, sherecalls a dream in which shekilled Darl. This memory leads onto the memory of another dreamin which she did not know whatshe was, ‘I couldn’t think of myname I couldn’t even think I am agirl I couldn’t even think I . . .’.Her sense of reality was restoredby feeling the wind blowing onher legs, a confirmation by anoutside agency which recallsDarl’s idea that the wagon’sexistence is confirmed by the rain.

59


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

31TULL (4)

AFTER they passed I taken themule out and up the trace chains andfollowed. They were setting in thewagon at the end of the levee. Ansewas setting there, looking at thebridge where it was swagged downinto the river with just the two endsin sight. He was looking at it like hehad believed all the time that folkshad been lying to him about it beinggone, but like he was hoping all thetime it really was. Kind of pleasedastonishment he looked, setting on thewagon in his Sunday pants, mumblinghis mouth. Looking like a uncurriedhorse dressed up: I don’t know.

The boy was watching the bridgewhere it was midsunk and logs andsuch drifted up over it and it swaggingand shivering like the whole thingwould go any minute, big-eyed hewas watching it, like he was to acircus. And the gal, too. When I comeup she looked around at me, her eyeskind of blaring up and going hard likeI had made to touch her Then shelooked at Anse again and then backat the water again.

It was nigh [near] up to the leveeon both sides, the earth hid except forthe tongue of it we was on going outto the bridge and then down into thewater, and except for knowing howthe road and the bridge used to look,a fellow couldn’t tell where was theriver and where the land. It was justa tangle of yellow and the levee notless wider than a knife-back kind of,with us setting in the wagon and onthe horse and the mule.

Darl was looking at me, and thenCash turned and looked at me withthat look in his eyes like when he wasfiguring on whether the planks wouldfit her that night, like he wasmeasuring them inside of him and notasking you to say what you thoughtand not even letting on he waslistening if you did say it, but listeningall right. Jewel hadn’t moved. He satthere on the horse, leaning a littleforward, with that same look on hisface when him and Darl passed thehouse yesterday, coming back to gether.

“If it was just up, we could driveacross,” Anse says. “We could driveright on across it.”

Sometimes a log would getshoved over the jam and float on,rolling and turning, and we couldwatch it go on to where the ford usedto be. It would slow up and whirlcrossways and hang out of water fora minute, and you could tell by thatthat the ford used to be there.

“ B u t t h a t d o n ’ t s h o wnothing,” I say. “It could be abar of quicksand built up there.”

TULL

DESPUÉS de que pasaran saqué lamula y le enrollé las cadenas del tiroy los seguí. Estaban instalados e nla carreta, al final del malecón. Anseestaba al l í mirando al puente pordonde se lo había llevado el río consólo dos pilares a la vista. Lo mirabacomo si todo el tiempo hubiera creídoque la gente le mentía sobre que se lohabía llevado la riada y siempre hu-biera esperado que siguiera allí. Pare-cía como agradablemente sorprendido,allí, sentado en la carreta con sus pan-talones de los domingos, murmurandoalgo. Era como un caballo sin cepillar vestidocon sus mejores galas, o algo por el estilo.

El chico miraba el puente por don-de estaba medio hundido y a los tron-cos y demás cosas amontonadas enci-ma que se agitaban y temblaban comosi en cualquier momento todo fuera adesaparecer con los ojos muy abiertosigual que si estuviera en el circo. Y lachica lo mismo. Cuando llegué memiró con ojos brillantes y duros comosi la hubiera intentado tocar. Luegovolvió a mirar a Anse y luego volvió amirar al agua.

Esta casi cubría el malecón en losdos lados, la tierra estaba cubierta porel agua excepto en la lengua por la quenos dirigíamos al puente y luego sehundía, y a no ser porque sabíamosdónde solían estar el camino y el puen-te, nadie podría decir dónde estaba elrío y dónde la tierra. Era una mezco-lanza amarilla y la lengua de tierra nomás ancha que el revés de un cuchillocon todos nosotros instalados en la ca-rreta y en el caballo y la mula.

Darl me miraba, y luego Cash sevolvió a mirarme con aquella expre-sión en los ojos que era como cuan-do aquella noche pensaba si las ta-blas se acoplarían a ella, igual quesi las midiera interiormente y no tepreguntase lo que pensabas y ni si-quiera se dignase a escuchar si ledabas tu opinión, aunque de hecho es-cuchase. Jewel no se había movido. Es-taba allí, montado a caballo, echado unpoco hacia delante, con la misma expre-sión en la cara de cuando él y Darl pasa-ron ayer por delante de casa camino derecogerla.

—Si se hubiera mantenido podríamoscruzar —dice Anse—. Podríamos cruzaren un momento.

A veces la corriente empujaba un tron-co que saltaba el atasco y seguía flotan-do, girando y revolviéndose, y podíamosverlo seguir hacia donde solía estar el vado.Allí parecía detenerse y dar vueltasatravesado y asomaba fuera del agua du-rante un momento, y por eso se podíaasegurar que el vado solía estar allí.

—Pero eso no demuestra nada —digoyo—. Podría ser un banco de arenas movedi-zas que se ha formado allí.

Tull (4)

This section consists of Tull’sunspoken thoughts and hisspoken words as he sees theBundrens pass his farm goingtowards the river. He followsthem on his mule.

COMMENTARY: In thissection, Tull is made to feel thecollective hostility of the Bundrenfamily. Each member looks at himin turn, Dewey Dell ‘like I hadmade to touch her’, Darl ‘like hehad got inside you, someway’ andCash ‘with that look in his eyeslike when he was figuring outwhether the planks would fit herthat night.’ Only Anse pays noparticular attention to Tull, gazinginstead at the river with a kind of‘pleased astonishment’. Theviolence of the river is echoed bythe violent undercurrents nowevident in the family itself.

undercurrent 1 subduedemotional quality underlying anutterance; implicit meaning,sobreentendido, tendenciaoculta 2 a current below thesurface of a fluid, corrientesubmarina, contracorriente1 contracorriente 2 fig (dedescontento, etc) trasfondo.3 (en el mar) corriente subma-rina

60


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

We watch the log. Then the galis looking at me again.

“Mr. Whitfield crossed it,” she says.

“He was a horse-back,” I say.“And three days ago. It’s riz fivefoot since.”

“If the bridge was just up,” Ansesays.

The log bobs up and goes on again.There is a lot of trash and foam, andyou can hear the water.

“But it’s down,” Anse says.

C a s h s a y s , “ A c a r e f u lf e l l o w c o u l d w a l k a c r o s sy o n d e r o n t h e p l a n k s a n dl o g s . ”

“ B u t y o u c o u l d n ’ t t o t enothing,” I say. “Likely time youset foot on that mess, it’ll all go,too. What you think, Darl?” .

He is looking at me. He don’t saynothing; just looks at me with themqueer eyes of hisn that makes folkstalk. I always say it ain’t never beenwhat he done so much or said oranything so much as how he looks atyou. It’s like he had got into the insideof you, someway. Like somehow youwas looking at yourself and yourdoings outen his eyes. Then I can feelthat gal watching me like I had made totouch her. She says something to Anse.“. . . Mr. Whitfield . . .” she says.

“I give her my promised word inthe presence of the Lord,” Anse says.“I reckon it ain’t no need to worry.”

But still he does not start themules. We set there above the water.Another log bobs up over the jam andgoes on; we watch it check up andswing slow for a minute where theford used to be. Then it goes on.

“It might start falling to-night,” Isay. “You could lay over one moreday.”

Then Jewel turns sideways onthe horse. He has not moved untilthen, and he turns and looks at me.His face is kind of green, then itwould go red and then green again.“Get to hell on back to your damnploughing,” he says. “Who the hellasked you to follow us here?”

“I never meant no harm,” I say.

“Shut up, Jewel,” Cash says. Jewellooks back at the water, his facegritted, going red and green and thenred. “Well,” Cash says after a while,“what you want to do?”

Anse don’t say nothing. He setshumped up, mumbling his mouth.“If it was just up, we could driveacross it,” he says.

Observábamos el tronco. Luego lachica se puso a mirarme otra vez.

—Mr. Whitfield lo cruzó —dice.

—Iba a caballo —digo yo—. Y fuehace tres días. Desde entonces ha subidometro y medio.

—Si el puente siguiera en pie... —diceAnse.

El tronco reaparece y sigue adelante.Hay muchos desechos y espuma, y sepueden ir al agua.

—Pero se ha hundido —dice Anse.

Cash dice:—Con mucho cuidado a lo mejor se

podría cruzar por encima de los tablonesy los troncos.

—Pero no se podría llevar ningunacarga —digo yo—. Probablemente si po-nes el pie en ese revoltijo se hundiría tam-bién. ¿Qué opinas, Darl?

Me está mirando. No dice nada; selimita a mirarme con esos ojos suyostan raros que tanto dan que hablar.Siempre digo que eso no es tanto porlo que haga o diga o algo así, como porel modo en que te mira. Es como si tellegara hasta muy adentro, en ciertomodo. Algo así como si uno se estu-viera mirando a sí mismo y lo hace y loviera en sus ojos. Entonces noto que lachica me mira como si hubiera intenta-do tocarla. Le dice algo a Anse:

—... Mr. Whitfield... —dice.[132]

— L e d i m i p a l a b r a a n t e D i o s— d i c e A n s e — . P a r a m í q u e n oh a y d e q u é p r e o c u p a r s e .

Pero sigue sin hacer andar a las mu-las. Estamos allí, al borde del agua.Otro tronco asoma sobre el atasco ysigue; lo vemos detenerse y oscilarlentamente durante un minuto dondesolía estar el vado. Luego se aleja.

—Puede que empiece a bajar esta no-che —digo yo—. Podrían quedarse un díamás.

Entonces Jewel se vuelve encima delcaballo. No se ha movido hasta enton-ces; se vuelve y me mira. Tiene la caracomo verde, luego se le pone roja y lue-go verde otra vez.

—Váyase al infierno y siga arando —dice—. ¿Quién demonios le pidió que nossiguiera hasta aquí?

—No quería molestar —digo yo.

—Cállate, Jewel —dice Cash. Jewelvuelve a mirar el agua, su cara es unamueca y se pone roja y verde y luegoroja—. Bueno —dice Cash al cabo de unrato—, ¿qué quiere que hagamos?

Anse no dice nada. Sigue sentado,encorvado, murmurando entre dientes.

—Si solo se hubiera mantenido po-dríamos cruzarlo —dice.

tote: (Am. English) carry

the jam: the obstructing clump oflogs

grit — n. 1 particles of stone or sand, esp. ascausing discomfort, clogging machinery, etc.2 coarse sandstone. 3 col loq. p luck,endurance; strength of character.

— v. (gritted, gritting) 1 tr. spread grit on (icyroads etc.). 2 tr. clench (the teeth). 3 intr. makeor move with a grating sound.

grit 1 arena gravilla 2 coraje, agallas 3 clench theteeth, apretar los dientes, rechinar los dientes,decir apretando los dientes.

61


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Come on,” Jewel says, movingthe horse.

“Wait,” Cash says. He looks at thebridge. We look at him, except Anseand the gal. They are looking at thewater. “Dewey Dell and Vardamanand pa better walk across on thebridge,” Cash says.

“Vernon can help them,” Jewelsays. “And we can hitch his muleahead of ourn.”

“You ain’t going to take my muleinto that water,” I say.

Jewel looks at me. His eyeslook like pieces of a broken plate.“I’ll pay for your damn mule. I’ll buyit from you right now.”

“My mule ain’t going into thatwater,” I say.

“Jewel’s going to use his horse,”Darl says. “Why won’t you risk yourmule, Vernon?”

“Shut up, Darl,” Cash says. “Youand Jewel both.”

“My mule ain’t going into thatwater,” I say.

32DARL (11)

HE sits the horse, glaring atVernon, his lean face suffused up toand beyond the pale rigidity of his eyes.The summer when he was fifteen, hetook a spell of sleeping. One morn-ing when I went to feed the mulesthe cows were still in the tie-up andthen I heard pa go back to the houseand call him. When we came on backto the house for breakfast he passedus, carrying the milk buckets, stum-bling along like he was drunk, andhe was milking when we put themules in and went on to the fieldwithout him. We had been there anhour and still he never showed up.When Dewey Dell came with ourlunch, pa sent her back to find Jewel.They found him in the tie-up, sittingon the stool, asleep.

After that, every morning pawould go in and wake him. Hewould go to sleep at the suppertableand soon as supper was finished hewould go to bed, and when I camein to bed he would be lying therelike a dead man. Yet still pa wouldhave to wake him in the morning.He would get up, but he wouldn’thardly have half sense: he wouldstand for pa’s jawing andcomplaining without a word andtake the milk buckets and go to thebarn, and once I found him asleepat the cow, the bucket in place andhalf-full and his hands up to thewrists in the milk and his head

—Venga, vamos —dice Jewel, hacien-do andar al caballo.

—Espera —dice Cash. Mira e lpuente . Todos le miramos menosAnse y la chica que están mirando elagua—. Dewey Dell y Vardaman ypadre será mejor que pasen por elpuente —dice Cash.

—Vernon les puede ayudar —diceJewel—. Y nosotros podemos engarcharsu mula delante de las nuestras.

—No vais a meter mi mula en esacorriente —digo yo.

Jewel me mira. Sus ojos parecen tro-zos de un plato roto.

—Le pagaré su condenada mula. Sela compro ahora mismo.

—A mi mula no la meteréis en esacorriente —digo yo.

Jewel va a meter su caballo —diceDarl—. ¿Por qué no quiere arriesgar sumula, Vernon? [133]

—Cállate, Darl —dice Cash—. Tú yJewel, callaos los dos.

—Mi mula no se meterá en esa co-rriente —digo yo.

DARL

MONTA su caballo, mirando aVernon, con su flaco rostro empañado porla pálida rigidez de sus ojos. El vera-no en que tenía quince años, le dioun a taque de sueño. Una mañanacuando yo iba a dar de comer a lasmulas, las vacas todavía estaban ama-rradas y entonces oí a padre que vol-vía a casa y le llamaba. Cuando vol-vimos a casa para desayunar pasó jun-to a nosotros llevando los cubos parala leche y tambaleándose como si es-tuviera borracho, y estaba ordeñandocuando arreglamos las mulas y sali-mos al campo sin él. Llevábamos unahora allí y seguía sin aparecer. Cuan-do Dewey Dell vino con el almuerzo,padre la mandó a buscar a Jewel. Loencontraron en el establo, sentado enel taburete, dormido.

Después de eso, padre tenía que ir to-das las mañanas a despertarle. Se dor-mía en la mesa durante la cena y, encuanto terminábamos de cenar, se metíaen la cama, y cuando me acostaba yo,allí me lo encontraba tumbado como unmuerto. Sin embargo, padre también te-nía que despertarle por la mañana. Selevantaba, pero casi no se enteraba delo que estaba pasando: se quedaba allíquieto sin decir ni palabra mientras pa-dre le reñía y se quejaba, y luego cogíalos cubos de la leche e iba al establo, yuna vez me lo encontré dormido junto ala vaca con el cubo en su sitio y a mediollenar y las manos metidas en la lechehasta las muñecas y la cabeza apoyada

Darl (11)

As the family sit gazing at theswollen river, Darl is thinking ofJewel. He remembers, at anunspoken and unverbalised level,the time when Jewel used todisappear mysteriously at nightand return exhausted.

COMMENTARY: This sectionbegins with Darl thinking, asusual, of Jewel. The reason forsuch thoughts is not simply hisobsession with his brother but thefact that, in Tull (4), Darl was partof the family in its hostilityagainst Tull. Here he recallsanother moment at which thefamily were united, a time whenJewel began to behave in amysterious fashion. ‘That was thefirst time ma . . . has happened tohim’, these lines create an imageof the whole family acting as aunit to protect their mother fromthe knowledge that her favouriteson is behaving oddly. The imageimplies that the family are boundto one another by their concernfor Addie. Now that Addie is nolonger alive, they sit helplessly bythe side of the river, each findingit difficult to feel his or her ownidentity, yet all acting with a kindof tacit strength against theoutside world.

At the end of the section, wediscover that Darl himself had hada personal flash of insight as a

suffuse 1 (of colour, moisture, etc.) spread fromwithin to colour or moisten (a blush suffusedher cheeks). 2 cover with colour etc. Impreg-nar, saturar, bañar, inundar,

glare A 1. mirada feroz o llena de odio 2. luz des-lumbrante, resplandor. B verbo intransitivo 1mirar enfurecido [at, a] staring angrily and fiercely,(fulminándole con la mirada) 3. deslumbrar 1.To stare fixedly and angrily. See synonyms atgaze. 2. To shine intensely and blindingly: A hotsun glared down on the desert. 3. To beconspicuous; stand out obtrusively: The headlineglared from the page. To express by staringangrily: He glared his disapproval.

62


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

against the cow’s flank.

A f t e r t h a t D e w e y D e l l h a dto do the mi lk ing . He s t i l l go tup when pa waked h im, go ingabou t wha t we to ld h im to doin tha t dazed way. I t was l i kehe was t ry ing ha rd to do them;t h a t h e w a s a s p u z z l e d a sanyone e l se .

“Are you sick?” ma said. “Don’tyou feel all right?”

“Yes,” Jewel said. “I feel allright.”

“He’s jus t lazy, t ry ing me,”p a s a i d , a n d J e w e l s t a n d i n gthere, asleep on his feet l ike asn o t . “ A i n ’ t y o u ? ” h e s a i d ,w a k i n g J e w e l u p a g a i n t oanswer.

“No,” Jewel said.

“You take off and stay in the houseto-day,” ma said.

“With that whole bottom piece tobe busted out?” pa said. “If you ain’tsick, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Jewel said. “I’m allright.”

“All right?” pa said. “You’reasleep on your feet this minute.”

“ N o , ” J e w e l s a i d . “ I ’ m a l lr i gh t . ”

“I want him to stay at hometo-day,” ma said.

“ I ’ l l n e e d h i m , ” p a s a i d .“ I t ’s t igh t enough, wi th a l l o fus to do i t . ”

“You’ll just have to do the best youcan with Cash and Darl,” ma said. “Iwant him to stay in to-day.”

B u t h e w o u l d n ’ t d o i t . “ I ’ ma l l r i g h t , ” h e s a i d , g o i n g o n .But he wasn’t all right. Anybodycould see it. He was losing flesh, andI have seen him go to sleep chopping;watched the hoe going slower andslower up and down, with less andless of an arc, until it stopped andhe leaning on it motionless in thehot shimmer of the sun.

Ma wanted to get the doctor, butpa didn’t want to spend the moneywithout it was needful, and Jewel didseem all right except for his thinnessand his way of dropping off to sleepat any moment. He ate hearty enough,except for his way of going to sleepin his plate, with a piece of breadhalf-way to his mouth and his jawsstill chewing. But he swore he wasall right.

It was ma that got Dewey Dellto do h is mi lk ing , pa id her

en el costado de la vaca.

Después de eso tenía que ordeñarDewey Dell. El seguía levantándosecuando lo despertaba padre y se iba ahacer lo que le decíamos como en un tran-ce. Era como si estuviera intentando ha-cer las cosas lo mejor posible. Como sise sintiera tan confundido como todos losdemás. [134]

—¿Estás malo? —le decía madre—.¿No te encuentras bien?

—Sí —decía Jewel—, me encuentroperfectamente.

—Sólo es un perezoso que trata demolestarme —decía padre, y Jewel sequedaba de pie allí, incluso a veces dor-mido—. ¿No tengo razón? —decía padre,despertando a Jewel otra vez para que lecontestase.

—No —decía Jewel.

—Hoy quédate en casa sin hacer nada—decía madre.

—¿Con todo ese terreno que hayque arar? —decía padre—. Si noestás malo, ¿qué te pasa?

—Nada —decía Jewel—. Estoy per-fectamente.

—¿Perfectamente? —decía padre—.Si acabas de quedarte dormido de pie.

—No —decía Jewel—. Me encuentroperfectamente.

—Quiero que se quede en casa hoy—decía madre.

—Le voy a necesitar —decía Padre—.Vamos ya bastante apurados, incluso con-tando con todos nosotros.

—Arréglatelas como puedas con Cashy Darl —decía madre—. Hoy quiero quese quede.

Pero él no quería quedarse.—Estoy perfectamente —dijo al salir.Pero no estaba bien. Cualquiera lo

podía ver. Perdía peso y le había vistodormirse mientras cavaba; yo veía que elazadón subía y bajaba cada vez más des-pacio y que el arco que describía se ha-cía más y más pequeño, hasta que se paróy se quedó quieto, y él apoyado en elmango, bajo el ardiente brillo del sol.

Madre quería llamar al médico,pero padre no quería gastar el dinerosi no había necesidad, y Jewel parecíabien del todo a no ser por su delgadezy porque se quedaba dormido en cual-quier momento. Comía con bastanteapetito, pero a veces se quedaba dor-mido encima del plato con un trozo depan a medio camino de la boca y sindejar de masticar. Pero juraba que seencontraba bien.

Madre tuvo que mandar a DeweyDell que ordeñara en lugar de él, y de

result of Jewel’s action. He hadfound his mother beside Jewel’ssleeping body, crying quietly. Itwas at this moment that Darlrealised that Jewel was not Anse’sson, that he is the product ofdeceit, ‘I knew that as plain onthat day as I knew about DeweyDell on that day’.

63


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

somehow, and the other jobs aroundthe house that J ewe l had beendoing before supper she foundsome way for Dewey Dell andVardaman to do them. And doingthem herself when pa wasn’t there.She would fix him special things toeat and hide them for him. And thatmay have been when I first found itout, that Addie Bundren should behiding anything she did, who had triedto teach us that deceit was such that,in a world where it was, nothing elsecould be very bad or very important,not even poverty. And at times when Iwent in to go to bed she would besitting in the dark by Jewel where hewas asleep. And I knew that she washating herself for that deceit and hatingJewel because she had to love him sothat she had to act the deceit.

One night she was taken sick andwhen I went to the barn to put theteam in and drive to Tull’s, I couldn’tfind the lantern. I rememberednoticing it on the nail the night before,but it wasn’t there now at midnight.So I hitched in the dark and went onand came back with Mrs. Tull justafter daylight. And there the lanternwas, hanging on the nail where Iremembered it and couldn’t find itbefore. And then one morning whileDewey Dell was milking just beforesun-up, Jewel came into the barn fromthe back, through the hole in the backwall, with the lantern in his hand.

I told Cash, and Cash and I lookedat one another.

“Rutting,” Cash said.

“Yes,” I said. “But why thelantern? And every night, too. Nowonder he’s losing flesh. Are yougoing to say anything to him?”

“Won’t do any good,” Cash said.

“What he’s doing now won’t doany good, either.”

“I know. But he’ll have to learnthat himself . Give him time torealize that it’ll save, that there’llbe just as much more to-morrow,and he’ll be all right. I wouldn’t tellanybody, I reckon.”

“No,” I said. “I told Dewey Dellnot to. Not ma, anyway.”

“No. Not ma.”

After that I thought it was rightcomical: he acting so bewilderedand will ing and dead for sleepand gaunt as a bean-pole , andthinking he was so smart with it.And I wondered who the girl was.I thought of al l I knew that i tmight be, but I couldn’t say forsure.

“’Taint any girl,” Cash said. “It’sa married woman somewhere. Ain’t

algún modo se lo pagaba, y las demásfaenas de la casa que Jewel hacía hastaahora antes de la hora de cenar, encon-tró modo de que las hicieran Dewey Delly [135] Vardaman. O las hacía ella mis-ma cuando padre no estaba delante. Lepreparaba cosas de comer especiales aescondidas de los otros. Y puede quehaya sido entonces cuando descu-brí que Addie Bundren, que siem-pre nos había enseñado que el en-gaño era lo peor de este mundo, in-c l u i d a l a p o b r e z a , n o s o c u l t a b aalgo. Y a veces cuando entraba parai rme a dormi r, me l a encon t rabasentada a oscuras junto al sitio don-de dormía, Jewel. Y comprendí quese odiaba a sí misma por tener queengañarnos, y que odiaba a Jewelporque le quería tanto que tenía queengañarnos.

Una noche se puso mala y cuandofui al establo a preparar el tiro para ira casa de Tull, no conseguí encontrarel farol. Recordaba haberlo visto col-gado del clavo la noche anterior, peroahora, a medianoche, no estaba allí.Conque enganché a oscuras y salí yvolví con Mr. Tull justo después deamanecer. Y allí estaba el farol, col-gando del clavo donde yo lo recorda-ba y antes no había conseguido encon-trarlo. Y luego, una mañana, mientrasDewey ordeñaba justo antes de salirel sol, Jewel entró en el establo por laparte de atrás, a través de un agujerode la pared, con el farol en la mano.

Se lo conté a Cash, y Cash y yo nosmiramos.

—Está como en celo —dijo Cash.

— S í — d i j e y o — . P e r o , ¿ p o rq u é e l f a r o l ? Y e n c i m a t o d a s l a sn o c h e s . N o m e e x t r a ñ a q u e a d e l -g a c e . ¿ Va s a d e c i r l e a l g o ?

—No serviría de nada —dijo Cash.

—Tampoco sirve de nada lo que estáhaciendo ahora.

—Ya lo sé. Pero tiene que aprenderlopor sí mismo. Dale tiempo para que sedé cuenta de que eso no se va a agotar,de que mañana lo podría hacer igual, yse le pasará. Para mí que será mejor nocontárselo a nadie.

—No —dije yo—. Le dije a Dewey Dell queno lo contara. Por lo menos, no a madre.

—No. A madre no.

Después de eso pensé que resultabahasta cómico: se comportaba como tanperplejo y ansioso y estaba tan muertode sueño y tan flaco como una vara enun campo de judías; y creía que nos en-gañaba... Y yo me preguntaba [136] quiénpodría ser la chica. Pensé en todas las queconocía, pero no estaba seguro de quefuera ninguna.

—No es n inguna chica —dijoCash—. Es una mujer casada de por

64


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

any young girl got that much daringand staying power. That’s what Idon’t like about it.”

“Why?” I said. “She’ll be safer forhim than a girl would. Morejudgment.”

H e l o o k e d a t m e , h i s e y e sfumbl ing , t he words fumbl inga t wha t he was t ry ing to say.“It ain’t always the safe things in thisworld that a fellow . . .”

“You mean, the safe things are notalways the best things?”

“Ay; best,” he said, fumbling again.“It ain’t the best things, the things thatare good for him . . . . A young boy. Afellow kind of hates to see . . .wallowing in somebody else’s mire . . .”That’s what he was trying to say.When something is new and hard andbright, there ought to be something alittle better for it than just being safe,since the safe things are just the thingsthat folks have been doing so longthey have worn the edges off andthere’s nothing to the doing of themthat leaves a man to say, That was notdone before and it cannot be doneagain.

So we didn’t tell, not even whenafter a while he’d appear suddenlyin the field beside us and go to work,without having had time to get homeand make out he had been in bed allnight. He would tell ma that hehadn’t been hungry at breakfast orthat he had eaten a piece of breadwhile he was hitching up the team.But Cash and I knew that he hadn’tbeen home at all on those nights andhe had come up out of the woodswhen we got to the field. But wedidn’t tell. Summer was almost overthen; we knew that when the nightsbegan to get cool, she would be doneif he wasn’t.

But when fa l l came and thenights began to get longer, the onlydi ffe rence was tha t he wouldalways be in bed for pa to wakehim, getting him up at last in thatfirst state of semi-idiocy like whenit first started, worse than when hehad stayed out all night.

“She’s sure a stayer,” I told Cash.“I oled to admire her, but I downrightrespect her now.”

“It ain’t a woman,” he said.

“You know,” I said. But he waswatching me. “What is it, then?”

“That’s what I aim to find out,” hesaid.

“You can trail him through thewoods all night if you want to,” Isaid. “I’m not.”

“I ain’t trailing him,” he said.

aquí cerca. Ninguna chica joven es tanatrevida ni resiste tanto. Eso es lo queno me gusta de todo esto.

—¿Por qué? —dije yo—. Para él esmás seguro que una chica. Siempre serámás discreta.

M e m i r ó c o n o j o s t i t u b e a n t e sy t i t u b e a b a c o n l a s p a l a b r a sa n t e l o q u e i n t e n t a b a d e c i r .

—En es te mundo las cosas se -guras no s iempre . . .

—¿Quieres decir que las cosas segu-ras no son siempre las mejores?

—Sí, no siempre —dijo volviendo atitubear—. No son las cosas mejores lasque son buenas para él... Un chico joven.A cualquiera le molestaría ver que... re-volcándose en el lodazal de otro...

Uso e s l o que t r a t aba de dec i r.Cuando a lgo e s nuevo y d i f í c i l yb r i l l an t e , e s me jo r que haya a lgomás que s egu r idad , pues l a s co -sa s s egu ra s só lo son cosa s que l agen t e l l eva hac i endo t an to t i em-po que t i enen los bordes gas tadosy no hay nada en e l l a s que pe r -mi t a dec i r a un hombre : e so nun -ca s e hab í a hecho an t e s y no s epuede vo lve r a hace r.

Conque no lo contamos, ni siquieracuando al cabo de un tiempo de repenteaparecía en el campo, a nuestro lado, yse ponía a trabajar, sin haber tenido tiem-po de volver a casa y simular que se ha-bía pasado toda la noche acostado. Lecontaría a madre que no tenía ganas dedesayunar o que había tomado un trozode pan mientras estaba unciendo el tiro.Pero Cash y yo sabíamos que no habíapasado en casa todas esas noches y quevenía directamente del bosque cuandosalíamos al campo. Pero nos lo callamos.Por entonces casi se había terminado elverano; sabíamos que cuando las nochesempezaran a ser frías, ella terminaría conel asunto aunque él no quisiera.

Pero cuando llegó el otoño y las no-ches empezaron a hacerse más largas, laúnica diferencia fue que siempre estabaen la cama cuando padre iba a despertar-lo y le obligaba a levantarse en ese esta-do de semiidiotez en que se [137] levan-taba antes, peor todavía que cuando ha-bía pasado toda la noche fuera.

—Esa tiene aguante —le dije aCash—. Antes la admiraba, pero ahorale tengo respeto.

—No es una mujer —dijo él.

—Lo sabes —dijo yo. Pero me estabamirando—. ¿Entonces qué es?

—Eso es lo que voy a averiguar— dijoél.

—Puedes seguirle toda la noche porel bosque si quieres —dije yo—. Yo nolo voy a hacer.

—No le estoy siguiendo —dijo él.

65


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“ W h a t d o y o u c a l l i t ,t h e n ? ”

“I ain’t trailing him,” he said. “Idon’t mean it that way.”

And so a few nights Iater I heardJewel get up and climb out thewindow, and then I heard Cash getup and follow him. The next morningwhen I went to the barn, Cash wasalready there, the mules fed, and hewas helping Dewey Dell milk. Andwhen I saw him I knew that he knewwhat it was. Now and then I wouldcatch him watching Jewel with aqueer look, like having found outwhere Jewel went and what he wasdoing had given him something toreally think about at last. But it wasnot a worried look; it was the kind oflook I would see on him when I wouldfind him doing some of Jewel’s workaround the house, work that pa stillthought Jewel was doing and that mathought Dewey Dell was doing. So Isaid nothing to him, believing that whenhe got done digesting it in his mind, hewould tell me. But he never did.

One morning—it was Novemberthen, five months since it started—Jewel was not in bed and he didn’tjoin us in the field. That was the firsttime ma learned anything about whathad been going on. She sentVardaman down to find where Jewelwas, and after a while she camedown too. It was as though, so longas the deceit ran along quiet andmonotonous, all of us let ourselvesbe deceived, abetting it unawares ormaybe through cowardice, since allpeople are cowards and naturallyprefer any kind of treachery becauseit has a bland outside. But now itwas like we had all and by a kind oftelepathic agreement of admittedfear-flung the whole thing backlike covers on the bed and we alls i t t i n g b o l t u p r i g h t i n o u rnakedness, staring at one anotherand saying “Now is the truth. Hehasn’t come home. Something hashappened to him. We let somethinghappen to him.”

Then we saw him. He came upalong the ditch and then turnedstraight across the field, riding thehorse. Its mane and tail were going,as though in motion they werecarrying out the splotchy pattern ofits coat: he looked like he was ridingon a big pinwheel, barebacked, witha rope bridle, and no hat on his head.It was a descendant of those Texasponies Flem Snopes brought heretwentyfive years ago and auctionedoff for two dollars a head and nobodybut old Lon Quick ever caught his andstill owned some of the blood becausehe could never give it away.

He galloped up and stopped, hisheels in the horse’s ribs and itdancing and swirling 7like the

—¿Entonces cómo llamas a lo que haces?—dije yo.

—No le estoy siguiendo —dijo él—.No es eso lo que quiero decir.

Total, que unas cuantas noches des-pués oí que Jewel se levantaba y salíapor la ventana, y luego oí que Cash selevantaba y le seguía. A la mañana si-guiente cuando fui al granero, Cash yaestaba allí, las mulas habían comido, yestaba ayudando a Dewey Dell a orde-ñar. Y en cuanto le vi me di cuenta deque sabía lo que pasaba. De vez en cuan-do le sorprendía mirando a Jewel conuna mirada rara, como si haber descu-bierto adónde iba Jewel y lo que hacíale proporcionara al fin algo en lo quepensar. Pero no era una mirada de pre-ocupación; era el tipo de mirada que leveía poner cuando le encontraba hacien-do algunas de las tareas de casa que de-bía hacer Jewel, unas tareas que padretodavía creía que hacía Jewel y que ma-dre creía que hacía Dewey Dell. Con-que no le dije nada, creyendo que cuan-do lo hubiese digerido interiormente, melo contaría. Pero no me lo contó.

Una mañana —era en noviembre, cin-co meses después de que aquello empe-zara— Jewel no estaba en la cama ni vinoa unirse con nosotros en el campo. Fuela primera vez que madre se enteró dealgo de lo que había pasado. Mandó aVardaman que bajase a ver dónde estabaJewel, y al cabo de un rato bajó ella tam-bién. Era como si mientras el engaño su-cedía en silencio y monótonamente, to-dos nosotros hubiéramos aceptado serengañados, favoreciéndolo con nuestrainconsciencia o puede que cobardía, pues[138] toda la gente es cobarde y prefierede un modo natural cometer una traición,ya que ésta tiene un aspecto cómodo.Pero ahora era como si todos nosotros —y por una especie de acuerdo telepáticode miedo admitido— hubiéramos quita-do el velo que ocultaba lo que pasabacomo el que levanta una cama y todosestuviéramos allí sentados en nuestradesnudez mirándonos unos a otros y di-ciendo: «Ahora se va a saber todo. No havuelto a casa. Le ha pasado algo. Hemospermitido que le pasara algo.»

Entonces le vimos. Venía surcoarriba y luego torció a la derecha,campo a través, montado a caballo.Las crines y la cola flotaban como sial moverse desplegaran su piel man-chada: parecía que Jewel cabalgaraen un gran remolino, a pelo, con uncordel por brida y sin sombrero enla cabeza. El caballo descendía deaquel los pot ros te janos que t ra joaquí Flem Stopes**13 hace veinticin-co años y que subastó a dos dólaresla cabeza y que nadie excepto el vie-jo Lon Quick, pudo coger, y todavíatenía alguno de esa casta porque nun-ca pudo deshacerse de ellos.

Galopó hasta arriba y se detuvo conlos talones apretando las costillas delcaballo que bailaba y hacía corvetas

bland 1 amable, suave, afable 2 aburrido, cansino3 templado (clima), suave 4 insípido, insulso

bland 1 a mild, not irritating, templado. b tasteless,unstimulating, insipid. 2 gentle in manner; sua-ve, amable, afable.

X

66


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

shape of its mane and tail and thesplotches of its coat had nothingwhatever to do wi th thefleshand-bone horse inside them,and he sat there, looking at us.

“Where did you get that horse?”pa said.

“Bought it,” Jewel said. “From Mr.Quick.”

“Bough t i t ?” pa sa id . “Wi thwha t? Did you buy tha t t h ingon my word?”

“It was my money,” Jewel said. “Iearned it. You won’t need to worryabout it.”

“Jewel,” ma said; “Jewel.”

“It’s all right,” Cash said. “Heearned the money. He cleaned upthat forty acres of new ground Quicklaid out las t spr ing. He did i tsingle-handed, working at night bylantern. I saw him. So I don’t reckonthat horse cost anybody anythingexcept Jewel. I don’t reckon weneed worry.”

“Jewel,” ma said. “Jewel——”Then she said: “You come right to thehouse and go to bed.”

“Not yet,” Jewel said. “I ain’t gottime. I got to get me a saddle andbridle. Mr. Quick says he——”

“Jewel,” ma said, looking athim. “I’ll give—I’ll give—give—” Then she began to cry. She criedhard, not hiding her face, standingthere in her faded wrapper, lookingat him and him on the horse, lookingdown at her, his face growing coldand a little sick looking until helooked away quick and Cash cameand touched her.

“ Yo u g o o n t o t h e h o u s e , ”Cash said. “This here ground istoo wet for you. You go on, now.”She put her hands to her face then andafter a while she went on, stumblinga little on the ploughmarks. But prettysoon she straightened up and went on.She didn’t look back. When shereached the ditch she stopped andcalled Vardaman. He was looking atthe horse, kind of dancing up anddown by it.

“Let me ride, Jewel,” he said. “Letme ride, Jewel.”

Jewel looked at him, then helooked away again, holding the horsereined back. Pa watched him,mumbling his lip.

“So you bought a horse,” he said.“You went behind my back andbought a horse. You never consultedme; you know how tight it is for us tomake by, yet you bought a horse forme to feed. Taken the work from your

como si sus crines y su cola y las man-chas de su piel no tuvieran nada que vercon el caballo de carne y hueso que ha-bía dentro. Se quedó allí, montado en elcaballo, mirándonos.

—¿De dónde has sacado ese caballo?—dijo padre.

—Lo compré —dijo Jewel—. A Mr.Quick.

—¿Lo compraste? —dijo padre—.¿Con qué dinero? ¿No lo habrás compra-do a cuenta mía?

— C o n m i d i n e r o — d i j oJ e w e l — . L o g a n é y o . N o t i e n e d eq u é p r e o c u p a r s e .

—Jewel —dijo madre—. Jewel.

—No pasa nada —dijo Cash—. Seganó el dinero. Le ha limpiado a Quicklas cuarenta fanegas de nueva tierra queroturó la primavera pasada. Lo hizo élsolo, trabajando de noche con el farol.Yo le vi hacerlo. Conque para mí que esecaballo no le ha costado nada a nadieexcepto a Jewel. Para mí que no hay dequé preocuparse.

Jewe1 —dijo madre—. Jewel... —lue-go dijo—: Vete a casa inmediatamente yacuéstate.

—Todavía no —dijo Jewel—. No ten-go tiempo. Tengo que ganar para la sillay las riendas. Mr. Quick dice que...

—J e w e l — d i j o m a d r e , m i r á n -do l e—. Yo t e da r é . . . Yo t e da r é . . .—luego se echó a l l o r a r.

Lloraba con fuerza, sin ocultar lacara, allí de pie en su desteñido chalmirándole y él a caballo mirándola aella con una cara que se le iba po-niendo fría y como enferma, hastaque apartó la vista y Cash se acercóa madre y la tocó.

—Vaya a casa —dijo Cash—. Esta tie-rra de aquí es demasiado húmeda parausted. Váyase ya.

El la se l levó las manos a la caray a l cabo de un ra to se fue t rope-zando un poco en los surcos . Peroenseguida se i rgió y s iguió adelan-te . No miró a t rás . Cuando l legó al a z a n j a s e d e t u v o y l l a m ó aVardaman, que es taba mirando a lcaba l lo y parec ía ba i la r a r r iba yabajo a su a l rededor.

—Déjame montar, Jewel —decía—.Jewel, déjame montar.

J e w e l l e m i r ó , l u e g o a p a r t ól a v i s t a , m a n t e n i e n d o s u j e t o a lc a b a l l o . P a d r e l e o b s e r v a b a ,m u r m u r a n d o e n t r e d i e n t e s .

—Conque compraste un caballo —dijo—. Te has comprado un caballo a misespaldas. No me preguntaste nada; sabeslo duro que nos resulta ganarnos la viday sin embargo compras un caballo paraque lo tenga que alimentar yo. A costa

67


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

flesh and blood and bought a horsewith it.”

Jewel looked at pa, his eyes palerthan ever.

“He won’t never eat a mouthful ofyours,” he said. “Not a mouthful. I’llkill him first. Don’t you never thinkit. Don’t you never.”

“Let me ride, Jewel,” Vardamansaid. “Let me ride, Jewel.” Hesounded like a cricket in the grass, alittle one. “Let me ride, Jewel.”

That night I found ma sittingb e s i d e t h e b e d w h e r e h e w a ssleeping, in the dark. She criedhard, maybe because she had tocry so quiet; maybe because shefelt the same way about tears shedid about deceit, hating herself fordoing it, hating him because shehad to. And then I knew that Iknew. I knew that as plain on thatday as I knew about Dewey Dellon that day.

33TULL (5)

SO they finally got Anse to saywhat he wanted to do, and him andthe gal and the boy got out of thewagon. But even when we were onthe bridge Anse kept on looking back,like he thought maybe, once he wasouten the wagon, the whole thingwould kind of blow up and he wouldfind himself back yonder in the fieldagain and her laying up there in thehouse, waiting to die and it to do allover again.

“You ought to let them taken yourmule,” he says, and the bridgeshaking and swaying under us, goingdown into the moiling water like itwent clean through to the other sideof the earth, and the other and comingup outen the water like it wasn’t thesame bridge a-tall and that them thatwould walk up outen the water on thatside must come from the bottom ofthe earth. But it was still whole; youcould tell that by the way whenthis end swagged, it didn’t looklike the other and swagged at alljust like the other trees and thebank yonder mere swinging backa n d f o r t h s l o w l i k e o n a b i gclock. And them logs scrapingand bumping at the sunk part andtilting end-up and shooting cleanouten the water and tumbling ontoward the ford and the waiting,slick, whirling, and foamy.

“What good . would that ‘a’done?” I says. “If your team can’tfind the ford and haul it across,what good would three mules oreven ten mules do?”

“I ain’t asking it of you,”’ hesays. “I can always do for me andmine. I ain’t asking you to risk your

de tu carne y de tu sangre te lo has com-prado.

Jewel miró a padre con unos ojos máspálidos que nunca.

—No comerá ni un bocado de lo quesea suyo —le dijo—. Ni un bocado.Antes lo mataré. No piense en eso.Nunca lo haga. [140]

—Déjame montar, Jewel —decíaVardaman—. Déjame montar —parecíaun grillo en la hierba, uno pequeño—.Déjame montar, Jewel.

Esa noche encontré a madre sentadajunto a la cama en que dormía Jewel, aoscuras. Lloraba con fuerza, puede queporque tenía que llorar tan en silencio;puede que porque sentía lo mismo sobrelas lágrimas de lo que había sentido so-bre el engaño, y se odiaba a sí misma porengañar, lo odiaba a él porque la habríainducido a ello. Y entonces supe que losabía. Aquel día lo supe con tanta clari-dad como supe lo de Dewey Dell aquelotro día.

TULL

CONQUE por fin consiguieron queAnse dijera lo que quería hacer y él yla chica y el pequeño se bajaron de lacarreta. Pero incluso cuando estábamosen el puente, Anse seguía mirando ha-cia atrás, como pensando que a lo me-jor, ahora que se había bajado de lacarreta, todo el problema había desapa-recido y él se encontraba otra vez allálejos, en el campo, y ella allí acostadaesperando la muerte, como si todo vol-viera a empezar.

—Debería de haberles dejado lamula —me dice, y el puente tembla-ba y se tambaleaba bajo nosotros,hundiéndose en las turbias aguascomo si se dirigiese directamente alotro extremo de la tierra, y el extre-mo opuesto elevándose por encima delas aguas como si no fuera el mismopuente en absoluto y los que quisie-ran cruzarlo vinieran desde el fondo dela tierra. Pero todavía estaba entero: sepodría decir por el modo en que esteextremo temblaba, que el otro extre-mo parecía no temblar en absoluto;como si los árboles y la orilla del otrolado fueran como el péndulo que osci-laba lentamente de un lado a otro enun enorme reloj de pared. Y los tron-cos se arremolinaban y golpeaban con-tra la parte hundida y asomaban lapunta y salían disparados del agua yseguían hacia el vado que esperaba conremolinos y espuma, resbaladizo.

— ¿ D e q u é i b a a s e r v i r ? —d i g o y o — . S i s u t i r o n o c o n s i -g u e e n c o n t r a r e l v a d o p a r ac r u z a r , ¿ d e q u é s e r v i r í a n t r e sm u l a s , o i n c l u s o d i e z ?

—No se lo estoy pidiendo —dice él—. Siempre me las arreglo con mis cosas ylas de los míos. No le pido que arriesgue

Tull (5)

This section contains Tull’sunspoken thoughts and spokenwords as the Bundren family sitcontemplating the river andfinally make an attempt to crossit.

COMMENTARY: Anse isseen in this section in his usual,indecisive pose, ‘even when wewere on the bridge Anse keptlooking back’, but theobservations made by Tull areparticularly pertinent when theyrelate to the river itself and to thefamily’s motives for wanting tocross it. The river he describes‘like slush ice. Only it kind oflived’, expressing the amazementof a man not used to changes inhis environment and reflecting hissense of the whole situation asbeing one of impending doom,‘the waiting and the threat’.

After he has crossed the river,Tull looks back and seeseverything in a differentperspective, underlining thebaptismal elements of the scene,‘t looked back at my mule it waslike he was one of these here spy-glasses . . .’ and the Red Seaundertones are picked up when hetalks of ‘milk’. Moses crossed theRed Sea to reach the land of milkand honey. The Bundrens crossthe swollen Ishatawa to reach theland of toy trains, false teeth andabortions.

At the end of the section, Tullhas a species of revelation, whenhe sees that the reason forcrossing the river is not solely tobury Addie, ‘Just going to town.Bent on it. They would risk thefire and the earth and the waterand all just to eat a sack ofbananas’. If Faulkner is casting

swagged: suspended in a loopbetween two points

slick 1 a (of a person or action) skilful or efficient;dextrous (gave a slick performance). b superficiallyor pretentiously smooth and dextrous. c glib. 2 asleek, smooth. b slippery.

1 a smooth patch of oil etc., esp. on the sea. 2 Mo-tor Racing a smooth tyre. 3 US a glossy magazi-ne. 4 US sl. a slick person.

1 make sleek or smart. 2 (usu. foll. by down) flatten(one’s hair etc.).

68


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

mule. It ain’t your dead; I am notblaming you.”

“They ought to went back andlaid over until to-morrow,” I says.The water was cold. It was thick,like slush-ice. Only it kind of lived.One part of you knowed it was justwater, the same thing that had beenrunning under this same bridge fora long time, yet when them logswould come spewing up outen it,you were not surprised, like theywas a part of water, of the waitingand the threat.

It was like when we was across,up out of the water again and the hardearth under us, that I was surprised.It was like we hadn’t expected thebridge to end on the other bank, onsomething tame like the hard earthagain that we had tromped on beforethis time and knowed well. Like itcouldn’t be me here, because I’d havehad better sense than to done what Ijust done. And when I looked backand saw the other bank and saw mymule standing there where I used tobe and knew that I’d have to get backtherer some way, I knew it couldn’tbe, because I just couldn’t think ofanything that could make me crossthat bridge ever even once. Yet here Iwas, and the fellow that could makehimself cross it twice, couldn’t be me,not even if Cora told him to.

It was that boy. I said “Here;you better take a holt of my hand,”and he waited and held to me. Ibe durn if it wasn’t like he comeback and got me; l ike he wassaying They won’t nothing hurtyou. Like he was saying about af i n e p l a c e h e k n o w e d w h e r eC h r i s t m a s c o m e t w i c e w i t hThanksgiving and lasts on throughthe winter and the spring and thesummer, and if I just stayed withhim I’d be all right too.

When I looked back at my mule itwas like he was one of these herespy-glasses and I could look at himstanding there and see all the broadland and my house sweated outen itlike it was the more the sweat, thebroader the land; the more the sweat,the tighter the house because it wouldtake a tight house for Cora, to holdCora like a jar of milk in the spring:you’ve got to have a tight jar or you’llneed a powerful spring, so if you havea big spring, why then you have theincentive to have tight, well-madejars, because it is your milk, sour ornot, because you would rather havemilk that will sour than to have milkthat won’t, because you are a man.

And him holding to my hand, hishand that hot and confident, so that Iwas like to say: Look-a-here. Can’tyou see that mule yonder? He neverhad no business over here, so he nevercome, not being nothing but a mule.Because a fellow can see ever now

su mula. No se trata de su difunto. No selo reprocho.

— D e b i e r a n d a r m a r c h a a t r á sy esperar hasta manaña —digo yo.

El agua estaba fría. Estaba espesa,como nieve que se funde. Pero parecíacomo Viva. Una parte de uno sabía quesólo era agua, lo mismo que llevaba co-rriendo largo tiempo bajo este mismopuente, y sin embargo cuando los tron-cos salían despedidos de ella, uno no sesorprendía de que fuera así, como si for-maran parte del agua, de lo que esperabaamenazante.

La misma sorpresa tuve cuando, cru-zando el puente, de nuevo fuera del agua,noté tierra firme debajo. Era como si nohubiera esperado que el puente termina-se en la otra orilla, en algo tranquilocomo la tierra firme que habíamos pisa-do antes que ésta y conocíamos bien.Como si no debiera haber podido ser yomismo, porque debí haber sido más sen-sato y no haber hecho lo que acababa dehacer. Y cuando volví la vista y vi la otraorilla y vi a mi mula allí de pie dondenormalmente estaba yo y comprendí quetenía que encontrar algún modo de vol-ver, comprendí que aquello no podía ser,porque no conseguía que se me ocurrriesenada que me hiciera volver a cruzar elpuente ni siquiera una vez más. Y pormucho que me encontrara aquí, yo no erael tipo que lo iba a cruzar dos veces, nisiquiera aunque me lo pidiera Cora.

Fue ese chico. Le dije:—Ven aquí; mejor me agarras de la

mano —y él esperó y se cogió a mí. Yque me condene si no era como si él vol-viera atrás y me llevara; era igual que sime dijera: No le van a hacer daño. Igualque si estuviera hablando de un sitio muyagradable que él conocía donde la Navi-dad llegaba dos veces y lo mismo la fies-ta de Acción de Gracias que duraba todoel invierno y la primavera y el verano, ydonde si me quedaba con él todo saldríabien. [142]

Cuando me volví a mirar a la mulaera como s i fuese con uno de esoscatalejos y la pudiese ver allí quieta yveía todas las tierras y mi casa que tan-to sudor me habían costado y era comosi a más sudor, más grandes se hicie-ran las tierras; como si a más sudor,más sólida fuera la casa, porque habíaque tener una casa sólida para Cora,para que Cora estuviese en ella comouna jarra de leche en primavera: unonecesita tener una jarra sólida o ne-cesitará un gran manantial, porquese necesitan jarras sólidas, bien he-chas, porque es tu leche, cuajada ono, porque uno prefiere tener lecheque cuaje antes que tener leche que nolo haga, porque uno es hombre.

Y él cogido de mi mano con su manocaliente y confiada, de modo que me sen-tía tentado a decir: Mira. ¿No ves a lamula al otro lado? No tiene nada que ha-cer aquí, por lo que nunca vendrá, puesno es más que una mula.

Porque un tipo puede ver de vez

the Bundrens in a mock-biblicalrole, then Tull must surely beseen as one of the prophets, forhere he foresees that fire will playa part in the saga and that earthwill be at the end of it.laid over: (col.) waited

slush-ice: half-frozen water

spewing up: (literally) vomiting;rushing up

spy-glasses: telescopes

confident es ‘trusting’, ‘showing assurance’, se-guridad o aplomo en sí mismo. «confidence»está basada en razones y pruebas de la expe-riencia pasada. Confía en sí mismo o está se-guro y ufano de sí mismo dada su experienciapasada. Tener la certeza o confianza. Satisfecho,alegre, contento, ufano.

69


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

and then that children have moresense than him. But he don’t like toadmit it to them until they havebeards. After they have a beard, theyare too busy because they don’t knowif they’ll ever quite make it back towhere they were in sense before theywas haired, so you don’t mindadmitting then to folks that areworrying about the same thing thatain’t worth the worry that you areyourself.

Then we was over and we stoodthere, looking at Cash turning thewagon around. We watched themdrive back down the road to wheret h e t r a i l t u r n e d o ff i n t o t h ebottom. After a while the wagonwas out of sight.

“We better get on down to the fordand git ready to help,” I said.

“I give her my word,” Anse says.“It is sacred on me. I know youbegrudge it, but she will bless youin heaven.”

“ We l l , t h e y g o t t o f i n i s hcircumventing the land beforethey can dare the water,” I said.“Come on.”

“It’s the turning back,” he said. “Itain’t no luck in turning back.”

He was standing there, humped,mournful, looking at the emptyroad beyond the swagging andswaying bridge. And that gal, too,with the lunch-basket on one armand that package under the other.Just going to town. Bent on it .They would risk the fire and theearth and the water and all just toeat a sack of bananas. “You oughtto laid over a day,” I said. “Itwould ‘a’ fell some by morning.It mought not ‘a’ rained to-night.And it can’t get no higher.”

“I give my promise,” he says. “Sheis counting on it.”

34DARL (12)

BEFORE us the thick dark currentruns. It talks up to us in a murmurbecome ceaseless and myriad, theyellow surface dimpled monstrouslyinto fading swirls travelling along thesurface for an instant, silent,impermanent and profoundlysignificant, as though just beneath thesurface something huge and alivewaked for a moment of lazy alertnessout of and into light slumber again.

It clucks and murmurs among thespokes and about the mules’ knees,yellow, skummed with flotsman andwith thick soiled gouts of foam asthough it had sweat, lathering, like adriven horse. Through theundergrowth it goes with a plaintivesound, a musing sound; in it the

en cuando que los niños son más sen-satos que él. Pero al tipo no le gustaadmitirlo hasta que les sale la bar-ba. Después de que les sale la barbaestán demasiado ocupados porque nosaben volver a la época en que teníansentido común antes de que les sa-liera la barba y entonces a uno no leimporta aceptar que la gente se pre-ocupe de la mismas cosas de las queno merece la pena que se preocupeni uno mismo.

Luego habíamos cruzado y nos que-damos allí quietos, mirando a Cash quehacía dar la vuelta a la carreta. Les vi-mos cómo retrocedían camino abajo has-ta donde el sendero se desviaba hacia elcauce. Al cabo de un rato la carreta sehabía perdido de vista.

—Será mejor que bajemos al vado y es-temos preparados para ayudarles —dije yo.

—Le di mi palabra —dice Anse—.Para mí eso es algo sagrado. Sé que us-ted no lo valora, pero ella le bendecirádesde el cielo.

—Bueno, creo que tendrán que termi-nar de rodear la tierra antes de que searriesguen a meterse en el agua —dijeyo—. Vamos.

—Es el retroceder —dije yo—. No dabuena suerte retroceder. [143]

Estaba allí de pie, encorvado, mo-híno, mirando el desierto camino demás allá del puente que se balanceabay estremecía. Y esa chica, también,con la cesta del almuerzo colgada delbrazo y el paquete debajo del otro.Como si fuera a la ciudad. Decidida aello. Se enfrentarían al fuego y a latierra y al agua y a lo que sea con talde comer una bolsa de plátanos.

—Deberían esperar un día —dije yo—. La riada disminuirá algo por la maña-na. Puede que esta noche no llueva. Yano puede crecer más.

—Se lo prometí —dice él—. Ella con-fía en mi palabra.

DARL

ANTE nosotros corre la oscura corrien-te espesa. Nos habla con un murmullo quese hace incesante y múltiple; la amarillasuperficie monstruosamente abultada enremolinos que se desvanecen y la reco-rren durante un instante, silenciosos, efí-meros y profundamente significativos,como si justo debajo de esa superficie algoenorme y vivo se despertara durante unmomento de vigilia perezosa y volviera acaer en un ligero adormecimiento.

Cloquea y murmura entre los radiosde las ruedas y alrededor de las patas delas mulas, amarilla, salpicada de restosflotantes y con espesas y sucias gotasde espuma como si sudara, igual quecubre la espuma a un caballo. Corre en-tre la maleza con un sonido de queja,un sonido meditabundo; sobre ella se

Darl (12)

This section consists of Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as he sits in the wagonbeside Cash. When they reach theriver Cash is reluctant to crossbecause the coffin is unbalancedby Addie’s reversed body. But hewill not let Jewel take over. Thewagon is swept off the ford, withCash clinging to the cofn andtelling Darl to jump clear.

COMMENTARY: For Darl, asfor Tull, the swollen river is a li-ving thing and a portent; it is‘profoundly significant, as thoughjust below the surface something

inthe middle of

begrudge v.tr. 1 resent; be dissatisfiedat. 2 envy (a person) the possession of.

70


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

unwinded cane and saplings lean asbefore a little gale, swaying withoutreflections as though suspended oninvisible wires from the branchesoverhead. Above the ceaselesssurface they stand—trees, cane, vines—rootless, severed from the earth,spectral above a scene of immense yetcircumscribed desolation filled withthe voice of the waste and mournfulwater.

Cash and I sit in the wagon; Jewelsits the horse at the off rear-wheel.The horse is trembling, i ts eyerolling wild and baby-blue in itslong pink face, i ts breathingstertorous like groaning. He sitserect, poised, looking quietly andsteadily and quickly this way andthat, his face calm, a little pale, alert.Cash’s face is a lso gravelycomposed; he and I look at oneanother with long probing looks,looks that plunge unimpededthrough one another’s eyes and intothe ultimate secret place where foran instant Cash and Darl crouchflagrant and unabashed in all the oldterror and the old foreboding, alertand secret and without shame. Whenwe speak our voices are quiet ,detached.

“I reckon we’re still in the road,all right.”

“Tull taken and cut them two bigwhiteoaks. I heard tell how at highwater in the old days they used to lineup the ford by them trees.”

“I reckon he did that two years agowhen he was logging down here. Ireckon he rever thought that anybodywould ever use this ford again.”

“I reckon not. Yes, it must havebeen then. He cut a sight of timberouten here then. Payed off thatmortgage with it, I hear tell.”

“Yes. Yes, I reckon so. I reckonVernon could have done that.”

“That’s a fact. Most folks thatlogs in this here country, they needa durn good farm to support thesawmill. Or maybe a store. But Ireckon Vernon could.”

“I reckon so. He’s a sight.”

“Ay. Vernon is . Yes, i t muststill be here. He rever would havegot that timber out of here if hehadn’t cleaned out that old road.I reckon we are still on it.” Helooks about quietly, at the positionof the trees, leaning this way andthat , looking back along thefloorless road shaped vaguely highin air by the position of the loppedand felled trees, as if the road toohad been soaked free of earth andfloated upward, to leave in i tsspectral tracing a monument to ast i l l more profound desolat ion

inclinan las sueltas cañas y renuevoscomo ante un vendaval, doblándose sinvolverse hacia atrás como si estuvieransujetas por unos cables invisibles a lasramas de arriba. Aparecen sobre la in-cesante superficie —árboles, cañas,tallos— desarraigados, arrancados de latierra, espectrales sobre una escena deinmensa, aunque limitada, desolaciónllena de la voz del agua devastadora ysiniestra. [144]

Cash y yo vamos sentados en la ca-rreta; Jewel va a caballo junto a la ruedatrasera derecha. El caballo tiembla y suojo, azul claro, gira fiero en su larga ca-beza rosada, respirando en estertores,como si gimiera. Jewel va erguido, com-puesto, mirando tranquilamente y conenergía y viveza aquí y allá, con el ros-tro en calma, un tanto pálido, alerta. Lacara de Cash también tiene una expresióngrave; él y yo nos miramos uno al otrocon largas miradas inquisitivas, miradasque se hunden sin disimulo en los ojosdel otro y llegan al interior del últimolugar secreto donde durante un instanteCash y Darl se acurrucan abiertamente,sin avergonzarse por todos los viejos te-rrores y los viejos presentimientos, aler-tas y secretos y sin pudor. Cuando ha-blamos, nuestras voces son tranquilas,desarraigadas.

—Para mí que todavía seguimos en elcamino.

—Tull cogió y cortó los dos grandesrobles. He oído contar por ahí que en lascrecidas, antiguamente, aquellos árbolesservían para señalar el vado.

—Para mí que los cortó hace dos añoscuando andaba talando por aquí abajo.Para mí que nunca creyó que nadie vol-vería a usar este vado.

—Para mí que no. Sí, debe de habersido entonces. Cortó bastante madera depor aquí entonces. Terminó de pagar lahipoteca con ella, he oído contar.

—Sí. Sí, para mí que así es. Para míque Vernon fue capaz de hacer eso.

—Así es. La mayoría de la gente quetala árboles en esta comarca necesita unagranja bien buena para mantener el ase-rradero. O puede que un almacén. Peropara mí que pudo ser Vernon**14. [145]

—Para mí que sí. Es capaz de eso y de más.

—Claro que lo es. Sí , por aquídebe de estar todavía: Vernon nun-ca habría podido sacar esa maderasin l impiar ese camino viejo. Paramí que todavía seguimos en él .

Mira a su alrededor pausadamente, sefija en la situación de los árboles, doblán-dose a un lado y a otro, volviéndose amirar el camino vagamente señalado porla situación de los árboles cortados ycaídos, como si el camino también hu-biera sido arrancado de la tierra y flotasehacia arriba para dejar con su huella es-pectral un monumento a una desolacióntodavía más profunda que ésta encima de

huge and alive waked for amoment of lazy alertness’. Darlreflects on the scene calmly,watching unconcernedly as Jewelfights the current and the deadmules roll round in the water withtheir legs ‘stiffly extended’. Evenwhen he himself gets into thewater, he remains precise andunruffled [imperturbable], seeingthe water as ‘hills’ and feeling nocompunction about abandoningAddie’s corpse.

The section exposes one newaspect of familyinterrelationships. Darl and Cashappear to be close in a way nothinted at before. This closenessmay be simply the result of thealteration in their joint worldbrought about by the death ofAddie. It appears again at the endof the book, when Cash seems tounderstand more than anyone elsewhat is wrong with Darl.

lop 1 1 tr. a (often foll. by off, away) cut or remove (apart or parts) from a whole, esp. branches from atree. b remove branches from (a tree). 2 tr. (oftenfoll. by off, away) remove (items) as superfluous. 3intr. (foll. by at) make lopping strokes on (a treeetc.).

— n. parts lopped off, esp. branches and twigs of trees.lop 2 1 intr. & tr. hang limply. 2 intr. (foll. by about)

slouch, dawdle; hang about. 3 intr. move withshort bounds. 4 tr. (of an animal) let (the ears)hang.

compunction 1the pricking of theconscience. Reparo, repudio,

2a slight regret; a scruple (withoutcompunction; have no compunction inrefusing him). Remordimiento

compunción 1. f. Sentimiento o dolor dehaber cometido un pecado.

2. Sentimiento que causa el dolor ajeno.

poised 1(= self-possessed) sereno; ecuánime2 to be poised (figurative) (= ready, allset)estar listo

2poise 1 a : BALANCE; especially : to hold orcarry in equilibrium <carried a water jarpoised on her head> b : to hold supportedor suspended without motion in a steadyposition <poised her fork and gave herguest a knowing look — Louis Bromfield>2 : to hold or carry (the head) in a particu-lar way 3 : to put into readiness : BRACEintransitive senses 1 : to become drawnup into readiness 2 : HOVER

saplings half-grown trees

71


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

than this above which we now sit,talking quietly of old security andold trivial things. Jewel looks athim, then at me, then his faceturns in in that quiet, constant,ques t ing abou t the scene , theh o r s e t r e m b l i n g q u i e t l y a n dsteadily between his knees.

“He could go on ahead slow andsort of feel it out,” I say.

“Yes,” Cash says, not looking at me.His face is in profile as he looks forwardwhere Jewel has moved on ahead.

“He can’t miss the river,” I say.“He couldn’t miss seeing it fiftyyards ahead.”

Cash does not look at me, his face in profile.“I f I ’ d j u s t s u s p i c i o n e d i t , Icould ‘a’ come down last weekand taken a sight on it .”

“The bridge was up then,” I say.He does not look at me. “Whitfieldcrossed it a-horse-back.”

Jewel looks at us again, hisexpression sober and alert ands u b d u e d . H i s v o i c e i s q u i e t .“What you want me to do?”

“I ought to come down last weekand taken a sight on it,” Cash says.

“We couldn’t have known,” I say.“There wasn’t any way for us toknow.”

“ I ’ l l r i de on ahead , ” J ewe lsays. “You can follow where I am.”He l i f t s t he hor se . I t sh r inks ,bowed; he leans to it , speakingto i t , l i f t ing i t forward almostbodily, i t se t t ing i ts feet downw i t h g i n g e r l y s p l a s h i n g s ,t r e m b l i n g , b r e a t h i n g h a r s h l y.He speaks to i t , murmurs to i t .“Go on,” he says. “I ain’t going toget nothing hurt you. Go on, now.”

“Jewel,” Cash says. Jewel does notlook back. He lifts the horse on.

“He can swim,” I say. “If he’ll justgive the horse time, anyhow . . .”When he was born, he had a badtime of it . Ma would sit in thel a m p l i g h t , h o l d i n g h i m o n apillow on her lap. We would wakeand find her so. There would beno sound from them.

“That pillow was longer thanhim,” Cash says. He is leaning ali t t le forward. “I ought to comedown last week and s i g h ted. Iought to done it.”

“That’s right,” I say. “Neitherh i s f e e t n o r h i s h e a d w o u l dreach the end of i t . You couldn’thave known,” I say.

“I ought to done it,” he says. Helifts the reins. The mules move, into

la que ahora vamos, hablando tranquila-mente de la vieja seguridad y de viejascosas triviales. Jewel le mira a él, lue-go a mí, luego su cara se concentra enla escena con esa silenciosa interroga-ción constante, mientras su caballotiembla tranquila y constantementeentre sus rodillas.

—Podría adelantarse despacio paratantearlo —digo yo.

—Sí —dice Cash, sin mirarme. Surostro está de perfil cuando mira haciadelante, adonde Jewel avanza.

—No puede dejar de ver el río —dijeyo—. No podrá dejar de verlo cuarentametros por delante de él.

Cash no me mira, su cara sigue de perfil.—Si lo hubiera sospechado, podría

haber bajado hasta aquí la semana pasa-da a echar una ojeada.

—Entonces todavía estaba el puente—digo yo. No me mira—. Whitfield locruzó a caballo.

J e w e l n o s v u e l v e a m i r a rc o n e x p r e s i ó n g r a v e y a l e r t ay mortif icada. Su voz es tranquila.

—¿Qué queréis que haga?

—Debí haber bajado la semana pasa-da a echar una ojeada —dice Cash.

—Entonces no lo sabíamos —digoyo—. No había modo de que lo supiéra-mos. [146]

—Me adelantaré con el caballo —diceJewel—. Podéis seguirme por donde vaya yo.

Tensa las riendas del caballo. Esterecula, bajando la cabeza; Jewel se in-clina sobre él, le habla, le empuja haciadelante con casi todo el cuerpo y el ca-ballo hunde sus cascos con cautelososchapoteos, temblando, respirante confuerza. Jewel le habla, le murmura.

—Vamos —dice—. No voy a dejarque te hagas daño. Vamos.

Jewel —dice Cash. Jewel no vuelvela vista. Sigue hostigando al caballo.

—Puede nadar —digo yo—. Si dieseocasión al caballo...

Cuando nació, Jewel pasó una malatemporada. Madre tenía que sentarse ala luz de una lámpara, manteniéndole enel regazo encima de una almohada. A1despertarnos la encontrábamos así. Nohacían ningún ruido.

—Aquella almohada era más largaque él —dice Cash. Está un pocoechado hacia delante—. Debí bajar lasemana pasada a echar una ojeada.Debiera haberlo hecho.

—Tienes razón —digo yo—. Ni conlos pies ni con la cabeza llegaba a losextremos de la almohada. No podíashaberlo sabido —dijo.

—Pero debí haberlo hecho —dice.Tira de las riendas. Las mulas avanzan

Xsubdue 1 conquer, subjugate, or tame (an enemy,nature, one’s emotions, etc.).2 (as subdued adj.) softened; lacking in intensity;toned down (subdued light; in a subdued mood). (emotión: templado, suave,; voice: bajo; colour:apagado, suave; light: tenue; lighting: disminui-do; person -docile: manso, sumiso, -depressed:deprimido.

subdued dominada, controlada

72


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

the traces; the wheels murmur alivein the water. He looks back and downat Addie. “It ain’t on a balance,” hesays.

A t l a s t t h e t r e e s o p e n ;against the open river Jewel si tsthe horse , half turned, i t bel lydeep now. Across the river we cansee Vernon and pa and Vardamana n d D e w e y D e l l . Ve r n o n i swaving at us , waving us fur therdownstream.

“We are too high up,” Cash says.Vernon is shouting too, but we cannotmake out what he says for the noiseof the water. It runs steady and deepnow, unbroken, without sense ofmotion until a log comes along,turning slowly. “Watch it,” Cash says.We watch it and see it falter and hangfor a moment, the current buildingup behind i t in a thick wave,submerging it for an instant beforeit shoots up and tumbles on.

“There it is,” I say.

“Ay,” Cash says. “It’s there.” We lookat Vernon again. He is now flapping hisarms up and down. We move ondownstream, slowly and carefully,watching Vernon. He drops his hands.“This is the place,” Cash says.

“Well, goddamn it, lets get across,then,” Jewel says. He moves the horseon.

“You wait,” Cash says. Jewel stopsagain.

“We l l , b y G o d ——” h e s a y s .Cash looks at the water, then hel o o k s b a c k a t A d d i e .“It ain’t on a balance,” he says.

“Then go on back to the goddamnbridge and walk across,” Jewel says.“You and Darl both. Let me on thatwagon.”

Cash does not pay him anyattention. “It ain’t on a balance,” hesays. “Yes, sir. We got to watch it.”

“Watch it, hell,” Jewel says. “Youget out of that wagon and let mehave it. By God, if you’re afraid todrive it over . . .” His eyes are paleas two bleached chips in his face.Cash is looking at him.

“We’ll get it over,” he says. “Itell you what you do. You ride onback and walk across the bridgeand come down the other bank andmeet us with the rope. Vernon’lltake your horse home with him andkeep it till we get back.”

“You go to hell,” Jewel says.

“You take the rope and come downthe bank and be ready with it,” Cashsays. “Three can’t do no more thantwo can—— one to drive and one to

entre los arneses; las ruedas murmuranvivas en el agua. Se vuelve y baja la vis-ta hasta Addie—. No está equilibrado —dice.

A1 fin se aclaran los árboles; Jewelse enfrenta a la corriente a caballo me-dio vuelto, el agua ya a la altura del vien-tre del animal. A1 otro lado del río dis-tinguimos a Vernon y a padre y aVardaman y a Dewey Dell. Vernon noshace señas, nos hace señas de que vaya-mos un poco más corriente abajo.

—Vamos demasiado arriba —diceCash. Vernon también grita, pero no con-seguimos saber lo que dice a causa del rui-do del agua que ahora corre intensa y pro-funda, incesante, sin dar la sensación deque se mueva hasta que un tronco llega ygira lentamente—. Vigílalo —dice Cash.Lo miramos y vemos que vacila y quedaen alto durante un [147] momento. La co-rriente se alza por detrás de él en una olaespesa, hundiéndolo durante un instanteantes de arrastrarlo y llevárselo.

—Allí está —digo yo.

—Sí —dice Cash—. Allí está —ymiramos a Vernon otra vez. Ahora subey baja los brazos. Seguimos corrienteabajo lenta y cuidadosamente, mirandoa Vernon que deja caer los brazos—. Estees el sitio —dice Cash.

—Bueno, maldita sea, vamos a cru-zar, entonces —dice Jewel. Hace avan-zar al caballo.

—Tú espera —dice Cash. Jewe1 sevuelve a parar.

—Pero, por Dios... —dice.Cash mira el agua, luego se vuelve a

mirar a Addie.—No está equilibrado —dice.

—Entonces volved a ese condenadopuente y cruzadlo a pie —dice Jewel—. Los dos, tú y Darl. Dejadme a mí esacarreta.

Cash no le presta la menor atención.—No está equilibrado —dice—. No,

señor. Debemos tener mucho cuidado.

—Tenlo tú, si quieres —dice Jewel—. Bajaos de esa carreta y dejadme a mí.Por Dios, que si tenéis miedo de cruzarcon ella... —en su cara sus ojos son tanpálidos como dos virutas descoloridas.Cash le está mirando.

—Nosotros lo cruzaremos —dice—. Te diré lo que tienes que hacer. Vuel-ve atrás con el caballo y cruza el puen-te y bájate en la otra orilla y reúnetecon nosotros con la soga. Vernon sellevará tu caballo a casa y lo cuidaráhasta que volvamos.

—Vete al infierno —dice Jewel.

—Coge la soga y ba ja a l a o r i -l l a y t e n l a p r e p a r a d a — d i c eCash—. Tres no pueden más quedos , uno conduciendo y e l o t ro su-

73


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

steady it.”

“Goddamn you,” Jewel says.

“Let Jewel take the end of the ropeand cross upstream of us and brace it,”I say. “Will you do that, Jewel?”

Jewel watches me, hard. Helooks quick at Cash, then backat me, his eyes alert and hard. “Idon’t give a damn. Just so we dos o m e t h i n g . S e t t i n g h e r e , n o tlifting a goddamn hand . . .”

“Let’s do that, Cash,” I say.

“I reckon we’ll have to,” Cashsays.

The river itself is not a hundredyards across, and pa and Vernon andVardaman and Dewey Dell are theonly things in sight not of that singlemonotony of desolation leaning withthat terrific quality a little from rightto left, as though we had reached theplace where the motion of the wastedworld accelerates just before the finalprecipice. Yet they appear dwarfed.It is as though the space between uswere time: an irrevocable quality. Itis as though time, no longer runningstraight before us in a diminishingline, now runs parallel between uslike a looping string, the distantebeing the doubling accretion of thethread and not the interval between.The mules stand, their forequartersalready sloped a little, their rumpshigh. They too are breathing nowwith a deep groaning sound; lookingback once, their gaze sweeps acrossus with in their eyes a wild, sad,profound and despairing quality asthough they had already seen in thethick water the shape of the disasterwhich they could not speak and wecould not see.

Cash turns back into the wagon.He lays his hands flat on Addie,rocking her a little. His face isca lm, down-s loped, ca lculant ,concerned. He lifts his box of toolsand wedges it forward under theseat ; together we shove Addieforward, wedging her between thetools and the wagon-bed. Then helooks at me.

“No,” I say. “I reckon I’ll stay.Might take both of us.”

From the tool-box he takes hiscoiled rope and carries the end twicearound the seat stanchion and passesthe end to me without tying it. Theother end he gays out to Jewel, whotakes a turn about his saddle-horn.

He must force the horse downinto the cur rent . I t moves ,high-kneed, arch-necked, boringand chafing. Jewel sits lightly for-ward, his knees lifted a little; againhis swift alert calm gaze sweepsupon us and on. He lowers the horse

je tándo lo .

—Que el diablo te lleve —dice Jewel.

—Que Jewel coja un extremo de lasoga y cruce aguas arriba y la ate —digoyo—. ¿Vas a hacerlo, Jewel?

Jewel me mira con dureza. Mira rápi-damente a Cash, luego se vuelve haciamí, con ojos alerta y duros.

—No me importa nada. Mientras ha-gamos algo. No tiene [148] sentido se-guir aquí sin mover ni un maldito dedo...

—Vamos a hacer eso, Cash —digo yo.

—Para mí que lo tendremos que ha-cer —dice Cash.

El propio río no tiene ni cien me-tros de anchura, y padre y Vernon yVardaman y Dewey Dell son las únicascosas a la vista que no pertenecen a esamonotonía desolada que se extiende demanera aterradora a derecha e izquier-da, como si hubiéramos alcanzado unlugar donde el movimiento del desola-do mundo se acelerara antes de hundir-se en el precipicio final. Sin embargoaparecen como empequeñecidos. Escomo si el espacio que hay entre noso-tros fuera tiempo: una cualidad irrevo-cable. Es como si el tiempo ya no co-rriera derecho por delante de nosotrosen una línea menguante, sino que aho-ra corre paralelo a nosotros como unacuerda que nos envuelve, duplicando ladistancia que nos separa. Las mulasestán quietas con las patas delanterasun poco hundidas y las grupas en altoAdemás, ahora jadean con ronco y pro-fundo sonido; miran hacia atrás unavez, y su mirada nos roza con unos ojosen los que hay algo salvaje, triste, pro-fundo y desesperado como si ya hubie-sen visto en el agua espesa la imagende desastre del que no pueden hablar ynosotros no podemos ver.

Cash vuelve al interior de la carreta.Descansa las palmas de la mano encimade Addie, meciéndola un poco. Tiene elrostro en calma, pero alargado, calcula-dor, preocupado. Alza la caja de las he-rramientas y la encaja debajo del asien-to; juntos empujamos a Addie haciadelante, encajándola entre las herra-mientas y el fondo de la carreta. Luegome mira.

—No —digo yo—. Me quedaré. Pue-de que hagamos falta los dos.

De la caja de herramientas saca un ro-llo de cuerda y pasa uno de los extremosdos veces en torno al ______ pescante yme 1o da sin atarlo. El otro extremo se loentrega a Jewel, que lo da una vuelta en elpomo de la silla de montar.

Tiene que obligar al caballo a que se metaen la corrien te. El caballo avanza excitado,______ ______ _braceando de mala gana________ . Jewel lo monta, ligeramente hacia de-lante, con las rodillas [149] un poco alzadas: su mi-rada inquieta, alerta y tranquila vuelve a caersobre nosotros, y pasa de largo. Hunde al caba-

X

chafe 1 tr. & intr. make or become sore or damagedby rubbing. 2 tr. rub (esp. the skin to restorewarmth or sensation). 3 tr. & intr. make orbecome annoyed; fret (was chafed by thedelay). 1 a an act of chafing. b a sore resultingfrom this. 2 a state of annoyance.

1. rozar, raer (=raspar una superficie quitando pe-los, sustancias adheridas, pintura, etc., con ins-trumento áspero o cortante)

2. calentar frotando3. desgastar,irritarse, impacientarse

transitive senses1 : IRRITATE, VEX2 : to warm by rubbing especially with the hands3 a : to rub so as to wear away : ABRADE <the boat

chafed its sides against the dock> b : to makesore by or as if by rubbingintransitive senses

1 : to feel irritation or discontent : FRET <chafes athis restrictive desk job>

2 : to rub and thereby cause wear or irritation

bore: push, make one’s way

X

74


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

into the stream, speaking to it in asoothing murmur. The horse slips,goes under to the saddle, surges to itsfeet again, the current building upagainst Jewel’s thighs.

“Watch yourself,” Cash says.

“I’m on it now,” Jewel says. “Youcan come ahead now.”

Cash takes the reins and lowers theteam carefully and skilfully into thestream.

I felt the current take us and I knewwe were on the ford by that reason. Sinceit war only, by means of that slippingcontact that we could tell that we werein motion at all. What had once been aflat surface war now a successionof troughs and h i l l ock s l i f t i ngand fa l l ing about us , shov ingat us , t eas ing a t us wi th l igh tl a z y t o u c h e s i n t h e v a i nins tants o f so l id i ty under foot .Cash looked brack a t me , andthen I knew that we were gone .B u t I d i d n o t r e a l i s e t h ere a s o n f o r t h e ro p e until I sawthe log. It surged up out of the waterand stood for an instant upright uponthat surging and heaving desolation likeChrist. Get out and let the currrent takeyou down to the bend, Cash said. Youcan make it all right. No, I said, I’d getjust as wet that way as this.

The log appears suddenly betweentwo hills, as if i t had rocketedsuddenly from the bottom of theriver. Upon the end of it a long goutof foam hangs like the beard of anold man or a goat. When Cash speaksto me I know that he has been watchingit all the time, watching it andwatching Jewel ten feet ahead of us.“Let the rope go,” he says. With hisother hand he reaches down and reevesthe two turns from the stanchion.“Ride on, Jewel,” he says; “see if youcan pull us ahead of the log.”

Jewel shouts at the horse; again heappears to lift it bodily between hisknees. He is just above the top of theford and the horse has a purchase ofsome sort for it surges forward,shining wetly half out of water,crashing on in a succession of lunges.It moves unbelievably fast; by thattoken Jewel realizes at last that therope is free, for I can see him sawingback on the reins, his head turned, asthe log rears in a long sluggish fungebetween us, bearing down upon theteam. They see it too; for a momentthey also shine black out of water.Then the downstream one vanishes,dragging the other with him; thewagon sheers crosswise, poised onthe crest of the ford as the log strikesit, tilting it up and on. Cash is halfturned, the reins running taut from hishand and disappearing into the water,the other hand reached back uponAddie, holding her jammed overagainst the high side of the wagon.

llo en la corriente, hablándole con un mur-mullo tranquilizador. El caballo resbala,se hunde hasta la silla, vuelve a pisarfirme mientras la corriente sube hacialos muslos de Jewel...

—Ten cuidado —Dice Cash.

—Ya estoy —dice Jewel—. Ahorapodéis avanzar.

Cash coge las riendas y obliga al tiroa que baje a la corriente, con cuidado yhabilidad.

Sentí que la corriente nos atrapa-ba y por ese motivo me di cuenta de queestábamos en el vado, pues sólo por esecontacto resbaladizo podíamos decir quenos movíamos de verdad. Lo que una vezhabía sido una superficie lisa, ahora erauna sucesión de altos y bajos que subíany bajaban a nuestro alrededor, que nosempujaban, que nos fastidiaban con suleve contacto perezoso en los escasosinstantes en que bajo nuestros pies no-tábamos algo sólido. Cash se volvió amirarme y entonces comprendí que está-bamos perdidos. Pero no me di cuentade la necesidad de la cuerda hasta quevi el tronco. Surgió del agua y se mantu-vo derecho durante un instante sobreaquella agitada y jadeante desolación,como un Cristo. Salta fuera y deja quela corriente te lleve hasta el recodo, dijoCash. Te será fácil. No, dije yo me moja-ré lo mismo de un modo que de otro

El tronco aparece de repente entre dosribazos, como si de repente lo impulsarandesde el fondo del río. De su extremo cuel-ga una gran gota de espuma como la bar-ba de un viejo o de un macho cabrío. Cuan-do Cash me habla me doy cuenta de quelleva observándolo todo el tiempo, obser-vándolo y mirando a Jewel que va tresmetros por delante de nosotros.

—Suelta la soga —le dice. Con la otramano la coge y le da dos vueltas alrede-dor del pescante—. Sigue adelante, Jewel—dice—; a ver si consigues arrastrarnosantes de que llegue el tronco.

Jewel le grita al caballo; parece queotra vez lo levanta a pulso con las rodi-llas. Está casi en lo más alto del vado y elcaballo ha encontrado algún apoyo por-que salta hacia delante brillando mojadomedio fuera del agua en una sucesión deacometidas. Se mueve increíblemente rá-pido; debido a eso Jewel se da cuenta deque al fin se ha soltado la cuerda, puespuedo ver cómo tira de las riendas, con lacabeza vuelta, mientras el tronco se colo-ca con una perezosa embestida entre no-sotros, cayendo luego sobre el tiro. Lasmulas también lo ven; durante un momen-to también ellas brillan negras fuera delagua. Luego la que está en la parte de aba-jo de la corriente desaparece, arrastrandoa la otra con ella; la carreta se pone detravés, recostada en el vado mientras lagolpea el tronco que la hace tambalearse.Cash se ha vuelto a medias, las riendas sele escapan de la mano y desaparecen en elagua; echa la otra mano hacia atrás yagarra a Addie manteniéndola apreta-da contra el fondo de la carreta.

surge 1 [of sea] oleaje m; oleada [of people,sympathy] oleada 2 a power surge (electricity)una subida de tensión 3 [water of sea] swell,levantarse; hincharse, encresparse, agitarse 4[people, crowd] to surge in/out entrar/salir en tro-pel 5 the blood surged to her cheeks se le subióla sangre a las mejillas.

surgir 1. intr. Brotar el agua hacia arriba, surtir. 2.Dar fondo la nave. 3. fig. Alzarse, manifestarse,brotar, aparecer.

surge 1 : to rise and fall actively : TOSS <a shipsurging in heavy seas> 2 : to rise and move inwaves or billows : SWELL 3 : to slip around awindlass, capstan, or bitts — used especially of arope 4 : to rise suddenly to an excessive orabnormal value <the stock market surged to arecord high> 5 : to move with a surge or in surges<felt the blood surging into his face — HarryHervey

75


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Jump c lear,” he says quie t ly.“Stay away from the team anddon’t try to fight it. It’ll swing youinto the bend all right.”

“You come too,” I say. Vernonand Vardaman are running along thebank, pa and Dewey Dell standwatching us, Dewey Dell with thebasket and the package in her arms.Jewel is trying to fight the horseback. The head of one mule appears,its eyes wide; it looks back at us foran instant, making a sound almosthuman. The head vanishes again.

“Back, Jewel,” Cash shouts. “Back,Jewel.” For another instant I see himleaning to the tilting wagon, his armbraced back against Addie and histools; I see the bearded head of therearing log strike up again, andbeyond it Jewel holding the horseupreared, its head wrenched around,hammering its head with his fist. Ijump from the wagon on thedownstream side. Between two hillsI see the mules once more. They rollup out of the water in succession,turning completely over, their legsstiffly extended as when they had lostcontact with the earth.

35VARDAMAN (5)

CASH tried but she fell off andDarl jumped going under he wentunder and Cash hollering to catch herand I hollering running and holleringand Dewey Dell hollering at meVardaman you vardaman youvardaman and Vernon passed mebecause he was seeing her come upand she jumped into the water againand Darl hadn’t caught her yet

He came up to see and I holleringcatch her Darl catch her and he didn’tcome back because she was too heavyhe had to go on catching at her and Ihollering catch her darl catch her darlbecause in the water she could gofaster than a man and Darl had tograbble for her so I knew he couldcatch her because he is the bestgrabbler even with the mules in theway again they dived up rolling theirfeet stiff rolling down again and theirbacks up now and Darl had to againbecause in the water she could gofaster than a man or a woman and Ipassed Vernon and he wouldn’t getin the water and help Darl he wouldgrabble for her with Darl he knew buthe wouldn’t help

The mules dived up again divingtheir legs stiff their stiff legs rollingslow and then Darl again and Ihollering catch her darl catch her headher into the bank darl and Vernonwouldn’t help and then Darl dodgedpast the mules where he could he hadher under the water coming in to thebank coming in slow because in thewater she fought to stay under thewater but Darl is strong and he was

— S a l t a — d i c e c o n t r a n q u i l i -dad—. Apártate del t i ro y no tratesde luchar cont ra la cor r ien te . Tellevaré hasta el recodo.

—Ven tú también —digo yo.Vernon y Vardaman corren por la ori-

lla, padre y Dewey Dell nos miran sinmoverse; Dewey Dell con la cesta y elpaquete en las manos. Jewel hace esfuer-zos para que el caballo recule. Aparecela cabeza de una mula con los ojos muyabiertos; nos mira durante un instante,emitiendo un sonido casi humano. Lacabeza vuelve a desaparecer.

—Atrás, Jewel —grita Cash—. Atrás, Jewel.Durante otro instante le veo incli-

nado junto al carro volcado con elbrazo sujetando a Addie y a sus he-rramientas; veo la cabeza barbuda deltronco que se empina y golpea de nue-vo, y más allá a Jewel que sujeta a sucaballo encabritado y con la cabezatorcida a la que golpea con el puño.Salto de la carreta por el lado en quese aleja la corriente. Entre dos ribazosveo una vez más a las mulas. Danvueltas fuera del agua una después deotra, girando sobre sí mismas, con laspatas tiesas como si hubieran perdi-do contacto con la tierra.

VARDAMAN

Cash hizo lo que pudo, pero el lacayó fuera y Darl sa l tó a l caer yse hundió y Cash gri taba que la co-giera y yo gr i taba y corr ía y gr i ta-b a y D e w e y D e l l m e g r i t a b aVa r d a m a n v e n v a r d a m a n v e nva rdaman y Vernon me ade l an tóporque la es taba viendo asomar ycómo se volvía a hundir y Darl to-davía no la había agarrado

Sacó la cabeza para mirar y yo le gri-taba cógela Darl cógela y él no podíaporque como ella pesaba demasiado éltenía que hundirse para cogerla y yo legritaba cógela darl cógela darl porque enel agua ella podía ir más deprisa que unhombre y Darl tenía que ir a tientas bus-cándola y yo sabía que la cogería porqueél es muy bueno en eso de andar a tien-tas incluso con las mulas estorbando allíhundidas otra vez se hundieron dandovueltas con las patas tiesas y seguían dan-do vueltas y ahora asomaban el lomo yDarl tenía que hundirse de nuevo porqueen el agua ella podía ir más deprisa queun hombre o una mujer y adelanté aVernon que no se quería meter en el aguaa ayudar a Darl a cogerla y aunque sabíano le quería ayudar

Las mulas se sumergieron otra vezsumergiendo sus patas tiesas y suspatas tiesas daban vueltas despacioy entonces Darl apareció otra vez yyo le gritaba cógela darl cógela porla cabeza a la orilla darl y Vernon noquería ayudar y entonces Darl esqui-vó las mulas y llegó adonde la podíacoger y la metió debajo del agua ellaintentaba quedar debajo del agua,pero Darl es fuerte y se acercaba des-

Vardaman (5)

This section containsVardaman’s unspoken andunverbalised thoughts as hewatches his mother’s coffin slipinto the river. A complete contrastto Darl’s unconcernedobservation of the scene,Vardaman’s vision is frantic withworry for he has not as yetgrasped the fact that his motheris dead. When Darl emergeswithout the coffin, Vardaman’sfrenzy redoubles for he thinks, onthe basis of the conversation inVardaman (4), that Darl knowsAddie is a fish and shouldtherefore appreciate that she willtry to escape into the water.

76


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

coming in slow and so I knew he hadher because he came slow and I randown into the water to help and Icouldn’t stop hollering because Darlwas strong and steady holding herunder the water even if she did fighthe would not let her go he was seeingme and he would hold her and it wasall right now it was all right now itwas all right

Then he comes up out of thewater. He comes a long way upslow before his hands do but he’sgot to have her got to so I can bearit. Then his hands come up and allof him above the water. I can’t stop.I have not got time to try. I will tryto when I can but his hands cameempty out of the water emptying thewater emptying away

“Where is ma, Darl?” I said.“You never got her. You knew sheis a fish but you let her get away.You never got her. Darl. Darl. Darl.”I began to run along the bank,watching the mules dive up slowagain and then down again.

36TULL (6)

WHEN I told Cora how Darljumped out of the wagon and leftCash sitting there trying to save it andthe wagon turning over, and Jeweltha t was a lmos t to the bankfighting that horse back where ithad more sense than to go, she says“And you’re one of the folks that saysDarl is the queer one, the one thatain’t bright, and him the only one ofthem that had sense enough to get offthat wagon. I notice Anse was toosmart to been on it a-tall.”

“He couldn’t ‘a’ done no good, if he’dbeen there,” I said. “They was goingabout it right and they would have madeit if it hadn’t a-been for that log.”

“Log, fiddlesticks,” Cora said. “Itwas the hand of God.”

“Then how can you say it wasfoolish?” I said. “Nobody can’t guardagainst the hand of God. It would besacrilege to try to.”

“Then why dare it?” Cora says.“Tell me that.”

“Anse didn’t,” I said. “That’s justwhat you faulted him for.”

“His place was there,” Cora said.“If he had been a man, he would‘a’ been there instead of making hissons do what he dursn’t.”

“I don’t know what you want,then,” I said. “One breath you saythey was daring the hand of God totry it, and the next breath you jump onAnse because he wasn’t with them.”Then she begun to sing again, workingat the wash-tub, with that singing look

pacio y me di cuenta de que la traíaporque venía tan despacio y corrí alagua a ayudar y no podía dejar degritar porque Darl era fuerte y la aga-rraba firme por debajo del agua yaunque ella tratara de escapar él nola dejaría y me estaba viendo y latenía agarrada y por fin lo había con-seguido por fin lo había conseguidolo había conseguido

Luego él asomaba fuera del agua.Saca despacio gran parte del cuerpo an-tes de que le aparean las manos, pero tie-ne que tenerla la tiene que tener para queyo pueda soportarlo. Luego salen sus ma-nos y todo él del agua. No me puedo pa-rar. No tengo tiempo para intentarlo. Lointentaré en cuanto pueda, pero sus ma-nos salen vacías del agua deraguándosedesaguándose.

—¿Dónde está madre, Darl? —dijeyo—. No conseguiste cogerla. Sabías quees un pez, pero la has dejado escapar. Noconseguiste cogerla. Darl. Darl. Darl.

Eché a correr por la orilla viendoa las mulas asomarse muy despacioy luego hundirse de nuevo.

TULL

CUANDO le conté a Cora cómo saltóDarl de la carreta y dejó a Cash allí den-tro tratando de salvarla y que la carretavolcó, y que Jewel que casi estaba ya enla orilla intentaba que el caballo volvie-ra adonde el animal con muy buen senti-do no quería ir, ella me dice:

—Y tú eres de los que dicen queDarl es un tipo raro, que no tiene lu-ces, cuando él fue el único de todosellos lo bastante sensato como para sal-tar de esa carreta. Ya veo que Anse esdemasiado listo para subirse a ella.

—No habría servido de nada que hu-biera estado allí dentro —dije yo—. Loestaban haciendo muy bien y lo habríanconseguido de no ser por aquel tronco.

—El tronco, ¡tonterías! —dijo Cora—. Fue la mano de Dios.

—¿Entonces cómo eres capaz de de-cir que era una locura? —dije yo—. Na-die puede librarse de la mano de Dios.Sería sacrilegio intentarlo.

—¿Entonces por qué la desafían? —dice Cora—. Venga, contesta.

—Anse no la desafió —dije yo—. Yprecisamente es lo que le echas en cara.

—Su sitio estaba allí —dijo Cora—.Si fuera un hombre de verdad, habría es-tado allí en vez de dejar que sus hijoshicieran lo que él no se atrevía a hacer.

—No entiendo qué es lo que quie-res —dije yo—. Tan pronto dicesque intentar eso era desafiar la manode Dios, como reprochas a Anse elno haber estado con ellos. [153]

Luego ella empezó a cantar otra vez,a fregar [en] el barreño, con una expre-

Tull (6)

In this section, Tull recalls theincident after it has happened andhe has told Cora about it and, atthe same time, goes over the eventin his own mind. He realises thatDarl leapt from the wagon to savehimself and he is troubled whenCora, who usually puts things intoan acceptable perspective, seemsto be inconsistent in her view ofthis incident, saying that Darlshowed sense in abandoning thewagon yet insisting that Anseought to have been on it. Even inretrospect, the scene strikes Tullas one of utter confusion, withwagon, horse, mules, Cash, Darland Jewel all thrashing about inthe water with the coffin andVardaman being chased up anddown the bank by Dewey Dell.Jewel eventually emerged fromthe confusion, holding the wagonwith the rope, and Cash appearedgrasping the saddle of Jewel’shorse, half-drowned andunconscious.

COMMENTARY: When Tulllooks back on the incident at theford, he sees it in terms ofsomething which was meant tohappen. The log which caused thedeath of the mules he says was‘like it had been sent there to doa job and done it and went on’.When things calm down, Tullsees a dead animal float past, itsbody distended by foul gases.Although he does not make theconnection, it strikes the readerthat Addie, who is also floatingdown the stream, must be in a si-milar state.

77


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

in her face like she had done give upfolks and all their foolishness and haddone went on ahead of them, march-ing up the sky, singing.

The wagon hung for a longtime while the current built upunder it, shoving it off the ford,and Cash leaning more and more,trying to keep the coffin bracedso i t wou ldn ’ t s l i p down andf in i sh t i l t ing the wagon over.Soon a s t he wagon go t t i l t edgood, to where the current couldf i n i s h i t , t h e l o g w e n t o n . I theaded a round the wagon andwent on good as a swimming mancould have done. It was like ithad been sent there to do a joband done it and went on.

When the mules finally kickedloose, it looked for a minute likemaybe Cash would get the wagonback. It looked like him and thewagon wasn’t moving at all, andjust Jewel fighting that horse backt o t h e w a g o n . T h e n t h a t b o ypassed me, running and holleringat Darl and the gal trying to catchhim, and then I see the mulescome rolling slow up out of thewater, their legs spraddled stifflike they had balked upside down,and roll on into the water again.

Then the wagon tilted over andthen it and Jewel and the horse wasall mixed up together. Cash wentouten sight, still holding the coffinbraced, and then I couldn’t tellanything for the horse lunging andsplashing. I thought that Cash hadgive up then and was swimming forit and I was yelling at Jewel to comeon back and then all of a sudden himand the horse went under too and Ithought they was all going. I knewthat the horse had got dragged off theford too, and with that wild drowninghorse and that wagon and that loosebox; it was going to be pretty bad, andthere I was, standing knee deep in thewater, yelling at Anse behind me:“See what you done now? See whatyou done now?”

The horse come up again. It washeaded for the bank now, throwing itshead up, and then I saw one of themholding to the saddle on the downstreamside, so I started running along the bank,trying to catch sight of Cash becausehe couldn’t swim, yelling at Jewelwhere Cash was like a durn fool, bad asthat boy that was on down the bank stillhollering at Darl.

So I went down into the water so Icould still keep some kind of a gripin the mud, when I saw Jewel. He wasmiddle deep, so I knew he was on theford, anyway, leaning hard upstream,and then I see the rope, and then I seethe water building up where he washolding t h e w a g o n s n u b b edjust below the ford.

sión cantarina en la cara como si hubierarenunciado a la gente y a todas sus ton-terías y se hubiese adelantado a todos yse dirigiera cantando a los cielos.

La carretera estuvo en alto durantelargo rato mientras la corriente se ele-vaba por debajo de ella, arrastrándolafuera del vado, y Cash inclinándosemás y más trataba de mantener sujetoel ataúd de modo que no resbalara ha-cia abajo y terminara por volcar la ca-rreta. En cuanto la carreta se venció porcompleto y quedó a merced de la co-rriente, el tronco siguió su camino.Cabeceó alrededor de la carreta y si-guió como podría haber hecho un buennadador. Fue como si lo hubieran man-dado allí a hacer un trabajo y despuésde terminarlo siguiera su camino.

Cuando las mulas se soltaron por fina fuerza de coces, durante un momentopareció que Cash conseguiría hacerse conla carreta. Parecía que ni él ni la carretase movían nada, y que Jewel era el únicoque se esforzaba por llevar al caballo devuelta a la carreta. Entonces el pequeñome adelantó, corriendo y gritándole aDarl mientras la chica trataba de agarrar-lo, y entonces veo que las mulas danvueltas muy despacio por el agua conlas patas tiesas como si se hubieranencabritado cabeza abajo y tropezarancon algo para caer otra vez al agua.

Entonces la carreta volcó del todoy luego ésta y Jewel y el caballo seenredaron todos juntos. Cash se per-dió de vista con el ataúd todavía su-jeto, y luego no podría decir nadamás que el caballo embestía y cha-poteaba. Creí que Cash ya se había ren-dido y se había echado al agua y le gri-té a Jewel que volviera y entonces derepente él y el caballo también se hun-dieron y pensé que se iban a ahogar.Comprendí que el caballo también ha-bía sido arrastrado fuera del vado, y conese caballo medio salvaje ahogándosey esa carreta y esa caja suelta, la cosano iba nada bien y allí estaba yo, meti-do en el agua hasta las rodillas, gritán-dole a Anse que estaba detrás de mí:

—¿Ve lo que ha conseguido? ¿Ve loque ha conseguido?

El caballo volvió a aparecer. Se diri-gía a la orilla sacando mucho la cabeza yentonces vi a uno de ellos sujeto a la[154] silla de montar a favor de la co-rriente, conque eché a correr por la ori-lla tratando de distinguir a Cash que nosabía nadar y gritándole a Jewel que dón-de estaba Cash, como un loco tan lococomo el pequeño que seguía orilla abajollamando a gritos a Darl.

Conque me metí en el agua de modoque pudiera seguir haciendo pie en ellodo, cuando distinguí a Jewel. Estabamedio hundido, conque me di cuenta deque estaba en el vado inclinado contra-corriente, y luego veo la soga y luego veoque el agua se levanta justo donde él es-taba sujetando la carreta, que se detuvobruscamente por debajo del vado.

balked: refused to move

snubbed: caught

snub rebuff, repulse, igonre, repelsnub v. 1 rebuff or humiliate with sharp words or a

marked lack of cordiality. 2 check the movementof (a boat, horse, etc.) esp. by a rope wound rounda post etc.

snub 1. To ignore or behave coldly toward; slight. 2.To dismiss, turn down, or frustrate the expectationsof. 3. Nautical a. To check the movement of (arope or cable running out) by turning it quicklyabout a post or cleat. b. To secure (a vessel, forexample) in this manner. 4. To stub out (a cigarette,for example).

snub nose a short turned-up nose. nariz respingona,roma, chata, unusually short

snub nose a short turned-up nose =respingona.snub-nosed having a snub nose. nariz puntiagudasnub-nosed de nariz respingona (turned-up), Respingona es aquella cuya punta tira hacia arri-

ba. Chata es la la nariz poco prominente y como aplas-

tada. Flat nose = Nariz chata.

78


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

So it was Cash holding to thehorse when it come splashing andscrambling up the bank, moaningand groaning like a natural man.When I come to it it was just kickingCash loose from his holt on thesaddle. His face turned up a secondwhen he was sliding back into thewater. It was grey, with his eyesclosed and a long swipe of mudacross his face. Then he let go andturned over in the water. He lookedjust like an old bundle of clotheskind of washing up and downagainst the bank. He looked like hewas laying there in the water on hisface, rocking up and down a little,looking at something on the bottom.

We could watch the rope cuttingdown into the water, and we couldfeel the weight of the wagon kind ofblump and lunge lazy like, like it justas soon as not, and that rope cuttingdown into the water hard as a ironbar. We could hear the water hissingon it like it was red hot. Like it wasa straight iron bar stock into thebottom and us holding the end of it,and the wagon lazing up and down,kind of pushing and prodding at uslike it had come around and gotbehind us, lazy like, like it just assoon as not when it made up itsmind. There was a shoat come by,blowed up like a balloon: one ofthem spotted shoats of Lon Quick’s.It bumped against the rope like itwas a iron bar and bumped off andwent on, and us watching that ropeslanting down into the water. Wewatched it.

37DARL (13)

CASH lies on his back on theearth, his head raised on a rolledgarment. His eyes are closed, hisface is grey, his hair plastered in asmooth smear across his foreheadas though done with a paint-brush.His face appears sunken a little,sagging from the bony ridges ofeye-sockets, nose, gums, as thoughthe we t t ing had s l acked thefirmness which had held the skinfull; his teeth, set in pale gums, areparted a little as if he had beenlaughing quietly. He lies pole-thinin his wet clothes, a little pool ofvomit at his head and a thread ofit running from the corner of hismouth and down his cheek wherehe couldn’t turn his head quick orfa r enough , un t i l Dewey De l lstoops and wipes it away with thehem of her dress.

Jewel approaches. He has the plane.“Vernon jus t found the square ,”he says. He looks down at Cash,dr ipping too. “Ain’ t he ta lkednone yet?”

“He had his saw and hammerand chalk-line and rule,” I say.“I know that.”

De modo que era Cash el que se aga-rraba al caballo cuando éste llegó cha-poteando y trepó a la orilla; gemía y gru-ñía como un hombre de verdad. Cuandollegué junto a él estaba soltando cocespara librarse de Cash que se agarraba alpomo de la silla. Le vi la cara durante unsegundo mientras volvía a hundirse en elagua. Estaba grisácea, con los ojos ce-rrados y cruzada por una larga línea debarro. Luego se dejó ir y volvió ahundirse en el agua. Parecía igualque un viejo fardo de ropa empujan-do por la corriente subiendo y bajan-do contra la orilla. Parecía como siestuviera tumbado allí, de cara, en elagua, meciéndose un poco arriba yabajo, y mirara algo del fondo.

Podíamos ver la soga hundida en elagua, y sentir el peso de la carreta enlos tirones, puede que un tanto perezo-sos, que daba, mientras la soga se hun-día en el agua tiesa como una barra dehierro. Oíamos sisear el agua en contac-to con ella como si estuviera al rojovivo. Como si fuera una barra de hierroclavada en el fondo y nosotros agarrá-semos uno de sus extremos, y la carretasubía y bajaba perezosamente, y tirabade nosotros o nos empujaba como sihubiera dado la vuelta poniéndose a nues-tras espaldas, siempre perezosamente,como si no terminara de decidir lo quehacer. Pasó un lechón flotando en nues-tro lado, hinchado como un globo: era unode los lechones con pintas de Lon Quick.Tropezó con la soga que era como unabarra de hierro y salió rebotado y se ale-jó, y nosotros mirábamos aquella sogaque se hundía oblicua en el agua. La mi-rábamos con atención. [155]

DARL

CASH yace de espaldas en el suelo,con la cabeza apoyada sobre una prendaenrollada. Tiene los ojos cerrados, la caragrisácea, el pelo tan aplastado __ ________ _______contra la frente como si selo hubieran pintado de un brochazo. Surostro aparece un poco hundido alrededorde las huesudas órbitas de los ojos, de lanariz, de las encías, como si el remojónhubiera ablandado la carne que manteníatirante la piel; los dientes, incrustados enunas pálidas encías, están ligeramente en-treabiertos como si se hubiera estado rien-do por lo bajo. Yace flaco como un palocon la ropa chorreante, con un charquitode vómitos al lado de la cabeza y un hili-llo que le corre por la barbilla desde lacomisura de la boca hasta el charco comosi no hubiera apartado la cabeza con sufi-ciente rapidez o con bastante fuerza, has-ta que Dewey Dell se agacha y se lo lim-pia con el borde de la falda.

Jewel se acerca. Tiene el cepillo.—Vernon acaba de encontrar la escua-

dra —dice, y baja la vista hacia Cash,también chorreando—. ¿Todavía no hadicho nada?

—Traía la sierra y el martillo y lacuerda de marcar**15 y la regla —digoyo—. Estoy seguro.

Darl (13)

Here Darl records theconversations which take place asthe family try to recover Cash’scarpentry tools from the river.

COMMENTARY: This sectionis fairly straightforward, save thatwhat Darl records has beenselected by him and highlights thetypical poses of those around him.It ends with a poetic, unverbalisedimage of Jewel and Vernonworking in the river andcontrasting, in their sleekness,with the rotund femininity ofDewey Dell. The image iscontained in the lines ‘Jewel andVernon are in the river . . . valleysof the earth’. This is at onceeloquent of the archetypaldifferences between men andwomen, the one hard and lean, theother soft and round, and of Darl’srole in the family. He is alwayson the edge of things, never attheir centre. Yet he is not a

shoat: (Am. English) young hog

prod 1 tr. poke with the finger or a pointed object. 2tr. stimulate to action. 3 intr. (foll. by at) make aprodding motion. 1 a poke or thrust. 2 a stimulusto action. 3 a pointed instrument.

orbita cuenca del ojoridge cresta, arruga

scramble n. 1 scamper, scurry rushing about hastily inan undignified way 2 scuffle, make one’s way to,pasar con esfuerzo, como se pueda anunceremonious and disorganized struggle 3scramble to one’s feet ponerse de pie con esfuer-zo, como se pueda, con dificultad. 4 tr. Revolvermix together indiscriminately. b jumble or muddle.

v. 1 make unintelligible; “scramble the messageso that nobody can understand it” 2 beat, stirvigorously; “beat the egg whites”; “beat the cream”3 jumble, throw together bring into random order4 to move hurriedly arreglarse a toda prisa;“The friend scrambled after them” 5 clamber, shin,shinny, skin, struggle, sputter climb awkwardly,as if by scrambling

scramble I v. tr. 1 mezclar 2 Tele (mensaje) codi-ficar

II v. intr. 1 ir gateando to scramble across a field,cruzar un campo gateando; to scramble up a tree,trepar a un árbol 2 pelearse [for, por], andar a larebatiña [for, por]: fans were scrambling for theconcert tickets, los fans se tiraban de los pelospor una entrada para el concierto 3 Dep hacermotocross

III n. 1 subida o escalada difícil 2 confusión,rebatiña 3 Dep carrera de motocross

X

79


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

J e w e l l a y s t h e s q u a r ed o w n . P a w a t c h e s h i m .“They can’t be far away,” pa says.“It all went together. Was thereere a such misfortunate man.”

J e w e l d o e s n o t l o o k a t p a .“You better call Vardaman backhere,” he says. He looks at Cash. Thenhe turns and goes away. “Get him totalk soon as he can,” he says, “so hecan tell us what else there was.”

We return to the river. The wagonis hauled clear, the wheels chocked(carefully: we all helped; it is asthough upon the shabby, familiar,inert shape of the wagon therelingered somehow, latent yet stillimmediate, that violence which hadslain the mules that drew it not anhour since) above the edge of theflood. In the wagon bed it liesprofoundly, the long pale plankshushed a little with wetting yet stillyellow, like gold seen through water,save for two long muddy smears. Wepass it and go on to the bank.

One end of the rope is made fastto a tree. At the edge of the stream,knee-deep, Vardaman stands, bentforward a little, watching Vernonwi th rap t absorp t ion . He hasstopped yelling and he is wet to thearmpits. Vernon is at the other endof the rope, shoulder-deep in theriver, looking back at Vardaman.“Further back than that,” he says.“You git back by the tree and hold therope for me, so it can’t slip.”

Vardaman backs along the rope,to the t ree , moving b l indly,watching Vernon. When we comeup he looks at us once, his eyesround and a little dazed. Then helooks a t Vernon aga in in tha tposture of rapt alertness.

“I got the hammer too,” Vernonsays. “Looks l ike we ought todone already got that chalk-line.It ought to floated.”

“Floated clean away,” Jewelsays. “We won’t get it . We oughtto f ind the saw, though.”

“I reckon so,” Vernon says. Helooks at the water. “That chalk-line,too. What else did he have?”

“He ain’t talked yet,” Jewel says,entering the water. He looks back atme. “You go back and get him rousedup to talk,” he says.

“Pa ’s t he re , ” I s ay. I fo l lowJewel in to the wa te r, a long therope . I t f ee l s a l ive in my hand ,be l l i ed f a in t ly in a p ro longeda n d r e s o n a n t a r c . Ve r n o n i swa tch ing me .

“You better go,” he says. “Youbetter be there.”

Jewel deja la escuadra en el suelo.Padre le observa.

—No pueden estar lejos —dicepadre—. Todas iban juntas. Cuida-do que ha tenido mala suerte.

Jewel no mira a padre. [156]—Será mejor que le diga a Vardaman

que venga aquí —dice. Mira a Cash. Lue-go da media vuelta y se marcha—. Quehable en cuanto pueda —dice—, así nospodrá decir qué otras cosas traía.

Volvemos al río. Tiramos de la carre-ta y calzamos las ruedas (con muchocuidado: todos ayudamos; es como sidentro de la miserable, familiar, inerteestructura de la carreta aún persistiera,latente aunque todavía activa, aquellaviolencia que había matado a las mulasque no hace ni una hora que tiraban deella) al borde de la crecida. En el fondode la carreta sigue la caja, con sus páli-das tablas apagadas un poco por la hu-medad, aunque todavía amarillas, comooro visto a través del agua, salvo en dosgrandes manchas de barro. La pasamos yseguimos hasta la orilla.

Uno de los extremos de la soga se ataa un árbol. A1 borde de la corriente, conel agua hasta las rodillas. Vardaman estáde pie, un poco inclinado hacia delante,mirando a Vernon como absorto. Ha de-jado de gritar y está empapado hasta lossobacos. Vernon está al otro extremo dela soga, hundido en el río hasta los hom-bros, mirando a su vez a Vardaman.

—Vete un poco más allá —dice—.Sigue hasta el árbol y sujétame la sogapara que no se escurra.

Vardaman recula a lo largo de lasoga hasta el árbol; se mueve a cie-gas y observa a Vernon. Cuando lle-gamos nos mira una vez con unos ojosredondos y un poco aturdidos. Luegovuelve a mirar a Vernon en la mismapostura de absorta atención.

—Tengo también el martillo —diceVernon—. Para mí que ya deberíamoshaber encontrado la cuerda de marcar.Tendría que andar flotando por ahí.

—Seguro que flotó y se la llevó la corrien-te —dice Jewel—. No daremos con ella. Aun-que deberíamos encontrar la sierra.

—Para mí que sí la encontraremos —diceVernon. Mira al agua—. Y también la cuer-da de marcar. ¿Qué otras cosas tenía?

—Todavía no habla —dice Jewel, me-tiéndose en el agua. Me mira otra vez—.Vuelve, y a ver si consigues que hable—dice.

—Padre está allí —digo yo.Sigo a Jewel dentro del agua, cogién-

dome a la soga. La noto como viva en lamano, ligeramente combada en un arcoprolongado y vibrante. Vernon me estámirando.

—Mejor será que te vayas—dice—.Será mejor que estés allí.

detached observer, for there is anelement of longing both in hisobservation of Jewel and Vernonand of his sister. Her breasts, ‘thehills and valleys of the earth’,draw him in a way which is onlyadequately explained when we getto Addie’s section. While he maytalk of Dewey Dell’s breasts as‘ludicrosities’ and of Jewel’s careas ‘ludicrous’, the other terms inwhich Darl’s unverbalised imageis couched suggest that he isattracted towards the very thingshe describes as ludicrous.

80


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Let ’s see what e l se we canget before i t washes on down,”I say.

We h o l d t o t h e r o p e , t h ec u r r e n t c u r l i n g a n d d i m p l i n gabout our shoulders. But beneaththat false blandness the true forceof it leans against us lazily. I hadnot thought that water in Julycould be so cold. It is like handsmoulding and prodding a t thev e r y b o n e s . Ve r n o n i s s t i l llooking back toward the bank.

“Reckon it’ll hold us all?” hesays. We too look back, followingthe rigid bar of the rope as it risesfrom the water to the tree andVardaman crouched a little besideit, watching us. “Wish my mulewouldn’t str ike out for home,”Vernon says.

“Come on,” Jewel says. “Let’s getouten here.”

We submerge in turn, holding tothe rope, being clutched by oneanother while the cold wall of thewater sucks the s lant ing mudbackward and upstream frombeneath our feet and we aresuspended so, groping along thecold bottom. Even the mud there isnot still. It has a chill, scouringquality, as though the earth under uswere in motion too. We touch andfumble at one another’s extendedarms, letting ourselves go cautiouslyagainst the rope; or, erect in turn,watch the water suck and boil whereone of the other two gropes beneaththe surface. Pa has come down tothe shore, watching us.

Vernon comes up, streaming, hisface sloped down into his pursedb lowing mouth . Hi s mouth i sbluish, like a circle of weatheredrubber. He has the rule.

“He’ll be glad of that,” I say. “It’sright new. He bought it just last monthout of the catalogue.”

“If we just knowed for sho whatelse,” Vernon says, looking over hisshoulder and then turning to facewhere Jewel, had disappeared.“Didn’t he go down ‘fore me?”Vernon says.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I think so.Yes. Yes, he did.”

We watch the th ick cur l ingsur face , s t reaming away f romus in s low whorls .

“Give him a pull on the rope,”Vernon says.

“He’s on your end of it,” I say.

“Ain’t nobody on my end of it,”he says.

—Vamos a ver si podemos sacar algomás antes de que se lo lleve la corriente—digo yo.

Nos agarramos a la soga mientras lacorriente forma ondas y hoyuelos alre-dedor de nuestros hombros. Pero bajo esafalsa blandura la auténtica fuerza de lacorriente tira perezosamente de nosotros.Nunca había imaginado que en julio elagua pudiera estar tan fría. Es como siunas manos nos rodeasen y se clavasenhasta el mismo hueso. Vernon todavíamira hacia la orilla.

—¿Nos aguantará a todos? —dice.También volvemos la vista siguiendo larígida barra que forma la soga cuandoésta sale del agua hasta alcanzar el ár-bol, y Vardaman, un poco acurrucado asu lado, nos observa—. A ver si a mi mulano le da por marcharse a casa —diceVernon.

—Vamos —dice Jewel— salgamos deaquí.

Nos sumergimos por turnos, agarrán-donos a la soga, sujetándonos unos aotros mientras la fría pared de agua sor-be el barro que va en declive bajo nues-tros pies, a contracorriente, de modo queestamos suspendidos al sondear el géli-do fondo. Ni siquiera el fango de ahí aba-jo se está quieto. Tiene un algo de esca-lofriante y huidizo como si la tierra dedebajo de nosotros también estuviera enmovimiento. Nos tocamos y manoteamosunos a otros los brazos extendidos, aldejarnos ir con precaución a lo largo dela soga; o, poniéndonos de pie por tur-nos, vemos que el agua chupa y hace bur-bujas allí donde uno de los otros dos bus-ca a tientas debajo de la superficie. Pa-dre ha bajado hasta la orilla y nos mira.

Vernon se endereza, chorreante, conla cara hundida hacia la fruncida boca queresopla. Tiene la boca azulada, como unaro de goma mucho tiempo a la intempe-rie. Ha encontrado la regla. [158]

—Esto le alegrará —digo yo—. Por-que es nueva. La compró el mes pasadopor correo.

—Si supiéramos con seguridad quéotras cosas traía... —dice Vernon, miran-do por encima del hombro y luego vol-viendo la cara hacia donde ha desapare-cido Jewel—. ¿No se había sumergidoantes que yo? —Dice Vernon.

—No lo sé —le digo—. Creo que sí.Sí. Sí, se sumergió antes.

Observamos la superficie densamen-te ondulada que se aleja de nosotros for-mando lentas volutas.

—Dale un tirón a la soga —diceVernon.

—Está en la punta de tu lado —digo yo.

—En la punta de mi lado no hay na-die —dice él.

prod 1 tr. poke with the finger or a pointed object. 2tr. stimulate to action. 3 intr. (foll. by at) make aprodding motion. 1 a poke or thrust. 2 a stimulusto action. 3 a pointed instrument.

whorl n. 1 a ring of leaves or other organs rounda stem of a plant. 2 one turn of a spiral, esp.on a shell. 3 a complete circle in a fingerprint.4 archaic a small wheel on a spindle steadyingits motion.

corolla a whorl [verticilo, spiral, espira] ofleaves. Aureola,

espira Cada una de las vueltas de una espiral.voluta adorno en figura de espiral o caracol

81


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Pull it in,” I say. But he hasalready done that , holding theend above the water; and then wesee Jewel. He is ten yards away;he comes up, blowing, and looksat us, tossing his long hair backwith a jerk of his head, then helooks toward the bank; we cansee him filling his lungs.

“Jewel,” Vernon says, not loud,but his voice going full and clearalong the water, peremptory yettactful. “It’ll be back here. Bettercome back.”

Jewel dives again. We standthere, leaning back against thecurrent, watching the water wherehe disappeared, holding the deadrope between us l ike two menholding the nozzle of a fire-hose,waiting for the water. SuddenlyDewey Dell is behind us in thewater. “You make him come back,”she says. “Jewel!” she says. Hecomes up again, tossing his hairback from his eyes. He is swimmingnow, toward the bank, the currentsweeping him downstreamquartering. “You, Jewel!” DeweyDell says. We stand holding the ropeand see him gain the bank and climbout. As he rises from the water, hestoops and picks up something. Hecomes back along the bank. He hasfound the chalk-line. He comesopposi te us and s tands there ,looking about as if he were seekingsomething. Pa goes on down thebank. He is going back to look atthe mules again where their roundbodies float and rub quietly togetherin the slack water within the bend.

“What did you do with thehammer, Vernon?” Jewel says.

“I give it to him,” Vernon says,jerking his head a t Vardaman.Vardaman i s looking af te r pa .Then he looks at Jewel. “With thes q u a r e . ” Ve r n o n i s w a t c h i n gJewel. He moves toward the bank,passing Dewey Dell and me.

“You get on out of here,” I say. Shesays nothing, looking at Jewel andVernon.

“Where’s the hammer?” Jewelsays. Vardaman scuttles up the bankand fetches it.

“It’s heavier than the saw,” Vernonsays. Jewel is tying the end of thechalk-line about the hammer shaft.

“Hammer’s got the most wood in it,”Jewel says. He and Vernon face oneanother, watching Jewel’s hands.

“ A n d f l a t t e r , t o o , ” Ve r n o nsays . “ I t ’d f loa t th ree to one ,almost. Try the plane.”

Jewel looks at Vernon. Vernon is

—Dale un tirón —digo.Pero ya lo ha dado y sostiene el extre-

mo de la soga por encima del agua; yentonces vemos a Jewel. Está a unos diezmetros de distancia se levanta, resoplan-do, y nos mira mientras se sacude el lar-go pelo negro con un brusco movimien-to de cabeza; luego mira hacia la orilla;le vemos llenarse de aire los pulmones.

—Jewel —dice Vernon, no muy alto,pero su voz resbala rotunda y clara porencima del agua, perentoria aunque co-medida—. Debe de estar por aquí. Serámejor que vuelvas.

Jewel se sumerge otra vez. Nos que-damos allí haciendo fuerza con la espal-da contra la corriente; contemplamos elagua por donde ha desaparecido y suje-tamos la lacia soga entre nosotros comodos hombres que tuvieran una manguerade incendios y esperasen el agua. Depronto Dewey Dell está en el agua de-trás de nosotros.

—Hacedle volver —dice—. ¡Jewel!—dice Jewel saca la cabeza de nuevoquitándose el pelo de los ojos. Ahoraempieza a nadar, hacia la orilla; la co-rriente lo arrastra en diagonal—. ¡Oye,Jewel! —dice Dewey Dell.

Seguimos agarrando la soga y levemos ganar la or i l la y t repar porel la . A1 sal i r del agua se agacha ycoge a lgo. Se nos acerca a lo largode la ori l la . Ha encontrado la cuer-da de marcar. Se det iene f rente anosotros y se queda a l l í mirandoa l r ededor como s i busca ra a lgo .Padre va or i l la abajo [159] . Quie-re volver a mirar a las mulas cu-yos cuerpos redondos f lotan y cho-can b landamente uno cont ra o t roen e l agua t ranqui la del remanso.

—¿Qué hiciste con el martillo,Vernon? —dice Jewel.

—Se lo di a él —dice Vernon, seña-lando con la cabeza a Vardaman.Vardaman sigue con la vista a padre.Luego mira a Jewel—. Junto con la es-cuadra —Vernon está mirando a Jewel.Se dirige hacia la orilla, pasando al ladode Dewey Dell y de mí.

—Sal de ahí ya —le digo a DeweyDell que no dice nada y mira a Jewel y aVernon.

—¿Dónde es t á e l mar t i l l o? —dice Jewel . Vardaman corre or i l laarr iba a por é l ______.

—Pesa más que la sierra —dice Vernon.Jewel está atando el extremo de la cuerdade marcar al mango del martillo.

—Es que el martillo tiene más madera—dice Jewel. El y Vernon están frente afrente, observando las manos de Jewel.

—Y es más plano, además —diceVernon—. Debe flotar casi tres vecesmejor. Prueba con el cepillo.

Jewel mira a Vernon. Vernon también

X

82


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

tall, too; long and lean, eye toeye they s t a n d i n t h e i r c l o s ew e t c l o thes . Lon Quick couldlook even at a c loudy sky andtel l the t ime to ten minutes. BigLon I mean, not li t t le Lon.

“Why don’t you get out of thewater?” I say.

“ I t won’ t f loa t l ike a saw,”Jewel says.

“It’ll float nigher to a saw than ahammer will,” Vernon says.

“Bet you,” Jewel says.

“I won’t bet,” Vernon says.

They stand there, watching Jewel’sstill hands.

“Hell,” Jewel says. “Get the plane,then.”

So they get the plane and tie it tothe chalk-line and enter the wateragain. Pa comes back along the bank.He stops for a while and looks at us,hunched, mournful, like a failing steeror an old tall bird.

Ve r n o n a n d J e w e l r e t u r n ,l e a n i n g a g a i n s t t h e c u r r e n t .“Get out of the way,” Jewel says toDewey Dell. “Get out of the water.”

She crowds against me a little sothey can pass, Jewel holding the planehigh as though it were perishable, theblue string trailing back over hisshoulder. They pass us and stop; theyfall to arguing quietly about justwhere the wagon went over.

“Darl ought to know,” Vernonsays. They look at me.

“I don’t know,” I says. “I wasn’tthere that long.”

“Hell,” Jewel says. They moveon, gingerly, leaning against thecurrent , reading the ford wi ththeir feet.

“Have you got a hol t of therope?” Vernon says. Jewel does notanswer. He glances back at theshore, calculant, then at the water.He flings the plane outward, lettingthe string run through his fingers,his fingers turning blue where itruns over them. When the linestops, he hands it back to Vernon.

“Better let me go this time,”Vernon says. Again Jewel does notanswer; we watch him duck beneaththe surface.

“Jewel,” Dewey Dell whimpers.

“It ain’t so deep there,” Vernon says.He does not look back. He is watchingthe water where Jewel went under.

When Jewel comes up he has the saw.

es alto; altos y delgados los dos quedanfrente a frente allí quietos con su ropaempapada. Lon Quick podía mirar inclu-so a un cielo cubierto y decir la hora sinequivocarse ni en diez minutos. Quierodecir, Big Long, no Little Lon**16.

—¿Por qué no salís del agua? —digo yo.

—No flotan tan bien como una sierra—dice Jewel.

—Flotará más como la sierra que elmartillo —dice Vernon.

—Te apuesto lo que quieras —dice Jewel.

—No me gusta apostar —dice Vernon.

Siguen allí, mirando las manos quie-tas de Jewel.

—Al diablo —dice Jewel—. Coge elcepillo.

Conque cogen el cepillo y lo atan a lacuerda de marcar [160] y se meten nue-vamente en el agua. Padre vuelve por laorilla. Se para un rato y nos mira, enco-gido, fúnebre, como un buey apaleadoo un viejo y largo pajarraco.

Ve r n o n y J e w e l v u e l v e n , l u -c h a n d o c o n t r a l a c o r r i e n t e .

—Quítate de en medio —le dice Jewela Dewey Dell—. Sal del agua.

Ella se aprieta un poco contra mí paraque puedan pasar. Jewel lleva en alto elcepillo como si fuera muy frágil mien-tras la cuerda azul**17 le cae sobre elhombro. Nos adelantan; se detienen adiscutir tranquilamente sobre dónde ha-bía volcado la carreta.

—Darl debe de saberlo —diceVernon. Me miran.

—No lo sé —digo—. No estuve allísuficiente tiempo.

—A1 diablo —Dice Jewel.Se mueven cautelosamente recostados

contra la corriente, tanteando el vado conlos pies.

—¿Tienes la soga bien cogida?—dice Vernon. Jewel no responde.M i r a h a c i a l a o r i l l a c a l c u l a d o r,luego a l agua. Lanza e l cepi l lo ha-cia delante dejando que la cuerdase le des l ice entre los dedos , unosdedos que se ponen azules dondeles roza la cuerda. Cuando se que-da quie ta , se la pasa a Vernon—.Mejor me dejas a mi es ta vez —dice Vernon. Jewel s igue s in res-ponder; vemos cómo se hunde bajola superf ic ie .

Jewel —se queja Dewey Dell.

— N o e s t á t a n h o n d o — d i c eVernon. No se vuelve. Observa e lagua por donde se hundió Jewel .

Cuando Jewel aparece tiene la sierra.

83


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

When we pass the wagon pa isstanding beside it, scrubbing att h e t w o m u d s m e a r s w i t h ahandful of leaves. Against thejungle Jewel’s horse looks like apatchwork quilt hung on a line.

Cash has not moved. We standabove him, holding the plane, thesaw, the hammer, the square, therule, the chalk-line, while DeweyDell squats and lifts Cash’s head.“Cash,” she says; “Cash.”

He opens his eyes, staringprofoundly up at our inverted faces.

“If ever was such a misfortunateman,” pa says.

“Look, Cash,” we say, holding thetools up so he can see; “what else didyou have?”

He tries to speak, rolling his head,shutting his eyes.

“Cash,” we say; “Cash.”

It is to vomit he is turning his head.Dewey Dell wipes his mouth on thewet hem of her dress; then he canspeak.

“It’s his saw-set,” Jewel says. “Thenew one he bought when he boughtthe rule.” He moves, turning away.Vernon looks up after him, stillsquatting. Then he rises and followsJewel down to the water.

“If ever was such a misfortunateman,” pa says. He looms tall aboveus as we squat; he looks like afigure carved clumsily from toughwood by a drunken caricaturist.“It’s a trial,” he says.

“But I don’ t begrudge her i t .No man can say I begrudge heri t . ” Dewey Del l has laid Cash’shead back on the fo lded coat ,twisting his head a little to avoidthe vomit. Beside him his toolslie. “A fellow might call it luckyit was the same leg he broke whenhe fell offen that church,” pa says.“But I don’t begrudge her it.’’

Jewel and Vernon are in the riveragain. From here they do not appearto violate the surface at all; it is asthough it had severed them both at asingle blow, the two torsos movingwith infinitesimal and ludicrous careupon the surface. It looks peaceful,like machinery does after you havewatched it and listened to it for a longtime. As though the clotting which isyou had dissolved into the myriadoriginal motion, and seeing andhearing in themselves blind and deaf;fury in itself quiet with stagnation.Squatting, Dewey Dell’s wet dressshapes for the dead eyes of three blindmen those mammalian ludicrositieswhich are the horizons and the valleysof the earth.

Cuando pasamos junto a la carre-ta padre está de pie junto a la caja,quitando las dos manchas de barrocon un puñado de hojas. Contra lamaleza el caballo de Jewel parece unedredón a cuadritos colgando de una cuerda.

Cash no se ha movido. Nos ponemos asu alrededor enseñándole el cepillo, la sie-rra, el martillo, la escuadra, la regla, lacuerda de marcar, mientras Dewey Dellse agacha y le levanta la cabeza.

—Cash —le dice—. Cash.

Cash abre los ojos mirando fijamentea nuestras caras al revés.

—No hay hombre con tan mala suerte—dice padre.

—Mira, Cash —decimos, levantandolas herramientas para que las pueda ver—, ¿qué otras más tenías?

Cash intenta hablar, volviendo la ca-beza; luego entorna los ojos.

—Cash —le decimos—. Cash.

Volvía la cabeza para vomitar.Dewey Dell le seca la boca con el do-bladillo mojado de su falda; luego yapuede hablar.

—Es el triscador**(8) de la sierra—dice Jewel—. El nuevo que comprócuando compró la regla —se aparta.Vernon, aún en cuclillas, levanta lavista hacia él. Luego se levanta y si-gue a Jewel al agua.

—No hay hombre con tan mala suerte—dice padre. Su figura se eleva sobrenosotros, que estamos en cuclillas; pare-ce una estatua tallada chapuceramente en ma-dera muy dura por un caricaturista borracho—. E s u n a p r u e b a — d i c e — .P e r o y o n o s e lo escatimo. No hayquien pueda decir que le escatimo algo —Dewey Dell ha dejado caer la cabeza deCash en la chaqueta plegada, doblándose-la un poco para que vomite. Junto a él des-cansan sus herramientas—. Cualquiera po-dría decir que es buena suerte que se hayaroto la misma pierna que se rompió cuan-do cayó de aquella iglesia —dice padre—.Pero a ella no le escatimo nada.

Jewel y Vernon están otra vez en elrío. Desde aquí no parece que rompan lasuperficie; es como si ésta los hubieracortado de un solo tajo y los dos torsosse movieran con un cuidado infinitesimaly ridículo por encima de la superficie. Lariada parece apacible, igual que una ma-quinaria después de llevar mirándola yoyéndola mucho tiempo. Como si el coá-gulo que es uno se hubiera disuelto en lapluralidad del movimiento original, yfuéramos ciegos y sordos al vernos y oír-nos a nosotros mismos; una furia tran-quila en sí misma por la parálisis. Encuclillas, el vestido empapado de DeweyDell da forma ante los ojos muertos detres hombres ciegos a esas ridiculecesmamarias que son los horizontes y losvalles de la tierra.

84


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

38CASH (3)

IT wasn’t on a balance. I toldthem that if they wanted it to toteand ride on a balance, they wouldhave to ——

39CORA (3)

ONE day we were talking. Shehad never been pure rel igious,not even after that summer at thec a m p m e e t i n g w h e n B r o t h e rW h i t f i e l d w r e s t l e d w i t h h e rspirit, singled her out and strovewith the vanity in her mortal heart,and I said to her many a time, “Godgave you children to comfort yourhard human lot and for a token of Hisown suffering and love, for in loveyou conceived and bore them.” I saidthat because she took God’s love andher duty to Him too much as a matterof course, and such conduct is notpleasing to Him. I said, “He gave usthe gift to raise our voices in Hisundying praise” because I said thereis more rejoicing in heaven over onesinner than over a hundred that neversinned. And she said “My daily life isan acknowledgment and expiation ofmy sin” and I said “Who are you, tosay what is sin and what is not sin? Itis the Lord’s part to judge; ours topraise His mercy and His holy namein the hearing of our fellow mortals”because He alone can see into theheart, and just because a woman’s lifeis right in the sight of man, she can’tknow if there is no sin in her heartwithout she opens her heart to theLord and receives His grace. I said,“Just because you have been afaithful wife is no sign that there isno s in in your hear t , and jus tbecause your life is hard is no signthat the Lord’s grace is absolvingyou.” And she said, “I know myown s in . I know that I deservem y p u n i s h m e n t . I d o n o tbegrudge i t .” And I sa id , “It isout of your vanity that you wouldjudge s in and sa lvat ion in theLord’s place. It is our mortal lotto suffer and to raise our voicesin praise of Him who judges thes i n a n d o f f e r s t h e s a l v a t i o nthrough our trials and tribulationstime out of mind amen. Not evenafter Brother Whitfield, a godlyman if ever one breathed God’sbreath, prayed for you and stroveas never a man could except him,”I said.

Because it is not us that can judgeour sins or know what is sin in theLord’s eyes. She has had a hard life,but so does every woman. But you’dthink from the way she talked that sheknew more about sin and salvationthan the Lord God Himself, than themwho have strove and laboured withthe sin in this human world. When theonly sin she ever committed was

CASH

No está bien equilibrada. Les dije quesi querían cargarla y transportarla demodo que mantuviese el equilibrio ten-drían que

CORA

UN día hablando. Ella nunca habíasido auténticamente religiosa, ni siquie-ra después de la reunión al aire libre**19de aquel verano cuando el reverendoWhitfield luchó a brazo partido con suespíritu, la escogió personalmente y com-batió la vanidad de su corazón mortal, yyo le dije más de una vez:

—Dios te ha dado hijos que te con-suelen de tanta miseria y como pruebade sus propios sufrimientos y amor, puesen amor los concebiste y los diste luz —le dije eso porque ella tomaba el amorde Dios y sus deberes para con Él comoalgo natural y tal proceder no es de Suagrado. Le dije—: Él nos ha dado el donde poder elevar nuestras voces para can-tar su gloria imperecedera —porque ledecía, hay más júbilo en los cielos porun pecador arrepentido que por cien jus-tos. Y ella decía: [163]

—Mi vida diaria es el reconocimientoy la expiación de mi pecado —y yo le dije:

—¿Quién eres tú para decidir lo quees pecado y lo que no es pecado? Al Se-ñor le toca juzgar; a nosotros nos bastacon alabar su misericordia y su santonombre para que lo oigan los demás mor-tales —porque sólo El puede ver dentrode los corazones y aunque la vida de unamujer resulte recta a los ojos de los hom-bres, ella no podrá saber si su corazónestá limpio de pecado hasta que lo abraante el Señor y reciba su gracia. Y ledije—: El que hayas sido una esposa fielno es señal de que tengas el corazón lim-pio de pecado, y el que tu vida haya sidodura no es señal de que la gracia del Señorte absuelva de tus pecados —y ella dijo:

—Yo conozco perfectamente mis pro-pios pecados. Sé que merezco un casti-go. Y no trato de disminuirlo —y yo dije:

—Es tu vanidad la que te lleva a juz-gar el pecado y la salvación en lugar delSeñor. Nuestro destino mortal es sufrir yelevar nuestras voces en alabanza deAquél que enjuicia el pecado y ofrece lasalvación por medio de nuestras tribula-ciones y aflicciones desde tiempo inme-morial amén. No es cosa tuya, ni siquie-ra después de que el reverendo Whitfield,un hombre piadoso inspirado por Dios,rezara por ti y se esforzara como ningúnotro hombre, que no fuera él, hubierahecho —dije yo.

Porque no somos nosotros los quepodemos juzgar nuestros pecados o sa-ber lo que a los ojos del Señor es peca-do. Ha tenido una vida dura, pero eso lespasa a todas las mujeres. Pero a juzgarpor cómo hablaba, uno pensaría que sa-bía más del pecado y de la salvación queel propio Dios Nuestro Señor y que losque se esfuerzan y luchan por combatirel pecado en este mundo. Cuando el único

Cash (3)This section consists of two

sentences, one unfinished. This clearlyindicates that the semi-conscious Cashis preoccupied with the fate of thecoffin, a fate which he predictedbecause the women put Addie into hercoffin the wrong way round in orderto show off the wide hem of her dress.

Cora (3)

This section contains Cora’srecollections of a conversationwith Addie which had taken pla-ce some unspecified time in thepast. For the first time in the book,we hear Addie’s voice indirectlythrough the memory of Cora. It isa voice which speaks of a fullrecognition of sin and anawareness that the hard life withAnse is the punishment for sin.Eventually, Cora realises thatAddie has made Jewel into herGod, looking to him for salvation.

COMMENTARY: Here Corais seen in her usual pose of areligious woman. She sees it as apart of her Christian duty to bringAddie to her senses, which forCora means seeing things as sheherself does. The section is fullof ironies which can only beappreciated when we have readAddie (1), for then we realise thatthe special attention whichWhitfield gave to Addie wentbeyond the spiritual and into thephysical fathering of Jewel. Cora,of course, has no understandingof this nor of the special feelingAddie shows for Jewel.

Addie’s belief in Jewel isabsolute and prophetic, ‘He is mycross and he will be my salvation.He will save me from the waterand from the fire. Even though Ihave laid down my life, he willsave me’. This is a traditionalinvocation of God, yet Addie usesthe words to invoke Jewel and byso doing appals Cora with herblasphemy: ‘I realised that out ofthe vanity of her heart she hadspoken sacrilege’. Cora’s onlyrecourse is to pray for the lost soulof Addie Bundren: ‘I prayed forthat poor blind woman as I hadnever prayed for me and mine’.Ironically, she cannot hope toknow the depths and the natureof Addie’s sinfulness, nor itsinspiration.

85


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

being partial to Jewel that never lovedher and was its own punishment, inpreference to Darl that was touched byGod Himself and considered queer byus mortals and that did love her. I said,“There is your sin. And yourpunishment too. Jewel is yourpunishment. But where is yoursalvation? And life is short enough,”I said, “to win eternal grace in. AndGod is a jealous God. It is His tojudge and to mete; not yours.”

“I know,” she said. “I——” Thenshe stopped, and I said,

“Know what?”

“Nothing,” she said. “He is mycross and he will be my salvation. Hewill save me from the water and fromthe fire. Even though I have laid downmy life, he will save me.”

“How do you know, without youopen your heart to Him and lift yourvoice in His praise?” I said. Then Irealized that she did not mean God.I realized that out of the vanity ofher heart she had spoken sacrilege.And I went down on my knees rightthere. I begged her to kneel and openher heart and cast from it the devilof vanity and cast herself upon themercy of the Lord. But she wouldnt.She just sat there, lost in her vanityand her pride, that had closed herheart to God and set that selfishmortal boy in His place. Kneelingthere I prayed for her. I prayed forthat poor blind woman as I had neverprayed for me and mine.

40ADDIE (1)

IN the afternoon when school was outand the last one had left with his littledirty snuffling nose, instead of goinghome I would go down the hill to thespring where I could be quiet and hate them.It would be quiet there then, withthe water bubbling up and awayand the sun slanting quiet in thetrees and the quiet smelling ofdamp and rotting leaves and newear th ; e spec ia l ly in the ea r lyspring, for it was worst then.

I could just remember how myfather used to say that the reason forliving was to get ready to stay dead along time. And when I would have tolook at them day after day, each withhis and her secret and selfish thought,and blood strange to each other bloodand strange to mine, and think thatthis seemed to be the only way I couldget ready to stay dead, I would hatemy father for having ever planted me.I would look forward to the timeswhen they faulted, so I could whipthem. When the switch fell I couldfeel it upon my flesh; when it weltedand ridged it was my blood that ran,and I would think with each blow ofthe switch: Now you are aware of me!Now I am something in your secret

pecado que cometió fue ser parcial conJewel, que nunca la quiso, y eso fue su cas-tigo, prefiriéndolo a Darl que era un bendi-to de Dios y al que nosotros mortales consi-derábamos raro, y que la quería. Yo dije:

—Ese es tu pecado. Y también tucastigo. Jewe1 es tu castigo. Pero,¿dónde está tu salvación? La vida esmuy corta —dije yo—, para ganar lagracia eterna en ella. Y [164] Dios esun Dios celoso. A Él le toca juzgar y dis-pensar premios y castigos; no a ti.

—Lo sé —dijo ella—. Yo... —luegose interrumpió y yo dije:

—¿Sabes, qué?

—Nada —dijo e l la—. É1 es micruz y será mi sa lvación. Me sal -vará de las aguas y del fuego. In-cluso cuando haya sol tado mi úl t i -mo suspiro , me salvará .

—¿Qué sabes tú, si no has abierto elcorazón al Señor ni alzado la voz paraalabarle? —dije yo.

Entonces me di cuenta de que no serefería a Dios. Me di cuenta de que conla vanidad de su corazón había dicho unsacrilegio. Y caí de rodillas allí mismo.Y le supliqué que se arrodillara y abrieseel corazón y que arrojara de él al demo-nio de la vanidad y se entregara a la mi-sericordia del Señor. Pero no quiso. Sequedó allí sentada, perdida en la vanidady el orgullo que habían cerrado su cora-zón a Dios para albergar a ese muchachotan egoísta en su lugar. Allí arrodilladarecé por ella. Recé por aquella pobre cie-ga como nunca había rezado por mí nipor los míos.

ADDIE

POR la tarde cuando terminaba la es-cuela y se había marchado el último niñosorbiéndose los mocos, en vez de irme acasa iba colina abajo hasta el manantialdonde podía odiarles con tranquilidad.Entonces allí se estaba en silencio y elagua brotaba y se marchaba tranquilamen-te y el sol se colaba oblicuo tranquilamen-te por entre los árboles y olía tranquila-mente a hojas húmedas y medio podridasy a tierra nueva; en especial a principiosde primavera, que era cuando era peor.

Entonces sólo recordaba que mipadre decía que el sentido de la vidaera prepararse para estar muerto mu-cho tiempo. Y cuando tenía que ver-les día tras día, cada uno con sus se-cretos y sus egoísmos personales, yuna sangre extraña en cada uno y ex-traña a la mía y pensaba que éste[165] parecía ser el único modo deestar preparada para morir, odiaba ami padre por haberme engendrado.Siempre andaba buscando ocasión deencontrarles en falta para así pegar-les. Cuando la vara caía la sentía enm i c a r n e ; c u a n d o l e s l e v a n t a b averdugones y ronchas en la piel erami sangre la que corría, y a cada palopensaba: ¡Ahora sabéis quién soy yo!Ahora soy algo en vuestras vidas se-

Addie (1)

This section, which consists ofthe memories of Addie Bundren,clarifies much that has gonebefore. The time at which it isnarrated is not clear, save that itis after the day on which Coraprayed for her.

COMMENTARY: Thecharacter which is revealed in thissection is a complex one, yet thecomplexity is not unexpected forwe have already seen traces of itin Addie’s children. Her owninheritance from her father was anegative one, the idea that thewhole reason for living was toprepare to die. As her memoriesof her feelings about the childrenshe taught in school show, she hadadopted this maxim and it haddistorted her attitudes to life andother living things, ‘1 would hatemy father for ever having plantedme’ she says, and she extends thishatred to all children planted byother fathers, ‘... each with his andher secret and selfish . . . for everand ever ’. The paragraph

86


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

and selfish life, who have markedyour blood with my own for ever andever.

And so I took Anse. I saw him passthe school-house three or four timesbefore I learned that he was drivingfour miles out of his way to do it. Inoticed then how he was beginningto hump—a tall man and young—sothat he looked already like à tall birdhunched in the cold weather, on thewagon-seat. He would pass theschool-house, the wagon creakingslow, his head turning slow to watchthe door of the school-house as thewagon passed, until he went onaround the curve and out of sight. Oneday I went to the door and stood therewhen he passed. When he saw me helooked quickly away and did not lookback again.

In the early spring it was worst.Sometimes I thought that I could notbear it, lying in bed at night, with thewild geese going north and theirhonking coming faint and high andwild out of the wild darkness, andduring the day it would seem asthough I couldn’t wait for the last oneto go so I could go down to the spring.And so when I looked up that day andsaw Anse standing there in hisSunday clothes, turning his hat roundand round in his hands, I said

“If you’ve got any womenfolks,why in the world don’t they make youget your hair cut?”

“I ain’t got none,” he said. Thenhe said suddenly, driving his eyes atme like two hounds in a strange yard:“That’s what I come to see youabout.”

“And make you hold yourshoulders up,” I said. “You haven’tgot any? But you’ve got a house.They tell me you’ve got a house anda good farm. And you live there alone,doing for yourself, do you?” He justlooked at me, turning the hat in hishands. “A new house,” I said. “Areyou going to get married?

And he said again, holding his eyesto mine “That’s what I come to seeyou about.”

Later he to ld me, “ I a in’ t gotno people . So tha t won’t be now o r r y t o y o u . I d o n ’ t r e c k o nyou can say the same.”

“No. I have people. In Jefferson.”

H i s f a c e f e l l a l i t t l e .“ We l l , I g o t a l i t t l e p r o p e r t y.I ’ m f o r e h a n d e d ; I g o t a g o o dh o n e s t n a m e . I k n o w h o wt o w n f o l k s a r e , b u t m a y b ewhe n t h e y t a l k t o m e . . . ”

“They might listen,” I said. “Butthey’ll be hard to talk to.” He waswatching my face. “They’re in the

cretas y egoístas, yo que he señala-do vuestra sangre con la mía parasiempre.

Y así acepté a Anse. Le vi pasar pordelante de la escuela tres o cuatro ve-ces antes de enterarme de que tenía quedar un rodeo de unos seis kilómetrospara ir por allí. Entonces me fijé en queestaba empezando a encorvarse —unhombre alto y joven— conque ya pare-cía un pajarraco encogido por el frío enel asiento de la carreta. Pasaba por de-lante de la escuela, la carreta chirriabalentamente, él volvía lentamente la ca-beza para mirar la puerta de la escuelamientras pasaba la carreta, hasta quedoblaba el recodo y se perdía de vista.Un día salí a la puerta y me quedé allímientras pasaba. Cuando me vio apar-tó rápidamente la vista y no volvió amirar.

A principios de primavera era peor.A veces pensaba que no podría sopor-tarlo, acostada de noche en la casa, ylos patos salvajes rumbo al norte y susgraznidos que llegaban desde lo altodébiles y salvajes en la salvaje oscuri-dad, y durante el día parecía como sino fuera a poder esperar a que se fuerael último niño para poder bajar al ma-nantial. Y así cuando levanté la vistaaquel día y vi a Anse allí de pie con eltraje de los domingos, dando vueltas alsombrero entre las manos, dije:

—Si hay mujeres en su casa ¿porqué diablos no le mandan a que secorte el pelo?

— N o l a s h a y — d i j o é l . L u e -g o , d e r e p e n t e , d i j o , f i j a n d o s u so j o s e n m í c o m o d o s p e r r o s e nc o r r a l a j e n o — : P o r e s o h e v e -n i d o a v e r l a .

—¿Y no le dicen que ande derecho?—dije yo—. ¿No las hay? Pero usted tie-ne una casa. Me contaron que tiene unacasa y una granja que no están nada mal.Así que vive allí solo, haciéndoselo todo,¿no es así? —él se limitaba a [166] mi-rarme, dando vueltas al sombrero entrelas manos—. Una casa nueva —dije yo—. ¿Se va a casar?

Y él volvió a decir, sin apartar sus ojosde los míos:

—Por eso he venido a verla.

Más adelante, me dijo:—No tengo a nadie. Así que no se

debe preocupar por eso. Para mí que us-ted no puede decir lo mismo.

—No. Tengo parientes. En Jefferson.

El rostro se le ensombreció un poco.—Bueno, tengo un poco de terreno.

Soy ahorrador; se me considera un hom-bre honrado. Sé cómo es la gente de laciudad, pero puede que cuando hablenconmigo...

—A lo mejor le escuchan —dijeyo—. Pero será difícil hablar con ellos—me miraba a la cara—. Están en el

contained in these lines issignificant in four distinct ways:

1. It shows Addie as a womanwith a strange, if understandable,sadistic streak who needs to makeher mark on the world by physicalviolence.

2. It shows that this need tobreak through to the ‘secret andselfish’ existence of other peopleis something which she haspassed on to her children in theform of an uncertainty about theirown and other people’sexistences.

3. It is easy to see how a womansuch as the one portrayed herewould have a great influence onthe nature and character of herchildren. There is no mention ofher having physically punishedVardaman, Dewey Dell or Darl,but perhaps the absence of suchpunishment indicates that sherefused to help them to makecontact with her and so to developa sense of their own existence.

4. The paragraph goes someway towards explaining the titleFaulkner has chosen for his book.Here, living is equated with thepreparation for death, so ‘as 1 laydying’ may be taken to mean ‘asI lived’. In one way the wholebook is a record of what AddieBundren did during her life, orpreparation for death, a recordwritten in the characters of herchildren and in the nature of herhusband.

It becomes plain from thissection that Addie felt within herthe stirrings of sexual desire,which she calls ‘the wild blood’.The brief respite from these afterher marriage to Anse is endedwhen she becomes pregnant,‘when I knew that had Cash Iknew that living was terrible’.What Anse calls ‘love’ she comesto lee as an empty word. Yet thesexual longing remains and leadsto the conception of Darl, ‘ThenI believed I would kill Anse. Itwas as though he had tricked me,hidden within a word like a paperscreen and struck me in in theback through it’. However, Addierealices that Anse himself hasbeen tricked, driven on by a deli-re which bears no relation towords, ‘I had been tricked bywords older than Anse or love . .. and . . . my revenge would bethat he would never know that Iwas taking my revenge. Andwhen Darl was born 1 asked Anseto promise to take me back toJefferson when I died’. Addie’srevenge is that she will use Anseto prepare herself for a death spentalone, in a grave quite separatefrom his. But the revenge misfiresand, as we lee in other sectionsof the book, the family fulfil thepromise to Addie almostincidentally.

Addie is responsible for Anse’snegativity, an aspect of hischaracter stressed by all thosewho know him. It may be tracedback to the fact that, after the birthof Darl, his wife decided to treathim as if he were dead, ‘1 wouldbe I; I would let him be the shapeand echo of his word’. She herselfcontinues to grow and to explorethe meaning of experience asopposed to the world of emptywords, thinking that she haddiscovered the real reason for li-

87


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

cemetery.’.

“But your living kin,” he said.“They’ll be different.”

“Will they?” I said. “I don’t know.I never had any other kind.”

So I took Anse. And when I knewthat I had Cash, I knew that livingwas terrible and that this was theanswer to i t . That was when Ilearned that words are no good; thatwords don’t ever fit even what theyare trying to say at. When he wasborn I knew that motherhood wasinvented by someone who had tohave a word for it because the onesthat had the children didn’t carewhether there was a word for it ornot. I knew that fear was inventedby someone that had never had thefear; pride, who never had the pride.I knew that it had been, not that theyhad dirty noses, but that we had hadto use one another by words likespiders dangling by their mouthsfrom a beam, swinging and twistingand never touching, and that onlythrough the blows of the switchcould my blood and their blood flowas one stream. I knew that it hadbeen, not that my aloneness had tobe violated over and over each day,but that it had never been violateduntil Cash came. Not even by Ansein the nights.

He had a word, too. Love, hecalled it. But I had been used towords for a long time. I knew thatthat word was like the others: just ashape to fill a lack; that when theright time came, you wouldn’t needa word for that any more than forpride or fear. Cash did not need tosay it to me nor I to him, and I wouldsay, Let Anse use it, if he wants to.So that it was Anse or love; love orAnse: it didn’t matter.

I would think that even while I laywith him in the dark and Cash asleepin the cradle within the swing of myhand. I would think that if he were towake and cry, I would suckle him,too. Anse or love: it didn’t matter. Myaloneness had been violated and thenmade whole again by the violation:time, Anse, love, what you will,outside the circle.

Then I found that I had Darl. Atfirst I would not believe it. Then Ibelieved that I would kill Anse. Itwas as though he had tricked me,hidden within a word like within apaper screen and struck me in theback through it. But then I realizedthat I had been tricked by wordsolder than Anse or love, and thatthe same word had tricked Ansetoo, and that my revenge would bethat he would never know I wastaking revenge. And when Darlwas born I asked Anse to promiseto take me back to Jefferson whenI died, because I knew that father

cementerio.

—Pues los que estén vivos —dijo él—serán diferentes.

—¿Cree usted? —dije yo—. No lo sé.Nunca los tuve de otra clase.

Conque acepté a Anse. Y cuando meenteré de que iba a tener a Cash, com-prendí que la vida era terrible y que estoes lo que nos trae. Fue cuando aprendíque las palabras no sirven para nada; quelas palabras no se corresponden ni siquie-ra con lo que tratan de decir. Cuando na-ció comprendí que maternidad había sidoinventado por alguien que tenía que te-ner una palabra con que llamarlo, por-que a los que tienen hijos no les interesasi existe una palabra para llamar eso ono. Comprendí que el miedo fue inven-tado por alguien que nunca había senti-do el miedo; y el orgullo, por quien nun-ca había tenido orgullo. Comprendí quehabía sido eso, no que tuvieran las nari-ces sucias, sino que nos habíamos tenidoque usar unos a otros por medio de laspalabras como arañas que se cuelgan porla boca de una viga, se balancean y re-tuercen sin tocarse nunca, y que sólo pormedio de la vara mi sangre podría mez-clarse con la suya en una sola corriente.Comprendí que había sido eso, no quemi soledad hubiese tenido que ser viola-da una y otra vez cada día, sino que nun-ca había sido violada hasta que llegóCash. Ni siquiera de noche por Anse.

También él tenía una palabra. Amor, lollamaba. Pero [167] yo llevaba mucho tiem-po acostumbrada a las palabras. Sabía queesa palabra era como las demás: sólo unaforma de llenar una carencia; que cuandollegase el momento preciso uno no nece-sitaría una palabra para llamarlo, como nola necesitaba para el miedo o el orgullo.Cash no necesitaba decírmela ni yo a él, yyo decía: Que la use Anse si quiere. Con-que era lo mismo Anse o amor que amoro Anse: no importaba.

Solía pensar en eso mientras yacíajunto a él en la oscuridad y Cash dor-mía en la cuna al alcance de mi mano.Solía pensar también que si se des-pertaba y lloraba, le daría de mamar.Anse o amor: no importaba. Habíanviolado mi soledad y luego la propiaviolación había venido a restablecer-la: t iempo, Anse, amor, lo que sequiera, fuera del círculo.

Entonces me enteré de que iba a tenera Darl. Al principio no lo quería creer.Luego creí que iba a matar a Anse. Eracomo si me hubiera engañado, como sise hubiera escondido detrás de una pala-bra igual que detrás de un biombo depapel para darme un golpe por la espal-da a través de él. Pero luego comprendíque había sido engañada por palabras másviejas que Anse o amor, y que la mismapalabra también había engañado a Anse,y que mi venganza consistiría en que élnunca se enteraría de que me estaba ven-gando. Y cuando Darl nació le pedí aAnse que prometiese que cuando murie-ra me llevaría de vuelta a Jefferson, por-

ving was to be found in the sexualdrive, ‘the reason was the dutyto the alive, to the terrible blood,the red bitter blood boilingthrough the land’. These feelingslead Addie into a delire to explo-re the real experience of, asopposed to the word, ‘sin’, ‘Iwould think of sin as 1 wouldthink of the clothes we both worein the world’s face, . . . the sinthe more utter and terrible lincehe was the instrument ordainedof God who created sin, tosanctify that sin He had created’.

Although this wild delire for aman of the cloth might seem likea kind of depravity, Addie’schoice of Whitfield as a loverpossesses a species of pervertedlogic. Only once she has exploredthe meaning of sin can she knowthe meaning of the opposite,virtue, and live in peace withherself, knowing that what shedoes is ‘real’. So she takesWhitfield. After these excesses,she is ready to accept ‘fidelity’and ‘virtue’ as valid concepts,‘and so I have cleaned my house. . . the wild blood boiled awayand the sound of it ceased’. Theirvalidity depends, of course, on thesatisfaction of sexual delire, andthis Addie has got throughWhitfield and through the birth ofJewel.

As Addie’s section reveals,what she did as she ‘lay dying’was eccentric but valid. She gotaway from the meaningless wordsof religion and found for herselfthe truth in actual experience, sothat she and Cora talk on quitedifferent leeels, Cora preachingacceptance and enacting it againsta meaningless litany of high-sounding phrases, Addietravelling a long, hand road untilshe finally reaches an acceptanceof life and of death based onexperience. But the road she hastravelled through her life, like theroad she finally takes to her gra-ve, is strewn with victims of herselfishness. The family reachJefferson in a sorry state, Jeweldeprived of his horse, Darl of hissenses, Dewey Dell of herabortion and Cash of his leg. Buteven before they have set out onthe actual journey, all of themhave in some way been sacrificedon the altar of Addie’s search fortruth. Darl suffers most, for hismother felt at her worst after hisbirth, passing on to him a senseof the separation between wordand deed which finally leads himto the asylum for the insane inJackson.

We see, after reading thissection, that the actual journey toJefferson, carrying the greatburden of her decaying corpse,closely and ironically parallels thelives which the members of thefamily have led up to this point,which were dominated andshaped by the force of AddieBundren. She was concerned onlywith preparing herself for death,regardless of the toll suchpreparations might take on thosearound her. She is not, of course,entirely to blame. She herselfreceived a warped inheritancefrom her own father, the notionof life as a preparation for death,but she does nothing to make theinheritance she passes on to herown children any better than the

88


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

had been r igh t , even when hecouldn’t have known he was rightany more than I could have knownI was wrong.

“Nonsense,” Anse said; “you andme ain’t nigh done chapping yet, withjust two.”

He did not know that he was dead,then. Sometimes I would lie by himin the dark, hearing the land that wasnow of my blood and flesh, and Iwould think: Anse. Why Anse. Whyare you Anse. I would think about hisname until after a while I could seethe word as a shape, a vessel, and Iwould match him liquefy and flowinto it like cold molasses flowing outof the darkness into the vessel, untilthe jar stood full and motionless: asignificant shape profoundly withoutlife like an empty door frame; andthen I would find that I had forgottenthe name of the jar. I would think: Theshape of my body where I used to bea virgin is in the shape of a andI couldn’t think Anse, couldn’tremember Anse. It was not that Icould think of myself as no longerunvirgin, because I was three now.And when I would think Cash andDarl that way until their names woulddie and solidify into a shape and thenfade away, I would say, All right. Itdoesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter whatthey call them.

And so when Cora Tull would tellme I was not a true mother, I wouldthink how words go straight up in athin line, quick and harmless, andhow terribly doing goes along theearth, clinging to it, so that after awhile the two lines are too far apartfor the same person to straddle fromone to the other; and that sin and loveand fear are just sounds that peoplewho never sinned nor loved norfeared have for what they never hadand cannot have until they forget thewords. Like Cora, who could nevereven cook.

She would tell me what I owed tomy children and to Anse and to God.I gave Anse the children. I did not askfor them. I did not even ask him forwhat he could have given me:not-Anse. That was my duty to him,to not ask that, and that duty Ifulfilled. I would be I; I would let himbe the shape and echo of his word.That was more than he asked, becausehe could not have asked for that andbeen Anse, using himself so with aword.

And then he died. He did not knowhe was dead. I would lie by him inthe dark, hearing the dark land talkingof God’s love and His beauty and Hissin; hearing the dark voicelessness inwhich the words are the deeds, andthe other words that are not deeds,that are just the gaps in peoples’ lacks,coming down like the cries of thegeese out of the wild darkness in the

que supe que mi padre había tenido ra-zón, aunque no hubiera podido saber quela tenía igual que yo no podía saber queestaba equivocada.

—¡Qué tontería! —dijo Anse—. Túy yo todavía no lo vamos a dejar, consólo dos.

No sabía que entonces él ya estabamuerto. A veces yacía en la oscuridadjunto a él, oyendo la tierra que ahoraera de mi sangre y de mi carne, y pen-saba: Anse. ¿Por qué Anse? ¿Por qué erestú Anse? Y pensaba en su nombre hastaque al cabo de un rato veía que la pala-bra tenía forma, era una vasija, y veíaque él se licuaba y se iba vistiendo den-tro como melaza fría fluyendo de la os-curidad en la vasija, hasta que la jarraquedaba llena e inmóvil: una forma[168] significativa, profundamenteinerte como un dintel vacío— y en-tonces me daba cuenta de que habíaolvidado el nombre de la jarra. Y pen-saba: La forma de mi cuerpo cuandoera virgen tiene la forma de un yno podía pensar Anse, ni rec o r d a rAnse . No era que pudiese pensaren mí misma como no v i rgen ya ,porque ahora yo e ra t res . Y cuan-do pensaba Cash y Darl de esa mis-ma manera, hasta que sus nombres mo-rían y se solidificaban en una forma yluego se desvanecían, yo decía: Muybien. No importa. No importa cómolos l lamen.

Así que cuando Cora Tull me decíaque yo no era una auténtica madre, pen-saba en cómo las palabras suben derechasen una fina línea rápida e inofensiva, yde qué modo terrible los hechos se que-dan a ras del suelo, pegados a él de modoque al cabo de un rato las dos líneas es-tán tan separadas que una persona no laspuede pisar a la vez; y que pecado y amory miedo sólo son sonidos que las perso-nas que nunca pecaron ni amaron ni tu-vieron miedo usan para eso que nuncasintieron y no pueden sentir hasta que seolviden de las palabras. Como Cora queni siquiera sabía cocinar.

So l ía dec i rme lo que yo les de-b ía a mis h i jos y a Anse y a Dios .Le d i los h i jos a Anse . Yo no losped í . N i s i qu i e r a l e ped í l o quepodía haberme dado: no -Anse. Eseera mi deber hac ia é l , no ped i r leeso y ese deber lo cumpl í . Yo e rayo misma; a é l le dejaba ser la for-ma y e l eco de sus pa labras . Eramás de lo que me pedía , porque nopodía ped i r lo y se r Anse , s i rv ién-dose de s í mismo por medio de unapa labra .

Y entonces murió. Y él no sabía queestaba muerto. Yacía junto a él en la os-curidad y oía a la tierra oscura hablar delamor de Dios y de su belleza y su peca-do; escuchaba el oscuro silencio en quelas palabras son los hechos, y las demáspalabras que no son hechos, que sólo sonlos huecos de las carencias de la gente,que bajaban como los graznidos de lospatos desde la salvaje oscuridad en las

one she herself received.The section is the revealing

centre of the book. The fact thatit is placed more than halfwaythrough the novel is not acciden-tal, for Addie Bundren continuesto exert an influence even aftershe is dead, so she has a right tospeak after physical death.

89


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

old terrible nights, fumbling at thedeeds like orphans to whom are pointedout in a crowd two faces and told, Thatis your father, your mother.

I believed that I had found it. Ibelieved that the reason was the dutyto the alive, to the terrible blood, thered bitter flood boiling through thedad. I would think of sin as I wouldthink of the clothes we both wore inthe world’s face, of diecircumspection necessary because hewas he and I was I; the sin the moreutter and terrible since he was theinstrument ordained by God whocreated the sin, to sanctify that sin Hehad created. While I waited for himin the woods, waiting for him beforehe saw me, I would think of him asdressed in sin. I would think of himas thinking of me as dressed also insin, he the more beautiful since thegarment which he had exchanged forsin was sanctified. I would think ofthe sin as garments which we wouldremove in order to shape and coercethe terrible blood to the forlorn echoof the dead word high in the air. ThenI would lay with Anse again—I did notlie to him: I just refused just as I refusedmy breast to Cash and Darl after theirtime was up—hearing the dark landtalking the voiceless speech.

I hid nothing. I tried to deceiveno one. I would not have cared. Imerely took the precautions that hethought necessary for his sake, notfor my safety, but just as I woreclothes in the world’s face. And Iwould think then when Cora talkedto me, of how the high dead wordsin time seemed to lose even thesignificante of their dead sound.

Then it was over. Over in thesense that he was gone and I knewthat, see him again though I would,I would never again see him comingswift and secret to me in the woodsdressed in s in l ike a gal lantgarment already blowing aside withthe speed of his secret coming.

But for me it was not over. I mean,over in the sense of beginning andending, because to me there was nobeginning nor ending to anythingthen. I even held Anse refrainingstill, not that I was holding himrecessional, but as though nothingelse had ever been. My children wereof me alone, of the wild blood boilingalong the earth, of me and of all thatlived; of none and of all. Then Ifound that I had Jewel. When Iwaked to remember to discover it, hewas two months gone.

My father said that the reason forliving is getting ready to stay dead. Iknew at last what he meant and thathe could not have known what he meanthimself, because a man cannot knowanything about cleaning up the houseafterward. And so I have cleaned myhouse. With Jewel—I lay by the lamp,

terribles noches de antaño, tanteando loshechos como huérfanos a los que se lesseñalasen dos rostros en una multitud yles dijesen: Ese es tu padre, tu madre.

Creí que lo había descubierto. Creíque el sentido era el deber de los vivos,para con la terrible sangre, la amargasangre roja que corre hirviente por latierra. Pensaba en el pecado como pen-saba en la ropa que los dos llevábamosa la vista del mundo, en la composturanecesaria dado que él era él y, yo erayo; el pecado tanto más grave y horri-ble por cuanto él era el instrumento dis-puesto por Dios que creó el pecado, parasantificar ese pecado que El había crea-do. Mientras le esperaba en el bosque,mientras le esperaba antes de que meviera, me lo imaginaba vestido de peca-do. Pensaba que él también me imagi-naría a mí vestida de pecado, aunque élel más hermoso porque la vestidura quehabía cambiado por la de pecado estabasantificada. Imaginaba el pecado comolas prendas que nos quitábamos con ob-jeto de conformar y forzar la terriblesangre al desamparado eco de esa pala-bra muerta que cuelga en el aire. Luegome volvía a acostar con Anse —no lementía; sólo me negaba a él, igual queles negaba el pecho a Cash y a Darl encuanto crecieron—y oía a la oscura tie-rra pronunciar su mudo discurso.

No ocultaba nada. No trataba de enga-ñar a nadie. No me hubiera preocupado.Simplemente tomaba las precauciones queél consideraba necesarias para sí mismo,no por mi seguridad, pero del mismo modoque me vestía a la vista del mundo. Y en-tonces, cuando Cora me hablaba, pensa-ba que las altisonantes palabras muertascon el tiempo parecían perder hasta elmismo significado de su sonido muerto.

Luego todo se acabó. Se acabó en el sen-tido de que él se fue y de que yo me di cuen-ta de que, aunque lo volviera a ver, nunca levolvería a ver acercándose veloz y secretohacia mí por entre los árboles vestidode pecado como si llevara un garbosoropaje que se entreabría con la veloci-dad de su secreta aproximación.

Pero para mí no se había acabado.Quiero decir, acabar en el sentido de loque empieza y termina, porque para mípor entonces nada empezaba ni termina-ba. Incluso seguí rechazando a Anse, nocomo si le rechazara por primera vez,sino como si siempre le hubiera rechaza-do. Mis hijos [170] eran sólo míos, de lasangre salvaje que hierve por la tierra;sólo míos y de todo lo que vive: de nadiey de todo. Luego me enteré de que iba atener a Jewel. Cuando desperté para acor-darme de descubrirlo, hacía dos mesesque él se había ido.

Mi padre decía que la finalidad de lavida es prepararse para estar muerto. Porfin entendí lo que quería decir y que élno podía haber sabido lo que quería de-cir, porque un hombre no puede saberlo que significa limpiar la casa después.Y así yo he limpiado mi casa. Con Jewel—estaba acostada junto a la lámpara,

garboso 1. adj. Airoso, gallardo y bien dispuesto.2. fig. Magnánimo, dadivoso.

gallant adj. 1 brave, chivalrous. 2 a (of a ship, horse, etc.)grand, fine, stately. b archaic finely dressed. 3 a markedlyattentive to women. b concerned with sexual love; amatory.— n. 1 a ladies’ man; a lover or paramour. 2 archaic a manof fashion; a fine gentleman. — v. 1 tr. flirt with. 2 tr. escort;act as a cavalier to (a lady). 3 intr. a play the gallant. b (foll.by with) flirt.

gallant 1 valiente, gallardo 2 cortés, galante. El vocablo suguiere cortés en ambas lenguas, pero en

cada una añade matices nuevos: gallant parece recalcar laidea de valentía, como valiente, gallardo, espléndido mien-tras que galante da más peso a connotaciones de cortesíay elegancia en castellano; en inglés los flirteos se convier-ten en favores sexuales hasta el punto de ser un eufemis-mo por prostitución.

90


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

holding up my own head, watchinghim cap and suture it before hebreathed—the wild blood boiled awayand the sound of it ceased. Then therewas only the milk, warm and calm, andI lying calm in the slow silence, gettingready to clean my house.

I gave Anse Dewey Dell tonegative Jewel. Then I gave himVardaman to replace the child I hadrobbed him of. And now he has threechildren that are his and not mine.And then I could get ready to die.

One day I was talking to Cora.She prayed for me because shebe l i eved I was b l ind to s in ,wanting me to kneel and pray too,because people to whom sin is justa ma t t e r o f words , t o themsalvation is just words too.

41WHITFIELD (1)

WHEN they told me she wasdying, all that night I wrestled withSatan, and I emerged victorious. Iwoke to the enormity of my sin; I sawthe true light at last, and I fell on- myknees and confessed to God. Andasked his guidance and received it.“Rise,” He said; “repair to that homein which you have put a living lie,among those people with whom youhave outraged My Word; confess yoursin aloud. It is for them, for that deceivedhusband, to forgive you: not I”

So I went. I heard that Tull’sbridge was gone; I said “Thanks, OLord, O Mighty Ruler of all “; forby those dangers and difficultieswhich I should have to surmount Isaw that He had not abandoned me;that my reception again into His holypeace and love would be the sweeterfor it. “Just let me not perish beforeI have begged the forgiveness of theman whom I betrayed,” I prayed; “letme not be too late; let not the tale ofmine and her transgression comefrom her lips instead of mine. Shehad sworn then that she would revertell it, but eternity is a fearsome thingto face: have I not wrestled thigh tothigh with Satan myself? let me nothave also the sin of her broken vowupon my soul. Let not the waters ofThy mighty wrath encompass meuntil I have cleansed my soul in thepresence of them whom I injured.”

It was His hand that bore mesafely above the flood, that fendedfrom me the dangers of the waters.My horse was frightened, and myown heart failed me as the logs andthe uprooted trees bore down uponmy littleness. But not my soul timeafter time I saw them averted atdestruction’s final instant, and Ilifted my voice above the noise ofthe flood: “Praise to thee, O MightyLord and King. By this token shall Icleanse my soul and gain again intothe fold of Thy undying love.”

sujetándomela cabeza, mirándole cortar-lo y suturarlo hasta que se puso a respi-rar— la salvaje sangre se amansó y cesósu sonido. Luego ya no hubo más que laleche, caliente y tranquila, y yo yacien-do en calma en el lento silencio dispues-ta a limpiar mi casa.

Le di a Anse Dewey Del l paraa n u l a r l o d e J e w e l . L u e g o l e d iVardaman para reemplazar al hi joque le había robado. Y ahora tienetres hijos que son suyos y no míos.Y entonces pude prepararme para morir.

Un día estaba hablando con Cora.Rezó por mí porque creía que yo era cie-ga para el pecado y quiso que me arrodi-llara y también rezase, porque las perso-nas para las que el pecado es sólo unacuestión de palabras, la salvación tam-bién es sólo palabras.

WHITFIELD

CUANDO me dijeron que se esta-ba muriendo, toda la noche luché con-tra Satanás y salí victorioso. Desper-té a la enormidad de mi pecado; al finvi la auténtica luz y caí de rodillas yme confesé a Dios y le pedí su conse-jo y lo rec ib í . «Levánta te» —medijo—, «acude a esa casa en la quehas introducido una mentira viva, aesa gente entre la que has ultrajadoMi Verbo; confiesa tu pecado en vozalta. Es a ellos, a ese marido engañado,a quienes les toca perdonarte: no a Mí».Conque fui. Oí que el puente de Tull selo habían llevado las aguas; dije: «¡Gra-cias Dios mío, Supremo Hacedor detodo!»; pues en estas pruebas y dificul-tades que debía superar vi que no mehabía abandonado; que mi readmisión ensu santa paz y en su santo amor resulta-ría así todavía más dulce. «Sólo te pidoque no me dejes morir antes de habersuplicado el perdón del hombre al quetraicioné» —supliqué—; «no permitasque se me haga tarde; y no permitas queel relato de la falta que cometimos ella yyo salga de sus labios y no de los míos.Ella me juró entonces que nunca lo con-taría, pero la eternidad es una cosa terri-ble de afrontar: ¿no he luchado, yo mis-mo a brazo partido con Satanás? No per-mitas que también el pecado de su perjuriocaiga sobre mi conciencia. No permitasque las aguas de tu Divina Ira me rodeenhasta que haya lavado mi alma en presen-cia de aquellos a los que injurié».

Fue su mano la que me sacó sano ysalvo de la riada, la que fue apartandode mí los peligros de las aguas. Mi ca-ballo estaba aterrado, y mi propio cora-zón desfallecía cuando los troncos y losárboles arrancados amenazaban mi in-significancia. Pero no desfalleció mialma; una y otra vez los veía desviarseen el instante de la destrucción final, yelevaba mi voz por encima del ruido dela riada: «¡Gloria a Ti, Señor Todopo-deroso! Con esta prueba limpiaré mialma y volveré a entrar en el redil de tuamor imperecedero.»

Whitfield (1)

This section containsWhitfield’s unspoken thoughts ashe travels to the Bundren farm onthe night of Addie’s death.

COMMENTARY: It is noaccident that Addie’s section,which is concerned with thehonest desire to explore actuality,should be sandwiched betweensections narrated by characterswho tend to dwell on words to theexclusion of deeds. Whitfield setsout for the Bundrens’ farm in aspirit of nobility and confessionbut ends up by acting with acowardice to which he reconcileshimself through the use of emptywords, ‘God’s grace upon thishouse’. He thus confirms Addie’sidea that words and deeds areseparate and stands revealed as aninadequate man, far lesscourageous than she but perhapsa little more practical and awareof human frailty.

in the middle of

encompass v.tr. 1 surround or form a circleabout, esp. to protect or attack. 2 contain.

91


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

I knew then that forgiveness wasmine. The flood, the danger, behind,and as I rode on across the firm earthagain and the scene of myGethsemane drew closer and closer,I framed the words which I shoulduse. I would enter the house; I wouldstop her before she had spoken; Iwould say to her husband: “Anse, Ihave sinned. Do with me as you will.”

I t was a l ready as though i twere done. My soul fel t f reer,q u i e t e r t h a n i t h a d i n y e a r s ;a l r e a d y I s e e m e d t o d w e l l i nabiding peace again as I rode on.To either side I saw His hand; in.my heart I could hear His voice:“Courage. I am with thee.

Then I reached Tull’s house. Hisyoungest girl came out and called tome as I was passing. She told me thatshe was already dead.

I have sinned, O Lord. Thouknowest the extent of my remorse andthe will of my spirit. But He ismerciful; He will accept the will forthe deed, Who knew that when Iframed the words of my confession itwas to Anse I spoke them, even thoughhe was not there. It was He in Hisinfinite wisdom that restrained the talefrom her dying lips as she laysurrounded by those who loved andtrusted her; mine the travail by waterwhich I sustained by the strength of Hishand. Praise to Thee in Thy bounteousand omnipotent love; O praise.

I entered the house of bereavement,the lowly dwelling where another err-ing mortal lay while her soul faced theawful and irrevocable judgment, peaceto her ashes.

“God’s grace upon this house,” Isaid.

42DARL (14)

ON the horse he rode up toArmstid’s and came back on thehorse, leading Armstid’s team. Webitched up and laid Cash on top ofAddie. When we laid him down hevomited again, but he got his headover the wagon bed in time.

“He taken a lick in the stomachtoo,” Vernon said.

“The horse may have kicked himin the stomach too,” I said. “Did hekick you in the stomach., Cash?”

He tried to say something. DeweyDell wiped his mouth again.

“What’s he say?” Vernon said.

“ W h a t i s i t , C a s h ? ”D e w e y D e l l s a i d . S h e l e a n e dd o w n . “ H i s t o o l s , ” s h e s a i d .Vernon got them and put them intothe wagon. Dewey Dell lifted Cash’s

Entonces comprendí que obtendría elperdón. La riada, el peligro, superados,y mientras cabalgaba otra vez en tierrafirme y la escena de mi Getsemaní seacercaba más y más, me puse a hilvanarlas palabras que debía usar. Entraría enla casa; interrumpiría las palabras de ellaantes de que empezase a hablar; le diríaa su marido: «Anse, he pecado. Haz con-migo lo que quieras.»

Era como si ya lo hubiera hecho. Mialma se sentía más libre, más tranquilade lo que se había sentido desde hacíaaños; ya me parecía morar en una pazpermanente una vez más a medida quecabalgaba. Por todas partes veía Sumano; en mi corazón oía decir a Su voz:«Valor. Estoy a tu lado.» [172]

L u e g o l l e g u é a c a s a d e Tu l l .S u h i j a m e n o r s a l i ó y m e l l a m óc u a n d o p a s a b a . M e d i j o q u e y as e h a b í a m u e r t o .

He pecado, Señor. Bien sabes lo pro-fundo de mi remordimiento y la decisiónde mi alma. Pero Él es misericordioso;Él aceptará mi intención en lugar delacto; Él sabe que cuando hilvané las pa-labras de mi confesión era a Anse a quiense las decía, aunque no estuviese presen-te. Fue El en su infinita sabiduría quienimpidió que de sus labios moribundossaliera la historia mientras yacía rodea-da de los que la amaban y confiaban enella; a mí me correspondía cruzar aque-llas aguas que afrontaba gracias a la fuer-za de su mano. Gloria a Ti en Tu magná-nimo y omnipotente amor; gloria.

Entré en la casa de la congoja, lahumilde morada donde yacía otra po-bre descarriada mientras su alma en-caraba el juicio terrible e irrevocable.Descanse en paz.

—La paz de Dios sea con vosotros —dije.

DARL

Se fue a caballo a casa de Armstidy volvió a caballo, conduciendo eltiro de Armstid. Las enganchamos ytumbamos a Cash encima de Addie.Cuando lo tumbamos volvió a vomi-tar, pero sacó la cabeza por encimade la caja de la carreta a tiempo.

—También se ha golpeado en el estó-mago —dijo Vernon.

—A lo mejor el caballo también le hapegado una coz en el estómago —dije yo—.¿Te ha dado una coz en el estómago, Cash?

Intentó decir algo. Dewey Dell le vol-vió a limpiar la boca.

—¿Qué ha dicho? —dijo Vernon.

— ¿ Q u é t e p a s a , C a s h ? — d i j oD e w e y D e l l . S e i n c l i n ó s o b r eé l — . S u s h e r r a m i e n t a s — d i j o .

Vernon las cogió y las metió en la ca-rreta. Dewey Dell levantó la cabeza de

Darl (14)

This section consists of Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as the family collectthemselves and leave the river tospend the night in Armstid’s barn.While observing all that is goingon round him, Darl is peculiarlyobsessed with Jewel’s actions atthis point, an obsession which ismarked in the text by theappearance of italic printwhenever Darl is thinking ofJewel.

COMMENTARY: Jewel hasjust rescued his mother’s corpsefrom the river, an action whichseems to bring to Darl’s mind thespecial relationship betweenAddie and Jewel and so focuseshis attention on Jewel. After thefamily are settled in the Armstid’shouse, Darl has an unverbalised

bereavement deprive of a relation, friend,etc., esp. by death. Luto, duelo, des-gracia, aflicción

92


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

head so he could see. We drove on,Dewey Dell and I sitting beside Cashto steady him and he riding on aheadon the horse. Vernon stood watchingus for a while. Then he turned andwent back toward the bridge. Hewalked gingerly, beginning to flap thewet sleeves of his shirt as though hehad just got wet.

He was sitting the horse before thegate. Armstid was waiting at the gate.We stopped and he got down and welifted Cash down and carried him intothe house, where Mrs. Armstid hadthe bed ready. We left her and DeweyDell undressing him.

We followed pa out to the wagon.He went back and got into thewagon and drove on, we followingon foot, into the lot. The wetting hadhelped, because Armst id sa id ,“ Y o u w e l c o m e t o t h eh o u s e . Yo u c a n p u t i t t h e r e . ”H e fol lowed, leading the horse,and stood beside the wagon, thereins in his hand.

“I thank you,” pa said. “We’ll usein the shed yonder. I know. it’s aimposition on you.”

“You’re welcome to the house,”Arms t id sa id . H e ha d t h a twooden look on h is face again;tha t bo ld , sur ly , high-colouredr i g i d l o o k l i k e h i s f a c e a n deyes were two colours o f wood,t h e w ro n g o n e p a l e a n d t h ewrong one dark . His sh ir t wasb e g i n n i n g t o d r y, b u t i t s t i l lc lung c lose upon h im when hemoved .

“She would appreciate it,” pasaid.

We took the team out and rolledthe wagon back under the shed. Oneside of the shed was open.

“It won’t rain under,” Armstidsaid. “But if you’d rather . . .”

Back of the barn was some rustedsheets of tin roofing. We took two ofthem and propped them against theopen side.

“You’re welcome to the house,”Armstid said.

“I thank you,” pa said. “I’d take itright kind if you’d give them a littlesnack.”

“Sho,” Armstid said. “Lula’l lh a v e s u p p e r r e a d y s o o n a ss h e g e t s C a s h c o m f o r t a b l e .”He had gone back to the horseand he was taking the saddle off,his damp shirt lapping flat to himwhen be moved.

Pa wouldn’t come in the house.

“Come in and eat,” Armstid said.

Cash para que las vieras. Después echa-mos [173] a andar, Dewey Dell y yo sen-tados al lado de Cash para sostenerle yél marchaba delante a caballo. Vernonse quedó un rato mirándonos. Luego diomedia vuelta y volvió en dirección alpuente. Andaba con cuidado, agitando lasmangas mojadas de su camisa como si selas acabase de mojar.

Estaba a caballo delante de la cerca.Armstid esperaba a la puerta. Nos detu-vimos y él desmontó y bajamos a Cashde la carreta y lo llevamos dentro de lacasa, donde Mrs. Armstid ya había pre-parado una cama. Dejamos que ella yDewey Dell lo desnudaran.

Salimos y seguimos a padre hasta lacarreta. Volvió a montar en la carreta yla metió en el corral mientras nosotros leseguíamos a pie. La mojadura nos ayu-daba, porque Armstid dijo:

—Bienvenidos a esta casa. Podéisdejar la carreta ahí.

Él siguió detrás, llevando al caballode la brida y se quedó junto a la carreta,con las bridas en la mano.

—Te lo agradezco —dijo padre—.Nos arreglaremos con el cobertizo de allábajo. Sé que abusamos de ti.

—Estáis en vuestra casa —dijoArmst id . Tenía de nuevo aquel lamirada de madera en la cara; aque-lla mirada retadora, hosca, subidade color y rígida como si su cara ysus ojos fueran dos maderas de dis-t into color, pero con lo claro y looscuro al revés. Se le estaba empe-zando a secar la camisa, pero to-davía se le pegaba el cuerpo cuan-do se movía.

—Ella te lo hubiera agradecido —dijopadre .

Desenganchamos las mulas y empu-jamos la carreta debajo del cobertizo.Uno de los lados estaba abierto.

—Ahí debajo no se mojará —dijoArmstid—. Pero si preferís...

De t rás de l g ranero hab ía unascuantas chapas de c inc oxidadas .Cogimos dos de ellas y tapamos ellado abierto.

—Estáis en vuestra casa —dijoArmstid.

—Muchas gracias —dijo padre—. Teagradecería mucho si les dieras algo decomer.

—Claro —dijo Armstid—. Lula pre-parará la cena en cuanto termine de aco-modar a Cash. [174]

Había vue l to a l caba l loy lo e s -t a b a d e s e n s i l l a n d o ; s u c a m i s am o j a d a s e l e p e g a b a a l c u e r p ocuando se mov ía .

Padre no quería entrar en la casa.

—Entra a comer algo —dijo

image of his brother, who isseeing to his horse in the barn.The image is much like the onein Darl (2), with the emphasis onthe agility of Jewel, the gaudinessof the horse and the ‘obsceneferocity’ with which Jeweladdresses his animal. Suchrepetitions of imagery strengthenthe impression Faulkner is buil-ding up of his characters.

surly bad-tempered and unfriendly; churlish,mean, hosco, arisco, huraño.

93


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“It’s nigh ready.”

“I wouldn’t crave nothing,” pasaid. “I thank you.

“ Yo u c o m e i n a n d d r y a n deat,” Armstid said. “It’ll be allright here.”

“It’s for her,” pa said. “It’s for hersake I am taking the food. I got noteam, no nothing. But she will begrateful to ere a one of you.”

“Sho,” Armstid said. “You folkscome in and dry.”

But after Armstid gave pa a drink,he felt better, and when, we went into see about Cash he hadn’t come inwith us. When I looked back he wasleading the horse into the barn he wasalready talking about getting anotherteam, and by supper time he had goodas bought it. He is down there in thebarn, sliding fluidly past the gaudylunging swirl, into the stall with it.He climbs on to the manger and dragsthe hay down and leaves the stall andseeks and finds the curry-comb. Thenbe returns and slips quickly past thesingle crashing thump and up againstthe horse, where it cannot over-reach.He applies the curry-comb, holdinghimself within the horse’s strikingradius with the agility of an acrobat,cursing the horse in a whisper ofobscene caress. Its head flashes back,tooth-cropped; its eyes roll in the darklike marbles on a gaudy velvet clothas he strikes it upon the face with theback of the curry-comb.

43ARMSTID (1)

BUT time I give him another supof whisky and supper was aboutready, he had done already boughta team from somebody, on a credit.Picking and choosing he were bythen, saying how he didn’t like thisspan and wouldn’t put his moneyin nothing so-and-so owned, noteven a hen coop.

“You might try Snopes,” I said.“He’s got three-four span. Maybe oneof them would suit you.’’

Then he begun to mumble hismouth, looking at me like it was methat owned the only span of mulesin the country and wouldn’t sellthem to him, when I knew that likeas not it would be my team thatwould ever get them out of the lotat all. Only I don’t know what theywould do with them, if they had ateam. Littlejohn had told me that thelevee through Haley bottom haddone gone for two miles and that theonly way to get to Jefferson wouldbe to go around by Mottson. But thatwas Anse’s business.

“He’s a close man to trade with,”he says, mumbling his mouth. But

Armstid—. Está casi listo.

—No pido nada —dijo padre—. Te loagradezco.

—Entra a secarte y a comer algo —dijo Armstid—. Eso estará perfectamen-te aquí.

—Lo haré por ella —dijo padre—.Tomaré un bocado en memoria suya. Notengo ni mulas, ni nada. Pero ella os loagradecerá a todos vosotros.

—Claro, claro —dijo Armstid—. Ven-ga, entrad todos a secaros.

Pero después de que Armstid le dieraun trago, padre se sintió mejor, y cuandoentramos a ver cómo seguía Cash él novino con nosotros. Cuando volví la cabeconducía el caballo al establo ya estabahablando de conseguir otro tiro y al sen-tarnos a la mesa a cenar ya daba la cosapor hecha. Está allá abajo en el establo,desliándose con fluidez al otro lado delagresivo torbellino brillante, metiéndoseen el pesebre con él. Trepa al pajar y bajacon heno y sale del pesebre y busca y en-cuentra una almohaza. Luego vuelve yesquiva la única pero tremenda coz delcaballo y se pone a su lado, allí donde nole puede alcanzar. Empuña la almohaza,manteniéndose dentro del radio de accióndel caballo con la agilidad de un acróba-ta, mientras lo maldice entre dientes enun obsceno murmullo de cariño. El caba-llo vuelve la cabeza, enseñando los dien-tes; los ojos le giran en la oscuridad comocanicas sobre un trozo de terciopelo bri-llante cuando él le pega en la cara con elrevés de la almohaza.

ARMSTID

PERO cuando le doy otro trago dewhisky y la cena estaba casi lista, yadaba por hecha la compra de un tiro demulas, a crédito. Por entonces ya anda-ba seleccionando y escogiendo, dicien-do por qué no le gustaba esta o aquellapareja y que no se gastaría dinero ennada que hubiera sido de éste o aquél, nisiquiera una jaula para pollos. [175]

—Podrías probar con Snopes —dijeyo—. Tiene tres o cuatro parejas. Puedeque alguna te convenga.

Luego empezó a murmurar entre dien-tes, mirándome como si yo fuera el due-ño de la única pareja de mulas de la co-marca y no se la quisiera vender, cuandoyo sabía que, de una manera o de otra,sería mi tiro el único con el que iban asalir de aquel corral. Lo único es que nome imaginaba qué iban a hacer con eltiro, si es que lo conseguían. Littlejohnme había contado que la riada se habíallevado más de tres kilómetros del terra-plén que encauza el Haley y que el úni-co modo de llegar a Jefferson sería dan-do un rodeo por Mottson**20. Pero esoera cosa de Anse.

—Es difícil hacer tratos con él, por-que es que no suelta prenda —dice

Armstid (1)

This is a record of theconversations which take placeamong the Bundrens after theyhave lost their mules. Jewel hasgone to fetch a doctor for Cashbut returns with an amateur horse-doctor instead. The leg is set andnext morning Anse borrowsJewel’s horse to visit the Snopesand buy a team. In his absence,the sun comes up and thebuzzards start to collect aroundthe farm, attracted by the smellof Addie’s corpse. Anse returns,saying he has got a team. He hastaken the money which Cashsaved up to buy a radio and hastraded Jewel’s horse as well forthe mules. Jewel is furious, leaveson his horse and, next morning,someone from the Snopes’ farmappears with a team of mules,saying that the horse has beendelivered during the night.Armstid is left to wonder at theway in which Anse gets peopleto do things for him.

COMMENTARY: The mainpurpose of this section is to fill inthe details of how the family geta new team of mules, although it

curry-comb: a comb designed forgrooming horses

hen coop: a house for hens [galline-ro]

span of mules: a pair of mules

levee: raised bank of a river

a close man: a difficult man, a hardbargainer

X

span A 1 (de las alas) envergadura (de la mano) palmo 2(de tiempo) lapso, espacio 3 Arquit (de un puente, etc)the bridge has a span of 100 metres, el puente tiene100 metros de largo 4 Arquit arco a bridge with fourspans, un puente con cuatro ojos

B 1 (un arco, puente, etc) cruzar 2 (en el tiempo)abarcar 3 pareja de caballería, tiro

94


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

when I give him another sup aftersupper, he cheered up some. He wasaiming to go back to the barn and setup with her. Maybe he thought that ifhe just stayed down there ready totake out, Santa Claus would maybebring him a span of mules. “But Ireckon I can talk him around,” hesays. “A man’ll always help a fellowin a tight, if he’s got ere a drop ofChristian blood in him.”’

“Of course you’re welcome to theuse of mine,” I said, me knowing howmuch he believed that was the reason.

“I thank you,” he said. “She’llwant to go in ourn,” and him knowinghow much I believed that was thereason.

After supper Jewel rode over to theBend to get Peabody. I heard he wasto be there to-day at Varner’s. Jewelcome back about midnight. Peabodyhad gone down below Invernesssomewhere, but Uncle Billy comeback with him, with his satchel ofhorse-physic. Like he says, a man ain’tso different from a horse or a mule,come long come short, except a muleor a horse has got a little more sense.“What you been into now, boy?” hesays, looking at Cash. .” Get me amattress and a chair and a glass ofwhisky,” he says.

He made Cash drink the whisky,then he run Anse out of the room.“Lucky it was the same leg he brokelast summer,” Anse says, mournful,mumbling and blinking. “That’ssomething.”

We folded the mattress acrossCash’s legs and set the chair onthe mattress and me and Jewel seton the chair and the gal held thelamp and Uncle Bi l ly taken ac h e w o f t o b a c c o a n d w e n t t owork. Cash fought pretty hard fora while, until he fainted. Then helaid still, with big balls of sweatstanding on his face like they hads ta r t ed to ro l l down and thenstopped to wait for him.

When he waked up, Uncle Billyhad done packed up and left. He kepton trying to say something until thegal leaned down and wiped his mouth.“It’s his tools,” she said.

“I brought them in,” Darl said. “Igot them.”

He tried to talk again; she leaned down.“He wants to see them,” she said.So Darl brought them in where hecould see them. They shoved themunder the side of the bed, where hecould reach his hand and touch themwhen he felt better. Next morningAnse taken that horse and rode overto the Bend to see Snopes. Him andJewel stood in the lot talking a while,then Anse got on the horse and rodeoff. I reckon that was the first time

mascullando. Pero cuando le doy otrotrago después de cenar, se animó unpoco más. Tenía la intención de vol-ver al granero a velarla. Puede quepensara que si se quedaba allí abajohasta la hora de irse, Santa Claus leproporcionaría un par de mulas—.Pero para mí que le convenceré —dijo—. Nadie le niega ayuda a un ve-cino en apuros, si es que le queda unagota de sangre de cristiano.

— P o d é i s u s a r l a s m í a s , n a t u -r a l m e n t e — d i j e y o , s a b i e n d oq u e é l c r e í a q u e e r a p o r e s o .

—Te lo agradezco —dijo é l—.Pero el la preferir ía i r con las nues-t ras —y él sabiendo que yo cre íaque era por eso.

Después de cenar Jewel cabalgó hastael Bend**21, a buscar a Peabody. Yo ha-bía oído que hoy estaría allí, en casa deVarner. Jewel volvió a medianoche.Peadoby se había ido a algún sitio másabajo del Inverness**22, pero el tío Billy[176] venía con él, con su maletín de ve-terinario. Como él dice, en definitiva unhombre no es tan diferente de un caballoo una mula, salvo en que una mula o uncaballo tienen algo más de sentido común.

—¿En qué lío te has metido ahora,muchacho? —dice, mirando a Cash—.Traedme un colchón y una silla y un vasode whisky —dice.

Mandó a Cash que se bebiera el whis-ky, luego echó a Anse del cuarto.

—Por suerte fue la misma pierna quese rompió el verano pasado —dice Ansesombríamente, entre dientes y parpadean-do—. Ya es algo.

Doblamos el colchón por encima delas piernas de Cash y pusimos la sillaencima del colchón y yo y Jewel nos sen-tamos en la silla y la chica sostenía elfarol y el tío Billy se metió tabaco demascar en la boca y se puso a la tarea.Cash se resistió con fuerza durante unrato, hasta que se desmayó. Luego sequedó quieto, con grandes gotas de su-dor que se habían detenido en su caracomo si hubieran empezado a rodar y sehubieran interrumpido para esperarle.

Cuando se rehízo, el tío Billy ya habíarecogido sus cosas y se había ido. Siguiótratando de decir algo hasta que la chicase inclinó sobre él y le secó la boca.

—Son sus herramientas —dijo ella.

—Ya las he traído —dijo Darl—. Lastengo yo.

Intentó hablar de nuevo; la chica se agachó.—Quiere verlas —dijo.Conque Darl las trajo para que las

pudiera ver. Las [177] metieron bajo lacama, donde llegara con la mano y pu-diera tocarlas cuando se sintiera mejor.A la mañana siguiente Anse cogió aquelcaballo y se fue al Bend a ver a Snopes.Jewel y él estuvieron hablando un ratoen el corral, luego Anse montó a caba-llo y se marchó. Para mí que era la pri-mera vez que Jewel dejaba que otro

incidentally gives the readerconfirmation of his opinion of theimpact the various members ofthe family make on those who seethem.

a sup: a drink of whisky

horse-physic: medicine for horses

95


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Jewel ever let anybody ride thathorse, and until Anse come back hehung around in that swole-up way,watching the road like he was half amind to take out after Anse and getthe horse back.

Along toward reine o’clock itbegun to get hot. That was when I seethe first buzzard. Because of thewetting, I reckon. Anyway it wasn’tuntil well into the day that I see them.Lucky the breeze was setting awayfrom the house, so it wasn’t until wellinto the morning. But soon as I seethem it was like I could smell it inthe field a mile away from justwatching them, and them circling andcircling for everybody in the countyto see what was in my barn.

I was still a good half a mile fromthe house when I heard that boyyelling. I thought maybe he mighthave fell into the well or something,so I whipped up and come into thelot on the lope.

There must have been a dozen ofthem setting along the ridge-pole ofthe barn, and that boy was chasinganother one around the lot like it wasa turkey and it just lifting enough tododge him and go flopping back tothe roof of the shed again where hehad found it setting on the coffin. Ithad got hot then, right, and the breezehad dropped or changad orsomething, so I went and found Jewel,but Lula come out.

“You got to do something,” shasaid. “It’s a outrage.”

“That’s what I aim to do,” I said.

“It’s a outrage,” sha said. “He shouldbe lawed for treating her so.”

“He’s ge t t ing he r in to theground the rest he can,” I said. SoI found Jewel and asked him if hedidn’t want to take one of themules and go over to the Bend andsee about Anse. He didn’t saynothing. He just looked at me withhis jaws going bone-white andthem bone-white ayes of hisn, thenhe went and begun to call Darl.

“What you fixing to do?” I said.

He didn’t answer. Darl come out.“Come on,” Jewel said.

“What you aim to do?” Darl said.

“Going to move the wagon,” Jewelsaid over his shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool,” I said. “I nevermeant nothing. You couldn’t help it.”And Darl hung back too, but nothingwouldn’t suit Jewel.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” he says.

“It’s got to be somewhere,” Darl

aparte de él montara el caballo, y hastaque Anse volvió anduvo dando vueltaspor todas partes, vigilando el caminocomo si estuviera a punto de salir co-rriendo detrás de Anse para recuperarel caballo.

Hacia las nueve empezó a apretar elcalor. Entonces fue cuando vi al primerbuitre. Para mí que fue por la mojadura.De todos modos no los vi hasta bien en-trado el día. Por suerte la brisa soplabadesde el lado de la casa, conque no apa-recieron hasta bien entrada la mañana.Pero en cuanto los vi fue como si pudie-ra olerlo en el campo a más de un kiló-metro de distancia sólo con verlos, y quese pusieran a trazar círculos allá arribapara que todos los del condado vieran loque había en mi granero.

To d a v í a d e b í a d e e s t a r a c a s iu n k i l ó m e t r o d e l a c a s a c u a n d oo í g r i t a r a l c h i c o . C r e í q u e a l om e j o r s e h a b í a c a í d o a l p o z o oa l g o a s í , c o n q u e a r r e é y e n t r é e ne l p a t i o a l g a l o p e .

Había por lo menos una docenade ellos posados en la viga del gra-nero y aquel chico perseguía a otropor el corral como si fuera un pavoy el pajarraco se elevó lo suficientepara esquivarlo y subir otra vez altejado del cobertizo donde el chicolo había encontrado posado en elataúd. Entonces ya apretaba el calory la brisa había caído o cambiado oalgo, conque fui a buscar a Jewel,pero Lula salió.

—Tienes que hacer algo —dijo—.Esto es una vergüenza.

—Es lo que pensaba hacer —dije yo.

—Es una vergüenza —dijo ella—. De-berían de denunciarle por tratarla así.

—Intenta enterrarla lo mejor que pue-de —dije yo.

Conque encontré a Jewel y le pregun-té si no quería coger una de las mulas yacercarse al Bend a ver si daba con [178]Anse. No dijo nada. Se limitó a mirarmecon aquellas mandíbulas que eran blan-cas donde se le marcaban los huesos yaquellos ojos tan claros como las mandí-bulas, y fue y se puso a llamar a Darl.

—¿Qué piensas hacer? —dije yo.

No me contestó. Salió Darl.—Ven —dijo Jewel.

—¿Qué vas a hacer? —dijo Darl.

—Voy a sacar la carreta —dijo Jewelpor encima del hombro.

—No hagas tonterías —dije yo—. Noquería decir eso. No lo puedes evitar.

Y Darl dudaba también, pero Jewel se-guía decidido a hacer lo que había dicho.

—Cierra esa maldita boca —dice él.

—Tiene que estar en algún sitio —dijo

be lawed: (Am. col.) brought tocourt, arrested

lope (esp. of animals) run with a long boundingstride.

96


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

said. “We’ll take out soon as pa getsback.”

“You won’t help me?” Jewel says,them white eyes of hisn kind ofblaring and his face shaking like hehad a auger.

“No,” Darl said. “I won’t. Wait tillpa gets back.”

So I stood in the door and watchedhim push and haul at that wagon. Itwas on a downhill, and once I thoughthe was fixing to beat out the back endof the shed. Then the dinner-bell rung.I called him, but he didn’t lookaround. “Come on to dinner,” I said.“Tel l tha t boy.” But he d idn’ tanswer, so I went on to dinner.The gal went down to get that boy,but she come back without him.About ha l f th rough d inner weheard him yelling again, runningthat buzzard out.

“It’s a outrage,” Lula said; “aoutrage.”

“He’s doing the best he can,” Isaid. “A fellow don’t trade withSnopes in thirty minutes. They’ll setin the shade all afternoon to dicker.”

“Do?” she says. “Do? He’s donetoo much, already.”

And I reckon he had. Trouble is,his quitting was just about to startour doing. He couldn’t buy no teamfrom nobody, let alone Snopes,withouten he had something tomortgage he didn’t know wouldmortgage yet. And so when I wentback to the field I looked at mymules and same as told themgood-bye for a spell. And when Icome back that evening and the sunshining all day on that shed, I wasn’tso sho I would regret it.

He come riding up just as I wentout to the porch, where they allwas. He looked kind of funny: kindof more hang-dog than common,and kind of proud too. Like he haddone something he thought wascute but wasn’t so sho now howother folks would take it.

“I got a team,” he said.

“You bought a team from Snopes?”I said.

“I reckon Snopes ain’t the onlyman in this country that can drive atrade,” he said.

“Sho,” I said. He was looking atJewel, with that funny look, but Jewelhad done got down from the porch andwas going toward the horse. To seewhat Anse had done to it, I reckon.

“Jewel,” Anse says. Jewel looked back.“Come here,” Anse says. Jewel

come back a l i t t le and stopped

Darl—. Nos iremos en cuanto vuelva pa-dre.

—¿No me vas a ayudar? —dice Jewel,con esos ojos claros suyos que parecenechar chispas y la cara temblándole comosi tuviera malaria.

—No —dijo Darl—. No quiero. Es-pera hasta que vuelva padre.

Conque me quedé a la puerta viendocómo empujaba y tiraba de la carreta. Elterreno iba cuesta abajo y durante unmomento pensé que iba a derribar la par-te de atrás del cobertizo. Entonces sonóla campana para comer. Le llamé, perono volvió la vista.

—Ven a comer —le dije—. Y avisa alchico —pero no contestó, de modo queme fui a comer. La chica salió a llamar alchico, pero regresó sin él. Estábamos amedio comer cuando volvimos a oírlegritar mientras corría para espantar albuitre.

—Es una vergüenza —dijo Lula—,una vergüenza.

—Hace todo lo que puede —dijey o — . N a d i e c i e r r a u n t r a t o c o nSnopes en media hora. Se pasará todala tarde regateando a la sombra.

—¿Hace? —dice Lula—. ¿Hace? Yaha hecho demasiadas cosas.

Y para mí que las había hecho. El pro-blema es que [179] como deje de hacercosas tendremos que empezar a hacerlasnosotros. No podría comprar un tiro anadie, y menos a Snopes, sin algo quehipotecar que no sabía todavía que fuerahipotecable. Conque cuando volví alcampo miré a mis mulas como diciéndo-les adiós por una temporada. Pero cuan-do volví aquella tarde, con el sol que sehabía pasado el día entero brillando so-bre el cobertizo, no estaba nada segurode que fuera a lamentarlo.

Llegó en el caballo justo cuando yosalía al porche, donde estaban todos. Te-nía una pinta ridícula: parecía más unperro a p a l e a d o que nunca, y se le veíacomo orgulloso a la vez. Lo mismo quesi hubiera hecho algo que considerabaque era muy ingenioso aunque no estabaseguro de cómo lo tomarían los demás.

—Conseguí un tiro —dijo.

—¿Se lo compraste a Snopes? —dijeyo.

—Para mí que Snopes no es el únicohombre de esta comarca que sabe hacernegocios —dijo él.

—Claro, claro —dije yo.Miraba a Jewel, con aquella pinta ri-

dícula, pero Jewel había bajado del por-che y se dirigía hacia el caballo. Para versi Anse le había hecho algo, supongo.

Jewel —dice Anse. Jewel volvió lacabeza—. Ven aquí —dice Anse. Jewelse puso a andar hacia su padre y volvió a

auger: an ague, a fever

to dicker: (Am. col.) to talk busi-ness, to bargain

hang-dog: (Am. col.) sheepish,ashamed, alma en pena

97


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

again.

“What you want?” he said.

“So you got a team from Snopes,”I said. “He’ll send them over to-night,I reckon? You’ll want a early startto-morrow, long as you’ll have to goby Mottson.”

Then he quit looking like he hadbeen for a while. He got thatbadgered [acosado]look like he usedto have, mumbling his mouth.

“I do the best I can,” he said.“‘Fore God, if there were ere a manin the living world suffered the trialsand floutings I have suffered.”

“A fellow that just beat Snopes ina trade ought to feel pretty good,” Isaid. “What did you give him, Anse?”

He didn’t look at me. “I give achattel mortgage on my cultivatorand seeder,” he said.

“But they ain’t worth forty dollars.How far do you aim to get with aforty-dollar team?”

They were all watching him now,quiet and steady. Jewel was stopped,half-way back, waiting to go on to thehorse. “I give other things,” Ansesaid. He begun to mumble his mouthagain, standing there like he waswaiting for somebody to hit him andhim with his mind already made upnot to do nothing about it.

“What other things?” Darl said.

“Hell,” I said. “You take my team.You can bring them back. I’ll getalong some way.”

“So that’s what you were doing inCash’s clothes last night,” Darl said.He said it just like he was reading itouten the paper. Like he never give adurn himself one way or the other.Jewel had come back now, standingthere, looking at Anse with themmarble eyes of hisn. “Cash aimed tobuy that talking machine from Surattwith that money,” Darl said.

Anse stood there, mumbling hismouth. Jewel watched him. He ain’tnever blinked yet.

“But that’s just eight dollarsmore,” Darl said, in that voice likehe was just listening and never givea durn himself. “That still won’tbuy a team.”

Anse looked at Jewel quick,k i n d o f s l i d i n g h i s e y e s t h a tway, then he looked down again.“God knows, if there were ere aman,” he says. Still they didn’tsay nothing. They just watchedhim, waiting, and him sliding hiseyes toward the i r fee t and uptheir legs but no higher. “And the

detenerse.

—¿Qué quieres? —dijo.

—Así que le sacaste el tiro a Snopes,¿eh? —dije yo—. Mandará las mulas estanoche, supongo. Mañana tendréis quemadrugar, pues tenéis que dar un rodeopor Mottson.

Entonces Anse dejó de tener el as-pecto que tenía. Recuperó el de perroap a l e a d o q u e s o l í a t e n e r , ym u r m u r a b a e n t r e d i e n t e s .

—Hice todo lo que pude —dijo—.Pongo a Dios por testigo de que ningúnhombre ha pasado por las pruebas y tribu-laciones que he tenido que aguantar yo.

—Un tipo que se impone a Snopes enun trato tiene motivos para sentirse bien—dije yo—. ¿Cuánto le pagaste, Anse?

No me miró.—He dado en _______ prenda la cul-

tivadora y la sembradora —dijo.

—Pero no valen ni cuarenta dólares.¿Adónde piensas llegar con un tiro decuarenta dólares?

Ahora todos le miraban, callados yfijos en él. Jewel se había detenido amitad de camino hacia el caballo.

—Le di otras cosas —dijo Anse.Se puso a murmurar otra vez entred i e n t e s , q u e d á n d o s e a l l í p a r a d ocomo s i e spe ra ra que a lgu ien l efuera a pagar y se hubiera hecho ala idea de aguantarse.

—¿Qué otras cosas? —dijo Darl.

—Demonios —dije yo—. Llevaos mismulas. Ya me las devolveréis. Me lasarreglaré.

—Por eso estaba hurgando usted enla ropa de Cash la noche pasada —dijoDarl. Dijo esto como si lo estuviera le-yendo en un periódico. Como si no leimportara en absoluto aquella cuestión.Jewe1 se había acercado y estaba allí quie-to mirando a Anse con aquellos ojos suyoscomo canicas—. Cash pensaba comprarse esegramófono que hay en la tienda deSuratt**(23) con ese dinero —dijo Darl.

Anse se quedó allí quieto, murmuran-do. Jewel le observaba. Todavía no ha-bía ni parpadeado.

—Pero eso sólo son ocho dólares más—dijo Darl, con aquella voz de quien selimita a escuchar como si la cosa no fue-ra con él—. Ni siquiera con eso podrácomprar un par de mulas.

Anse miró a Jewel, furtivo, como des-lizando los ojos en aquella dirección, yenseguida volvió a bajar la vista al suelo.

—Dios sabe que si hay un hombreque... —dice él. Ellos todavía no habíandicho nada. Se limitaban a mirarle, espe-rando, y él dejaba resbalar la mirada hastalos pies de sus hijos y la subía hasta laaltura de sus rodillas, pero no más arri-

talking machine: (col.) radio

X

98


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

horse,” he says.

“What horse?” Jewel said. Ansejust stood there. I be durn, if a mancan’t keep the upper hand of hissons, he ought to run them awayfrom home, no matter how bigthey are. And if he can’t do that, Ibe durn if he oughtn’t to leavehimself. I be durn if I wouldn’t.“You mean, you tried to swap myhorse?” Jewel says.

Anse stands there, dangle-armed.“For fifteen years I ain’t had atooth in my head,” he says. “Godknows it. He knows in fifteen yearsI ain’t et the victuals He aimed forman to eat to keep his strength up,and me saving a nickel here and anickel there so my family wouldn’tsuffer it, to buy them teeth so Icould eat God’s appointed food.I give that money. I thought thati f I could do without eat ing, mysons cou ld do w i thout riding.God knows I did.”

Jewel stands with his hands on hiships, looking at Anse. Then he looksaway. He looked out across the field,his face still as a rock, like it wassomebody else talking aboutsomebody else’s horse and him noteven listening. Then he spit, slow, andsaid “Hell” and he turned and wenton to the gate and unhitched the horseand got on it. It was moving when hecome into the saddle and by the timehe was on it they was tearing downthe road like the Law might have beenbehind them. They went out of sightthat way, the two of them looking likesome kind of a spotted cyclone.

“Well,” I says. “You take myteam,” I said. But he wouldn’t doit. And they wouldn’t even stay,and tha t boy chas ing thembuzzards all day in the hot sonuntil he was nigh as crazy as therest of them. “Leave Cash here,anyway,” I said. But they wouldn’tdo that. They made a pallet for himwith quilts on top of the coffin andlaid him on it and set his tools byhim, and we put my team in andhauled the wagon about a miledown the road.

“If we’ll bother you here,” Ansesays, “just say so.”

“Sho,” I said. “It’ll be fine here.Safe, too. Now let’s go back andeat supper.”

“I thank you,” Anse said. “We gota little something in the basket. Wecan make out.”

“Where’d you get it?” I said.

“We brought it from home.”

“But it’ll be stale now,” I said.“Come and get some hot victuals.”

ba—. Y el caballo —dice.

—¿Qué caballo? —dijo Jewel. Anseseguía allí quieto. Qué diablos, si unhombre no es capaz de meter en cinturaa sus hijos, debería echarles de casa, sinimportar lo mayores que sean. Y si no escapaz de hacer eso, que me condene sino debería de largarse él mismo. Qué dia-blos, eso es lo que yo haría—. ¿Quieredecir que intentó usted hacer un camba-lache con mi caballo? —dice Jewel.

Anse seguía allí, con los brazos caídos.—Hace quince años que no tengo ni

un diente en la boca —dice—. Dios bienlo sabe. Sabe que llevo quince años sincomer los alimentos que Él destinó paraque comiera el hombre para conservar susfuerzas, y que he ahorrado centavo a cen-tavo para comprarme una dentadura sinque mi familia sufriera por eso y poderasí comer la comida que Dios provee.Bueno, pues le he dado ese dinero. Pen-sé que si yo podía pasarme sin comer, mishijos podían pasarse sin montar a caba-llo. Dios sabe que eso es lo que pensé.

Jewe1 estaba allí con los brazos enjarras, mirando a Anse. Luego apartó lavista. Miró hacia el campo, su cara in-móvil como una roca, igual que si alguienestuviera hablando del caballo de otrapersona y él ni se molestara en escuchar-le. Luego escupió, muy despacio, y dijo:

—Al diablo —y dio media vuelta yse dirigió a la cerca y desató al caba-llo y lo montó. El caballo ya se movíacuando se subió a la silla y para cuan-do estuvo sentado ya volaban caminoabajo como si los persiguiera la justi-cia. Enseguida se perdieron de vista,en aquella dirección, como una espe-cie de ciclón de mezclados colores.

—Bueno —digo—. Llevaos mis mu-las —dije. Pero él no quería llevárselas.Y los demás no querían quedarse, y aquelchico persiguiendo a los buitres el díaentero bajo aquel sol de justicia hasta quese volvió casi tan loco como todos losdemás—. Por lo menos, dejad a Cash aquí—dije yo. Pero tampoco querían. Conunas colchas le improvisaron un jergónencima del ataúd y le echaron en él y le[182] pusieron las herramientas al lado,y enganchamos mis mulas y arrastramosla carreta durante un par de kilómetroscamino abajo.

—Si te molestamos aquí —diceAnse—, sólo tienes que decirlo.

—Nada de eso —dije yo—. Aquí es-tará bien. Y también segura. Ahora ve-nid a casa a cenar.

—Te lo agradezco —dijo Anse—.Tenemos algunas cosas en la cesta. Noslas arreglaremos.

—¿Dónde las habéis conseguido? —dije yo.

—Las hemos traído de casa.

—Pero ahora estarán pasadas —dijeyo—. Venid a tomar algo caliente.

dangle-armed: (neologism) witharms hanging loosely by his sides

get the upper hand control

99


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

But they wouldn’t come. “I reckonwe can make out,” Anse said. So Iwent home and et and taken a basketback to them and tried again to makethem come back to the house.

“I t h a n k y o u , ” h e s a i d . “ Ir e c k o n w e c a n m a k e o u t . ”So I lef t them there, squat t ingaround a little fine, waiting; Godknows what for.

I come on home. I kept thinkingabout them there, and about thatfellow tearing away on that horse.And that would be the last they wouldsee of him. And I be durn if I couldblame him. Not for wanting to notgive up his horse, but for getting shutof such a durn fool as Anse.

Or that’s what I thought then.Because be durn if there ain’tsomething about a durn fellow likeAnse that seems to make a man haveto help him, even when he knows he’llbe wanting to kick himself next minute.Because about a hour after breakfastnext morning Eustace Grimm thatworks Snopes’ place come up with aspan of mules, hunting Anse.

“I thought him and Anse nevertraded,” I said.

“Sho,” Eustace said. “All theyliked was the horse. Like I said toMr. Snopes, he was letting thisteam go for fifty dollars, becauseif his uncle Flem had a just keptthem Texas horses when he ownedthem, Anse wouldn’t a never “

“The horse?” I said. “Anse’sboy taken that horse and clearedout last night, probably halfway toTexas by now, and Anse——”

“I didn’t know who brung it,”Eustace said. “I never see them. I justfound the horse in the barn thismorning when I went to feed, and Itold Mr. Snopes and he said to bringthe team on over here.”

Well, that’ll be the last they’ll eversee of him now, sho enough. ComeChristmas time they’ll maybe get apostal card from him in Texas, Ireckon. And if it hadn’t a been Jewel,I reckon it’d a been me; I owe himthat much, myself. I be durn if Ansedon’t conjure a man, some way. I bedurn if he ain’t a sight.

44VARDAMAN (6)

NOW there are seven of them, inlittle tall black circles.

“Look, Darl,” I say; “see?”He looks up. We watch them in

little tall black circles of not-moving.

“Yesterday there were just four,” I say.

There were more than four on the barn.

Pero no quisieron.—Nos las arreglaremos —dijo Anse.Conque me fui a casa a cenar y luego

volví con una cesta con algo de comida yotra vez traté de que vinieran a casa.

—Te lo agradezco —dijo Anse—.Pero nos las arreglaremos.

Conque allí los dejé, en cuclillas al-rededor de una hoguera, esperando; Diossabe qué.

Volví a casa. No dejaba de pensaren ellos allí, y en el que salió dispa-rado a caballo. Y en que sería la últi-ma vez que le volverían a ver. Y queme condene si le echo la culpa. Y nome refiero a que se negara a dar sucaballo, sino a que se deshiciera deese maldito idiota de Anse.

Bueno, eso pensé entonces. Porqueque me condene si no hay algo en esostipos tan idiotas como Anse que pareceobligar a que se les ayude, aunque al si-guiente minuto uno se tire de los pelospor haberlo hecho. Porque a la mañanasiguiente, como cosa de una hora despuésde desayunar apareció Eustace Grimm,que trabaja para Snopes, con una parejade mulas, en busca de Anse.

—Creí que él y Anse nunca iban a lle-gar a un acuerdo —dije yo.

—Así es —dijo Eustace—. Lo únicoque a los dos les importaba de verdad erael caballo. Como le dije a Mr. Snopes, leiba a ceder este tiro por cincuenta dólares,porque si [183] su tío Flem no hubiera sol-tado a esos caballos de Texas cuando eransuyos, Anse jamás hubiera conseguido...

—¿El caballo? —dije yo—. El chico deAnse lo cogió y se largó con él ayer por lanoche, a estas horas probablemente esté amedio camino de Texas, y Anse...

—No sé quién lo habrá llevado —dijo Eustace—. No he visto a nadie. Sólome encontré a ese caballo en la cuadraesta mañana cuando fui a darles el pien-so, y se lo dije a Mr. Stopes y él me dijoque trajera el tiro aquí.

Bueno, ahora sí que no le vuel-ven a echar la vista encima a ése,seguro. En Navidades puede que re-ciban una postal suya desde Texas.Y si no hubiese sido Jewel, para míque me hubiese tocado a mí; se lodebo. Que me condene si Anse nohechiza a los hombres de algún modo. Queme condene si no es todo un cuadro.

VARDAMAN

A H O R A h a y s i e t e h a c i e n d ocirculi tos negros arr iba.

—Mira, Darl —digo—; ¿lo ves?Levanta la vista. Los vemos hacercirculi tos negros inmóviles arriba.

—Ayer sólo había cuatro —digo.

En el granero había más de cuatro.

Vardaman (6)

Vardaman remains almostoblivious to all the tensions whichsurround the buying of the mules.As we see in this section, whichconsists of his unspoken andspoken thoughts, his sole concernis with the buzzards. Armstid inArmstid (1) saw Vardaman tryingto frighten the birds away, and

conjure a man: (Am. col.) bewitch

100


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

light on: alight on, land on

I don’t bother nones (Am. col.) Iam not troubled

“Do you know what I would do if hetries to light on the wagon again?” I say.

“What would you do?” Darl says.

“I wouldn’ t let him l ight onher,” I say. “I wouldn’t let himlight on Cash, either.”

Cash is sick. He is sick on thebox. But my mother is a fish.

“We got to get some medicinein Mottson,” pa says. “I reckonwe’ll just have to.”

“How do you feel, Cash?” Darlsays.

“It don’t bother none,” Cash says.

“Do you want it propped a littlehigher?” Darl says.

Cash has a broken leg. He hashad two broken legs. He l ies onthe box with a quilt rolled underh is head and a p iece of woodunder his knee.

“I reckon we ought to left him atArmstid’s,” pa says.

I haven’t got a broken leg andpa hasn’ t and Dar l hasn’t and“It’s just the bumps,” Cash says. “Itkind of grinds together a little on abump. I don’t bother none.” Jewelhas gone away. He and his horsewent away one supper time.

“ I t ’ s b e c a u s e s h ew o u l d n ’ t h a v e u s b e h o l d e n , ”p a s a y s . “ ‘ F o r e G o d , I d ot h e b e s t t h a t e r e a m a n . ” Isi t because Jewel’s mother is ahorse, Darl? I said.

“Maybe I can draw the ropes alittle tighter,” Darl says. That’swhy Jewel and I were both in theshed and she was in the wagonbecause the horse lives in the barnand I had to keep on running thebuzzard away from

“If you just would,” Cash says. AndDewey Dell hasn’t got a broken legand I haven’t. Cash is my brother.

We stop. When Darl loosens therope Cash begins to sweat again. Histeeth look out.

“Hurt?” Darl says.

“I reckon you better put it back,”Cash says.

Darl puts the rope back, pullinghard. Cash’s teeth look out.

“Hurt?” Darl says.

“It don’t bother none,” Cash says.

“Do you want pa to dr ive

—¿Sabes lo que voy a hacer si trata deposarse otra vez en la carreta? —digo.

—¿Qué vas a hacer? —dice Darl.

—No dejaré que se pose encima demadre —digo—. Tampoco dejaré que sepose encima de Cash.

Cash está enfermo. Está enfermo enci-ma de la caja. Pero mi madre es un pez.

—Tendremos que comprar algunamedicina en Mottson —dice padre—.Para mí que no nos queda otro remedio.

—¿Cómo te encuentras, Cash? —diceDarl.

—No me molesta en absoluto —dice Cash.

—¿Quieres que te la levante un poco?—dice Darl.

Cash tiene una pierna rota. Ya se haroto dos piernas. [184] Está echado en-cima de la caja con una colcha enrolladadebajo de la cabeza y un trozo de made-ra debajo de la rodilla.

—Para mí que deberíamos haberledejado en casa de Armstid —dice padre.

Yo nunca me he roto una pierna y pa-dre tampoco y Darl tampoco y

—Sólo es el traqueteo —dice Cash—.Es como si se rozara una parte con otra acada sacudida. No me molesta en absoluto.—Jewe1 se ha largado. Él y su caballo selargaron una noche a la hora de cenar

—Sólo fue porque ella nunca quisoque le tuviéramos que deber nada a na-die —dice padre—. Dios es testigo, hagolo que pueda hacer el que más. —¿Esporque la madre de Jewel es un caballo,Darl? —dije yo.

—Puede que consiga apretar un pocomás las cuerdas —dice Darl. Por esoJewel y yo estábamos en el cobertizo yella estaba en la carreta, porque el ca-ballo vive en la cuadra y yo tenía queestar corriendo todo el tiempo para es-pantar al buitre

—Si te parece... —dice Cash. YDewey Dell no se ha roto una pierna, yyo tampoco. Cash era hermano mío.

Nos paramos. Cuando Darl afloja lacuerda Cash empieza a sudar otra vez.Enseña los dientes.

—¿Duele? —dice Darl.

—Para mí que mejor la vuelves a po-ner —dice Cash.

Dash ata otra vez la cuerda, apretan-do con fuerza. Cash enseña los dientes.

—¿Duele? —dice Darl.

—No me molesta en absoluto —dice Cash.

—¿Quieres que padre lleve la carreta

here we glimpse Vardaman’sthoughts as he does it.

COMMENTARY: WhatVardaman overhears in thissection confirms the impressionwe have of the other characters;Anse is still protesting that he willnot be indebted to anyone, Darlis prepared to accept Vardaman’sassertions that his mother is a fishand Cash is very ill but stoical.There are a few lines and one longpassage in this section printed initalics. These represent thedeepest levels of Vardaman’sthoughts, the unverbalisedrecognition that Jewel has gone,the acceptance that Jewel’smother is a horse and, in a longpassage, an expression of hisconviction that his mother, beinga fish, escaped when the coffinwas in the water.

101


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

to hang back: (col.) to delay

slower?” Darl says.

“No,” Cash says . “Ain’t not i m e t o h a n g b a c k . I t d o n ’ tbother none.”

“ We ’ l l h a v e t o g e t s o m emedicine at Mottson,” pa says.“I reckon we’ll have to.”

“Tell him to go on,” Cash says. Wego on. Dewey Dell leans back andwipes Cash’s face. Cash is mybrother. But Jewel’s mother is a horse.My mother is a fish. Darl says thatwhen we come to the water again Imight see her and Dewy Dell said,She’s in the box; how could she havegot out? She got out through the holesI bored, into the water I said, andwhen we come to the water again Iam going to see her. My mother is notin the box. My mother does not smelllike that. My mother is a fish.

“Those cakes will be in fines h a p e b y t h e t i m e w e g e t t oJefferson,” Darl says.

Dewey Dell does not look around.

“You better try to sell them inMottson,” Darl says.

“When will we get to Mottson,Darl?” I say.

“To-morrow,” Darl says. “If thisteam don’t rack to pieces. Snopesmust have fed them on sawdust.”

“Why did he feed them onsawdust, Darl?” I say.

“Look,” Darl says. “See?”

Now there are nine of them, tall inlittle tall black circles.

When we come to the foot of thehill pa stops and Darl and DeweyDell and I get out. Cash can’t walkbecause he has a broken leg. “Comeup, mules,” pa says. The mules walkhard; the wagon creaks. Darl andDewey Dell and I walk behind thewagon, up the hill. When we cometo the top of the hill pa stops and weget back into the wagon.

Now there are ten of them, tall inlittle tall black circles on the sky.

45MOSELEY (1)

HAPPENED to look up, andsaw he r ou t s ide the window,looking in. Not close to the glass,and not looking at anything inparticular; just standing there withher head turned this way and hereyes full on me and kind of blanktoo, like she was waiting for asign. When I looked up again shewas moving toward the door.

She kind of bumbled at the screen

más despacio? —dice Darl.

—No —dice Cash—. No tenemostiempo que perder. No me molesta enabsoluto.

—Tendremos que comprar algunamedicina en Mottson —dice padre—.Para mí que no nos queda otro remedio.

—Dile que siga —dice Cash. Se-guimos. Dewey Dell se vuelve y leseca la cara a Cash. Cash es herma-no mío. Pero la madre de Jewel esun caballo. Mi madre es un pez. Darldice que cuando volvamos al agua alo mejor la puedo ver, y Dewey Delldijo: Está metida en la caja; ¿cómoiba a poder salir? Salió por los agu-jeros que hice yo y está en el agua,dije, y cuando volvamos al agua lavoy a ver. Mi madre no está dentrode la caja. Mi madre no huele así.Mi madre es un pez.

—Anda que esos bollos van a estarbuenos para cuando lleguemos aJefferson —dice Darl.

Dewey Dell no levanta la vista.

—Será mejor que intentes venderlosen Mottson —dice Darl.

—¿Cuándo llegaremos a Mottson,Darl? —digo yo.

—Mañana —dice Darl—. Si estasmulas no revientan en pedazos. Snopesdebe de haberles dado serrín de comer.

—¿Por qué les daba serrín de comer,Darl? —digo yo.

—Mira —dice Darl—. ¿Ves?

Ahora hay nueve, haciendo circulitosnegros arriba.

Cuando llegemos al pie de la lomapadre se para y Darl y Dewey Dell y yonos bajamos. Cash no puede andar por-que tiene una pierna rota.

—¡Arre, mula! —dice padre. Las mu-las avanzan con dificultad; la carreta cru-je. Darl y Dewey Dell y yo vamos andan-do detrás de la carreta, loma arriba. Cuan-do llegamos a la cima de la loma padre separa y volvemos a subir a la carreta.

A h o r a h a y d i e z , h a c i e n d ocirculitos negros arriba en lo alto.

MOSELEY

SE me ocurrió levantar la vista yla vi al otro lado del escaparate, mi-rando hacia dentro. No demasiadocerca del cristal, y sin mirar nada enespecial; sólo estaba allí parada conla cabeza vuelta hacia aquí y los ojosclavados en mí y como sin expresión,como s i es tuv ie ra esperando unaseña. Cuando volví a levantar la vis-ta se dirigía hacia la puerta.

Titubeó o algo así a la puerta durante

Moseley (1)

Here we find the unspokenthoughts of a complete outsiderwho sees the Bundrens for thefirst time. Unlike the men on theporch in Samson (1), Moseleybelongs to the town not thecountry and so looks on the familywith even less comprehension.

bumble move clumsily, trastabillartrastabillar 1. intr. Dar traspiés o tropezones.

2. intr. Tambalearse, vacilar, titubear. 3. intr.Tartalear, tartamudear, trabarse la lengua.

102


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

figuring: (Am. English) reasoning,judging

caught up: finished workingthe fountain: (Am. English)

soda-fountain, a type of drinkdispenser

dope: (col.) medicine, specificallylaudanum used to stopmenstruation

liefer: (Am. col.) would rather

door a minute, like they do, and camein. She had on a stiff-brimmed strawhat setting on the top of her head andshe was carrying a package wrappedin newspaper: I thought that she hada quarter or a dollar at the most, andthat after she stood around awhile shewould maybe buy a cheap comb or abottle of nigger toilet water, so I neverdisturbed her for a minute or so exceptto notice that she was pretty in a kindof sullen, awkward way, and that shelooked a sight better in her ginghamdress and her own complexion thanshe would after she bought whatevershe would finally decide on. Or tellthat she wanted. I knew that she hadalready decided before she came in.But you have to let them take theirtime. So I went on with what I wasdoing, figuring to let Albert wait onher when he caught up at the fountain,when he came back to me.

“That woman,” he said. “Youbetter see what she wants.”

“What does she want?” I said.

“I don’t know. I can’t get anythingout of her. You better wait on her.”

So I went around the counter. I sawthat she was barefooted, standing withher feet flat and easy on the floor, likeshe was used to it. She was lookingat me, hard, holding the package; Isaw she had about as black a pairof eyes as ever I saw, and she wasa stranger. I never rememberedsee ing her in Mot tson before .“What can I do for you?” I said.

Still she didn’t say anything. Shestared at me without winking. Thenshe looked back at the folks at thefountain. Then she looked past me,toward the back of the store.

“Do you want to look at some toiletthings?” I said. “Or is it medicine youwant?”

“That’s it,” she said. She lookedquick back at the fountain again. SoI thought maybe her ma or somebodyhad sent her in for some of this fe-male dope and she was ashamed toask for it. I knew she couldn’t havea complexion like hers and use it her-self, let alone not being much morethan old enough to barely know whatit was for. It’s a shame, the way theypoison themselves with it. But aman’s got to stock it or go out ofbusiness in this country.

“Oh,” I sa id . “What do youuse? We have——” She looked atme again, almost like she had saidhush, and looked toward the backof the store again.

“I’d liefer go back there,” she said.

“All right,” I said. You have tohumour them. You save time by it. Ifollowed her to the back. She put her

un momento, como les pasa a todos, yentró. Llevaba un sombrero de [186] pajacon el ala muy tiesa, encajado en la co-ronilla y un paquete envuelto en papelde periódico: supuse que tendría veinti-cinco centavos o un dólar como mucho,y que después de pensárselo mucho a lomejor compraba un peine de los baratoso un frasco de colonia de la que usan losnegros, de modo que durante un minutoo así la dejé en paz, aunque me fijé enque era guapa de un modo hosco y des-garbado, y que resultaba mejor con aquelvestido de percal y su cutis natural de loque resultaría con lo que al fin se deci-diera a comprar. O a decir lo que quería.Yo sabía que ya lo tenía decidido antesde entrar. Pero hay que dejarlas que setomen su tiempo. Conque seguí con loque estaba haciendo, pensando en dejarque la atendiera Albert cuando se acer-cara al mostrador de los grifos**(24),cuando Albert se me acercó.

—Esa mujer —dijo—. Será mejor quevea usted lo que quiere.

—¿Y qué quiere? —dije yo.

—No lo sé. No consigo sacarle nada.Será mejor que la atienda usted.

De modo que salí del mostrador.Vi que iba descalza y que estaba có-moda así, como si estuviera acostum-brada a ir descalza. Me miraba, in-tensamente, agarrando el paquete;me fijé en que tenía un par de ojosnegros como nunca jamás había vis-to, y que era forastera. No recorda-ba haberla visto por Mottson antes.

—¿En qué puedo servirla? —dije.

S e g u í a s i n d e c i r n a d a . M em i r a b a s i n p e s t a ñ e a r . L u e g om i r ó a l o s q u e e s t a b a n e n e lm o s t r a d o r . L u e g o m i r ó a lf o n d o d e l a t i e n d a .

—¿Desea algún artículo de tocador?—dije—. ¿O quiere usted algún medica-mento?

—Eso es —dijo ella, y enseguida vol-vió a mirar a los del [187] mostrador.Conque pensé que a lo mejor su madre uotra persona la había mandado entrar apor uno de esos medicamentos para mu-jeres y le daba vengüenza pedirlo. Sabíaque no podía tener un cutis como el quetenía y usarlo ella; aparte de que no eralo bastante mayor para saber para qué setoman. Es una vergüenza cómo se enve-nenan con esas cosas. Pero en esta co-marca uno tiene que tenerlas o renunciara hacer negocio.

—Veamos —dije—. ¿Cuál usa us-ted? Tenemos... —Me volvió a mirar,casi como si hubiera dicho que me ca-llara, y volvió a mirar hacia el fondode la tienda.

—Preferiría que fuéramos allí —dijo.

—Muy bien —dije yo. Hay que seguirlesla corriente. Se pierde menos tiempo. Laacompañé al fondo. Puso la mano en el pica-

COMMENTARY: This sectionputs the Bundrens in another newperspective for the reader. We seethem through the eyes of thetownspeople and from this pointof view they appear bothgrotesquely comic and a littletragic in their simplicity. DeweyDell in particular appears in sharpfocus, ‘bumbling’ at the door ofthe shop, her eyes blank and hervoice incapable of expressing herwants.

The story of the Bundrenwagon, as told to Moseley by hisassistant Albert, contains theimplicit contrast between theways of the town and the country.Anse had remained oblivious tothe horrified reactions of thetownspeople, being concernedonly with telling them his storyof how the stinking corpse hadtravelled to Mottstown.

complexion n.1 the natural colour, texture, andappearance, of the skin, esp. of the face. 2an aspect; a character (puts a differentcomplexion on the matter).

complexión 1. f. constitución, naturaleza y re-lación de los sistemas orgánicos de cadaindividuo. Temperamento, contextura físicay moral.

103


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75a nipple: an artificial teat for ababy’s bottle

hand on the gate. “There’s nothingback there but the prescriptioncase,” I said. “What do you want?”She stopped and looked at me. It waslike she had taken some kind of a lidoff her face, her eyes. It was her eyes:kind of dumb and hopeful andsullenly willing to be disappointed allat the same time. But she was introuble of some sort; I could see that.“What’s your trouble?” I said. “Tellme what it is you want. I’m prettybusy.” I wasn’t meaning to hurry her,but a man just hasn’t got the time theyhave out there.

“It’s the female trouble,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. “Is that all?” I thoughtmaybe she was younger than shelooked, and her first one had scaredher, or maybe one had been a littleabnormal as it will in young women.“Where’s your ‘ma?” I said. “Haven’tyou got one?”

“She’s out yonder in the wagon,” she said.

“Why not talk to her about itbefore you take any medicine,” Isaid. “Any woman would have toldyou about it.” She looked at me, andI looked at her again and said, “Howold are you?”

“Seventeen,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. “I thought maybe youwere . . .” She was watching me. Butthen, in the eyes all of them look likethey had no age and knew everythingin the world, anyhow. “Are you tooregular, or not regular enough?”

She quit looking at me but she didn’t move.“Yes,” she said. “I reckon so. Yes.”

“Well, which?” I said. “Don’t youknow?” It’s a crime and a shame; butafter all, they’ll buy it fromsomebody. She stood there, notlooking at me. “You want somethingto stop it?” I said. “Is that it?”

“No,” she said. “That’s it. It’salready stopped.”

“Well, what——” Her face waslowered a little, still, like they do inall their dealings with a man so hedon’t ever know just where thelightning will strike next. “You arenot married, are you?” I said.

“No.”

“Oh,” I said. “And how long has itbeen since it stopped? about fivemonths maybe?”

“It ain’t been but two,” she said.

“Well, I haven’t got anything in mystore you want to buy,” I said, “unlessit’s a nipple. And I’d advise you tobuy that and go back home and tellyour pa, if you have one, and let himmake somebody buy you a wedding

porte de la puerta de atrás—. Ahí detrás sóloestá la rebotica —dije yo—. ¿Qué desea?

—Se detuvo y me miró. Era comosi se hubiera quitado un velo o algoasí de la cara, de los ojos. Especial-mente de los ojos: unos ojos de tonta,esperanzados y malhumoradamentedispuestos a sentirse decepcionados,todo a l t i empo . Pe ro t en í a algúnproblema; lo notaba—. ¿Qué le ocu-rre? —dije—. Dígame lo que quiere.Estoy muy ocupado —no intentabameterle prisa, pero uno no tiene tan-to tiempo que perder como la gentedel campo.

—Es el mal de las mujeres —dijo.

—Ah —dije yo—. ¿Sólo es eso? —pensé que a lo mejor era más joven de loque parecía y se había asustado con laprimera, o puede que tuviera una reglaalgo anormal como les pasa a las jóve-nes—. ¿Dónde está su madre? —dije—.¿O no la tiene usted?

—Está allí, en la carreta —dijo.

¿Por qué no habla con e l la an-tes de tomar ninguna medicina? —le di je—. Cualquier mujer le pue-de hablar de eso —me miró, y lavolv í a mirar y d i je—: ¿Cuántosaños t iene?

—Diecisiete.

—Ah —dije yo—. Creí que ten-dr ía unos . . . —me miraba. Pero enlos ojos todas e l las parecen comosi no tuvieran edad y supieran todolo que hay que saber en e l mundo-¿Es usted regular o no? [188]

Dejó de mirarme, pero no se movió.—Sí —dijo—. Me parece que sí. Sí.

—¿En qué quedamos? —dije yo—.¿O es que no lo sabe? —Es un crimen yuna vergüenza; pero después de todo, al-guien se las tiene que vender. Estaba allíquieta, sin mirarme—. ¿Quieres algo parainterrumpirlo? —dije—. ¿Es eso?

—No —dijo ella—. Eso es. Ya se meha interrumpido.

—Bueno, pero qué... —había bajadoun poco la cara y seguía quieta como ha-cen siempre que tratan con un hombre,de modo que éste nunca sepa dónde vana descargar el siguiente rayo—. ¿No estáusted casada, verdad? —dije.

—No.

—Ah —dije yo—. ¿Y desde cuándono lo tiene? ¿A lo mejor desde hace cin-co meses, no?

—Nada más que dos —dijo ella.

—Bueno, en mi tienda no tengo nadade lo que quiere comprar —dije—, a noser que quiera un chupete. Y le aconsejoque compre uno y vuelva a casa y se lodiga a su padre, si es que lo tiene, y quehaga que alguien le saque una licencia

104


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

drug-store: (Am. English) acombination of chemist’s shopand cafe

licence. Was that all you wanted.?”

But she just stood there, not look-ing at me.

“I got the money to pay you,” she said.

“Is it your own, or did he act enoughof a man to give you the money?”

“He give it to me. Ten dollars. Hesaid that would be enough.”

“A thousand dollars wouldn’t beenough in my store and ten centswouldn’t be enough,” I said. “Youtake my advice and go home and tellyou pa or your brothers if you haveany or the first man you come to inthe road.”

B u t s h e d i d n ’ t m o v e .“Lafe said I could get it at thedrug-store. He said to tell you meand him wouldn’t never tell nobodyyou sold it to us.”

“And I just wish your preciousLafe had come for it himself; that’swhat I wish. I don’t know: I’d havehad a little respect for him then.And you can go back and tell himI said so-if he ain’t half-way toTexas by now, which I don’t doubt.Me, a respectable druggist, that’skept store and raised a family andbeen a church-member for fifty-sixyears in this town. I’m a good mindto tell your folks myself, if I canjust find who they are.”

She looked at me now, her eyesand Pace kind of blank again likewhen I first saw her through thewindow. “I didn’t know,” she said.“He told me I could get somethingat the drug-store. He said theymight not want to sell it to me, butif I had ten dollars and told them Iwouldn’t never tell nobody . . .”

“He never said this drug-store,” Isaid. “If he did or mentioned myname, I defy him to prove it. I defyhim to repeat it or I’ll prosecute himto the full extent of the law, and youcan tell him so.”

“But maybe another drug-storewould,” she said.

“Then I don’t want to know it. Me,that’s——” Then I looked at her. Butit’s a hard life they have; sometimesa man . . . if there can ever be anyexcuse for sin, which it can’t be. Andthen, life wasn’t made to be easy onfolks: they wouldn’t ever have anyreason to be good and die. “Lookhere,” I said. “You get that notion outof your head. The Lord gave you whatyou have, even if He did use thedevil to do it; you let Him take itaway from you if it’s His will to doso. You go on back to Lafe and youand him take that ten dollars andget married with it.”

de matrimonio. ¿Desea algo más?

Pero el la seguía al l í quieta, s inmirarme.

—Tengo dinero para pagarle —dijo.

—¿Es suyo o fue él lo bastante hom-bre como para dárselo?

—Me lo dio él. Diez dólares. Dijo quesería bastante.

—En esta t ienda no bastaría nicon mil dólares ni con diez centa-vos —dije yo—. Siga mi consejo yvuelva a casa y cuénteselo a su pa-dre o a sus hermanos, si los t iene,o al primer hombre que se tropiecepor el camino.

Pero no se movió.— L a f e m e d i j o q u e e n l a

botica me lo darían. Me dijo que le di-jera que ni yo ni él le contaremos a na-die que nos lo vendió usted.

—Y a mí me gustaría que hubiera sidosu encantador Lafe el que hubiera venidoa comprarlo; eso es lo que me gustaría. Nosé: entonces a lo mejor sentía algo de res-peto por él. Conque vaya y cuéntele lo quele dije... a no ser que [189] ya esté a mediocamino de Texas, lo que no me extrañaría.Venirme a mí, un respetable boticario quetiene una familia y es feligrés de la parro-quia de este pueblo desde hace cincuenta yseis años... Me están entrando ganas de ira contárselo a sus padres, si consigo ente-rarme de quienes son.

Ah o r a m e m i r a b a , s u s o j o s yc a r a o t r a v e z s i n e x p r e s i ó nc o m o c u a n d o l a v i p o r p r i m e r av e z p o r e l e s c a p a r a t e .

—Yo no sabía —dijo ella—. Él medijo que en la botica me darían algo. Medijo que a lo mejor no me lo querían ven-der, pero con los diez dólares y diciendoque no se lo contaría a nadie...

—No se refería a esta botica —dijeyo—. Si lo hizo o mencionó mi nombre,le desafío a que lo demuestre. Le desafíoa que se atreva a repetirlo o a atenerse atodas las responsabilidades legales, pue-de usted decírselo.

—Pero a lo mejor en otra botica quie-ren —dijo ella.

—En tal caso no quiero saberlo.Eso es... —entonces la miré. Pero esdura la vida que llevan; a veces unhombre... si hubiera alguna excusapara el pecado, que no la hay. Y ade-más la vida no está hecha para que lesresulte fácil: no tienen ningún motivopara ser buenos y esperar la muerte—. Mire —le dije—. Quítese esa idea dela cabeza. El Señor le ha dado lo quetiene, aunque se haya servido del de-monio para ello; deje que sea Él quienla libre de eso, si es Su voluntad queasí sea. Conque vuelva usted con Lafe,y usted y él cogen esos diez dólares yse casan con ellos.

105


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

airy: (Am. col.) any

“Lafe said I could get somethingat the drugstore,” she said.

“Then go and get it,” I said. “Youwon’t get it here.”

She went out, carrying thepackage, her feet making a littlehissing on the floor She bumbledagain at the door and went out. I couldsee her through the glass going ondown the street.

It was Albert told me about therest of it. He said the wagon wasstopped in front of Grummet’shardware store, with the Jadies allscattering up and down the streetwith handkerchief to their poses, anda trocad of hard-nosed men and boysstanding around the wagon, listeningto the marshal arguing with the man.He was a kind of tall, gaunted mansitting on the wagon, saying it was apublic street and he reckoned he hadas much right there as anybody, andthe marshal telling him he wouldhave to move on; folks couldn’t standit. It had been dead eight days, Albertsaid. They came from some place outin Yoknapatawpha county, trying toget to Jefferson with it. It must havebeen like a piece of rotten cheesecoming into an ant-hill , in thatramshackle wagon that Albert saidfolks were scared would fall all topieces before they could get it out oftown, with that home-made box andanother fellow with a broken leglying on a quilt on top of it, and thefather and a little boy sitting on theseat and the marshal trying to makethem get out of town.

“It’s a public street,” the man says.“I reckon we can stop to buysomething same as airy other man. Wegot the money to pay for hit, and hitain’t airy law that says a man can’tspend his money where he wants.”

They had stopped to buy somecement. The other son was inGrummet’s, trying to make Grummetbreak a sack and let him have tencents’ worth, and finally Grummetbroke the sack to get him out. Theywanted the cement to fix the fellow’sbroken leg, someway.

“Why, you’ll kill him,” the marshalsaid. “You’ll cause him to lose his leg.You take him on to a doctor, and youget this thing buried soon as you can.Don’t you know you’re liable to jailfor endangering the public health?”

“We’re doing the best we can,”the father said. Then he told along tale about how they had towait for the wagon to come backand how the bridge was washedaway and how they went eightmiles to another bridge and it wasgone too so they came back andswum the ford and the mules gotdrowned and how they got anotherteam and found that the road was

—Lafe dijo que en la botica me da-rían algo —dijo.

—Entonces vaya y que se lo den —dije yo—. Aquí no lo va a conseguir.

S a l i ó , l l e v a n d o e l p a q u e t e ,a r r a s t r a n d o l e v e m e n t e l o s p i e sp o r e l s u e l o . Vo l v i ó a t i t u b e a rj u n t o a l a p u e r t a y s a l i ó . P o re l e s c a p a r a t e v i q u e i b a c a l l ea b a j o .

Fue Albert el que me contó el restode la historia. Me dijo que la carreta ha-bía parado delante de la ferretería deGrummet, y que las señoras salieron hu-yendo por la calle con los pañuelos enlas narices, y que un grupo de hombres ymuchachos de olfato menos delicado sequedaron alrededor de la carreta, escu-chando al comisario discutir con el hom-bre. Era uno de esos hombres altos y fla-cos que estaba sentado en la carreta ydecía que aquello era la vía pública y queél tenía tanto derecho como cualquiera aestar allí, y el comisario le decía que te-nía que irse; la gente no lo podía aguan-tar. Debía de llevar ocho días muerta, medijo Albert. Venían de algún sitio delcondado de Yoknapatawpha, y pretendíanllegar a Jefferson con aquello. Era algoasí como un trozo de queso podrido caí-do en un hormiguero y metido en aque-lla carreta tan destartalada que Albertme dijo que la gente tenía miedo de quese hiciera pedazos antes de salir delpueblo, con aquella caja de fabricacióncasera y otro tipo con una pierna rotatumbado en una manta encima de ella,y el padre y un niño sentados en el pes-cante y el comisario tratando de que sefueran del pueblo.

—Esto es la vía pública —dice el hom-bre—. Para mí que podemos parar a com-prar unas cosas como cualquier otra perso-na. Tenemos dinero para pagar, y no hayninguna ley que diga que un hombre nopueda gastarse su dinero donde quiera.

Habían parado a comprar cemen-to. El otro hijo estaba en la tienda deGrummet tratando de convencerlepara que abriera un saco y le vendie-ra diez centavos y por fin Grummetabrió el saco para quitárselo de enci-ma. Querían el cemento para arreglar-se la pierna rota al otro.

—Le van a matar —dijo el comisa-rio—. Conseguirán que se quede sinpierna. Llévenle a un médico, y entie-rren eso lo más pronto que puedan.¿No sabe que pueden ir a la cárcel poratentar contra la salud pública?

—Hacemos todo lo que podemos —dijo el padre.

Luego contó una larga historia de quehabían tenido que esperar a que volvierala carreta y de que al puente se lo habíallevado la riada y que habían tenido quehace doce kilómetros de más hasta otropuente y que a éste también se lo habíallevado el agua de modo que dieron lavuelta y cruzaron el vado y se les ahoga-ron las mulas y tuvieron que conseguir

liable responsable;to be ~ FOR sth ser responsable de algo

(likely): I’m ~ to forget es probable que me olvide;the earlier model was ~ to overheat el modeloanterior tenía tendencia a recalentarse

liable 1 responsableto be liable for, ser responsable deto hold sb liable, responsabilizar a alguien [for,de]2 (cosa) hotels are liable to 16% VAT, los hote-les están sujetos al 16% del IVA3 propenso,-a [to, a]4 probable: it’s liable to rain, es probable quelluevaCompound Forms:

be liable ser responsable be liable for ser responsable de make jointly liable obligar solidariamente

106


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

washed out and they had to comeclean around by Mottson, and thenthe one wi th the cement cameback atad told him to shut up.

“We’ll be gone in a minute,” hetold the marshal.

“We never aimed to bothernobody,” the father said.

“You take that fellow to a doctor,” themarshal told the one with the cement.

“I reckon he’s all right,” he said.

“It ain’t that we’re hard-hearted,”the marshal said. “But I reckon youcan tell yourself how it is.”

“Sho,” the other said. “We’ll takeout soon as Dewey Dell comes back.She went to deliver a package.”

So they stood there with thefo lks backed o f f w i thhandkerchiefs to their faces, untilin a minute the girl came up withthat newspaper package.

“Come on,” the one with thecement said, “we’ve lost too muchtime.” So they got in the wagon andwent on. And when I went to supperit still seemed like I could smell it.And the next day I met the marshaland I began to sniff and said,

“Smell anything?”

“I reckon they’re in Jefferson bynow,” he said.

“Or in jail. Well, thank the Lordit’s not our jail.”

“That’s a fact,” he said.

46DARL (15)

“HERE’S a place,” pa says. He pullathe team up and sits looking at the house.

“We could get some water overyonder.”

“All right,” I say. “You’ll have to borrowa bucket from them, Dewey Dell.”

“God knows,”’ pa says. “I wouldn’tbe beholden, God knows.”

“If you see a good-sized can, youmight bring it,” I say. Dewey Dellgets down from the wagon, carryingthe package. “You had more troublethan you expected, selling thosecakes in Mottson,” I say. How do ourlives ravel out into the no-wind,no-sound, the weary gestures wearilyrecapitulant: echoes of oldcompulsions with no-hand onno-strings: in sunset we fall intofurious attitudes, dead gestures ofdolls. Cash broke his leg and now thesawdust is running out. He isbleeding to death is Cash.

otro tiro y que encontraron que el cami-no estaba inundado y tuvieron que darotro rodeo por Mottson, y entonces el delcemento volvió y le dijo que se callara.

—Nos iremos dentro de un momento—dijo al comisario.

—No queríamos molestar a nadie —dijo el padre.

—Lleven a ese individuo a un médi-co —le dijo el comisario al del cemento.

—Está perfectamente —dijo éste.

—No es que tengamos mal corazón—dijo el comisario—. Pero tiene quehacerse cargo de la situación.

—Claro que sí —dijo el otro—. Nosiremos en cuanto vuelva Dewey Dell.Fue a entregar un paquete.

De modo que se quedaron allí con lagente un poco apartada con los pañuelosen las narices, hasta que al rato aparecióla chica con el paquete envuelto en pa-pel de periódico.

—Vámonos —dijo el del cemento—,hemos perdido mucho tiempo.

Conque sub i e ron a l a ca r r e t a yse fue ron . Y cuando cenaba toda -v í a me pa rec í a que o l í a aque l lo .Y a l d í a s i g u i e n t e m e e n c o n t r écon e l comisa r io y o l í y l e d i j e :

—¿No hueles a algo?

—Para mí que ya deben de estar enJefferson —dijo.

—O en la cárcel. Bueno, gracias aDios no están en la de aquí.

—Eso es seguro —dijo él.

DARL

—ESTE es buen sitio —dice padre. De-tiene a las mulas y se queda sentado miran-do a la casa—. Podremos conseguir aguaallí.

—Muy bien —digo yo—. Tendrás quepedirles un cubo prestado, Dewey Dell.

—Bien lo sabe Dios —dice padre—. Nome gusta deber favores, Dios bien lo sabe.

—Si ves una lata de buen tamaño,podrías traerla —digo yo. Dewey Dell sebaja de la carreta, llevando el paquete—. Has tenido más problemas de los queesperabas para vender esos bollos enMottson —digo. Cómo se deshilachannuestras vidas camino de allí donde nohay viento ni sonido, los cansados ges-tos que se repiten cansinamente: ecos deviejos acordes de instrumentos sin cuer-das tocados sin manos: al ponerse el soladoptamos furiosas actitudes, gestosmuertos de marionetas. Cash se ha rotola pierna y ahora el serrín sale. Se estádesangrando, Cash se desangra.

Darl (15)

This section consists of Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts, as well as the words heoverhears and speaks, as thefamily stop outside Mottstown tomake up the cement for Cash’sleg. Just as they finish working onthe leg, Jewel reappears, havingbeen absent since taking his horseto the Snopes’.

COMMENTARY: Here theeffect of the journey on Darl isexplored. In Moseley (1), theunnamed Bundren whoapologised to the townspeoplemust have been Darl, who is theonly Bundren who seems to feelthe awfulness of the situation.Here, at an unverbalised level, helongs for extinction, ‘If you couldjust ravel out roto time. That

107


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“I wouldn’t be beholden,” pa says.“God knows.”

“Then make some water yourself,”I say. “Wecan use Cash’s hat.”

When Dewey Dell comes back theman comes with her. Then he stopsand she comes on and he stands thereand after a while he goes back to thehouse and stands on the porch,watching us.

“We better not try to lift him down,”pa says. “We can fix it here.”

“Do you want to be lifted down,Cash?” I say.

“Won’t we get to Jeffersonto-morrow?” he says. He is watchingus, his eyes interrogatory, intent, andsad. “I can last it out.”

“It’ll be easier on you,” pa says.“It’ll keep it from rubbing together.”

“I can last it,” Cash says. “We’lllose time stopping.”

“We done bought the cement,now,” pa says.

“ I could las t i t , ” Cash says .“ I t a in’t bu t one more day. I tdon’t bo ther to speak of .” Helooks a t u s , h i s eyes w ide inhis th in grey face , ques t ioning.“ I t se t s up so ,” he says .

“We done bought it now,” pa says.

I mix the cement in the can,stirring the slow water into thepale-green thick coi ls . I br ingthe can to the wagon where Cashcan see. He lies on his back, histhin profile in silhouette, asceticand profound aga ins t the sky.“Does that look about right?” I say.

“You don’t want too much water,or it won’t work right,” he says.

“Is this too much?”

“Maybe if you could get a littlesand,” he says. “It ain’t but one moreday,” he says. “It don’t bother menone.”

Vardaman goes back down theroad to where we crossed the branchand returns with sand. He pours itslowly into the thick coiling in thecan. I go to the wagon again.

“Does that look all right?”

“Yes,” Cash says. “I could havelasted. It don’t bother me none.”

We loosen the splints and pour thecement over his leg, slow.

“Watch out for it,” Cash says.“Don’t get none on it if you can help.”

—No me gusta deber favores —dicepadre—. Dios bien lo sabe.

—Entonces haga agua usted mismo —digoyo—. Podemos usar el sombrero de Cash.

Cuando vue lve Dewey De l l e lhombre viene con el la . Luego él separa y e l la se acerca y é l se quedaal l í y a l cabo de un ra to vuelve ala casa y se det iene en e l porche,observándonos .

—Será mejor que no intentemos bajarle—dice padre—. Podemos hacerlo aquí.

—¿Quieres que te bajemos, Cash? —digo yo.

—¿No llegaremos a Jefferson ma-ñana? —dice él. Nos mira con susojos interrogantes, intensos y tris-tes—. Puedo aguantar.

—Te sentará bien —dice padre—.Evitará que se rocen.

—Puedo aguantar —dice Cash—.Perderemos tiempo parándonos.

—Ya hemos comprado el cemento —dice padre.

—Puedo aguantar —dice Cash—.No queda más que un día. No merecela pena ni que hablemos de ello —nosmira, con sus ojos abiertos de par en par ensu delgada cara gris, interrogante—.Se arreglará solo.

—Ya lo hemos comprado —dice padre.

Mezclo el cemento en la lata, re-moviendo lentamente el agua que for-ma espesas espirales verde claro. Lle-vo la lata a la carreta donde la puedaver Cash. Está tumbado de espaldasy su delgado perfil forma una siluetaascética y profunda contra el cielo.

—¿Te parece que está bien? —digo.

—No añadas demasiada agua o no fra-guará bien —dice él. [193]

—¿Esta es demasiada?

—Puede que convenga añadir unpoco de arena —dice—. No queda másque un día —dice—. No me molesta enabsoluto.

Vardaman vuelve camino abajohasta donde cruzamos el arroyo y re-gresa con arena. La echa lentamen-te en la espesa mezcla de la lata.Voy otra vez a la carreta.

—¿Te parece que está bien?

—Sí —dice Cash—. Podía haberaguantado. No me molesta en absoluto.

Soltamos las tablillas y le echamoslentamente el cemento sobre la pierna.

—Tened cuidado —dice Cash—, deque no caiga nada en la caja, si podéis.

would be nice’. He also, in thelines ‘How do our lives . . . deathis Cash’, sees the family as beingengaged in a meaningless ritualwhich is related to the generalmeaninglessness of life. Theemphasis in the image is onrepetition and on the lack ofdirection in human affairs. Menare seen as puppets attached to‘no-hand on no-strings’. It is as ifDarl had suddenly realised thatwhat he observes around him hasno reality but is a species offoolish play enacted by replicasof men.

Until this moment, he has beenconcerned with the gap betweenwords and experience, hisinheritance from Addie. Now hesees experience itself as beingwithout any reason or substance,possibly in reaction againstexperience which has become toogrotesque for him to cope with.He therefore negates everything,no-wind, no-sound, and imaginesthat men move without knowingwhy, ‘echoes of old compulsions’.It is a vision of the world whichis not merely negative but whichtries to deny that the world hasany substance at all. Such a belieffrees Darl to act without referenceto any idea of reality.

108


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Yes,” I say. Dewey Dell tears apiece of paper from the package andwipes the cement from the top of itas it drips from Cash’s leg.

“How does that feel?”

“It feels fine,” he says. “It’s cold.It feels fine.”

“If it’ll just help you,” pa says. “Iasks your forgiveness. I never forseenit no more than you.”

“It feels fine,” Cash says.

If you could just ravel out intotime. That would be nice. It wouldbe nice if you could just ravel outinto time.

We replace the splints, the cords,drawing them tight, the cement in thickpale green slow surges among thecords, Cash watching us quietly withthat profound questioning look.

“That’ll steady it,” I say.

“Ay,” Cash says. “I’m obliged.”

Then we all turn on the wagonand watch him. He is coming upthe road beh ind us ,wooden-backed, wooden-faced,moving only from his hips down.He comes up without a word, withhis pale rigid eyes in his high sullenface, and gets into the wagon.

“Here’s a h i l l , ” pa says . “ Ireckon you’ll have to get out andwalk.”

47VARDAMAN (7)

DARL and Jewel and Dewey Delland I are walking up the hill behindthe wagon. Jewel came back. Hecame up the road and got into thewagon. He was walking. Jewel hasn’tgot a horse any more. Jewel is mybrother. Cash is my brother. Cash hasa broken leg. We fixed Cash’s leg soit doesn’t hurt. Cash is my brother.Jewel is my brother tool but he hasn’tgot a broken leg.

Now there are five of them, tall inlittle tall black circles.

“Where do they stay at night,Darl?” I say. “When we stop at nightin the barn, where do they stay?”

The hill goes off into the sky. Thenthe sun comes up from behind the hilland the mules and the wagon and pawalk on the sun. You cannot watchthem, walking slow on the sun. InJefferson it is red on the track behindthe glass. The track goes shining roundand round. Dewey Dell says so.

To-night I am going to see wherethey stay while we are in the barn.

— S í — d i g o y o . D e w e y D e l larranca un trozo de papel del paque-te y seca el cemento de la tapa cuan-do gotea de la pierna de Cash.

—¿Cómo te sienta?

—Me sienta bien —dice—. Está frío.Me sienta bien.

—Con tal de que te alivie —dice pa-dre—.Tengo que pedirte perdón. Nuncalo hubiera previsto, como tú tampoco.

—Me sienta bien —dice Cash.

Si uno pudiera deshilacharse en eltiempo... Sería tan agradable. Sería tanagradable si uno pudiera deshilacharse enel tiempo.

Volvemos a poner las tablillas, apre-tando fuerte las cuerdas. El cemento sur-ge en espesos grumos verde pálido entrelas cuerdas. Cash nos observa en silenciocon esa profunda mirada interrogante.

—Así quedará fijo —digo yo.

—Claro —dice Cash—. Os lo agradezco.

Entonces todos nos damos media vuel-ta en la carreta y le observamos. Vienecamino arriba detrás de nosotros, con suespalda envarada, su cara de palo, mo-viéndose únicamente de cintura para abajo.Se acerca sin decir ni una palabra, consus rígidos ojos claros en su larga carasombría, y se sube a la carreta.

—Otra cuesta —dice padre—. Paramí que tendréis que bajaros y subirandando. [194]

VARDAMAN

DARL y Jewel y Dewey Dell y yovamos andando cuesta arriba, detrásde la carreta. Jewel volvió. Vino ca-mino arriba y se subió a la carreta.Vino andando. Jewel ya no tiene ca-ballo. Jewel es mi hermano. Cash esmi hermano. Cash se ha roto una pier-na. Arreglamos la pierna de Cash paraque no le doliese. Cash es mi herma-no. Jewel también es mi hermano,pero no tiene una pierna rota.

Ahora hay cinco, haciendo circulitosnegros arriba.

—¿Dónde pasan la noche, Darl? —digo yo—. Cuando nos paramos de no-che en el granero, ¿dónde se meten?

La cuesta se pierde en el cielo. En-tonces el sol sale detrás de la cuesta ylas mulas y la carreta y padre pisan elsol. No se los puede mirar cuando vanp isando l en tamente e l so l . EnJefferson hay un tren rojo detrás delcristal. Las vías brillan y dan vueltasy vueltas. Eso dice Dewey Dell.

Esta noche voy a ver dónde se metenmientras estamos en el granero.

Vardaman (7)

In this section Vardaman lists,at an unspoken level, all the thingswhich have meaning for him. Histhoughts are short and consistsimply of factual observations ofhis brothers’ actions, thebuzzards, the wagon, and of abrief image of the train which hehopes to get in Jefferson.

COMMENTARY: Vardaman’stendency to list things and to staterelationships, ‘Cash is my brother,Jewel is my brother’, reflects theworkings of his mind. As a smallchild, it is necessary for him totry to put things in some sort oforder, to repeat things to givehimself a sense of security.

109


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

48DARL (16)

“JEWEL,” I say, “whose son areYou?”

The breeze was setting up from thebarn, so we put her anden the appletree, where the moonlight can dapplethe apple tree upon the longslumbering flanks within which nowand then she talks in little tricklingbursts of secret and murmurousbubbling. I took Vardaman to listen.When we came up the cat leaped downfrom it and flicked away with silverclaw and silver eye into the shadow.

“Your mother was a horse, but whowas your father, Jewel?”

“You goddamn lying son of abitch.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say.

“You goddamn lying son of abitch.”

“Don’t you call me that, Jewel.”In the tall moonlight his eyes look likespots of white papen pasted on a highsmall football.

A f t e r s u p p e r C a s hb e g a n t o s w e a t a l i t t l e .“ It’s getting a little hot,” he said.“It was the sun shining on it allday, I reckon.”

“You want some water pouredon it?” we say. “Maybe that willease it some.”

“I’d be obliged,” Cash said. “Itwas the sun shining on it, I reckon.I ought to thought and kept i tcovered.”

“We ough t t o t hough t , ” wes a i d . “ Yo u c o u l d n ’ t h a v esuspicioned.”

“I never noticed it getting hot,”Cash said. “I ought to minded it.”

S o w e p o u r e d t h e w a t e ro v e r i t . H i s l e g a n d f o o tb e l o w t h e c e m e n t l o o k e dl i k e t h e y h a d b e e n b o i l e d .“Does that feel better?” we said.

“I’m obliged,” Cash said. “Itfeels fine.”

Dewey Dell wipes his face with thehem of her dress.

“See if you can get come sleep,-’we say.

“Sho,” Cash says. “I’m rightobliged. It feels fine now.”

Jewel, I say, Who was your father,Jewel?

Goddamn you. Goddamn you.

DARL

—JEWEL —digo—, ¿de quién ereshijo?

La brisa soplaba de la parte del gra-nero, de modo que la pusimos debajo delmanzano, donde la luna pueda salpicar elmanzano sobre los largos costados me-dio dormidos entre los cuales de vez encuando ella cuenta secretos en leves es-tallidos irregulares y murmullosburbujeantes. Llevé a Vardaman a que losescuchara. Cuando llegamos el gato sal-tó desde la caja y escapó con garras deplata y ojos de plata hacia la sombra.

—Tu madre era un caballo, pero¿quién era tu padre, Jewel? [195]

—Eres un maldito hijo de puta men-tiroso.

—No me llames eso —digo yo.

—Eres un maldito hijo de puta men-tiroso.

—No me llames eso, Jewel —ala ele-vada luz de la luna sus ojos parecen tro-zos de papel blanco pegados a un peque-ño balón de fútbol en lo alto.

D e s p u é s d e c e n a r C a s h e m -p e z ó a s u d a r u n p o c o .

—Empiezo a notar algo de calor —dijo—. Para mí que porque estuvo alsol todo el día.

—¿Quieres que le echemos un pocode agua? —decimos—. A lo mejor tealivia.

—Os lo agradecería —dijo Cash—.Para mí que es porque le ha dado el sol.Debiera haber pensado en ello y llevarlatapada.

—Nosotros debiéramos haber pensa-do en eso —dijimos—. A ti no se te iba aocurrir.

—No noté que se me iba calentando —dijo Cash—. Debería habérseme ocurrido.

De modo que le echamos agua en-cima. El pie y la pierna que asoma-ban debajo de l cemento parec íancomo si se los hubieran cocido.

—¿Te sientes mejor? —dijimos.

—Os lo agradezco —dijo Cash—. Mesienta bien.

Dewey Dell le seca la cara con el bor-de del vestido.

—A ver si consigues dormir algo —decimos.

—Claro —dice Cash—. Os estoy muyagradecido. Ahora me encuentro bien.

Jewel, digo yo, ¿quién era tu padre,Jewel?

Vete a la mierda. Vete a la mierda.

Darl (16)

This section contains a mixtureof factual observations about thecondition of Cash’s foot andquestions directed at Jewel,designed to upset him. When Darlasks ‘who was your father, Jewel’,he is goading his brother andattempting to make Jewel face thefact that he is different from therest of the family. The section alsocontains the information thatAddie’s corpse is now so decayedthat it is exhaling foul gases. Darltakes Vardaman to listen to thenoise of the gases being released,encouraging him to imagine thatit is the noise of his mothertalking, ‘now and then she talksin little trickling bursts of secretand murmurous bubble’.

flick 1 a a light, sharp, quickly retracted blowwith a whip etc. b the sudden release of abent finger or thumb, esp. to propel a smallobject. 2 a sudden movement or jerk. 3 aquick turn of the wrist in playing games, esp.in throwing or striking a ball. 4 a slight, sharpsound. 5 Brit. colloq. a a cinema film. b (inpl.; prec. by the) the cinema.

1 tr. (often foll. by away, off) strike or move witha flick (flicked the ash off his cigar; flickedaway the dust). 2 tr. give a flick with (a whip,towel, etc.). 3 intr. make a flicking movementor sound.

Dar un golpecito (interruptor), rozar (látigo), pa-sar rápidamente (páginas), arrojar (colilla,humo), sacar (lengua), apagar (luz)

dapple 1 to mark or become marked with spotsor patches of a different colour; mottle2 mottled or spotted markings Motear3 a dappled horse, etc 1. Dícese del caballoo yegua que tiene manchas, ordinariamenteredondas, más oscuras que el color generalde su pelo..4 marked with dapples or spots.

110


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

49VARDAMAN (8)

SHE was under the apple tree andDarl and I go across the moon andthe cat jumps down and runs and wecan hear her inside the wood.

“Hear?” Darl says. “Put yourear close.”

I put my ear close and I can hearher. Only I can’t tell what she issaying.

“What is she saying, Darl?” I say.“Who is she talking to?”

“She’s talking to God,” Darlsays. “She is calling on Him tohelp her.”

“What does she want Him to do?”I say.

“She wants Him to hide her awayfrom the sight of man,” Darl says.

“Why does she want to hide heraway from the sight of man, Darl?”

“So she can lay down her life,”Darl says.

“Why does she want to lay downher life, Darl?”

“Listen,” Darl says. We hear her.We hear her turn over on her side.“Listen,” Darl says.

“She’s turned over” I say. “She’slooking at me through the wood.”

“Yes,” Darl says.

“How can she see through thewood, Darl?”

“Come,” Darl says. “We must lether be quiet. Come.”

“She can’t see out there, becausethe holes are in the top,” I say. “Howcan she see, Darl?”

“Let’s go see about Cash,” Darlsays.

And I saw something Dewy Delltold me not to tell nobody.

Cash is sick in his leg. We fixedhis leg this afternoon, but he is sickin it again, lying on the bed. Wepour water on his leg and then hefeels fine.

“I feel fine,” Cash says. “I’mobliged to you.”

“Try to get some sleep,” we say.

“I feel fine,” Cash says. “I’mobliged to you.”

And I saw something Dewey Delltold me not to tell nobody. It is not

VARDAMAN

ELLA estaba bajo el manzano yDarl y yo cruzamos la luna y el gatosalta al suelo y corre y la podemosoír dentro de la madera.

—¿Oyes? —dice Darl—. Pega laoreja.

Pego la oreja y la oigo. Lo que pasaes que no puedo entender lo que está di-ciendo.

—¿Qué está haciendo, Darl? —digoyo—. ¿A quién le está hablando?

—Está hablando con Dios —diceDarl—. Le está llamando para que laayude.

—¿Y para qué quiere que la ayude?—digo yo.

—Quiere que la aparte de la miradade los hombres —dice Darl.

—¿Y por qué quiere que la aparte dela mirada de los hombres, Darl?

—Así podrá entregar la vida —diceDarl.

—¿Y por qué quiere entregar la vida,Darl?

—Escucha —dice Darl. La oímos. Laoímos darse la vuelta sobre el costado—.Escucha —dice Darl.

—Se ha dado la vuelta —digo yo—.Me está mirando a través de la madera.

—Sí —dice Darl.

—¿Y cómo puede ver a través de lamadera, Darl?

—Vámonos —dice Darl—. Debemosdejar que esté tranquila. Vámonos.

—No puede ver lo de aquí fuera por-que los agujeros están arriba —digo yo—. ¿Cómo puede ver, Darl?

—Vamos a ver cómo está Cash —diceDarl.

Y vi una cosa que Dewey Dell me dijoque no se la contase a nadie.

Cash tiene la pierna mal. Esta tardese la entablillamos, pero vuelve a tener-la mal, ahí tumbado en la cama. Le echa-mos agua en la pierna y entonces se sientebien.

—Me siento bien —dice Cash—. Oslo agradezco.

—Procura dormir un poco —le decimos.

—Me siento bien —dice Cash—. Oslo agradezco.

Y vi una cosa que Dewey Dell medijo que no se la contare a nadie. Y no

Vardaman (8)

This section recordsVardaman’s conversation withDarl as they stand beside Addie’scoffin. Darl tells Vardaman thatAddie is asking God to help her‘lay down her life’, a remarkwhich the child does notunderstand. He thinks instead ofsomething that he does know, asecret shared with Dewey Dell,then he sees Cash and lies downbeside Dewey Dell to go to sleep.

111


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

about pa and it is not about Cash andit is not about Jewel and it is not aboutDewey Dell and it is not about me.

Dewey Dell and I are going tosleep on the pallet. It is on the backporch, where we can see the barn,and the moon shines on half of thepallet and we will lie half in the whiteand half in the black, with themoonlight on our legs. And then Iam going to see where they stay atnight while we are in the barn. Weare not in the barn to-night but I cansee the barn and so I am going to findwhere they stay at night.

We lie on the pallet, with our legsin the moon.

“Look,” I say, “my legs look black.Your legs look black, too.”

“Go to sleep,” Dewey Dell says.

Jefferson is a far piece.

“Dewey Dell.”[“What?”]“If it’s not Christmas now, how

will it be there?”

It goes round and round on theshining track. Then the track goesshining round and round.

“Will what be there?”

“That train. In the window.”

“You go to sleep. You can seeto-morrow if it’s there.”

Maybe Santa Claus won’t knowthey are town boys.

“Dewey Dell.”

“You go to sleep. He ain’t going tolet none of them town boys have it.”

It was behind the window, red onthe track, and the track shininground and round. It made my hearthurt. And then it was pa and Jeweland Darl and Mr. Gillespie’s boy.Mr. Gillespie’s boy’s legs comedown under his nightshirt. When hegoes into the moon, his legs fuzz.They go on around the housetoward’ the apple tree.

“What are they going to do, Dewey Dell?”

They went around the housetoward the apple tree.

“I can smell her,” I say. “Can yousmell her, too?”

“Hush,” Dewey Dell says. “Thewind’s changed. Go to sleep.”

And so I am going to know wherethey stay at night soon. They comearound the house, going across theyard in the moon, carrying her ontheir shoulders. They carry her down

es sobre padre ni es sobre Cash ni essobre Jew e l n i e s s o b re D e w e yD e l l n i e s s o b re m í

Dewey Dell y yo vamos a dormir enel jergón. Está en el porche de atrás, des-de donde podemos ver el granero, y laluna da sobre medio jergón y estaremosacostados la mitad en lo blanco y la otramitad en lo negro con la luz de la luna enlas piernas. Y luego voy a ver dónde seposan por la noche mientras estamos enel granero. Esta noche no [197] estamosdentro del granero, pero puedo ver el gra-nero de modo que voy a averiguar dóndese posan por la noche.

Nos acostamos en el jergón, con laspiernas en la luna.

—Mira —digo—, mis piernas parecennegras. Las tuyas parecen negras también.

—Duérmete —dice Dewey Dell.

Jefferson queda lejos.

—Dewey Dell.—Qué.—¿Si ahora no es Navidad, cómo pue-

de estar allí?

Da vueltas y vueltas sobre as brillan-tes vías. Luego las vías brillan dandovueltas y vueltas.

—¿Está allí el qué?

—Aquel tren. En el escaparate.

—Duérmete. Mañana podrás ver siestá.

A lo mejor Santa Claus no sabe queson chicos de ciudad.

—Dewey Dell.

—Duérmete. No va a ser para ningu-no de los chicos de ciudad.

Estaba en el escaparate, rojo en lasvías; en las vías brillantes que dan vuel-tas y vueltas. Aquello hacía que me do-liese el corazón. Y entonces salen pa-dre y Jewel y Darl y el chico de Mr.Gillespie. Las piernas del chico de Mr.Gillespie le asoman por debajo del ca-misón. Cuando se mete donde da la luna,esas piernas tienen pelo. Rodean la casahacia el manzano.

—¿Qué van a hacer, Dewey Dell?

Han rodeado la casa en dirección almanzano.

—La huelo —dije yo—. ¿Las huelestú también?

—Cállate —dice Dewey Dell— Hacambiado el viento. Duérmete.

Conque pronto voy a saber dón-de se posan por la noche. Rodeanla casa y atraviesan el patio a la luzde la luna, l levándola a hombros.La bajan al l legar al granero, mien-

112


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

unbelief: disbelief

powder: gunpowder, explosives

saw-horses: wooden frames withfour legs used to support logsduring sawing

a trestle:a wooden bridge made ofwooden planking

opaline: like an opal, shining

to the barn, the moon shining flat andquiet on her. Then they come back andgo into the house again. While theywere in the moon, Mr. Gillespie’sboy’s legs fuzzed. And then I waitedand I said Dewey Dell? and then Iwaited and then I went to find wherethey stay at night and I saw somethingthat Dewey Dell told me not to tellnobody.

50DARL (17)

AGAINST the dark doorway heseems to materialize out of darkness,lean as a racehorse in hisunderclothes in the beginning of theglare. He leaps to the ground withon his face an expression of furiousunbelief. He has seen me withouteven turning his head or his eyes inwhich the glare swims like two smalltorches. “Come on,” he says, leapingdown the slope toward the barn.

For an instant longer he runs silverin the moonlight, then he springs outlike a flat figure cut cleanly from tinagainst an abrupt and soundlessexplosion as the whole loft of the barntakes fine at once, as though it hadbeen stuffed with powder. The front,the conical façade with the squareorifice of doorway broken only by thesquare squat shape of the coffin on thesaw-horses like a cubistic bug, comesinto relief. Behind me pa and Gillespieand Mack and Dewey Dell andVardaman emerge from the house.

He pauses at the coffin, stooping,looking at me, his face furious.Overhead the flames sound likethunder; across us rushes a cooldraught: there is no heat in it at allyet, and a handful of chaff liftssuddenly and sucks swiftly along thestalls where a horse is screaming.“Quick,” I say; “the horses.”

He glares a moment longer atme, then at the roof overhead, thenhe leaps toward the stall where thehorse screams. I t p lunges andkicks, the sound of the crashingblows sucking up into the sound ofthe flames. They sound like aninterminable t ra in cross ing anendless trestle. Gillespie and Mackpass me, in knee-length nightshirts,shouting, their voices th in andhigh and meaningless and at thesame time profoundly wild ands a d : “. . . cow . . . s tal l . . .”Gi l l e s p i e ’ s n i g h t s h i r tr u s h e s a h e a d o f h i m o n t h ed r a f t , b a l l o o n i n g a b o u t h i sh a i r y t h i g h s .

The stall door has swung shut.Jewel thrusts i t back with hisbuttocks and he appears, his backarched, the muscles ridged throughhis garments as he drags the horseout by its head. In the glare its eyesroll with soft, fleet, wild opalinefire; its muscles bunch and run as it

tras la luna bri l la l isa y callada so-bre ella. Luego vuelven y entran enla casa otra vez. Mientras los i lu-minaba la luna, las piernas del chi-co de Mr. Gil lespie tenían pelo. Yluego esperé y dije: ¿Dewey Dell?—y luego esperé y luego fui a ave-riguar dónde se posan de noche yvi una cosa que Dewey Dell me dijoque no se la contase a nadie.

DARL

CONTRA el fondo oscuro de la entra-da parece como si él se materializara apartir de la oscuridad, esbelto como unpura sangre, en ropa interior, al comienzode la claridad. Salta hasta el suelo con unaexpresión en la cara de furiosa increduli-dad. Me ha visto sin siquiera volver lacabeza ni los ojos en los que la claridadenciende como dos pequeñas luces.

—Ven —dice, saltando por la pen-diente que baja hacia el granero.

Durante un instante corre plateado ala luz de la luna, luego salta como unafigura plana recortada en hojalata sobreuna violenta y silenciosa explosión: escomo si todo el desván del granero sehubiera puesto a arder de repente igualque si hubiera estado lleno de pólvora.La parte delantera, la fachada cónica conel orificio cuadrado de la entrada sólorota por la achatada forma del ataúd en-cima de los caballetes como un escara-bajo cubista, adquiere relieve. Por detrásde mí, padre y Gillespie y Mack y DeweyDell y Vardaman salen de la casa.

Se detiene junto al ataúd, se inclina, yme mira con expresión furiosa. Por enci-ma de nuestras cabezas las llamas suenancomo truenos; nos alcanza una bocanadade aire frío: todavía no se ha calentado, yun manojo de paja se eleva de repente yes absorbido rápidamente hacia la cuadradonde relincha asustado un caballo.

—Deprisa —digo—; los caballos.

Me mira durante un momento más,luego alza la vista hacia el techo, luegoda un salto hacia la cuadra donde relin-cha el caballo. Este corcovea y cocea, yel sonido de sus cascos sube chupadohacia arriba mezclándose con el sonidode las llamas. Unas llamas que suenancomo un tren interminable cruzando unpuente sin fin. Gillespie y Mack me ade-lantan con sus camisones hasta las rodi-llas, gritando sus voces débiles y agudasy sin sentido y al mismo tiempo profun-damente salvajes y tristes:

—... la vaca... la cuadra...A Gillespie se le vuela el camisón con

la corriente, por delante de él, hinchán-dose como un globo alrededor de suspeludos muslos.

La puerta de la cuadra se ha cerradode golpe. Jewel la empuja con las nalgasy aparece con la‘ espalda arqueada, losmúsculos tensos debajo de su camisa,mientras arrastra al caballo fuera cogién-dolo por la cabeza. En el resplandor losojos del animal giran con un fuego sua-ve, repentino, salvaje, opalino; sus mús-

Darl (17)

This section contains Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts as he watches Jeweltrying to rescue the animals andAddie’s coffin from the barnwhich he, Darl, has set alight.

COMMENTARY: This sectionis a natural progression from Darl(15), when Darl freed himselffrom any belief that what wasgoing on around him was real. Hismotives for setting the barn onfire are not clear. Either he wantedto rid the family of the burden ofAddie or he wanted to hurt Jewel,who is so deeply involved withAddie. His observations are a se-ries of images verbalised byFaulkner on behalf of thecharacter. Jewel is at the centreof these images, ‘lean as aracehorse’, frantically racingabout saving all Gillespie’sanimals and then going back intothe barn to get Addie. WhenGillespie tries to stop him, Darlsees them as ‘two figures in aGreek frieze, isolated out of allreality by the red glare’ and whenJewel emerges from the barn withthe coffin Darl’s image is of Jewel‘enclosed in a thin nimbus of fire’.

Darl’s vision of the eventslends them a touch of savageunreality which is in keeping withhis personal lack of belief inreality. His vision is, as ever, pre-cise, and he is keenly aware of thecontrast between themathematical elements of thescene and the formlessness of thesmoke and fire. His image of thebarn itself, like a description of asurrealistic painting, is in the lines‘For an instant he . . .’ to ‘intohigh relief

Only Darl, the sensitiveobserver, could have drawn out allthe surrealistic undertones of thescene. Serious though it is for theGillespies who own the barn andfor Jewel, Darl is free toappreciate the humour of theevents. Gillespie, stark naked anddragging a mule which is wearinghis nightshirt, and Jewel, riding acoffin, are both potentially funnyfor the reader and for Darl.

The fire in the barn enablesJewel, who looms throughout thescene as a figure of superhumanstrength, to fulfil Addie’sprophesy that he would save herfrom ‘the fire and the water’.Because the tone of the novel is amixture of the comedy and the

abrupt adj. 1 sudden and unexpected; hasty (his abruptdeparture).Repentino, brusco, cortante. 2 (ofspeech, manner, etc.) uneven; lacking continuity;curt, Lacónico, áspero. 3 steep, precipitous. 4 Bot.truncated. 5 Geol. (of strata) suddenly appearing atthe surface.

abrupto 1. adj. Escarpado, que tiene gran pendiente;dícese también del terreno quebrado, de difícil ac-ceso. 2. Áspero, violento, rudo, destemplado. De-claración ABRUPTA. Carácter ABRUPTO

brusco 1. adj. Áspero, desapacible. 2. Rápido, repentino,pronto. 3. m. Planta perenne de la familia de lasliliáceas, como de medio metro de altura, con tallosramosos, flexibles y estriados cubiertos de cladodiosovalados, retorcidos en el eje, y de punta aguda; floresverdosas que nacen en el centro de los cladodios, ybayas del color y tamaño de una guinda pequeña.

113


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

flings its head about, lifting Jewelclear of the ground. He drags it on,slowly, terrifically; again he givesme across his shoulder a single glarefurious and brief. Even when theyare clear of the barn the horsecontinues to fight and lash backwardtoward the doorway until Gillespiepasses me, s tark naked, hisnightshirt wrapped about the mule’shead, and beats the maddened horseon out of the door.

Jewel returns, running; again helooks down at the coffin. But hecomes on. “Where’s cow?” he cries,passing me. I follow him. In thestall Mack is struggling with theother mule. When its head turnsinto the glare I can see the wildrolling of its eye too, but it makesno sound. I t jus t s tands there ,watching Mack over its shoulder,swinging its hindquarters towardhim whenever he approaches. Helooks back at us, his eyes andmouth three round holes in his faceon which the freckles look likeEnglish peas on a plate. His voiceis thin, high, far away.

“ I c a n ’ t d o n o t h i n g . . . . ”I t i s a s though the round hadbeen swept from his l ips and upand away, speaking back to usf rom an immense d i s t ance o fexhaustion. Jewel sudes past us;the mule whirls and lashes out,bu t he has a l r eady ga ined i t shead. I lean to Mack’s ear

“Nightshitt. Around his head.”

Mack stares at me. Then he ripsthe nightshirt off and flings it overthe mule’s head, and it becomesdocile at once. Jewel is yelling athim: “Cow? Cow?»

“ B a c k , ” M a c k c r i e s . “ L a s ts ta l l . ”

The cow watches us as we enter.She is backed into the corner, headlowered, still chewing though rapidly.But she makes no move. Jewel haspaused, looking up, and suddenly wewatch the entire floor to the loftdissolve. It just turns to fire; a faintlitter of sparks runs down. He glancesabout. Back arder the trough is athreelegged milking-stool. He catchesit up and swings it into the plankingof the rear wall. He splinters a plank,then another, a third; we tear thefragments away. While we arestooping at the opening somethingcharges into us from behind. It is thecow; with a single whistling breathshe rushes between us and through thegap and into the outer glare, her tailerect and rigid as a broom nailedupright to the end of her spine.

Jewel turns back into the barn.“Here,” I say; “Jewel!” I grasp athim; he strikes my hand down.“You fool,” I say, “don’t you see

culos se agarrotan y se mueven cuandoagita la cabeza, levantando a Jewel ma-terialmente del suelo. Este tira de él, len-tamente, tremendamente; vuelve a lanzar-me por encima del hombro una miradafuriosa y breve. Aunque ya han salidodel granero el caballo continúa resistién-dose y trata de recular hacia la puertahasta que Gillespie me adelanta, total-mente desnudo, su camisón envolviendola cabeza de la mula y aparta a palos alenloquecido caballo de la puerta.

Jewel vuelve corriendo; mirad elataúd otra vez, pero sigue.

—¿Dónde está la vaca? —grita, alpasar junto a mí.

Le sigo. En la cuadra Mack forcejeacon la otra mula. Cuando la cabeza deésta se ilumina veo que sus ojos giranfrenéticos también, pero no hace ningúnruido. Se limita a estar allí quieta, mi-rando a Mack por encima del lomo, yvolviendo los cuartos traseros hacia élsiempre que se le acerca. Mack se vuel-ve a mirarnos y en su cara salpicada depecas que parecen un puñado de guisan-tes en un plato, los ojos y la boca sontres agujeros redondos. Su voz es fina,aguda, lejana.

—No puedo hacer nada...Es como si las palabras le hubieran

sido arrancadas de los labios y dispersa-das por el aire, y llegaran a nosotros des-de una inmensa distancia de agotamien-to. Jewel se desliza junto a nosotros; lamula da vueltas y suelta coces, pero élha conseguido cogerla por la cabeza. Meinclino hacia Mack y le grito al oído:

—El camisón. Pónselo alrededor de la cabeza.

Mack me mira. Luego se arranca elcamisón y se lo echa a la mula por encimade la cabeza, con lo que ésta se amansainmediatamente. Jewel le está gritando:

—¿Y la vaca? ¿Y la vaca?

—A1 fondo —grita Mack—. En elúltimo pesebre.

La vaca nos mira cuando entramos.Está metida contra el rincón, con la cabe-za baja, todavía comiendo, aunque depri-sa. Pero no se mueve. Jewel se detiene,levanta la vista, y de repente vemos todoel suelo del desván que se disuelve. Sim-plemente se vuelve fuego; empieza a caeruna fina lluvia de chispas. Jewel mira asu alrededor. Al fondo, debajo de la arte-sa, hay una banqueta de ordeñar de trespatas. La agarra y golpea con ella las ta-blas de la pared del fondo. Arranca unatabla, luego otra, luego una tercera; noso-tros vamos quitando los fragmentos.Mientras estamos inclinados hacia la aber-tura algo se nos echa encima por detrás.Es la vaca; con un simple aliento silbantepasa corriendo entre nosotros y atraviesala brecha hacia la claridad de fuera; tienela cola recta y rígida como una escoba cla-vada al final del espinazo.

Jewel vuelve a entrar en el granero.—Oye —digo—. ¡Jewe1! —e inten-

to agarrarle, pero él me aparta la manode un golpe—. Estás loco —le digo—,

tragedy, it is possible that here,as in Whitfield (1), Faulkner ismaking a wry and ironiccomment on the nature ofprophecy.

wry adj.1 distorted or turned to one side. 2 (of a faceor smile etc.) contorted in disgust (abhorrence),disappointment, or mockery. 3 (of humour) dry andmocking.

Torcido, pervertido, raro, irónico, forzado, agria,amarga (of a face or smile etc.) contorted indisgust, disappointment, or mockery. 3 (of humour)dry and mocking. Astuto, sagaz, ladino, taimado.

de reojo [1. fr. Mirar disimuladamente dirigiendo lavista por encima del hombro, o hacia un lado ysin volver la cabeza. 2. fig. Mirar con prevenciónhostil o enfado]

brief 1 (de duración) breve, momentáneo abrief rest , un breve descanso 2 (de tama-ño) conciso, lacónico, muy corto, in brief,en resumen

1 (noticia) informe, sumario, resumen 2Jur escrito 3 briefs pl, (de hombre) cal-zoncillos (de mujer) bragas

1 (dar información) informar, despachar 2Mil Jur informar a

114


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

a Greek frieze: a horizontal band ofsculptured figures, specifically ona Greek temple or vase

proscenium: square archway

portiere: (French) a curtain hungover a doorway

nimbus: cloud or halo

you can’t make it back yonder?”The hall-way looks like a search-light turned into rain. “Come on,”I say, “around this way.”

W h e n w e a r e t h r o u g h t h eg a p h e b e g i n s t o ru ns.“Jewel,” I say, running. He dartsaround the corner. When I reach ithe has almost reached the next one,running against the glare like thatfigure cut from tin. Pa and Gillespieand Mack are some distance away,watching the barn, pink against thedarkness where for the time themoonlight has been vanquished.“Catch him!” I cry; “stop him!”

When I reach the front, he isstruggling with Gillespie; the onelean in underclothes, the other starknaked. They are like two figures ina Greek frieze, isolated out of allreality by the red glare. Before Ican reach them he has s t ruckGillespie to the ground and turnedand run back into the barn.

The sound of it has become quitepeaceful now, like the sound of theriver did. We watch through thedissolving proscenium of thedoorway as Jewel runs crouching tothe far end of the coffin and stoopsto it. For an instant he looks up andout at us through the rain of burninghay like a portière of flaming beads,and I can see his mouth shape as hecalls my name.

“Jewel !” Dewey Del l c r ies ;“Jewel!” I t seems to me that Inow hear the accumulation of hervoice through the last five min-utes, and I hear her scuffling andstruggling as pa and Mack holdher, screaming, “Jewel! Jewel!”But he is no longer looking at us. We seehis shoulders strain as he up-ends thecoffin and slides it single-handed fromthe saw-horses. It looms unbeliev-ably tall, hiding hin: I would not havebelieved that Addie Bundren wouldhave needed that much room to lieconfortable in; for another instant itstands upright while the sparks rainon it in scattering bursts as thoughthey engendered other sparks from thecontact. Then it topples forward,ga in ing momentum, revea l ingJewel and the sparks raining on himtoo in engendering gusts, so thathe appears to be enclosed in a thinnimbus of fire. Without stopping itover-ends and rears again, pauses,then crashes slowly forward andthrough the cur ta in . This t imeJewel is riding upon it, clinging toi t , u n t i l i t c r a s h e s d o w n a n dflings him forward and clear andMack leaps forward into a thinsmell of scorching meat and slapsa t the widening cr imsonedgedholes that bloom like flowers inhis undershirt.

¿no ves que no conseguirás llegar ahíatrás? —la puerta parece como un re-flector iluminando la lluvia—. Ven —le digo—, por aquí.

Cuando salimos por el boquete echaa correr.

Jewel —le digo, corriendo también.Dobla la esquina. Cuando llego a ella élcasi ha alcanzado la otra, corriendo so-bre el resplandor como aquella figurarecortada de hojalata. Padre y Gillespiey Mack están un poco más lejos mirandoel granero, enrojecidos sobre la oscuri-dad donde por el momento la luz de laluna ha sido vencida—. ¡Cojedle! —gri-to—; ¡detenedle! [201]

Cuando llego a la parte delantera, estáforcejeando con Gillespie; uno delgadoy en ropa interior, el otro completamentedesnudo. Son como dos figuras de un fri-so griego, aisladas de toda realidad porel rojo resplandor. Antes de que puedaalcanzarles, Jewel ha tirado al suelo aGillespie, ha dado media vuelta y ha en-trado corriendo en el granero otra vez.

El sonido de éste ahora se ha calma-do, como hizo antes el del río. A travésdel proscenio de la puerta que se disuel-ve vemos cómo corre Jewel encorvadohasta el extremo más alejado del ataúd yse inclina sobre él. Durante un instantelevanta la vista hacia nosotros por entrela lluvia de pajas encendidas que cae anteél como una cortina de cuentasllameantes, y veo por la forma de su bocaque está diciendo mi nombre.

—¡Jewel! —grita Dewey Dell—¡Jewel! —y me parece que ahora oigola voz que ella ha estado acumulan-do durante los últimos cinco minu-tos, y oigo cómo jadea y se debatecuando padre y Mack la agarran, yla oigo gri tar—: ¡Jewe1! ¡Jewel!

Pero éste ya no nos mira. Vemos quesus hombros se tensan cuando empinael ataúd y lo hace resbalar con una solamano sobre los caballetes. Se eleva in-creíblemente alto, y le oculta: no ha-bría creído que Addie Bundren necesi-tase tanto sitio para sentirse cómoda;durante otro instante la caja está levan-tada mientras las chispas llueven sobreella salpicando como si engendraranotras chispas con el contacto. Luego,cogiendo impulso, cae hacia delan-te , permit iendo ver a Jewel y a lasch ispas que l lueven sobre é l en-gendrando otras nuevas , de modoque parece rodeado por un delgadohalo de fuego. Sin detenerse, se in-clina y se eleva otra vez, se detieney luego, atraviesa la cortina de fue-go. Esta vez Jewel está a horcaja-das sobre la caja, agarrándola, has-ta que de un tirón la saca mientras élsale despedido y Mack se precipitahacia Jewel al notar un cierto olor acarne chamuscada y a manotazos apa-ga los encendidos agujeros carmesícada vez mayores que parecen floresque brotan en su camiseta. [202]

115


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

tarnation: (Am. col.) damnation

the hide: (col.) the skin

51VARDAMAN (9)

WHEN I went to find where theystay at night, I saw something.Th e y s a i d , “ W h e r e i s D a r l ?Where did Darl go?”

They carried her back under theapple tree.

The barn was still red, but it wasn’ta barn now. It was sunk down, andthe red went swirling up. The barnwent swirling up in little red pieces,against the sky and the stars so thatthe stars moved backward.

And then Cash was still awake. Heturned his head from side to side, withsweat on his face.

“Do you want some more water onit, Cash?” Dewey Dell said.

Cash’s leg and foot turned black.We held the lamp and looked atCash’s foot and leg where it wasblack.

“Your foot looks like a nigger’sfoot, Cash,” I said.

“I reckon we’ll have to bust itoff,” pa said.

“What in the tarnation you put iton there for?” Mr. Gillespie said.

“I thought it would steady it some,”pa said. “I just aimed to help hin.”

They got the flat iron and thehammer. Dewey Dell held the lamp.They had to hit it hard. And then Cashwent to sleep.

“He’s asleep now,” I said. “It can’thurt him while he’s asleep.”

It just cracked. It wouldn’t comeoff.

“It’ll take the hide, too,” Mr.G i l l e s p i e s a i d . “ W h y i n t h etarna t ion you put i t on there?D i d n ’ t no n e o f y o u t h i n k t ogrease his leg first?”

“I just aimed to help him,” pa said.“It was Darl put it on.”

“Where is Darl?” they said.

“Didn’t none of you have moresense than that?” Mr. Gillespie said.“I’d ‘a’ thought he would, anyway.”

Jewel was lying on his face. Hisback was red. Dewey Dell put themedicine on it. The medicine was madeout of butter and soot, to draw out thefire. Then his back was black.

“Does it hurt, Jewel?” I said.“Your back looks like a nigger’s,Jewel,” I said. Cash’s foot and leglooked like a nigger’s. Then they

VARDAMAN

Cuando fui a ver dónde se posan porla noche, vi una cosa.

—¿Dónde está Darl? —decían—.¿Adónde ha ido Darl?

L a v o l v i e r o n a l l e v a r b a j o e lmanzano .

El granero todavía estaba rojo pero yano era un granero. Se había hundido y elrojo subía en remolinos. El granero su-bía en remolinos de trocitos rojos sobreel cielo y las estrellas de modo que lasestrellas retrocedían.

Y entonces Cash seguía despierto.Volvió la cabeza a uno y otro lado consudor en la cara.

—¿Quieres que te eche un poco de aguaencima, Cash? —le dijo Dewey Dell.

La pierna y el pie de Cash se pusieronnegros. Levantamos el farol y miramosel pie y la pierna de Cash por donde es-taban negros.

—Tu pie parece el de un negro, Cash—dije yo.

—Para mí que se lo tendremos quequitar —dijo padre.

—¿Por qué demonios le han pues-to eso? —dijo Mr. Gillespie.

—Creí que se la sujetaría —dijo pa-dre—. Sólo pretendía ayudarle.

Trajeron un escoplo y un martillo.Dewey Dell sostenía el farol. Tuvieronque pegar con fuerza. Y luego Cash sedurmió.

—Se ha dormido —dije yo—. Mien-tras duerma no le dolerá.

Aquello sólo se agrietaba. Pero no sesoltaba.

—Vamos a llevarnos la piel también—dijo Mr. Gillespie—. ¿Por qué demo-nios le han puesto eso? ¿Es que a ningu-no se le ocurrió ponerle un poco de gra-sa en la pierna primero?

—Sólo pretendía ayudarle —dijo pa-dre—. Fue Darl quien se lo puso.

—¿Dónde está Darl? —dijeron. [203]

—¿Es que ninguno tiene el menor sen-tido común? —dijo Mr. Gillespie—. Creíque él, por lo menos, sí lo tendría.

Jewel estaba tumbado boca abajo. Teníala espalda roja. Dewey Dell le puso medici-na. La medicina estaba hecha de mantequi-lla y hollín, para quitarle las quemaduras.Luego ya tenía la espalda negra.

—¿Te duele, Jewel? —dije yo—. Tienesuna espalda que parece la de un negro, Jewel—dije. El pie y la pierna de Cash parecenlos de un negro. Entonces lo rompieron. La

Vardaman (9)

In this section, Vardaman ob-serves what happens after the fire.Vardaman finds Darl standingbeside Addie’s coffin, crying. Hetries to comfort him, saying Addiehas been saved by Jewel, so Darlneed not cry.

COMMENTARY: ThroughVardaman’s unsophisticated eyes,the reader is given a vividimpression of the suffering ofvarious members of the family.Cash’s foot is black, presumablygangrenous, and Jewel’s back isalso black after Dewey Dell putsthe ointment of soot on it. Theseare the obvious and outward signsof the decay which is infecting notonly Addie but also her family.When Vardaman finds Darlcrying there is no explanation forhis tears. Vardaman assumes thathe is upset about Addie’s near-destruction but it is equallypossible that Darl is upset by thefailure of his scheme to get rid ofhis mother’s burdensome corpse.

Although Vardaman recordsexperience very directly, withoutany of the profound and poeticimages which haunt Darl, hissection is not without a certainbeauty. He is attracted by the redof the barn, and remembers it as‘swirling, making the stars runbackwards without falling’. Suchbeauty, he says, ‘made my headhurt like the train did’. This, insimple, childish language, is anexpression of an aestheticresponse, being deeply touchedby beauty. Vardaman also noticesthat the little patches of moonlightwhich remain still on the coffinmove up and down on Darl; inother words, Darl is shaking withgrief and so causing themoonlight to appear to move onhis body. In this and other sectionsof Vardaman’s Faulkner showsthat a direct and untutoredresponse to the world is notnecessarily a response devoid ofwonder or a sense of beauty.

116


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

patent medicine: medicine availablewithout consulting a doctor

re-accruent: (neologism) recurrent

unwinded: (neologism) windless

inference: suggestion

shards: broken pieces

broke it off. Cash’s leg bled.

“You go on back and lay down,”Dewey Dell said. “You ought to beasleep.”

“Where is Darl?” they said.

He is out there under the appletree with her, lying on her. He isthere so the cat won’t come back. I said,“Are you going to keep the cataway, Darl?”

The moonlight dappled on himtoo. Can her it was still, but onDarl it dappled up and down.

“You needn’t to cry,” I said. “Jewelgot her out. You needn’t to cry, Darl.”

The barn is still red. It used to beredder than this. Then it wentswirling, making the stars runbackward without falling. It hurt myheart like the train did.

When I went to find where thy stay atnight, I saw something that Dewy Dellsays I mustn’t never tell nobody.

52DARL (18)

WE have been passing the signs forsome time now: the drug-stores, theclothing stores, the patent medicineand the garages and cafés, and themile-boards diminishing, becomingmore starkly re-accruent: 3 mi. 2 mi.From the crest of a hill, as we get intothe wagon again, we can see the smokelow and flat, seemingly unmoving inthe unwinded afternoon.

“Is that it, Darl?” Vardaman says.“Is that Jefferson?” He too has lostflesh; like ours, his face has anexpression strained, dreamy, andgaunt.

“Yes,” I say. He lifts his heada n d l o o k s a t t h e s k y. H i g hagainst it they hang in narrowingcircles, like the smoke, with anoutward semblance of form andpurpose, but with no inferenceof mo t ion , p rog re s s o r r e t ro -g r a d e . We m o u n t t h e w a g o naga in where Cash l i e s on thebox, the jagged shards of ce-ment cracked about his leg. Theshabby mules droop ratt l ing andclanking down the hill .

“We’ll have to take him to thedoctor,” pa says. “I reckon it ain’tno way around it.” The back ofJewel’s shirt, where it touches him,stains slow and black with grease.Life was created in the valleys. Itblew up on to the hills on the oldterrors , the old lusts , the olddespairs. That’s why you must walkup the hills so you can ride down.

Dewey Dell sits on the seat, thenewspaper package on her lap. When

pierna de Cash empezó a sangrar.

—Vete a t r á s y acués ta te —medijo Dewey Dell— Deberías estardurmiendo.

—¿Dónde está Darl? —dijeron.

Está ahí fuera, debajo del manzano,con ella, tumbado encima de ella. Está allípara que el gato no se vuelva a subir. Dije:

—¿Vas a quedarte ahí para espantaral gato, Darl?

La luz de luna también le salpicaba aél. Sobre ella caía tranquila, pero sobre Darlformaba motas que subían y bajaban.

—No tienes que llorar —dije—. Jewella sacó afuera. No tienes que llorar, Darl.

El granero todavía está rojo. Antesestaba más rojo. Luego fue subiendo entorbellinos haciendo que las estrellasretrocedieran sin llegar a caer. Me dueleel corazón como cuando el tren.

Cuando fui a ver dónde reposan porla noche, vi una cosa que Dewey Dell medice que no debo contar a nadie [204]

DARL

LLEVAMOS ya algún tiempo dejan-do atrás los anuncios: de las boticas, delas tiendas de ropa, de medicinaspatentadas (25) y de los garajes y cafés, ylos indicadores, en cantidad decreciente,cada vez más escuetamente reiterativos:5 km, 3 km. Al coronar una cuesta nossubimos de nuevo a la carreta y vemos elhumo bajo y plano que parece inmóvilen la tarde sin viento.

—¿Es eso, Darl? —dice Vardaman—¿Es eso Jefferson? —él también ha adel-gazado; como las nuestras, su cara tieneuna expresión de fatiga, de irrealidad, dedesvaimiento.

—Sí —digo.Levanta la cabeza y mira al cielo.

Arriba, sobre él, se ciernen en círculospoco amplios, como el humo, con unaapariencia externa de forma e inten-ción, aunque sin ninguna implicaciónde movimiento, avance o retroceso.Volvemos a subirnos a la carreta don-de Cash sigue tumbado encima de la cajacon agudas esquirlas de cemento pega-das todavía a su pierna. Las escuálidasmulas se dejan caer rechinando ygolpeteando colina abajo.

—Tendremos que llevarle al médico —dice padre—. Para mí que no habrá otroremedio —la camisa de Jewel se va lle-nando de manchas negras de grasa en lospuntos donde le toca la espalda. La vidafue creada en los valles. Subió violenta-mente a las colinas empujada por los vie-jos terrores, las viejas lascivias, las viejasdesesperaciones. Por eso hay que subir lascolinas a pie para poder bajarlas montados.

Dewey Dell sigue en el asiento con elpaquete envuelto [205] en periódicos en

Darl (18)

This section contains Darl’sunspoken and unverbalisedthoughts, together with the wordshe speaks and overhears as thefamily finally enter the outskirtsof Jefferson. As the wagondescends towards the town it hasto pass through the negro quarter.Jewel is enraged by the commentson the smell from the wagon andtríes to attack an innocent whiteby-stander. Darl prevents thefight, gets Jewel to apologise butsaves his honour for him. Theythen go on into the town, wherepeople turn appalled at the smell.After a brief stop, they mount thewagon again and, with Jewelbalanced on the wheel, they setoff again.

COMMENTARY: Darlemerges from this section assomeone with an unexpectedability to act when it is necessary.He acted when he tried to burnthe barn, here he acts to preventJewel from knifing a man. Yet hiscustomary pose is that of theuninvolved observer who hasdifficulty maintaining a sense ofhis own reality. This apparentcontradiction in Darl’s nature canbe traced back to Addie’s state ofmind at the time of his conceptionand birth, the disparity betweenwords and deeds which hasbecome a part of Darl, enablinghim to act decisively but makinghim lost and unsure when heenters the realms of abstractthoughts.

His thoughts, as they approach

stark 1 desolate, bare (a stark landscape). 2sharply evident ( in stark contrast). 3downright, sheer (stark madness). 4completely naked.

completely, wholly (stark mad; stark naked).

dapple 1 tr. mark with spots or roundedpatches of colour or shade. 2 intr. becomemarked in this way.

1 a dappled effect. 2 a dappled animal,esp. a horse.

dappled moteado

jagged adj. 1 with an unevenly cut or torn edge.2 deeply indented; with sharp points.Lacerated irregularly. Dentado, mellado, raí-do, rasgado, irregular,

117


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

anticipant: expectant

we reach the foot of the hill wherethe road flattens between close wallsof trees, she begins to look about qui-etly from one side of the road to theother. At last she says,

“I got to stop.”

Pa looks at her, his shabby profilethat of anticipant and disgruntledannoyance. He does not check the team.“What for?”

“I got to go to the bushes,” DeweyDell says.

Pa does not check the team.“ C a n ’ t y o u w a i t t i l l w eg e t t o t o w n ? I t a i n ’ t o v e ra m i l e n o w . ”

“Stop,” Dewey Dell says. “I got togo to the bushes.”

Pa stops in the middle of the roadand we watch Dewey Dell descend,carrying the package. She does notlook back.

“Why not leave your cakes here?”I say. “We’ll watch them.”

She descends steadily, not looking at us.

“How would she know where to goto if she waited till we get to town?”Vardaman says. “Where would you goto do it in town, Dewey Dell?”

She lifts the pack-age down andturns and disappears among the treesand undergrowth.

“Don’t be no longer than you canhelp,” pa says. “We ain’t got no timeto waste.” She does not answer. Aftera while we cannot hear her even.

“ We o u g h t t o d o n e l i k eArmstid and Gillespie said andsent word to town and had it dugand ready,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” I say. “Youcould have telephoned.”

“What for?” Jewel says. “Who thehell can’t dig a hole in the ground?”

A car comes over the hill. Itb e g i n s t o s o u n d t h e h o r n ,s l o w i n g . I t r u n s a l o n g t h eroadside in low gear, the outsidewheels in the ditch, and passes usand goes on. Vardaman watchesit until it is out of sight.

“How far is it now, Darl?” he says.

“Not far,” I say.

“We ought to done it,” pa says. “Ijust never wanted to be beholden tonone except her flesh and blood.”

“Who the hell can’t dig a damnhole in the ground?” Jewel says.

“It ain’t respectful, talking that

el regazo. Cuando llegamos al final de lacolina, allí donde el camino se hace lla-no entre dos cercanas paredes de árbo-les, se pone a mirar tranquilamente a unoy otro lado del camino. Por fin, dice:

—Tengo que parar.

P a d r e l a m i r a y s u m í s e r op e r f i l e x p r e s a u n e n f a d o a n t i c i -p a d o . N o d e t i e n e a l a s m u l a s .

—¿Para qué?

—Tengo que ir a un matorral —diceDewey Dell.

Padre sigue sin detener las mulas.—¿No puedes esperar hasta que lle-

guemos a la ciudad? Ya sólo quedan me-nos de dos kilómetros.

—Pare —dice Dewey Dell—. Tengoque ir a un matorral.

Padre se detiene en medio del caminoy miramos cómo Dewey Dell empieza abajar, llevando el paquete. No vuelve lacabeza.

—¿Por qué no dejas los bollos aquí?—digo yo—. Los vigilaremos nosotros.

Se baja decidida, sin mirarnos.

—¿Cómo iba a saber adónde ir si es-peramos hasta llegar a la ciudad? —diceVardaman—. ¿A que no sabrías adóndeir en la ciudad, Dewey Dell?

Baja el paquete y da media vuel-ta y desaparece entre los árboles yla maleza .

—Procura tardar lo menos posible—dice padre—. No podemos perdermás tiempo —ella no contesta. A1 cabode un momento ni siquiera la oímos—.Deberíamos haber hecho lo que nos di-jeron Armstid y Gillespie y avisar a losde la ciudad para que tuvieran preparadala fosa —dice.

—¿Por qué no lo hizo? —digo yo—.Podría haber llamado por teléfono.

—¿Y para qué? —dice Jewel—. ¿Es queno podemos cavar un agujero en el suelo?

Aparece un coche en lo alto de la cues-ta. Se pone a tocar la bocina disminuyen-do la marcha. Viene camino abajo en pri-mera, metiendo las dos ruedas de fueraen la cuneta, y nos adelanta y se aleja.Vardaman le sigue con la mirada hastaque se pierde de vista. [206]

—¿Y ahora cuánto nos queda, Darl? —dice.

—Ya queda poco —digo yo.

—Deberíamos haberlo hecho —dice pa-dre—. Pero nunca me gustó tener que deber-le nada a nadie que no sea familia suya.

—¿Es que no podemos cavar un mal-dito agujero en el suelo? —dice Jewel.

—No hay que ser tan poco respetuo-

the town, follow the same patternas his thoughts throughout thebook. He sees the buzzards as anemblem of the apparentlyunending and senseless journey,‘with an outward semblance ofform and purpose, but with noinference of motion, progress orretrograde’. As the wagon goesover the hills towards the town,Darl thinks that ‘Life was createdin the valleys. It blew up on to thehills on the old terrors, the oldlusts, the old despairs’. Thisimage relates back to Darl’svision of the valley betweenDewey Dell’s legs as the centreof all creation. The family’sdescent into the town is a speciesof pilgrimage back to thebeginnings of its own creation,the place where Anse and Addiemet. But his reflections are notsimply related to the family. Theyextend to all mankind, whose lifewas created out of terror, lust anddespair, the kinds of unworthymotives which recall the lack ofdirection of ‘no-hand on no-strings’.

118


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

way about her grave,” pa says.“You all dont know what it is. Younever pure loved her, none of you.”Jewel does not answer. He sits alittle stiffly erect, his body archedaway f rom h i s sh i r t . H i shighcoloured jaw juts.

Dewey Dell returns. We watch heremerge from the bushes, carrying thepackage, and climb into the wagon.She now wears her Sunday dress, herbeads, her shoes and stockings.

“I thought I told you to leave themclothes to home,” pa says. She doesnot answer, she does not look at us.She sits the package in the wagon andgets in. The wagon moves on.

“How many more hills now,Darl?” Vardaman says.

“Just one,” I say. “The next onegoes right up into town.”

This hill is red sand, bordered oneither hand by negro cabins; againstthe sky ahead the massed telephonelines run, and the clock on thecourthouse lifts among the trees. Inthe sand the wheels whisper, asthough the very earth would hush ourentry. We descend as the hillcommences to rise.

We follow the wagon, thewhispering wheels, passing the cabinswhere faces come suddenly to thedoors, white-eyed. We hear suddenvoices, ejaculant. Jewel has beenlooking from side to side; now hishead turns forward and I can see hisears taking on a still deeper tone offurious red. Three negroes walkbeside the road ahead of us; ten feetahead of them a white man walks.When we pass the negroes theirheads turn suddenly with thatexpression of shock and instinctiveoutrage. “Great God,” one says;“what they got in that wagon?”

Jewel whirls. “Son of a bitches,”he says. As he does so he is abreastof the white man, who has paused. Itis as though Jewel had gone blind forthe moment, for it is the white mantoward whom he whirls.

“Darl!” Cash says from the wagon.I grasp at Jewel. The white man hasfallen back a pace, his face stillslack-jawed; then his jaw tightens,claps to. Jewel leans above him, hisjaw muscles gone white.

“What did you say?” he says.

“Here,” I say. “He don’t meananything, mister. Jewel,” I say. WhenI touch him he swings at the man. Igrasp his arm; we struggle. Jewel hasnever looked at me. He is trying tofree his arm. When I see the managain he has an open knife in his hand.

“Hold up, mister” I say; “I’ve got

so y hablar así de su tumba —dice pa-dre—. Ninguno sabéis lo que es eso. Nola habéis querido de verdad, ninguno devosotros—. Jewel no contesta. Está sen-tado un poco tieso, con el cuerpo evitan-do el contacto con la camisa. Y la man-díbula de vivos colores muy levantada.

Dewey Dell vuelve. La observamossurgir de los arbustos, siempre con elpaquete, y subir a la carreta. Ahora lle-va puesto el vestido de los domingos,su collar, zapatos y medias.

—Creí haberte dicho que dejaras to-dos esos trapos en casa —dice padre.Ella no contesta, no nos mira. Pone elpaquete en la carreta y se instala. Lacarreta se pone en marcha.

—¿Cuántas cuestas quedan, Darl? —dice Vardaman.

—Sólo una —digo yo—. La siguien-te termina en la ciudad.

Esta colina es de arena roja, bor-deada de cabañas de negros; contrael cielo, enfrente, corren los cablesdel teléfono, y el reloj del juzgadose eleva entre los árboles. Las rue-das susurran en la arena, como si lat i e r ra misma quis ie ra ensordecernuestra llegada. Nos bajamos don-de empieza la cuesta.

Seguimos a la carreta, a las ruedas quesusurran, pasando por delante de las ca-bañas, en cuyas puertas de repente apare-cen caras de ojos blancos. Se oyen súbi-tas voces, exclamativas. Jewel ha estadomirando de un lado a otro; ahora dirige lacabeza al frente y veo que sus orejas ad-quieren un tono más intenso de un rojofurioso. Tres negros andan al lado del ca-mino, delante de nosotros; cuatro metrosdelante de ellos camina un blanco. Cuan-do adelantamos a los negros vuelven brus-camente la cabeza con una expresión desorpresa y repulsión instintiva. [207]

—Dios mío —dice uno—, ¿qué lle-varán en esa carreta?

Jewel se revuelve.—Hijos de puta —dice. Cuando lo

dice está a la altura del blanco, quese ha parado. Es como si Jewel se hu-biera quedado ciego durante un mo-mento, pues, se dirige al hombre blan-co ________________.

—¡Darl! —dice Cash desde la carreta.Yo agarro a Jewel. El blanco ha dado unpaso atrás boquiabierto; luego se le tensala mandíbula y cierra la boca de golpe.Jewel se dobla hacia él: los músculos de lamandíbula se le han puesto blancos.

—¿Qué has dicho? —dice.

—Oiga —digo yo—. No ha queridomolestarle, señor. Jewel —digo. Cuandole toco se lanza contra el hombre. Le aga-rro del brazo; forcejeamos. Jewel ni memira. Intenta soltarse el brazo. Cuandomiro al hombre de nuevo, tiene una na-vaja abierta en la mano.

—Espere, señor —digo yo—. Ya le

abreast adv. 1 side by side and facing the same way.2 a (often foll. by with) up to date. b (foll. by of)well-informed (abreast of all the changes). A lapar, en frente de, en fondo, juntas, a la alturade,

prominente, sobresale

X

119


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

him. Jewel,” I say.

“Thinks because he’s a goddamtown fellow,” Jewel says, panting,wrenching at me. “Son of a bitch,”he says.

The man moves. He begins toedge around me, watching Jewel,the knife low against his flank.“Can’t no man call me that,” he says.Pa has got down, and Dewey Dell isholding Jewel, pushing at him. Irelease him and face the man.

“Wait,” I say. “He don’t meannothing. He’s sick; got burned in a firelast night, and he ain’t himself.”

“Fire or no fire,” the man says,“can’t no man call me that.”

“He thought you said something tohim,” I say.

“I never said nothing to him. Inever see him before.”

“ ’F o r e G o d , ” p a s a y s ;“ ’f o r e G o d . ”

“I know,” I say. “He never meantanything, He’ll take it back.”

“Let him take it back, then.”

“Put up your knife, and he will.”

The man looks at me. He looks atJewel. Jewel is quiet now.

“Put up your knife,” I say.

The man shuts the knife.

“ ’F o r e G o d , ” p a s a y s .“ ’Fore God.”

“Tell him you didn’t meananything, Jewel,” I say.

“I thought he said something,” Jewelsays. “Just because he’s——”

“Hush,” I say. “Tell him you didn’tmean it.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Jewel says.

“He better not,” the man says.“Calling me a——”

“Do you think he’s afraid to callyou that?” I say.

The man looks at me. “I never saidthat,” he said.

“Don’t think it, neither,” Jewelsays.

“Shut up,” I say. “Come on. Driveon, pa.”

T h e w a g o n m o v e s . T h em a n s t a n d s w a t c h i n g u s .J e w e l d o e s n o t l o o k b a c k .“Jewel would ‘a’ whipped him,”

tengo sujeto. Jewel —digo.

—Cree ese jodido que porque viveen la ciudad... —dice Jewel, jadeando,tratando de soltarse—. Hijo de puta —dice.

El hombre avanza. Se pone a dar vuel-tas a mi alrededor, vigilando a Jewel ycon la navaja caída junto a su flanco.

—No hay hombre que me llame eso—dice. Padre se ha bajado y DeweyDell agarra a Jewel, tirando de él. Lesuelto y me encaro con el hombre.

—Espere —le digo—. No le quería mo-lestar. Está enfermo; se quemó en un incen-dio la noche pasada y no sabe lo que dice.

—Con incendio o sin incendio —dice elhombre—, no hay hombre que me llame eso.

—Pensó que usted le había dicho algo—digo yo.

—No le he dicho nada. Es la primeravez que lo veo.

—Por el amor de Dios —dice padre—.Por el amor de Dios.

—Estoy seguro —digo yo—, de que noquería molestarle. Retirará lo dicho. [208]

—Entonces que lo retire.

—Guárdese esa navaja y lo retirará.

El hombre me mira. Mira a Jewel.Jewel ahora está callado.

—Guárdese la navaja —digo yo.

El hombre cierra la navaja.

—Por el amor de Dios —dice padre—. Por el amor de Dios.

—Dile que no le querías molestar,Jewel —digo yo.

—Creí que había dicho algo —diceJewel—. Sólo porque viva...

—Cállate —le digo—. Dile que no lequerías molestar.

—No quería molestarle —dice Jewel.

—Mejor para él —dice el hombre—.Llamarme...

—¿Cree que le da miedo llamárselo?—digo yo.

El hombre me mira.—Yo no he dicho eso —dice.

—Pues tampoco lo piense —diceJewel.

—Cállate —digo yo—. Ven aquí. Enmarcha, padre.

L a c a r r e t a r e a n u d a l a m a r c h a .E l h o m b r e s e q u e d a m i r án d o n o s .J e w e l n o v u e l v e l a v i s t a .

Jewel le hubiera zurrado —dice

120


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Vardaman says.

We approach the crest, where thestreet runs, where cars go back andforth; the mules haul the wagon upand on to the crest and the street. Pastops them. The street runs on ahead,where the square opens and themonument stands before thecourt-house. We mount again whilethe heads turn with that expressionwhich we know; save Jewel. He doesnot get on, even though the wagon hasstarted again. “Get in, Jewel,” I say.“Come on. Let’s get away from here.”But he does not get in. Instead he setshis foot on the turning hub of the rearwheel, one hand grasping thestanchion, and with the hub turningsmoothly under his sole he lifts theother foot and squats there, staringstraight ahead, motionless, lean,wooden-backed, as though carvedsquatting out of the lean wood.

53CASH (4)

IT wasn’t nothing else to do.It was either send him to Jackson,or have Gillespie sue us, becausehe knowed some way that Darlset fine to it. I don’t know howhe knowed, but he did. Vardamansee him do it , but he swore henever to ld nobody bu t DeweyDell and that she told him not tot e l l n o b o d y. B u t G i l l e s p i ek n o w e d i t . B u t h e w o u l d ‘ a ’suspicioned it sooner or later. Hecould have done it that night justwatching the way Darl acted.

And so pa said, “I reckon thereain’t nothing else to do,” and Jewelsaid,

“You want to fix him now?”

“Fix him?” pa said.

“Catch him and tie him up,” Jewelsaid. “God it, do you want to waituntil he sets fire to the goddam teamand wagon?”

But there wasn’t no use in that.“There ain’t no use in that,” I said.“We can wait till she is underground.”A fellow that’s going to spend the restof his life locked up, he ought to belet to have what pleasure he can havebefore he goes.

“I reckon he ought to be there,” pasays. “God knows, it’s a trial on me.Seems like it ain’t no end to bad luckwhen once it starts.”

Sometimes I ain’t so sho who’s gotere a right to say when a man is crazyand when he ain’t. Sometimes I thinkit ain’t none of us pure crazy and ain’tnone of us pure sane until the balanceof us talks him that-a-way. It’s like itain’t so much what a fellow does, butit’s the way the majority of folks islooking at him when he does it.

Vardaman.

Nos acercamos a lo alto de la cuesta,donde empieza la calle, por la que van yvienen los coches; las mulas tiran de lacarreta y llegan a lo alto de la cuesta y a lacalle. Padre las detiene. La calle corre rec-ta hasta donde se abre la plaza y un monu-mento se alza ante el juzgado. Volvemos asubirnos mientras las cabezas se vuelvenhacia nosotros con esa expresión que yaconocemos. Menos Jewel; no sube ni cuan-do la carreta se pone de nuevo en marcha.

—Sube, Jewel —digo yo—. Venga.Vámonos de una vez de aquí.

Pero no se sube. En vez de eso apoyael pie en el cubo de la rueda de atrás y seagarra a un lateral con una mano, y conel cubo girando suavemente debajo de susuela levanta el otro pie y se queda allíen cuclillas, mirando al frente, inmóvil,delgado, con la espalda envarada, igualque una figura tallada, en cuclillas, en lamisma madera de la carreta.

CASH

No podemos hacer ot ra cosa . Ol o m a n d a m o s a J a c k s o n **2 6 oGil lespie nos demandará por dañosy per juic ios porque se ha enteradod e a l g ú n m o d o d e q u e f u e D a r lquien le prendió fuego. Vardamanle vio hacer lo , pero jura que no selo contó a nadie más que a DeweyDell y que ella le dijo que no se loconta r a a n a d i e . P e r o G i l l e s p i es e e n t e r ó . A n t e s o d e s p u é s l oh a b r í a s o s p e c h a d o . I n c l u s oa q u e l l a n o c h e c o n s ó l o f i j a r s ee n c ó m o s e c o m p o r t a b a D a r l .

Conque padre dijo:—Para mí que no podemos hacer otra

cosa.Y Jewel dijo:—¿Quiere prepararlo ahora?

—¿Prepararlo? —dijo padre.

—Cogerlo y atarlo —dijo Jewel—.Maldita sea, ¿es que va a esperar a queles prenda fuego a las malditas mulas y ala carreta?

Pero eso no tenía sentido.—Eso no tiene sentido —dije—. Po-

demos esperar hasta que la enterremos.Un t ipo que se va a pasar el restode su vida encerrado debería tenerderecho a disfrutar de algo antes deque lo encierren.

—Para mí que debiera estar allí —dicepadre—. Bien sabe Dios lo que me due-le. Parece como si la mala suerte, una vezque empieza, no fuera a tener fin.

A veces no entiendo que nadie ten-ga derecho a decir cuándo un hombreestá loco o no lo está. A veces piensoque ninguno de nosotros está loco deltodo y que ninguno está cuerdo del todohasta que la gente se decide a situar-nos en uno o el otro lado. Es como sino contara lo que uno hace, sino lo quela mayoría opina de lo que hace.

Cash (4)

This section, giving us our firstsustained glimpse into the mindof Cash, consists of his unspokenthoughts and the words he speaksand overhears as the family buryAddie and see Darl taken awayto the asylum for the insane inJackson. We discover thatVardaman’s ‘secret’ was that hesaw Darl start the fire in the barn.Somehow, Gillespie has foundout about it and, unless Darl iscertified insane, Anse will besued. Jewel wants Darl takenaway before Addie is buried, butCash insists that he must beallowed to stay until afterwards.

After the burial, Cash realiseswith surprise that Dewey Dell isone of the most vicious in theattack on Darl. He now sees thatshe was probably responsible fortelling Gillespie about Darl’s partin the fire. Under attack, Darlturns to Cash for advice and whentold it would be best if he went tothe asylum, he accepts it butbegins to laugh.

COMMENTARY: Cash’ssection gives the reader a new andsurprising insight into familyrelationships. As Jewel has hadonly one section, we have notrealised that he returns Darl’sdislike with some intensity.Dewey Dell’s dislike of Darl hasalready manifested itself butnever with such ferocity as here.Cash’s own personality proves tohave unsuspected depths. He hasobviously thought deeply aboutthe differences between sanity

121


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Because Jewel is too hard on him.Of course it was Jewel’s horse wastraded to get her that nigh to town,and in a sense it was the value of hishorse Darl tried to burn up. But Ithought more than once before wecrossed the river and after, how itwould be God’s blessing if He didtake her outen our hands and get shutof her in some clean way, and itseemed to me that when Jewelworked so to get her outen the river,he was going against God in a way,and then when Darl seen that it lookedlike one of us would have to dosomething, I can almost believe hedone right in a way. But I don’t reckonnothing excuses setting fire to a man’sbarn and endangering his stock anddestroying his property. That’s how Ireckon a man is crazy. That’s how hecan’t see eye to eye with other folks.And I reckon they ain’t nothing elseto do with him but what the most folkssays is right.

But it’s a shame, in a way. Folksseems to get away from the oldenright teaching that says to drive thenails down and trim the edges wellalways like it was for your own useand comfort you were making it.It’s like some folks has the smooth,pretty boards to build a court-housewith and others don’t have no morethan rough lumber fitten to build achicken coop. But it’s better tobuild a tight chicken coop than ashoddy court-house, and when theyboth build shoddy or build well,neither because it’s one or tother isgoing to make a man feel the betternor the worse.

S o w e w e n t u p t h e s t r e e t ,toward the square, and he said,“ We b e t t e r t a k e C a s h t o t h edoctor f irst . We can leave himthere and come back for him.”That’s it. It’s because me and himwas born close together, and itnigh ten years before Jewel andDewey Dell and Vardaman begun tocome along. I feel kin to them, all right,but I don’t know. And me being theoldest, and thinking already the verything that he done: I don’t know.

Pa was looking at me, then at him,mumbling his mouth.

“Go on,” I said. “We’ll get it donefirst.”

“She would want us all there,” pasays.

“Let’s take Cash to the doctorfirst,” Darl said. “She’ll wait. She’salready waited nine days.”

“You all don’t know,” pa says.“The somebody you was young withand you growed old in her and shegrowed old in you, seeing the oldcoming on and it was the onesomebody you could hear say it don’t

Porque Jewe1 es demasiado duro conél. Claro que fue el caballo de Jewel elque se cambió para traerla tan cerca dela ciudad, y en cierto sentido fue el va-lor del caballo lo que trató de quemarDarl. Pero pensé más de una vez, antesy después de cruzar el río, qué bendi-ción de Dios hubiera sido si nos la hu-biera arrancado de las manos y se lahubiera llevado de un modo discreto,y me pareció que cuando Jewel se esfor-zó tanto por sacarla del río, estaba obran-do en contra de los designios de Dios, yque luego, cuando a Darl le pareció queuno de nosotros debería hacer algo, casime hizo creer que en cierto sentido obrócorrectamente. Pero para mí que nada ex-cusa el prenderle fuego al granero denadie y poner en peligro a su ganado ydestruir sus propiedades. Para mí que asíes cómo se ve si un hombre está loco.Por eso es por lo que es distinto de losdemás. Y para mí que no se puede hacerotra cosa con él que lo que la mayoríadiga que es lo correcto.

Pero en un sentido es una vergüenza.La gente parece cada vez más alejada deaquel viejo principio que dice que hayque clavar los clavos y lijar los cantosbien siempre, como si lo que estás ha-ciendo fuera para tu propio uso y como-didad. Es como si algunas personas tu-vieran tablas bien cepilladas para cons-truir un juzgado, mientras otras sólo tie-nen troncos sin desbastar más propiospara construir un gallinero. Pero es me-jor construir un gallinero sólido que unjuzgado destartalado, y cuando losdos se han construido mal o se hanconst ru ido bien , no es e l t ipo deconstrucción lo que le hace a unosentirse bien o mal.

C o n q u e s e g u i m o s c a l l e a r r i -b a , h a c i a l a p l a z a , y é l d i j o :

—Será mejor que llevemos a Cashal médico antes. Podemos dejarle allíy volver a recogerle luego.

Eso es. Es porque yo y él nos l le-vamos poco t iempo, y pasaron casidiez años antes de que empezarana l l e g a r j e w e 1 y D e w e y D e l l yVardaman. Me siento próximo a to-dos, desde luego, pero no sé. Y yo,al ser el mayor, no dejo de pensaren lo que ha hecho, y no sé.

Padre me está mirando, luego le miraa él, murmurando.

—Siga —dije yo—. Acabemos conesto primero.

—Ella nos querría a todos allí —dicepadre.

—Llevemos a Cash al médico antes—dijo Darl—. Ella puede esperar. Ya lle-va nueve días esperando.

—No sabéis nada —dice padre—. La persona con la que uno ha pa-sado la juventud y se ha hecho vie-jo, la persona que ha envejecido conuno y viendo venir la vejez le hadicho a uno que no importa, y uno

and insanity and he reciprocatesDarl’s feelings for him. In theend, Darl is betrayed by all thefamily except Cash, and isbetrayed for very poor reasons;Anse’s love of money, Jewel’sdislike, Dewey Dell’s secret andeven Vardaman’s innocent spyingall contribute to his incarceration.

Darl’s insane laughter onlyconfirms that he is mad toeveryone except the thoughtfulCash. For him, the laughter actsas a further impetus forconsideration of the nature ofsanity, ‘I ain’t so sho’ . . . sameastonishment’. He is, when weconsider what we know of theother characters, quite right toquestion the nature of sanity.

This scene, in which thebetrayed Darl who has done noreal harm to anyone and who hasbeen deprived of all motherlylove, turns to Cash and says, ‘1thought you would have told me’,is tragic and not comic. Darl’sstatement has echoes of Caesar’s‘Et tu, Brute?’ and the betrayal isof the same magnitude, given thatthe family has been through somuch together and is such anisolated group. As Cash observes,Darl’s ‘insanity’, if it is insanity,is of a kind to which no-one couldtake exception. Jewel shouts ‘Killhim. Kill the son of a bitch’,Dewey Dell jumps on him ‘like awild cat’ and the whole thing is,as Cash says, ‘a shoddy job’.

The one other aspect of thissection which is worth noting isthe time at which it is narrated.Cash says that they stop ‘in frontof Mrs Bundren’s house’ toborrow the spade. This suggeststhat Cash’s section consists ofthoughts which take place afterAddie has been buried and afterDarl has been taken away, whenAnse appears with ‘the secondMrs Bundren’, the owner of thespade and the gramophone.

shoddy 1 trashy; shabby; poorly made. 2counterfeit.

1 a an inferior cloth made partly from theshredded fibre of old woollen cloth. b suchfibre. 2 any thing of shoddy quality.

shred 1 a scrap, fragment, or strip of esp. cloth,paper, etc. 2 the least amount, remnant (nota shred of evidence).

tear or cut into shreds. hacer trizas o tirastear to shreds completely refute (an argument

etc.).

lumber 1 v. intr. (usu. foll. by along, past, by, etc.)move in a slow clumsy noisy way. Moverse pesa-damente, avanzar con ruido sordo

lumber 2 n. 1 disused articles of furniture etc.inconveniently taking up space. Trastos viejos 2useless or cumbersome objects. 3 US partlyprepared timber. Madera, maderamen

1 tr. a (usu. foll. by with) leave (a person etc.) withsomething unwanted or unpleasant (alwayslumbering me with the cleaning). b (as lumberedadj.) in an unwanted or inconvenient situation(afraid of being lumbered). 2 tr. (usu. foll. bytogether) heap or group together carelessly.Amontonar 3 tr. (usu. foll. by up) obstruct. Obs-truir 4 intr. cut and prepare forest timber fortransport. Aserrar, cortar madera,

lumber-jacket a jacket, usu. of warm checked ma-terial, of the kind worn by lumberjacks. chaquetade leñador

lumber-room a room where disused or cumbrousthings are kept.

122


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

matter and know it was the truth outenthe hard world and all a man’s griefand trials. You all don’t know.”

“We got the digging to do, too, ”I said.

“Armstid and Gillespie both toldyou to send word ahead,” Darl said.“Don’t you want to go to Peabody’snow, Cash?”

“Go on,” I said. “It feels righteasy now. It’s best to get thingsdone in the right place.”

“ I f i t w a s j u s t d u g , ” p as a y s . “ W e f o r g o t o u rs p a d e , t o o . ”

“Yes,” Darl said. “I’ll go to thehardware store. We’ll have to buy one.”

“It’ll cost money,” pa says.

“Do you begrudge her it?” Darl says.

“Go on and get a spade,” Jewelsaid. “Here, give me the money.”

But pa d idn’t s top . “ I reckonwe can ge t a spade ,” he sa id .“I reckon there a re Chr i s t ianshere.” So Darl set still and we wenton, with Jewel squatting on the tailBate, watching the back of Darl’s head.He looked like one of these bulldogs,one of these dogs that don’t bark none,squatting against the rope, watching thething he was waiting to jump at.

He set that way all the time we wasin front of Mrs. Bundren’s house,hearing the music, watching the backof Darl’s head with them hard whiteeyes of hisn.

The music was playing in thehouse. It was one of themgraphophones. It was natural as amusicband.

“Do you want to go to Peabody’s?”Darl said. “They can wait here andtell pa, and I’ll drive you to Peabody’sand come back for them.”

“No,” I said. It was better to gether underground, now we was thisclose, just waiting until pa borrowedthe shovel. He drove along the streetuntil we could hear the music.

“Maybe they got one here,” hes a i d . H e p u l l e d u p a t M r s .B u n d r e n ’s . I t w a s l i k e h eknowed. Sometimes I think thatif a working man could see workas far ahead as a lazy man can seelaziness. So he stopped there likehe knowed, before that little newhouse, where the music was. Wewaited there, hearing it. I believeI c o u l d h a v e d i c k e r e d S u r a t tdown to five dollars on that oneof his. It’s a comfortable thing,music is. “Maybe they got onehere,” pa says.

se da cuenta de que esa es la verdaden este mundo cruel lleno de sufri-mientos y dolor. No sabéis nada.

—Además tenemos que cavar lafosa... —dije yo.

—Armstid y Gillespie te dijeron quemandaras recado —dijo Darl—. ¿Noquieres que te llevemos a ver a Peadobyahora, Cash?

—Sigamos —dije yo—. Ahora meencuentro bastante bien. Es mejor hacercada cosa a su debido tiempo.

—Si ya estuviera hecho el hoyo... —dice padre—. Además hemos olvidadonuesta pala.

—Sí —dice Darl—. Iré a la ferrete-ría. Tenemos que comprar una.

—Costará dinero —dice padre.

—¿Va a escatimarle eso? —dice Darl.

—Venga, vamos por la pala —dijoJewel—. A ver. Deme el dinero.

Pero padre no detuvo la carreta.—Para mí que nos prestarán una pala —dijo—

. Para mí que aquí todavía quedan cristianos.Conque Darl siguió sentado y conti-

nuamos, con Jewel en cuclillas en laparte trasera de la carreta mirando lanuca de Darl. Parecía uno de esosbulldogs, uno de esos perros que nun-ca ladran, encogido y vigilando la pre-sa sobre la que esperan saltar.

Se quedó así todo el rato que estu-vimos delante de casa de Mrs. Bundren,oyendo la música, contemplando lanuca de Darl con esos ojos blancos yduros suyos.

S o n a b a m ú s i c a d e n t r o d e l ac a s a . E r a u n o d e e s o sg r a m ó f o n o s . S o n a b a t a n n a t u r a lcomo una banda de mús i ca .

—¿Quieres que te llevemos a que te veaPeabody? —dijo Darl—. Pueden esperaraquí y decírselo a padre, y yo te llevo acasa de Peabody y vuelvo a por ellos.

—No —dije yo. Era mejor ente-rrarla, ahora que estábamos tan cercay esperábamos que le prestaran la palaa padre. Había seguido la calle hastadonde sonaba la música.

— A l o m e j o r t i e n e n u n a p a l aaquí—dijo. Detuvo la carreta delantede casa de Mrs. Bundren. Era comosi lo supiera. A veces pienso que siun trabajador será capaz de ver el tra-bajo de lejos igual que un perezosoes capaz de ver la pereza. Conqueparó allí como si supiera lo que ha-cía, delante de aquella casita dondesonaba música. Esperamos allí oyén-dola. Creo que regateando le hubierapodido sacar a Surratt el suyo pormenos de cinco dólares. La música esuna cosa que consuela—. A lo mejortienen una —dice padre.

123


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“You want Jewel to go,” Darl says,“or do you reckon I better?”

“ I r e c k o n I b e t t e r, ” p a s a y s .H e g o t d o w n a n d w e n t u p t h ep a t h a n d a r o u n d t h e h o u s e t ot h e b a c k . T h e m u s i c s t o p p e d ,t h e n i t s t a r t e d a g a i n .

“He’ll get it, too,” Darl said.

“Ay,” I said. I t was just l ikehe knowed , l ike he cou ld seethrough the walls and into thenext ten minutes.

Only it was more than ten minutes.The music stopped and nevercommenced again for a good spell,where her and pa was talking at theback. We waited in the wagon.

“You let me take you back toPeabody’s,” Darl said.

“No,” I said. “We’ll get herunderground.”

“If he ever gets back,” Jewel said.He began to cuss. He started to getdown from the wagon. “I’m going,”he said.

Then we saw pa coming back. Hehad two spades, coming around thehouse. He laid them in the wagon andgot in and we went on. The musicnever started again. Pa was lookingback at the house. He kind of liftedhis hand a little and I saw the shadepulled back a little at the window andher face in it.

But the curiousest thing wasDewey Dell. It surprised me. I seeall the while how folks could say hewas queer, but that was the veryreason couldn’t nobody hold i tpersonal. It was like he was outsideof it too, same as you, and gettingmad as it would be kind of likegetting mad at a mudpuddle thatsplashed you when you stepped in it.And then I always kind of had a ideathat him and Dewey Dell kind ofknowed things betwixt them. If I’d‘a’ said it was ere a one of us sheliked better than ere a other, I’d ‘a’said it was Darl. But when we got itfilled and covered and drove out thegate and turned into the lane wherethem fellows was waiting, when theycome out and come on him and hejerked back, it was Dewey Dell thatwas on him before even Jewel couldget at him. And then I believed Iknowed how Gillespie knowed abouthow his barn taken fire.

She hadn’t said a word, hadn’teven looked at him, but when themfellows told him what they wantedand that they had come to get him andhe throwed back, she jumped on himlike a wild cat so that one of thefellows had to quit and hold her andher scratching and clawing at him like

—¿Quiere que vaya Jewe1 o prefiereque sea yo? —dice Darl.

—Será mejor que vaya yo mismo —dice padre.

Se apeó y subió por el sendero y, rodean-do la casa, se dirigió a la parte de atrás. Lamúsica paró, luego empezó otra vez.

—Seguro que lo conseguirá —dijo Darl.

—Claro —dije yo. Era como si ya losupiera, como si pudiera ver a través delas paredes y saber lo que iba a pasardentro de diez minutos.

Sólo que fueron más de diez minutos.La música paró de nuevo y no volvió asonar durante un buen rato, mientras,padre y ella hablaban en la parte de atrás.Nosotros esperábamos en la carreta.

—Déjame que te lleve a que te veaPeabody —dijo Darl.

—No —dije yo—. La enterraremosantes.

—Si es que vuelve —dijo Jewel. Ha-bía empezado a soltar maldiciones. Sedispuso a bajar de la carreta—. Voy allá—dijo.

Entonces vimos que padre volvía.Venía rodeando la casa y traía dospalas. Las dejó en la carrete, subióa ella y seguimos. La música no vol-vió a empezar. Padre volvió la ca-beza hacia la casa. Levantó la manotímidamente y vi que corrían el vi-sillo un poco y la cara de la mujeren la ventana.

Pero lo más curioso fue Dewey Dell.Aquello me sorprendió. Comprendo quetoda la gente dijera que él era un tiporaro, y que a la vez nadie tomara comocuestión personal lo que hacía, por esomismo. Era también como si estuvieraausente de todo, lo mismo que tú, demodo que enfadarse con él hubiera sidoun poco como enfadarse con un charcoque al pisarlo te salpicara. Y ademássiempre me ha dado un poco la impre-sión de que él y Dewey Dell sabían co-municarse sin palabras. Si tuviera quedecir cuál de nosotros era el preferido deDewey Dell, diría que Darl. Pero cuandola terminamos de llenar y la cubrimos ynos dirigimos a la puerta de la cerca yllegamos al sendero donde nos espera-ban aquellos individuos, y se adelanta-ron y se le acercaron y él dio un saltoatrás, fue Dewey Dell la que le agarróincluso antes de que Jewel pudiera echar-le mano. Y entonces creí saber cómo sehabía enterado Gillespie de quién habíaprendido fuego a su granero.

Ella no dijo nada, ni siquiera lomiró, pero cuando aquellos tipos le di-jeron lo que querían y que habían ve-nido a por él y él retrocedió, se echósobre él como una gata salvaje de modoque uno de los tipos tuvo que dejarle aél y sujetarla para que no le arañase yle tirase zarpazos como una gata salva-

124


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

Et tu Brute?: (Latin) Julius Caesar’sremark to his friend Brutus (‘Andyou, Brutus?’) who was one of theconspirators who assassinatedhim in 44Bc

a wild cat, while the other one and paand Jewel throwed Darl down andheld him lying on his back, lookingup at me.

“I thought you would have toldme,” he said. “I never thought youwouldn’t have.”

“Darl,” I said. But he foughtaga in , h im and Jewel and thefellow, and the other one holdingDewey Dell and Vardaman yellingand Jewel saying,

“Kill him. Kill the son of a bitch.”

It was bad so. It was bad. A fellowcan’t get away from a shoddy job. Hecan’t do it. I tried to tell him, but hejust said, “I thought you’d ‘a’ told me.It’s not that I,” he said, then he beganto laugh. The other fellow pulledJewel off of him and he sat there onthe ground, laughing.

I tried to tell him. If I could havejust moved, even set up. But I triedto tell him and he quit laughing,looking up at me.

“Do you want me to go?” he said.

“It’ll be better for you,” I said.“Down there it’ll be quiet, with noneof the bothering and such. It’ll bebetter for you, Darl,” I said.

“Better,” he said. He began tolaugh again. “Better,” he said. Hecouldn’t hardly say it for laughing. Hesat on the ground and us watchinghim, laughing and laughing. It wasbad. It was bad so. I be durn if I couldsee anything to laugh at. Becausethere just ain’t nothing justifies thedeliberate destruction of what a manhas built with his own sweat andstored the fruit of his sweat into.

But I ain’t so sho that ere a manhas the right to say what is crazy andwhat ain’t. It’s like there was a fellowin every man that’s done a-past thesanity or the insanity, that watches thesane and the insane doings of that manwith the same horror and the sameastonishment.

54PEABODY (2)

I SAID,“I reckon a man in a t ight mightlet Bill Varner patch him up likea damn mule, but I be damned ifthe man that’d let Anse Bundrentreat him with raw cement ain’tg o t m o r e s p a r e l e g s t h a n Ihave.”

“They just aimed to ease hit some,”he said.

“Aimed, hell ,” I said. “Whati n h e l l d i d A r m s t i d m e a n b yeven l e t t i ng them pu t you onthat wagon again?”

je, mientras el otro y padre y Jewel de-rribaban a Darl y le mantenían sujetode espaldas al suelo, desde donde memiraba.

— C r e í q u e m e a v i s a r í a s —d i j o é l — . N u n c a p e n s é q u e n om e a v i s a r í a s .

— D a r l — l e d i j e . P e r o é lforcejeaba de nuevo, con padre y conJewel y con aquel tipo, y el otro su-jetaba a Dewey Dell, y Vardaman gri-taba y Jewel decía:

—Matadle. Matad a ese hijo de puta.

Fue muy desagradable. Fue desagra-dable. Uno no puede escapar de una cha-puza. El tampoco. Traté de explicárselo,pero sólo dijo:

—Creí que me avisarías. No es queyo... —dijo, luego se echó a reír. El otrotipo apartó a Jewel y él se quedó sentadoen el suelo, riéndose.

Traté de explicárselo. Si al menos mehubiera podido [214] mover, o incorpo-rarme un poco. Pero traté de explicárse-lo y él dejó de reír, mirándome.

—¿Quieres que vaya con ellos? —dijo.

— S e r á m e j o r p a r a t i — d i j eyo—. Al l í e s t a r á s t r anqu i lo , s i npreocupac iones n i nada . Será me-jor para t i , Dar l —di je yo .

—Mejor —dijo. Se echó a reír otravez—. Mejor —dijo.

Casi no podía hablar de lo que se reía.Estaba sentado en el suelo y todos le mi-rábamos y él reía y reía. Fue desagrada-ble. Fue muy desagradable. Que me con-dene si entiendo por qué tanta risa. Por-que no hay nada que justifique la des-trucción deliberada de lo que un hombreha construido con el sudor de su frente ydonde almacena el fruto de ese sudor.

Pero tampoco entiendo bien que na-die tenga derecho a decir quién está locoy quién no. Es como si en cada hombrehubiera una personalidad que está másallá de la cordura y la locura, que con-templa las acciones cuerdas o locas deese hombre con el mismo horror y el mis-mo asombro.

PEABODY

DIJE:—Supongo que cualquiera en un apu-

ro dejaría que Bill Varner le recompu-siera como a una maldita mula, pero queme maten si el que permite que AnseBundren le cure con cemento no es por-que tiene más piernas de repuesto de lasque tengo yo.

—Sólo querían aliviármela un poco —dijo él.

—Querían, un cuerno —dije yo—.¿En qué demonios pensaba Armstid parani siquiera permitir que te volvieran asubir a la carreta?

Peabody (2)

This section consists Of thewords Peabody speaks to Cashwhen he is eventually brought tohim for treatment and of hisunspoken thoughts about Anse.

COMMENTARY: Peabodyappears to have changed his mindabout Anse. Formerly he regardedhim as an unlucky man but here,

125


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“Hit was gittin’ right noticeable,”he said. “We never had time to wait.”I just looked at him. “Hit neverbothered me none,” he said.

“Don’t you lie there and try to tellme you rode six days on a wagonwithout springs, with a broken leg andit never bothered you.”

“I never bothered me much,” he said.

“You mean, it never bothered Ansemuch,” I said. “No more than itbothered him to throw that poor devildown in the public street and handcuffhim like a damn murderer. Don’t tellme. And don’t tell me it ain’t goingto bother you to lose sixty-odd squareinches of skin to get that concrete off.And don’t tell me it ain’t going tobother you to have to limp around onone short leg for the balance of yourlife—if you walk at all again.Concrete,” I said. “God Amighty,why didn’t Anse carry you to thenearest sawmill and stick your leg inthe saw? That would have cured it.Then you all could have stock hishead into the saw and cured a wholefamily. .: . Where is Anse, anyway?What’s he up to now?”

“He’s takin’ back them spades heborrowed,” he said.

“ T h a t ’s r i g h t , ” I s a i d . “ O fcourse he’d have to bor row as p a d e t o b u r y h i s w i f e w i t h .Unless he could borrow a hole inthe ground. Too bad you all didn’tput him in it too . . . . Does that hurt?”

“Not to speak of,” he said, and thesweat big as marbles running downhis face and his face about the colourof blotting-paper.

“Course not,” I said. “About nextsummer you can hobble around fineon this leg. Then it won’t bother you,not to speak of . . If you had anythingyou could call luck, you might say itwas lucky this is the same leg youbroke before,” I said.

“Hit’s what paw says,” he said.

55MacGOWAN (1)

IT happened I am back of theprescription case, pouring up somechocolate sauce, when Jody comesback and says, “Say, Skeet, there’s awoman up front that wants to see thedoctor and when I said What doctoryou want to see, she said she want tosee the doctor that works here andwhen I said There ain’t any doctorworks here, she just stood there,looking back this way.”

“What kind of a woman is it?” Isays. “Tell her to go upstairs toAlford’s office.”

—Se estaba empezando a notar —dijo—. No teníamos tiempo que perder—yo me limité a mirarle—. No me mo-lestaba nada —dijo.

—No mientas tratando de convencer-me de que has [215] pasado seis días**27en una carreta sin ballestas con una pier-na rota y que no te ha molestado nada.

—Nunca me molestó mucho —dijo él.

—Querrás decir que a Anse nunca lemolestó mucho —dije yo—. No más delo que le molestó cuando tiró a ese pobrediablo en mitad de la calle para que loesposaran como si fuera un maldito ase-sino. No me digas. Y no me digas que note va a molestar que te arranquen casimedio metro cuadrado de piel para qui-tar el cemento. Y tampoco me digas queno te molesta tener que andar cojeandoel resto de tu vida con una pierna máscorta... si es que puedes volver a andar.Cemento —dije—. Dios todopoderoso,¿por qué no te llevó Anse al aserraderomás cercano para que te cortaran la pier-na? Eso la hubiera curado. Luego podíashaber conseguido que le metieran la ca-beza en la sierra a él y así se hubiera cu-rado toda la familia... Y a todo esto, ¿quées de Anse? ¿Qué anda haciendo ahora?

—Ha ido a devolver las palas que nosprestaron —dijo.

—Eso es —dije yo—. Por supuesto,que tendría que pedir una pala prestadapara enterrar a su mujer. A menos quepudiese conseguir que le prestasen unagujero en el suelo. Es una pena que nole metierais también a él... ¿Te duele así?

—No demasiado —dijo él, y grandesgotas de sudor como canicas le corríanpor la cara y la cara tenía el color delpapel secante.

—Claro que no —dije—. Para el ve-rano podrás brincar perfectamente sobreesta pierna. Entonces ya no te molestará,no demasiado... Si tuvieses algo que pu-dieses llamar suerte, podrías decir quefue una suerte que ésta haya sido la mis-ma pierna que te rompiste antes —dije.

—Es lo que dice padre —dijo él. [216]

MACGOWAN

POR casualidad estaba yo atrás, en larebotica, bañando de chocolate unagrageas, cuando entra Jody y dice:

—Oye, Skeet, ahí delante hay unamujer que quiere ver al médico ycuando le d i je que a qué médicoquería ver, me dijo que quería veral médico que trabaja aquí y cuan-do le dije que aquí no trabaja nin-gún médico, se queda al l í de pie,mirando hacia aquí.

—¿Qué t ipo de mujer es? —digoyo—. Dile que suba a la consul tade Alford.

in spite of his use of ironicoverstatement, he genuinelyseems to regard him as someonewho is criminally negligent aboutthe welfare of his own family.

MacGowan (1)

This section is narrated by thechemist’s assistant in Jefferson towhom Dewey Dell goes for helpafter the burial of her mother andthe removal of Darl. MacGowanis less kind than Moseley was inMottstown. He tricks Dewey Dellinto taking some useless andpossibly poisonous medicine andalso seduces her, insisting that heis a doctor and that this is part ofthe treatment.

126


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

hot mamma: (Am. col.) sexuallyattractive woman

fire your stern out of here: (Am.col.) sack you

your eye peeled: (col.) watchcarefully

“Country woman,” he says.

“Send her to the court-house,” Isays. “Tell her all the doctors havegone to Memphis to a Barbers’Convention.”

“All right,” he says, going away.“She looks pretty good for a countrygirl,” he says.

“Wait,” I says. He waited and Iwent and peeped through the crack.But I couldn’t tell nothing except shehad a good leg against the light. “Isshe young, you say?” I says.

“She looks like a pretty hot mamma,for a country girl,” he says.

“Take this,” I says, giving him thechocolate. I took off my apron andwent up there. She looked prettygood. One of them black-eyed onesthat look like she’d as soon put a knifein you as not if you two-timed her.She looked pretty good. There wasn’tnobody else in the store; it wasdinner-time.

“What can I do for you?” I says.

“Are you the doctor?” she says.

“Sure,” I says. She quit looking atme and was kind of looking around.

“Can we go back yonder?” she says.

It was just a quarter-past twelve,but I went and told Jody to kind ofwatch out and whistle if the old mancome in sight, because he never gotback before one.

“You better lay off of that,” Jodysays. “He’ll fire your stern out of hereso quick you can’t wink.”

“He don’t never get back beforeone,” I says. “You can see him go intothe post-office. You keep your eyepeeled, now, and give me a whistle.”

“What you going to do?” he says.

“You keep your eye out. I’ll tellyou later”

“Ain’t you going to give me noseconds on it?” he says.

“What the hell do you think thisis?” I says; “a stud-farm? You watchout for him. I’m going intoconference.”

So I go on to the back. I stopped atthe glass and smoothed my hair, thenI went behind the prescription case,where she was waiting. She is lookingat the medicine cabinet, then shelooks at me.

“Now, madam,” I says; “what isyour trouble?”

“It’s the female trouble,” she says, watching

—Una campesina —dice él.

—Mándala al palacio de justicia afreír espárragos —digo yo—. Dile quetodos los médicos se han ido a Memphisa una convención de barberos.

—De acuerdo —dice él, saliendo—.Está bastante bien para ser una campesi-na —dice.

—Espera —le d igo. Esperó y yo______ eché una ojeada por la rendija.Pero no conseguí ver nada excepto quetenía unas bonitas piernas vistas allí a con-traluz —. ¿Y dices que es joven? —digo.

—Está bastante buena, para ser unacampesina —dice él.

— To m a — l e d i g o , d á n d o l e e lc h o c o l a t e . M e q u i t é e l m a n d i l ys a l í . E r a b a s t a n t e g u a p a . U n a d ee s a s m o r e n a s d e o j o s n e g r o sq u e p a r e c e n c a p a c e s d e d a r t eu n a p u ñ a l a d a s i l a s e n g a ñ a s .E r a b a s t a n t e g u a p a . N o h a b í an a d i e m á s e n l a t i e n d a ; e r a l ah o r a d e c o m e r .

—¿En qué puedo servirla? —digo yo.

—¿Es usted el médico? —dice ella.

—Claro —digo yo. Ella deja de mirarmey se pone como a mirar a su alrededor.

—¿Podemos pasar ahí dentro? —dice.

S ó l o e r a n l a s d o c e y c u a r t o ,p e r o e n t r é y l e d i j e a J o d y q u ev i g i l a s e y m e s i l b a r a s i v e í aa l v i e j o , a u n q u e n u n c a v o l v í aa n t e s d e l a u n a .

—Será me jo r que no t e me tasen l íos —dice Jody—. Te echaráan tes de que te en te res .

— N u n c a v u e l v e a n t e s d e l au n a — d i g o y o — . P o d r á s v e r l ee n t r a r e n c o r r e o s . E s t a t e a t e n t oy s i l b a e n c u a n t o s e a c e r q u e .

—¿Qué piensas hacer? —dice él.

—Tú a vigi lar. Ya te lo contaréluego.

—¿No me vas a dejar a mí des-pués? —dice.

—¿Qué demonios te has creído quees esto? —digo yo—, ¿un potrero desementales? Tú a vigilar, que yo voy aentrevistarme con ella.

Conque voy al fondo. Me deten-go delante del espejo, y me arregloel pelo, luego entro en la rebotica,donde está esperando. Mira el es-tante de las medic inas , luego memira a mí.

—Bien, señora —digo yo—, ¿cuál essu problema?

—Las molestias femeninas —dice,

C O M M E N T A R Y :MacGowan’s manipulation of theinnocent Dewey Dell might havestruck the reader as rather callouswere it not for the fact that DeweyDell herself has been guilty ofeven greater and more callousmanipulation of Darl’s life. Darlhas been put away for the rest ofhis life; she simply suffers whatshe has already accepted fromLafe.

X

X

127


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

put the acorn in your belly: (Am.col.) a vulgar term meaning madeyou pregnant

me. “I got the money,” she says.

“Ah,” I says. “Have you got femaletroubles or do you want femaletroubles? If so, you come to the rightdoctor.” Them country people. Halfthe time they don’t know what theywant, and the balance of the time theycan’t tell it to you. The clock saidtwenty past twelve.

“No,” she says.

“No which?” I says.

“I ain’t had it,” she says. “That’sit.” She looked at me. “I got themoney,” she says.

So I knew what she was talkingabout.

“Oh,” I says. “You got something inyour belly you wish you didn’t have.”She looks at me. “You wish you had alittle more or a little less, huh?”

“I got the money,” she says. “Hesaid I could git something at thedrug-store for hit.”

“Who said so?” I says.

“He did,” she says, looking at me.

“You don’t want to call no narres,”I says. “The one that put the acorn inyour belly? He the one that told you?”She don’t say nothing. “You ain’tmarried, are you?” I says. I never sawno ring. But like as not, they ain’t heardyet out there that they use rings.

“I got the money,” she says. Sheshowed it to me, tied up in herhandkerchief: a ten spot.

“I’ll swear you have,” I says. “Hegive it to you?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Which one?” I says. She looks at me.“Which one of them give it to you?”

“It ain’t but one,” she says. Shelooks at me.

“Go on,” I says. She don’t saynothing. The trouble about the cellaris, it ain’t but one way out and that’sback up the inside stairs. The clocksays twenty-five to one. “A pretty girllike you,” I says.

She looks at me. She begins to tiethe money back up in thehandkerchief. “Excuse me a minute,”I says. I go around the prescriptioncase. “Did you hear about that fellowsprained his ear?” I says. “After thathe couldn’t even hear a belch.”

“You better get her out from backthere before the old man comes,” Jodysays.

“If you’ll stay up there in front

mirándome—. Tengo el dinero —dice.

—Ah —digo yo—. ¿Tiene ustedmolestias o las quiere tener? Porquesi es así ha encontrado al médicoadecuado. —Estos campesinos. Lamitad de las veces no saben lo quequie r e n __ _ _____ _ _____ ___ __ ______ _ __ _ __. E l r e l o j m a r c a b a l a sd o c e y v e i n t e .

—No —dice.

—¿No qué? —digo.

—Que no las tengo —dice—. Eso eslo que pasa —me miró—. Tengo el dine-ro —dice.

Conque comprendí de qué me estabahablando.

—Oh —digo—. Tiene usted en la ba-rriga algo que no le apetece tener —memira—. ¿Quisiera usted tener un pocomás o un poco menos, no?

—Tengo el dinero —dice—. El medijo que en la botica me darían algo paraeso.

—¿Quién se lo dijo? —digo.

—Él —dice ella, mirándome.

—¿No quiere mencionar los nom-bres, eh? —digo yo—. El que le hizola barriga. ¿Fue él quien se lo dijo? —ella no dice nada—. ¿No están casa-dos, verdad? —digo, porque no veoque lleve alianza. Pero a saber si es-tos campesinos usan alianzas o no.

— Te n g o e l d i n e r o — d i c e .M e l o e n s e ñ ó , a t a d o a u n p a -ñ u e l o : u n o d e d i e z .

—Estoy seguro de que lo tiene —digo—. ¿Se lo dio él?

—Sí —dice ella.

—¿Cuál de ellos? —digo. Me mira—.¿Cuál de ellos se lo dio?

— S ó l o h a y u n o — d i c e . M em i r a .

—Adelante —digo. Ella no dicenada. Lo malo del sótano es que sólotiene una salida y da a la escalera in-terior. En el reloj ya es la una menosveinticinco—. Una chica tan guapacomo usted —digo.

Me mira. Se pone a atar de nuevo eldinero en el pañuelo.

—Perdone un momento —digo.Salgo de la rebotica—. ¿Has oídohablar del tipo que se hizo un es-guince en la oreja? —digo—. Des-pués ya no podía oír ni un eructo.

—Será mejor que la saques deahí antes de que venga el viejo —dice Jody.

—Eres tú el que debe estar ahí delan-

X

128


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

monkeying: (col.) interfering with

where he pays you to stay, he won’tcatch nobody but me;” I says.

He goes on, slow, toward the front.“What you doing to her, Skeet?” hesays.

“I can’t tell you,” I says. “Itwouldn’t be ethical. You go on upthere and watch.”

“Say, Skeet,” he says.

“Ah, go on,” I says. “I ain’t doingnothing but filling a prescription.”

“He may not do nothing about thatwoman back there, but if he finds youmonkeying with that prescriptioncase, he’ll kick your stern clean downthem cellar stairs.”

“ M y s t e rn h a s b e e n k i c k e db y b i g g e r b a s t a r d s t h a nh i m , ” I s a y s . “ G o b a c k a n dw a t c h o u t f o r h i m , n o w. ”

So I come back . The c locksaid fifteen to one. She is tyingthe money in the handkerchief.“You ain’t the doctor,” she says.

“Sure I am,” I says. She watchesme. “Is it because I look too young,or am I too handsome?” I says. “Weused to have a bunch of old water-jointed doctors here,” I says;“Jefferson used to be a kind of OldDoctors’ Home for them. Butbusiness started falling off and folksstayed so well until one day theyfound out that the women wouldn’tnever get sick at all. So they run allthe old doctors out and got us younggood-looking ones that the womenwould like and then the women begunto get sick again and so businesspicked up. They’re doing that all overthe country. Hadn’t you heard aboutit? Maybe it’s because you ain’t neverneeded a doctor.”

“I need one now,” she says.

“And you come to the right one,”I says. “I already told you that.”

“Have you got something for it?”she says. “I got the money.”

“Well ,” I says, “of course adoctor has to learn all sorts of thingswhile he’s learning to roll calomel;he can’t help himself. But I don’tknow about your trouble.”

“He told me I could get something.He told me I could get it at thedrug-store.”

“Did he tell you the name of it?” Isays. “You better go back and askhim.”

She quit looking at me, kind ofturning the handkerchief in her hands.“I got to do something,” she says.

te, que para eso te paga. Y si cogen a al-guien será a mí —digo.

Sale despacio, hacia la parte delantera.—¿Qué piensas hacer con ella, Skeet?

—dice.

— N o t e l o p u e d o d e c i r — d i g oy o — . N o s e r í a é t i c o . T ú s a l yv i g i l a .

—Oye, Skeet —dice.

—Vete de una vez —digo—. Sólo voya preparar una receta.

—Puede que no diga nada por la mu-jer de ahí dentro, pero si te encuentraenredando con las medicinas, seguroque te echa escaleras abajo de una pa-tada en el trasero.

—Tengo el trasero acostumbradoa recibir patadas de hijos de mala ma-dre más grandes que él —digo—. Vete yvigila a ver si viene.

C o n q u e v o l v í . E n e l r e l o j y ae ra l a una menos cua r to . La ch i -ca a t aba e l d ine ro en e l pañue lo .

—Usted no es el médico —dice.

—Claro que lo soy —digo. Me mira—. ¿Es que le parezco demasiado joven, osoy demasiado guapo? —digo—. Antesaquí teníamos un puñado de viejos mé-dicos achacosos —digo—. Jefferson erauna especie de asilo para médicos vie-jos. Pero el negocio empezó a ir tan maly la gente a encontrarse tan bien que undía comprendieron que las mujeres nun-ca se volverían a poner malas. De modoque echaron a todos los médicos viejos ytrajeron a unos cuantos guapos y jóve-nes como yo que les gustáramos a lasmujeres y entonces las mujeres volvie-ron a ponerse malas otra vez y el nego-cio aumentó. Están haciendo lo mismoen toda la comarca. ¿No ha oído hablarde ello? A lo mejor es porque nunca hanecesitado un médico.

—Ahora lo necesito —dice.

—Y ha acudido usted al adecuado —digo yo—. Ya se lo he dicho.

—¿Tiene usted algo para eso? —dice—. Tengo el dinero.

—Bueno —digo—, naturalmente unmédico tiene que aprender todo tipo decosas mientras aprende a preparar calome-lanos**28; no le queda otro remedio. Peroen relación con su problema, no sé, no sé.

— E l m e d i j o q u e c o n s e g u i r í aa lgo . Me d i jo que lo consegui r íaen la bo t ica .

— ¿ L e d i j o e l n o m b r e ? — d i g oy o — . S e r á m e j o r q u e v u e l v a ap r e g u n t á r s e l o .

Dejó de mirarme y retorcía el pañue-lo en las manos.

—Tengo que hacer algo —dice.

handsome 1 (of a person) good-looking. Hermoso, bello, bien

parecido 2 (of a building etc.) imposing, attractive. 3 a generous, liberal (a handsome present; handsome

treatment). b (of a price, fortune, etc., as assetsgained) considerable. (victory) fácil

gentil 1. adj. Idólatra o pagano.Gentile (En) 2. Brioso, galán, gracioso. GENTIL mozo; GENTIL

donaire. 3. notable. GENTIL desvergüenza; GENTIL disparate. 4. Amable, cortés. kind, pleasant, charming,

obliging, comelygentle dulce tierno, dócil, suave, cortés, ligero,

cudadoso, pausado moderadogracious : amable cortés, gentil, benevolente, indul-

gente [lenient]gracioso : funny,witty, amusing, charming

graceful : lleno de gracia, con mucho garbo,elengante, digno

129


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

sawbuck: (Am. col.) small amountof money

the hair of the dog: (col.) here, moresex to undo the effects of theoriginal act; usually, another drinkto cure a headache caused

“How bad do you want to do some-thing?” I says. She looks at me. “Ofcourse, a doctor learns all sorts ofthings folks don’t think he knows. Buthe ain’t supposed to tell all he knows.It’s against the law.”

Up front Jody says, “Skeet.”

“Excuse me a minute,” I says. Iwent up front. “Do you see him?” Isays.

“Ain’t you done yet?” he says.“Maybe you better come up hereand watch and le t me do tha tconsulting.”

“Maybe you’ll lay a egg,” I says. Icome back. She is looking at me. “Ofcourse you realize that I could be putin the penitentiary for doing what youwant,” I says. “I would lose mylicence and then I’d have to go towork. You realize that?”

“I ain’t got but ten dollars,” shesays. “I could bring the rest nextmonth, maybe.”

“Pooh,” I says, “ten dollars? Yousee, I can’t put no price on myknowledge and skill. Certainly not forno little paltry sawbuck.”

She looks at me. She don’t evenblink. “What you want, then?”

The clock said four to one. SoI decided I bet ter get her out .“You guess three times and then I’llshow you,” I says.

She don’t even blink her eyes. “Igot to do something,” she says. Shelooks behind her and around, then shelooks toward the front. “Gimme themedicine first,” she says.

“You mean, you’re ready to rightnow?” I says. “Here?”

“Gimme the medicine first,” she says.

So I took a graduated glass andkind of turned my back to her andpicked out a bottle that looked allright, because a man that would keeppoison setting around in a unlabelledbottle ought to be in jail, anyway. Itsmelled like turpentine. I pouredcome into the glass and give it to her.She smelled it, looking at me acrossthe glass.

“Hit smells like turpentine,” she says.

“Sure,” I says. “That’s just thebeginning of the treatment. You comeback at ten o’clock to-night and I’llgive you the rest of it and perform theoperation.”

“Operation?” she says.

“It won’t hurt you. You’ve had thesame operation before. Ever hearabout the hair of the dog?”

—¿Hasta qué punto quiere haceralgo? —digo. Me mira—. Claro estáque un médico aprende muchas co-sas que la gente no se imagina quesabe. Pero no puede decir todo lo quesabe. Va contra la ley.

Desde delante Jody dice:—Skeet.—Perdóneme un momento —digo.

Fui a la parte de delante—. ¿Lo has vis-to? —digo.

—¿No has terminado todavía? —dice él—. Quizá sea mejor que salgastú aquí a vigilar y me dejes pasar esaconsulta a mí.

—Y a lo mejor hasta pones un hue-vo —digo. Vuelvo. La chica me mira—. Supongo que se da cuenta de que podrían meterne en la cárcel por hacer loque usted quien —digo—. Me quitaríanel título y tendría que ponerme a traba-jar. ¿Se da cuenta de eso?

—Sólo tengo diez dólares —dice—. A lo mejor el me que viene le puedotraer lo que falte.

—Pero bueno... —digo—, ¿diez dó-lares? No puedo va lorar en tan poco misconocimientos y aptitudes. Sin duda noen diez dólares miserables.

Me mira. Ni siquiera pestañea.—¿Entonces qué es lo que quiere?

En el reloj es la una menos cuatro minutos.Conque de cidí no andarme con más rodeos.

—Diga tres cosas y le diré si ha acer-tado —digo.

Ni siquiera pestañea.—Tengo que hacer algo —dice. Mira

a sus espaldas y su alrededor, luego ha-cia delante—. Deme la medicina an tes—dice.

—¿Quiere decir que ya está prepara-da? —digo—. ¿Aquí?

—Deme la medicina antes —dice.

A s í q u e c o g í u n a p r o b e t ag r a d u a d a y d á n d o l e l a e s p a l d ac o g í u n f r a s c o q u e m e p a r e c i óa d e c u a d o , p u e s , s i a l g u i e m e t ev e n e n o e n u n f r a s c o s i n e t i -q u e t a r m e r e c e e s t a r e n 1 a c á r -c e l . O l í a c o m o a t r e m e n t i n a .E c h é u n p o c o e n l a p r o b e t a ys e l a d i . L o o l i ó , m i r á n d o m e at r a v é s d e l c r i s t a l .

—Huele como a trementina —dice.

— C l a r o — d i g o — . E s e l c o -mienzo de l t ra tamien t o. Vuelva alas d iez en punto de es ta noche yle daré lo qu e fa l ta y rea l iza ré l aoperac ión .

—¿Operación? —dice.

—No le dolerá. Es la misma que ya lehicieron antes ¿No ha oído hablar de queun clavo hay que sacarlo con otro clavo?

130


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

originally by drinking too much.She looks at me. “Will it work?”

she says.

“Sure it’ll work. If you come backand get it.”

So she drunk whatever it waswithout batting a eye, and went out. Iwent up front.

“Didn’t you get it?” Jody says.

“Get what?” I says.

“Ah, come on,” he says. “I ain’tgoing to try to beat your time.”

“Oh, her,” I says. “She just wanteda little medicine. She’s got a bad caseof dysentery and she’s a littleashamed about mentioning it with astranger there.”

It was my night, anyway, so Ihelped the old bastard check up and Igot his hat on him and got him out ofthe store by eight-thirty. I went as faras the corner with him and watchedhim until he passed under two streetlamps and went on out of sight. ThenI came back to the store and waiteduntil nine-thirty and turned out thefront lights and locked the door andleft just one light burning at the back,and I went back and put some talcumpowder into six capsules and kind ofcleared up the cellar and then I wasall ready.

She come in just at ten, beforethe clock had done striking. I lether in and she come in, walkingfast . I looked out the door, butthere wasn’t nobody but a boyin overalls si t t ing on the curb.“You want something?” I says. Henever said nothing, just looking at me.I locked the door and turned off thelight and went on back. She waswaiting. She didn’t look at me now.

“Where is it?” she said.

I gave her the box of capsules. Sheheld the box in her hand, looking atthe capsules.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” shesays.

“Sure,’’ I says. “When you take therest of the treatment.”

“Where do I take it?” she says.

“Down in the cellar,” I says.

56VARDAMAN (10)

NOW it is wider and lighter ,but the stores are dark becausethey have a l l gone home. Thestores are dark , but the l ightspass on the windows when wepass. The lights are in the treesa round the cour t -house . They

Me mira.—¿Funcionará? —dice.

—Claro que funcionará. Si viene aterminar el trata miento.

Conque bebió lo que fuera aquello sinpestañear y se marchó. Yo salí a la partede delante.

—¿Lo conseguiste? —dice Jody.

—¿Conseguir qué? —digo yo.

—Vamos, hombre —dice—. No tevoy a hacer la competencia.

—Ah, e l l a —digo—. Só lo que -r í a u n m e d i c a m e n t o . Ti e n e u n af u e r t e d i s e n t e r í a y l e d a b a u npoco de ve rgüenza dec i r lo con undesconoc ido de l an t e .

Aquella noche me tocaba guardia, detodas formas, así que ayudé al viejo hijode su madre a recoger y le alargué el som-brero y salí con él de la botica a las ochoy media. Lo acompañé hasta la esquina yme quedé mirándolo hasta que pasó de-bajo de dos farolas de la calle y se per-dió de vista. Luego volví a la botica yesperé hasta las nueve y media y apaguélas luces de delante y cerré la puerta conllave y sólo dejé encendida una luz en laparte de atrás. Luego fui a la rebotica ypuse algo de talco en seis cápsulas y or-dené un poco el sótano y entonces mesentí preparado.

Llegó casi a las diez, justo antes deque el reloj diera la hora. Le abrí la puertay entró, andando muy deprisa. Eché unvistazo afuera, pero sólo había un chicovestido con un mono sentado en el bor-dillo de la acera.

— ¿ Q u i e r e s a l g o ? — l e d i g o . E ln o d i j o n a d a , s ó l o m e m i r ó . C e -r r é l a p u e r t a c o n l l a v e y a p a g u él a l u z y f u i a l f o n d o . M e e s t a b ae s p e r a n d o . A h o r a n o m e m i r ó .

—¿Dónde está? —dijo.

L e d i l a c a j a c o n l a s c á p s u -l a s . L a c o g i ó y s e q u e d ó m i -r á n d o l a s .

—¿Está seguro de que funcionará? —dice.

—Claro que sí —digo—. Cuando sigael resto del tratamiento.

—¿Dónde lo tengo que seguir? —dice ella.

—Abajo, en el sótano —digo yo. [222]

VARDAMAN

AHORA hay más espacio y más luz,pero las tiendas están a oscuras porquetodos se han ido a sus casas. Las tiendasestán a oscuras, pero las luces se refle-jan en los escaparates cuando pasamospor delante de ellos. Las luces están enlos árboles de alrededor del juzgado.

Vardaman (10)

This section consists ofVardaman’s unspoken andunverbalised thoughts as he waitsoutside the drug-store whilst

131


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

roost in the t r e e s , b u t t h ecourt-house is dark. The clock onit looks four ways, because i t isnot dark. The moon is not darktoo. Not very dark. Darl he wentto Jackson is my brother Darl ismy brother Only it was over thatway, shining on the track.

“Let’s go that way, Dewey Dell,”’I say.

“What for?” Dewey Dell says. Thetrack went shining around thewindow, it red on the track. But shesaid he would not sell it to the townboys. “But it will be there Christmas,”Dewey Dell says. “You’ll have to waittill then, when he brings it back.”

Darl went to Jackson. Lots ofpeople didn’t go to Jackson. Darl ismy brother. My brother is going toJackson

While we walk the lights goaround, roosting in the trees. On allsides it is the same. They go aroundthe court-house and then you cannotsee them. But you can see them in theblack windows beyond. They have allgone home to bed except me andDewey Dell.

Going on the train to Jackson.My brother

There is a light in the store, farback. In the window are two bigglasses of soda-water, red andgreen. Two men could not drinkthem. Two mules could not. Twocows could not. Darl

A man comes to the door. He looksat Dewey Dell.

“You wait out here,” Dewey Dell says.

“Why can’t I come in?” I say. “Iwant to come in, too.”

“You wait out here,” she says.

“All right,” I say.

Dewey Dell goes in.

Darl is my brother. Darl wentcrazy

The walk is harder than sitting onthe ground. He is in the open door.He looks at me. “You wantsomething?” he says. His head isslick. Jewel’s head is slick sometimes.Cash’s head is not slick. Darl be wentto Jackson my Brother Darl In thestreet he ate a banana. Wouldn’t yourather have bananas? Dewy Dellsaid. You wait till Christmas. It’ll bethere then. Then you can see it. Sowe are going to have come bananas.We are going to have a bag full, meand Dewy Dell. He locks the door.Dewey Dell is inside. Then the lightwinks out.

Cuelgan de los árboles, pero el juzgadoestá a oscuras. El reloj de encima se vepor los cuatro lados, porque no está aoscuras. La luna tampoco está a oscuras.No muy a oscuras. Dar l e l que s e f uea Jackson es hermano mío Dar l eshermano mío Es taba po r a l l í , b r i -l l ando en l a v í a [.]

—Vamos por allí, Dewey Dell —digo.

—¿Para qué? —dice Dewey Dell.La vía rodeaba reluciente el escapara-te, con él rojo sobre la vía. Pero ellame ha dicho que no se lo venderán alos chicos de la ciudad—. Pero en Na-vidad todavía estará ahí —dice DeweyDell—. Tendrás que esperar hasta en-tonces, cuando lo vuelva a traer.

Darl se fue a, Jackson. Hay muchagente que nunca ha ido a Jackson. Darles hermano mío. Mi hermano va a ir aJackson.

Mientras andamos las luces colga-das de los árboles giran. Por todas par-tes es lo mismo. Dan la vuelta por de-trás del juzgado y no se las puede ver.Pero se las puede ver en las ventanasnegras de más allá. Todo el mundo seha ido a sus casas, a acostarse, exceptoDewey Dell y yo.

Va en el tren a Jackson. Mi her-mano

En la botica hay una luz, muy al fon-do. En el escaparate hay dos grandes fras-cos de agua de soda, uno rojo y otro ver-de. Dos hombres no se los podrían be-ber. Dos mulas tampoco. Dos vacas tam-poco podrían. Darl

Sale un hombre a la puerta. Mira aDewey Dell.

—Espérame aquí —dice Dewey Dell.

—¿Por qué no puedo entrar? —digo—. Quiero entrar también.

—Espérame aquí —dice ella.

—Bueno —le digo. [223]

Dewey Dell entra.

Darl es hermano mío. Darl se ha vuel-to loco

La acera está más dura que el suelo.Él está en la puerta abierta. Me mira.

—¿Quieres algo? —dice. Tiene lacabeza repeinada. A veces la cabeza deJewel está repeinada. La cabeza deCash nunca está repeinada. Darl él haido a Jackson mi hermano Darl En lacalle se comió un plátano. ¿No preferi-rías unos plátanos? dijo Dewey Dell[.]Espera hasta Navidad. Todavía segui-rá allí. Entonces lo podrás ver. Demodo que nos conformaremos con unosplátanos. Tendremos una bolsa llena,yo y Dewey Dell. Cierra la puerta conllave. Dewey Dell está dentro. Luegola luz se apaga.

Dewey Dell is having sexualintercourse with MacGowan.When Dewey Dell returns,Vardaman still fails tounderstand.

COMMENTARY: Vardaman’sdelight in all the new sights of thetown, the lights which appear to‘roost’ in the trees like hens, thefour-sided clock and thepavement, is modified by histhoughts of Darl. These thoughtsappear in italics, suggesting thatthey exist at the deeper level ofhis consciousness, and Vardamanclearly finds it difficult tounderstand what it means whenhe is told ‘Darl went crazy’.Vardaman cannot distinguishbetween ‘going to Jackson’ and‘going crazy’ and it is possiblethat his innocent mind has hitupon an unrecognised truth. It isonly when Darl is taken off by theattendants that he openly ‘goescrazy’. The two things may wellbe related in this way, the tripbeing the cause of the madness.

The section also creates theimpression of a lost child, sittingin a town which is alien to him,waiting for a sister who isengaged in an enterprise he doesnot understand and seeing a cowcoming into the empty square, afamiliar object in unfamiliarsurroundings which only makesthe loneliness all the more acute,‘I hear the cow a long time,clopping on the street. She goesacross the square, her head downclopping. She lows.’

132


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

He went to Jackson. He wentcrazy and went to Jackson both.Lots of people didn’t go crazy. Paand Cash and Jewel and Dewy Delland me didn’t go crazy. We never didgo crazy. We didn’t go to Jacksoneither. Darl

I hear the cow a long time,clopping on the street. Then shecomes into the square. She goesacross the square, her head downclopping. She lows. There wasnothing in the square before shelowed, but it wasn’t empty. Now it isempty after she lowed. She goes on,clopping . She lows. My brother isDarl. He went to Jackson on the train.He didn’t go on the train to go crazy.He went crazy in our wagon. Darl Shehad been in there a long time. Andthe cow is gone too. A long time. Shehas been in there longer than the cowwas. But not as long as empty. Darlis my brother. My brother Darl

Dewey Dell comes out. She looks at me.

“Let’s go around that way now,” I say.

She looks at me. “It ain’t going towork,” she says. “That son of a bitch.”

“What ain’t going to work, DeweyDell?”

“I just know it won’t,” she says. She is notlooking at anything. “I just know it.”

“Let’s go that way,” I say.

“We got to go back to the hotel.It’s late. We got to slip back in.”

“Can’t we go by and see,anyway?”

“Hadn’t you rather have bananas?Hadn’t you rather?”

“All right.” My brother he went crazyand he went to Jackson too. Jackson isfurther away than crazy

“It won’t work,” Dewey Dell says.“I just know it won’t.”

“What won’t work?” I say. He hadto get on the train to go to Jackson. Ihave not been on the train, but Darlhas been on the train. Darl. Darl ismy brother. Darl. Darl

57[56]DARL (19)

DARL has gone to Jackson. Theyput him on the train, laughing, downthe long car laughing, the heads turninglike the heads of owls when he passed.“What are you laughing at?” I said.

“Yes yes yes yes yes.”

Two meas put him on the train.They wore mis-matched coats,bulging behind over their right hippockets. Their necks were shaved to

Se fue a Jackson. Se volv ió locoy se fue a Jackson. Mucha gente nos e v u e l v e l o c a . P a d re y C a s h yD e w e y D e l l y y o n o n o s h e m o svuel to locos . Nunca nos volv imoslocos . Tampoco fuimos a Jackson.Darl

O i g o a u n a v a c a m u c h o r a t o ,c lap clap e n l a c a l l e . L u e g o e n -t r a e n l a p l a z a . A t r a v i e s a l ap l a z a c o n l a c a b e z a b a j ac l a p [.] Muge. No había nada en laplaza antes de que mugiera, pero noestaba vacía. Ahora, después de quemugiera es tá vacía . Sigue, c lap .Muge. Mi hermano es Darl. Se fue ajackson en tren. No se fue en tren paravolverse loco. Se volvió loco en nues-tra carreta. Darl Ya lleva ahí desdehace rato. Y la vaca también se ha ido.Hace rato. Lleva ahí más tiempo de loque estuvo la vaca. Pero no más quecuando estaba vacía. Darl es hermanomío. Mi hermano Darl

Dewey Dell sale. Me mira.

—Vamos por allí ahora —digo yo.Me mira.—No va a funcionar —dice—. El muy

hijoputa.

—¿Qué no va a funcionar, DeweyDell?

—Estoy segura de que no —dice. Nomira a ninguna parte—. Estoy segura.

—Vamos por allí —digo.

—Tenemos que volver al hotel. Es tar-de. Entraremos a escondidas.

—De todos modos podríamos pasarpor allí y mirarlo.

—¿No prefieres los plátanos? ¿No losprefieres? [224]

—Bueno. Mi hermano él se volvióloco y se fue a Jackson. Jackson está másallá que loco

—No va a funcionar —dice DeweyDell— Estoy segura de que no.

—¿Qué no va a func ionar? —digo. Tuvo que subir al tren parair a Jackson. Yo nunca he subido entren, pero Dar l s í . Darl . Darl eshermano mío. Darl . Darl

DARL

DARL se ha ido a Jackson. Lo metie-ron en el tren y reía y estaba en el largovagón riendo y las cabezas se volvían cuan-do pasaba igual que cabezas de búhos.

—¿De qué te ríes? —dije.

—Sí sí sí sí sí.

Dos hombres lo metieron en el tren.Sus chaquetas, que no conjuntaban, se lesabultaban a la altura del bolsillo derechotrasero. Tenían el cogote afeitado, como

Darl (19)

This section contains Darl’sunhinged thoughts. He appears tobelieve that he has split into twoquite separate people, the onelaughing and the otherquestioning the laughter.

133


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

a hairline, as though the recent andsimultaneous barbers had had achalk-line like Cash’s. “Is it the pis-tols you’re laughing at?” I said. “Whydo you laugh?” I said. “Is it becauseyou bate the sound of laughing?”

They pulled two seats together soDarl could sit by the window to laugh.One of them sat beside him, the othersat on the seat facing him, ridingbackward. One of them had to ridebackward because the state’s moneyhad a face to each backside and abackside to each face, and they areriding on the state’s money which isincest. A nickel has a woman on oneside and a buffalo on the other; twofaces and no back. I don’t know whatthat is. Darl had a little spy-glass hegot in France at the war. In it it had awoman and a pig with two backs andno face. I know what that is. “Is thatwhy you are laughing, Darl?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes.”

The wagon stands on the square,hitched, the mules motionless, thereins wrapped about the seat-spring,the back of the wagon toward thecourt-house. It looks no differentfrom a hundred other wagons there;Jewel standing beside it and lookingup the street like any other man intown that day, yet there is somethingdifferent, distinctive. There is aboutit that unmistakable air of definite andimminent departure that trains haveperhaps due to the fact that DeweyDell and Vardaman on the seat andCash on a pallet in the wagon bedare eating bananas from a paper bag.“Is that why you are laughing, Darl?”

D a r l i s o u r b r o t h e r , o u rb ro the r Dar l . Our b ro the r Da r lin a cage in Jackson where , h i sgr imed hands ly ing l igh t in thequ ie t i n t e r s t i c e s , l ook ing ou the foams .

“Yes Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.”

58DEWEY DELL (4)

WHEN he saw the money I said,“It’s not my money, it doesn’t belong to me.”

“Whose is it, then?”

“It’s Cora Tull’s money. It’s Mrs.Tull’s. I sold the cakes for it.”

“Ten dollars for two cakes?”

“Don’t you touch it. It’s not mine.”

“You never had them cakes. It’s alie. It was them Sunday clothes youhad in that package.”

“Don’t you touch it! If you take ityou are a thief.”

“My own daughter accuses me ofbeing a thief. My own daughter.”

si los peluqueros, recientes y simultá-neos, hubieran usado una cuerda de mar-car como la de Cash**29.

—¿Te ríes de las pistolas? —dije—.¿Por qué te ríes? —dije—. ¿Es porqueodias el sonido de la risa?

Juntaron dos asientos de modo que Darlpudiese sentarse a reír junto a la ventana.Uno de ellos se sentó a su lado, el otro sesentó en el asiento de enfrente, de espal-das a la marcha. Uno de ellos tenía que irde espaldas a la marcha porque el dinerodel estado tiene una cara por cada cruz yuna cruz por cada cara y ellos viajan a cos-ta del dinero del estado, lo cual es incesto.Una moneda de 5 centavos tiene una mu-jer por un lado y un búfalo por el otro; doscaras y ninguna espalda. No sé qué es eso.Darl tenía un catalejo pequeño que com-pró en Francia durante la guerra. En él ha-bía una mujer y un cerdo con dos espaldasy ninguna cara. Eso sé lo que es. [225]

—¿Te estás riendo por eso, Darl?

—Sí sí sí sí sí sí.

La carreta está en la plaza, engancha-da, las mulas inmóviles, las riendas en-rolladas alrededor del pescante, la tra-sera de la carreta en dirección al juzga-do. No parece distinta de las otras ciencarretas que hay allí; Jewe1 está a sulado contemplando la calle como cual-quier otro en la ciudad aquel día, y, sinembargo, hay algo diferente, distintivo.Tiene algo de ese aire inconfundible quetienen los trenes de marcha definitiva einminente, puede que debido a queDewey Dell y Vardaman, sentados en elpescante y Cash sobre un jergón en lacaja de la carreta, están comiendo plá-tanos que sacan de una bolsa de papel.

—¿Es por eso por lo que te ríes, Darl?

Darl es nuestro hermano, nuestro her-mano Darl. Nuestro hermano Darl en unacelda de Jackson donde, sus mugrientasmanos reposando ligeras en los intersti-cios, silenciosos, mirando afuera,espumarajea.

— S í s í s í s í s í s í s í s í .

DEWEY DELL

CUANDO vio el dinero le dije:—No es mío, no me pertenece.

—Entonces, ¿de quién es?

—Es dinero de Cora Tull. Es de Mrs.Tull. Le vendí los bollos.

—¿Diez dólares por dos bollos?

—No lo toque. No es mío.

—Nunca has tenido esos bollos. Esmentira. Lo que tenías en el paquete erael traje de los domingos.

—¡No lo toque! Si lo coge es ustedun ladrón.

—Mi propia hija llamándome ladrón.Mi propia hija.

**29

COMMENTARY: As thereader has been aware of thepotential division in Darl’spersonality, this final split whenhe is betrayed by his family is notsurprising. The deed, thelaughing, becomes quite separatefrom the word, that is, the innerthoughts. Those inner thoughts allcontain some sort of duality; thereare two attendants who pull twoseats together, which remindsDarl of two-sided coins and thespy-glasses with two backs and noface. The section ends with Darlimagining the family talking of‘our brother Darl’ and Darlhimself trapped in a cage with histwo ‘grimed hands’ lying in thespaces between the bars, foamingat the mouth as in the popularvision of madness.

Dewey Dell (4)

This section contains aconversation between DeweyDell and her father. Anse, usingmoral blackmail and force, takesDewey Dell’s ten dollars fromher, saying that it is only a loan.

134


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

blooden: (col.) tied by bonds ofblood

“Pa. Pa.”

“I have fed you and sheltered you.I give you love and care, yet my owndaughter, the daughter of my deadwife, calls me a thief over hermother’s grave.”

“It’s not mine, I tell you. If it was,God knows you could have it.”

“Where did you get ten dollars?”

“Pa. Pa.”

“ Yo u w o n ’ t t e l l m e . D i dy o u c o m e b y i t s o s h a m e f u ly o u d a r e n o t ? ”

“It’s not mine, I tell you. Can’t youunderstand it’s not mine?”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t pay itback. But she calls her own father athief.”

“I can’t, I tell you. I tell you it’snot my money. God knows youcould have it.”

“I wouldn’t take it. My own borndaughter that has et my food forseventeen years, begrudges me theloan of ten dollars.”

“It’s not mine. I can’t.”

“Whose is it, then?”

“It was give to me. To buy somethingwith.” “To buy what with?”

“Pa. Pa.”

“It’s just a loan. God knows, Ibate for my blooden children toreproach me. But I give them whatwas mine without stint. Cheerful Igive them, without stint. And nowthey deny me. Addie. It was luckyfor you you died, Addie.”

“Pa. Pa.”

“God knows it is.”

He took the money and went out.

59 [58]CASH (5)

So when we s topped the re tob o r r o w t h e s h o v e l s w e h e a r dthe g raphophone playing in thehouse, and so when we got donew i t h t h e s h o v e l s p a s a y s , “Ireckon I better take them back.”

So we went back to the house.“We better take Cash on toPeabody’s,” Jewel said.

“It won’t take but a minute,” pasaid. He got down from the wagon.The music was not playing now.

“Let Vardaman do it,” Jewel said.

—Padre. Padre.

—Te he criado y te he dado un hogar.Te he dado mi cariño y mi atención, y mipropia hija, la hija de mi difunta esposa,me llama ladrón delante de la tumba desu madre. [226]

—No es mío, se lo aseguro. Si lo fuera,bien sabe Dios que podría usted cogerlo.

—¿De dónde has sacado diez dólares?

—Padre. Padre.

—No me lo quieres decir. ¿Ha sidode un modo tan vergonzoso que no teatreves a decirlo?

—No es mío, se lo aseguro. ¿No pue-de entender que no es mío?

—No es que no te los fuera a de-volver. Pero llamar ladrón a su propiopadre...

—No puedo, se lo aseguro. Le asegu-ro que este dinero no es mío. Bien sabeDios que si lo fuera...

—No lo querría coger. Que mi propiahija a la que llevo diecisiete años alimen-tando me niegue un préstamo de diezdólares**30.

—No es mío, no puedo.

—Entonces, ¿de quién es?

—Me lo dieron. Para comprar una cosa.—¿Para comprar qué?

—Padre. Padre.

—Sólo es un préstamo. Bien sabeDios lo que me duele que los hijos demis entrañas me lo reprochen. Pero yoles he dado todo lo mío sin límites. Conalegría se lo he dado, sin límites. Y aho-ra ellos me lo niegan. Addie. Tuvistesuerte de morirte, Addie.

—Padre. Padre.

—Bien lo sabe Dios.

Cogió el dinero y se marchó. [227]

CASH

CONQUE cuando nos pa ramosa l l í pa ra que nos p res ta ran las pa-l a s , o ímos e l g r amófono que so -naba en l a ca sa , y cuando t e rmi -namos con l a s pa l a s pad re d i ce :

—Creo que debo devolverlas.

Así que volvimos a la casa.—Será mejor que llevemos a Cash a

que lo vea Peabody —dijo Jewel.

—No me llevará ni un minuto —dijo padre. Se bajó de la carreta. Aho-ra la música no sonaba.

—Deje que las devuelva Vardaman —dijo

Cash (5)

This section rounds off thestory, beginning with the momentwhen the wagon stops while Ansegoes to return the borrowed spadeand ending when the family havereturned home, complete with anew Mrs Bundren.

COMMENTARY: The novelhas been a mixture of comic andtragic events. This final scene isalmost wholly comic, with Ansebehaving in a furtive manner and

135


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“He can do it in hall the time you can.Or here, you let me——”

“I reckon I better do i t ,” pasays . “Long as i t was me thatborrowed them.”

So we set in the wagon, but themusic wasn’t playing now. I reckonit’s a good thing we ain’t got ere aone of them. I reckon I wouldn’tnever get no work done a-tall forlistening to it. I don’t know if a littlemusic ain’t about the nicest thing afellow can have. Seems like when hecomes in tired of a night, it ain’tnothing could rest him like having alittle music played and him resting. Ihave seen them that shuts up like ahand-grip, with a handle and all, so afellow can carry it with him whereverhe wants.

“ W h a t y o u r e c k o n h e ’sdoing?” Jewel says. “I could at o t e d t h e m s h o v e l s b a c k a n dforth ten times by now.”

“Let him take his time,” I said. “Heain’t as spry as you, remember.”

“Why didn’t he le t me takethem back, then? We got to getyour leg fixed up so we can starthome to-morrow.”

“We got plenty of time,” I said. “Iwonder what them machines costs onthe instalment.”

“Instalment of what?” Jewel said.“What you got to buy it with?”

“A fellow can’t tell,” I said. “Icould ‘a’ bought that one from Surattfor five dollars, I believe.”

And so pa come back and we wentto Peabody’s. While we was there pasaid he was going to the barber-shopand get a shave. And so that night hesaid he had some business to tend to,kind of looking away from us whilehe said it, with his hair combed wetand slick and smelling sweet withperfume, but I said leave him be; Iwouldn’t mind hearing a little moreof that music myself.

And so next morning he was goneagain, then he come back and toldus get hitched up and ready to takeout and he would meet us and whenthey was gone he said,

“I don’t reckon you got no moremoney.”

“Peabody just give me enough topay the hotel with,” I said. “We don’tneed nothing else, do we?”

“No,” pa said; “no. We don’t neednothing.” He stood there, not looking at me.

“If it is something we got to have,I reckon maybe Peabody,” I said.

Jewel—. Puede hacerlo en la mitad de tiempoque usted. O si no, déjeme a mí.

—Para mí que es mejor que lo hagayo —dice padre—. Soy el que se las hapedido prestadas.

Conque nos quedamos en la carre-ta, pero la música ahora no sonaba.Para mí que es mejor que no tenga-mos uno de esos aparatos. Para míque no trabajaría bastante porque mepasaría el tiempo oyéndolo. No sé siun poco de música no es lo más agra-dable que se puede tener. Me pareceque cuando uno vuelve cansado porla noche, nada puede descansar másque tener un poco de música sonan-do. He v is to unos que se c ier rancomo maletas, con asa y todo, demodo que se pueden llevar adondeuno quiera.

—¿Qué crees que estará hacien-do? —dice Jewel—. Yo ya podríahaber traído y llevado las palas porlo menos diez veces.

—Déjale que se tome su tiempo —dijeyo—. No es tan activo como tú, recuérdalo.

—Entonces, ¿por qué no me dejó quefuera a devolverlas yo? Tenemos que lle-varte a que te curen la pierna para podervolver a casa mañana.

—Tenemos tiempo de sobra —dijeyo—. Me pregunto cuánto costarán esosaparatos a plazos.

—¿Qué plazos? —dijo Jewel—. ¿Conqué los vas a pagar? [228]

—Cualquiera sabe —dije yo—. Po-dría haberle comprado aquel a Suratt porcinco dólares, me parece.

Y entonces vuelve padre y fuimos acasa de Peabody. Mientras estábamosallí padre dijo que iba a la barbería aque le afeitaran. Y aquella noche dijoque tenía unos asuntos que atender, yno nos miraba de frente mientras decíaesto, con el pelo muy bien peinado ymojado y oliendo a perfume, pero yodije que le dejaran hacer lo que quisie-ra; a mí tampoco me importaría oír unpoco más de aquella música.

Conque a la mañana siguiente otra vezse fue, luego vuelve y nos dijo que en-gancháramos y nos preparásemos parairnos y que él ya se reuniría con nosotrosy cuando los otros se fueron me dijo:

—Supongo que ya no te quedará másdinero.

—Peabody me dio sólo lo justo parapagar el hotel —dije yo—. No necesita-mos nada más, ¿no?

—No —dijo padre—; no. No necesi-tamos nada —se quedó allí sin mirarme.

—Si es para algo que necesitamos, paramí que a lo mejor Peabody... —dije.

the book ending on an ironicalnote. Having carried one MrsBundren to Jefferson, the familytake back another Mrs Bundren.All the children are impressed bythe change which takes place intheir father, a change possibly dueto the absence of Addie whodenied Anse’s existence, ‘it (thenew teeth) made him look a foottaller kind of holding his head up,hangdog and proud too’. The onlytouch of sadness is Cash’sthoughts of Darl whenever theylisten to the new record-player,’‘every time a new record wouldcome from the mail order . . . Iwould think what a shame Darlcouldn’t be to enjoy it too’. Cash,however, reconciles himself toDarl’s absence with the words,‘But it is better so for him. Thisworld is not his world; this lifehis life’. If Darl does not belongin the little world of the Bundrens,then he does not belonganywhere. As Cash’s sectionshows, the rest of the familymanaged to accommodatethemselves to Addie’s absence.Only Darl remains permanentlyalienated and it is at this point thatthe reader recalls Addie’s wordswhen she was pregnant with Darl,‘my revenge would be that hewould never know I was takingmy revenge’. The revenge seemsto misfire, for Anse does notsuffer, but Darl the inspiration ofthat revenge is also its primevictim.

spry : alegre, activo, nimble, animado

136


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

“No,” he said; “it ain’t nothingelse. You all wait for me at the cor-ner.”

So Jewel got the team and come forme and they fixed me a pallet in thewagon and we drove across the squareto the corner where pa said, and wewas waiting there in the wagon, withDewey Dell and Vardaman eatingbananas, when we see them comingup the street. Pa was coming alongwith that kind of daresome andhangdog look all at once like when hehas been up to something he knowsma ain’t going to like, carrying a gripin his hand, and Jewel says,

“Who’s that?”

Then we see it wasn’t the gripthat made him look different; i twas h i s face , and Jewel says ,“He got them teeth.”

It was a fact. It made him look afoot taller, kind of holding his headup, hangdog and proud too, and thenwe see her behind him, carrying theother grip—a kind of duck-shapedwoman all dressed up, with them kindof hard-looking pop eyes like she wasdaring ere a man to say nothing. Andthere we set watching them, withDewey Dell’s and Vardaman’s mouthhalf open and half-et bananas in theirhands and her coming around frombehind pa, looking at us like she daredere a man. And then I see that the gripshe was carrying was one of themlittle graphophones. It was for a fact,all shut up as pretty as a picture, andevery time a new record would comefrom the mail order and us setting inthe house in the winter, listening toit, I would think what a shame Darlcouldn’t be to enjoy it too. But it isbetter so for him. This world is nothis world; this life his life.

“ I t ’ s C a s h a n d J e w e l a n dVardaman and Dewey Dell ,” pasays, kind of hangdog and proudtoo, with his teeth and all, evenif he wouldn’t look at us. “MeetMrs. Bundren,” he says.

—No —dijo él—, no necesitamosnada más. Esperadme todos en la esqui-na.

Conque Jewel cogió las mulas yvino a por mí y me prepararon un jer-gón en la carretera y atravesamos laplaza hasta la esquina donde dijo pa-dre, y estábamos esperando allí en lac a r r e t a , m i e n t r a s D e w e y D e l l yVardaman comían plátanos, cuandoles vemos venir calle arriba. Padretraía esa expresión suya orgullosa yde perro apaleado a la vez de cuandohacía algo que sabía que a madre nole iba a gustar, y llevaba un maletínen la mano, y Jewel dice:

—¿Quién es ése?

Entonces vemos que no era el ma-letín lo que le hacía parecer diferen-te, era algo de su cara, y Jewel dice:

—Se ha puesto la dentadura.

Y era eso. Parecía unos treinta centíme-tros más alto a fuerza de estirar la cabeza,con aquella expresión suya orgullosa, y deperro apaleado y entonces la vemos a elladetrás de él llevando otro maletín: una deesas mujeres con [229] forma de pato, todaperipuesta, con unos ojos saltones de mira-da dura que parecían desafiar a quien se atre-viese a decirle algo. Y allí nos quedamosmirándolos, con Dewey Dell y Vardamanboquiabiertos y con unos plátanos a me-dio comer en la mano, mientras ella seacercaba detrás de padre, mirándonos conaire desafiante. Y entonces veo que elmaletín que traía ella era uno de esosgramófonos pequeños. No había duda,cerrado y todo era tan bonito como uncuadro, y cada vez que nos llegara undisco nuevo por correo y nos reunié-ramos en casa a oírlo en invierno,pensaría que era una pena que Darlno lo disfrutara también. Pero para éles mejor así. Este mundo no es sumundo; esta vida su vida.

—Estos son Cash y Jewel y Vardamany Dewey Dell —dice padre, con su airede perro apaleado, pero también lleno deorgullo, con su dentadura y todo, aunqueno se atreviera a mirarnos—. Os presen-to a Mrs. Bundren —dice. [230]

137


5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

ÍNDICE

INTRODUCCIÓN ................... 7

Los precedentes y el ambiente de la época . . . . 9

Faulkner: resumen biobibliográfico . . . . . . . . . 12

El condado de Yoknapatawpha . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

Mientras agonizo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

ESTA EDICIÓN 47

BIBLIOGRAEiA 49

MIENTRAS AGONIZO ... 53

[231]

as i lay dying mientras agonizo - rodriguez alvarez william ''as i lay... · guiendo el...

Documents