Donde el padre de Huck aparece de nuevo. De su
descripción física, del enojo porque Huck aprende a leer y escribir, y de los
celos por que Huck vive en una casa y él tiene que dormir con los cerdos. Del original ingles “The Adventures of Huckleberry
Finn”, de Mark Twain
I HAD shut the
door to. Then I turned around and there
he was. I used to be scared of him all
the time, he whipped me so much. I
reckoned I was scared now, too; but in a minute I see I was mistaken—that is,
after the first shake, as you may say, when my breath sort of raised, he being
so unexpected; but right away after I see I warn't scared of him worth bothring
about.
He was most
fifty, and he looked it. His hair was
long and tangled and greasy, and hung down, and you could see his eyes shining
through like he was behind vines. It was
all black, no gray; so was his long, mixed-up whiskers. There warn't no color in his face, where his
face showed; it was white; not like another man's white, but a white to make a
body sick, a white to make a body's flesh crawl—a tree-toad white, a fish-belly
white. As for his clothes—just rags,
that was all. He had one ankle resting
on t'other knee; the boot on that foot was busted, and two of his toes stuck
through, and he worked them now and then.
His hat was laying on the floor—an old black slouch with the top caved
in, like a lid.
I stood
a-looking at him; he set there a-looking at me, with his chair tilted back a
little. I set the candle down. I noticed the window was up; so he had clumb
in by the shed. He kept a-looking me all
over. By and by he says:
"Solemn
clothes—very. You think you're a good
deal of a big-bug, DON'T you?"