Doña
Perfecta (1876) es una novela realista del siglo 19, de Benito Pérez Galdós, en la primera de las
tres épocas en sus novelas de análisis social.
When the down train No. 65—of what line it is
unnecessary to say—stopped at the little station between kilometres 171 and
172, almost all the second-and third-class passengers remained in the cars,
yawning or asleep, for the penetrating cold of the early morning did not invite
to a walk on the unsheltered platform. The only first-class passenger on the
train alighted quickly, and addressing a group of the employes asked them if
this was the Villahorrenda station.
“We are in Villahorrenda,” answered the conductor
whose voice was drowned by the cackling of the hens which were at that moment
being lifted into the freight car. “I forgot to call you, Senor de Rey. I think
they are waiting for you at the station with the beasts.”
“Why, how terribly cold it is here!” said the
traveller, drawing his cloak more closely about him. “Is there no place in the
station where I could rest for a while, and get warm, before undertaking a
journey on horseback through this frozen country?”
Before he had finished speaking the conductor, called
away by the urgent duties of his position, went off, leaving our unknown
cavalier’s question unanswered. The latter saw that another employe was coming
toward him, holding a lantern in his right hand, that swung back and forth as
he walked, casting the light on the platform of the station in a series of
zigzags, like those described by the shower from a watering-pot.
“Is there a restaurant or a bedroom in the station of
Villahorrenda?” said the traveller to the man with the lantern.
Benito Pérez Galdós (derecha) |
“There is nothing here,” answered the latter
brusquely, running toward the men who were putting the freight on board the
cars, and assuaging them with such a volley of oaths, blasphemies, and abusive
epithets that the very chickens, scandalized by his brutality, protested
against it from their baskets.
“The best thing I can do is to get away from this
place as quickly as possible,” said the gentlemen to himself. “The conductor
said that the beasts were here.”
Just as he had come to this conclusion he felt a thin
hand pulling him gently and respectfully by the cloak. He turned round and saw
a figure enveloped in a gray cloak, and out of whose voluminous folds peeped
the shrivelled and astute countenance of a Castilian peasant. He looked at the
ungainly figure, which reminded one of the black poplar among trees; he
observed the shrewd eyes that shone from beneath the wide brim of the old
velvet hat; the sinewy brown hand that grasped a green switch, and the broad
foot that, with every movement, made the iron spur jingle.
“Are you Senor Don Jose de Rey?” asked the peasant,
raising his hand to his hat.
“Yes; and you, I take it,” answered the traveller
joyfully, “are Dona Perfecta’s servant, who have come to the station to meet me
and show me the way to Orbajosa?”
“The same. Whenever you are ready to start. The pony
runs like the wind. And Senor Don Jose, I am sure, is a good rider. For what
comes by race—”
“Which is the way out?” asked the traveller, with
impatience. “Come, let us start, senor—What is your name?”
“My name is Pedro Lucas,” answered the man of the gray
cloak, again making a motion to take off his hat; “but they call me Uncle
Licurgo. Where is the young gentleman’s baggage?”
“There it is—there under the cloak. There are three
pieces—two portmanteaus and a box of
books for Senor Don Cayetano. Here is the check.”
A moment later cavalier and squire found themselves
behind the barracks called a depot, and facing a road which, starting at this
point, disappeared among the neighboring hills, on whose naked slopes could be
vaguely distinguished the miserable hamlet of Villahorrenda. There were three
animals to carry the men and the luggage. A not ill-looking nag was destined for the cavalier;
Uncle Licurgo was to ride a venerable hack,
somewhat loose in the joints, but sure-footed; and the mule, which was to be
led by a stout country boy of active limbs and fiery blood, was to carry the
luggage.
Before the caravan had put itself in motion the train
had started, and was now creeping along the road with the lazy deliberation of
a way train, awakening, as it receded in the distance, deep subterranean
echoes. As it entered the tunnel at kilometre 172, the steam issued from the
steam whistle with a shriek that resounded through the air. From the dark mouth
of the tunnel came volumes of whitish smoke, a succession of shrill screams
like the blasts of a trumpet followed, and at the sound of its stentorian voice
villages, towns, the whole surrounding country awoke. Here a cock began to
crow, further on another. Day was beginning to dawn. (Dona
Perfecta, Chapter 1, Benito Pérez Galdós. Translated by Mary J. Serrano.)
Vocabulario
Portmanteau: a portmanteau was a suitcase that opened into two
equal sections. The etymology of the word is the French porte-manteau, from
porter, "to carry", and manteau, "cloak".
Nag:
horse; especially one that is old or in poor condition.
Hack: a horse let out for common hire.
Para saber
Doña
Perfecta ilustra el gran poder que la iglesia ejercía. También
describe las diferencias entre el pensamiento tradicional, provincial y la mirada
moderna, liberal de Madrid, la capital.
Benito
Pérez Galdós llegó a publicar 31 novelas, 46
Episodios Nacionales, 23 obras de teatro y el equivalente a 20 volúmenes de
ficción corta, periodismo y otros escritos. Contúa popular en España y se lo
considera en la misma categoría que Dickens, Balzac y Tolstoy.
Artículo relacionado
Bailén
Artículo relacionado
Bailén
Un día como hoy en Salta, fresco y nublado, es
especial para sentarse a leer algo de Benito
Pérez Galdós, Bailén,
tal vez. No pude encontrar una traducción inglesa de Bailén, para leer en línea,
se entiende. Hay alguna otra obra de Pérez Galdós, The Novel on the Tram, por
ejemplo, que puede ser leída en inglés, en Project Gutenberg.
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