THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said:
Hi havia hagut quelcom, en l'estil de la tia Polly quan besà Tom, que dissipà sos atuïments i el féu altra vegada àgil de cor i feliç. Anà cap a l'escola, i tingué la sort de topar Becky Thatcher al cap de Meadow Land. Ell sempre es captenia com el cor li deia. Sense un instant de vacil·lació, corregué envers ella i digué:
"I acted mighty mean today, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?"
-He obrat molt roïnament, avui, Becky, i em sap greu. Mai més, mai més no tornaré a ésser d'aquella manera, mentre visqui. Tornem a ésser amics, si us plau. No voleu?
The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:
La noia es deturà i el mirà a la cara, menyspreadora.
"I'll thank you to keep yourself to yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again."
-Agrairé que us reserveu per a vós mateix, senyor Tomàs Sawyer. Mai més no us tornaré a parlar.
She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away.
Redreçà el cap i seguí la seva via. Tom romangué tan atarantat, que no tingué presència d'esperit ni per a dir: -Quí se'n tira cap pedra al fetge, senyoreta Lluïda?- fins que el temps escaient per a dir-ho fou passat. Així, doncs, va callar. Però estava bellament irat, tanmateix. Anava d'allò més abaltit pel camp de l'escola, tot desitjant que ella fos un noi, i imaginant còm l'hauria pataquejada si ho hagués estat. Al cap de poc l'escometé i digué, en passar, un mot garfidor. Ella n'udolà un altre per resposta, i la irada ruptura fou completa. Sembla a Becky, en son abrandat ressentiment, que amb prou feines podia esperar que l'escola s'obrís: tan impacient estava de veure Tom fuetejat pel llibre de lectura malmès. Si havia tingut alguna morosa noció de desemmascarar Alfred Temple, l'ofensiva de Tom la hi havia treta del cap, absolutament.
Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The titlepage--Professor Somebody's Anatomy--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation.
Pobra noia! Poc sabia que de pressa s'anava acostant a un trencacolls ella mateixa. El mestre, el senyor Dobbins, havia arribat a la tardor de la vida amb una ambició insatisfeta. El més afalagat de sos desigs era ésser doctor, però la pobresa havia decretat que no passaria de mestre d'escola rural. Cada dia treia un llibre misteriós del seu pupitre, i s'hi corfonia totes les estones que les classes no cantaven les lliçons. Servava el llibre amb pany i clau. No hi havia bergantell a l'escola que no es morís de ganes de dar-hi una llambregada; però no n'hi havia avinentesa. Cada noi i cada noia tenien una teoria sobre la natura d'aquell llibre; però no hi havia dues teories iguals, i no hi havia manera d'establir els fets del procés. I vet aquí que, quan Becky passava vora el pupitre, veí de la porta, reparà que la clau era al pany! El moment era preciós. Mirà a son voltant, veié que estava sola, i a l'instant següent tenia el llibre a la mà. La coberta amb son títol Anatomia, del Professor Daixonses, no era de cap esclariment per a la seva intel·ligència; així és que començà a girar les pàgines. De cop i volta arribà a una làmina bellament gravada i colorida: una figura humana. En aquell moment una ombra caigué damunt la pàgina, i Tom Sawyer passà la porta i donà un cop d'ull a la imatge. Becky pegà aferrada al llibre per tancar-lo, i tingué la malaventura d'esquinçar la pàgina il·lustrada fins a la meitat. Tirà el volum dins el pupitre, donà un tomb a la clau, i trencà el plor, de tan avergonyida i vexada:
"Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at."
-Tom Sawyer, ja no podeu ésser més roí! Lliscar damunt una persona i espiar el que ella mira!
"How could I know you was looking at anything?"
-Còm podia saber que miréssiu res?
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school."
-Vergonya us en hauríeu de donar, Tom Sawyer! Ara ho anireu a espiar; i (ai, pobra de mi!... ai, pobra de mi!) seré fuetejada, i mai no m'havien fuetejat, a l'escola!
Then she stamped her little foot and said:
Després donà un cop en terra amb el peuet, i digué:
"Be so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying.
-Sigueu tan roïnot, si això us fa plaer! Jo sé una cosa que ha de passar. Espereu, i veureu. Oiós, oiós, oiós!- I es precipità enfora del casal amb una nova explosió de sentiment.
Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself:
Tom romangué en silenci, bastant aturdit per aquest acarnissament. Tot seguit es digué:
"What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!"
-Quína curiosa mena de poca solta és, una noia! Mai no l'han apallissada, a escola!... Malvinatge! i què és, una pallissa! És ben bé de noia, això: tenen la pell prima i el cor de pollet. Bé, és clar que no n'hi diré res al vell Dobbins d'aquesta ximpleta, perquè hi ha altres maneres de fer-la anar llatina que no són d'aquesta roïnesa; però què se'n treu? El vell Dobbins preguntarà qui ha esquinçat el seu llibre. Ningú no contestarà. Aleshores farà allò de sempre: Demanar primer a un i després a l'altre; i quan arribi a la noia que ho ha fet, ho coneixerà, baldament ella no digui res. Les cares de les noies sempre les traeixen: no tenen gens de barra. I li ventaran pallissa. Bé, és un pas ben estret per Becky Thatcher, perquè no té sortida per cap banda.
Tom rumià la cosa una estona més, i en acabat afegí:
-Molt bé, tanmateix: a ella li plauria de veure'm en un trencacoll així: doncs, que sirgui ella!
Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!"
Tom s'ajuntà a la munió dels alumnes que feien aldarull a la part de fora. Al cap de pocs moments arribà el mestre, i l'escola va engolir-los. Tom no experimentava cap interès potent per sos estudis. Cada vegada que dava un cop d'ull pel costat de les noies, la cara de Becky el contorbava. Ben debatudes totes les coses, ell no volia apiadar-se'n, i, tanmateix, no pogué aconseguir altra cosa sinó romandre en blanc. No pogué fer-se'n una gaubança realment digna de aquest nom. Al cap de poc, hom arribà al descobriment del llibre de lectura, i el magí de Tom restà absolutament ocupat de sos propis afers per una estona. Becky es redreçà damunt la letargia del seu infortuni, i mostrà bell interès en el procediment penal. No esperava que Tom pogués eixir-se de son mal de cap negant d'haver escampat la tinta damunt el llibre; i ho encertava. La negativa, aparentment, no féu sinó empitjorar la cosa, pel que feia a Tom. Becky suposava que en fóra contenta d'això, i feia per manera de creure que n'era contenta; però trobà que no n'estava segura. En arribar la part agra del desenllaç, tingué un impuls d'aixecar-se i desemmascarar Alfred Temple; però féu un esforç i s'obligà a romandre quieta, perquè ella es deia, cor endins: -Ell dirà que jo he esquinçat la làmina, ben segur. No diré una paraula, ni que fos per salvar-li la vida!
Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle.
Tom va ésser fuetejat i tornà a son seient, no ben bé cortrencat, perquè se li acudí que era possible que ell, sense adonar-se'n, hagués capgirat la tinta damunt el llibre de lectura, en algun tomb d'avalot: ho havia negat per servar les formes i perquè era costum, i s'havia aferrat a la negativa per principi.
A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten--the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?"
Passà una hora sencera: el mestre seia pesant figues en la seva cadira reial; tot l'aire s'ensopia amb la bonior dels estudis. Al cap d'una estoneta el senyor Dobbins es redreçà, badallà, i després obrí el seu pupitre i abastà el seu llibre; però no semblava estar ben determinat a pendre'l o deixar-lo. La major part dels alumnes miraren en l'aire llangorosament; però entre ells n'hi havia dos que sotjaven els moviments del mestre, clavant-hi els ulls. El senyor Dobbins fullejà el llibre distretament per una estona, i després l'aixecà i s'aconductà en la seva cadira per llegir.
Tom pegà una mirada a Becky. Una vegada havia vist un conill percaçat i desemparat, amb una escopeta arran de son cap, que mirava com ella ho feia, ara. Tot seguit oblidà la seva batussa amb ella. Calia fer quelcom, de pressa! com un llampec! Però la mateixa imminència de la necessitat paralitzava la seva inventiva. Bé! Tenia una inspiració! Correria i arrabassaria el llibre, passaria la porta d'un salt, i cames ajudeu-me! Però la seva resolució vacil·là per un breu instant, i l'avinentesa fou perduda: el mestre havia obert el volum. Si li hagués tornat, a Tom, la perduda avinentesa! Ja era massa tard; no hi havia salvació per a Becky, ara, va dir-se. Al cap d'un instant el mestre confrontava l'escola. Tots els ulls s'acalaren davant la seva mirada; en ella hi havia quelcom que fins i tot a l'innocent trasbalsava de por. Hi va haver un silenci, durant el qual hom hauria pogut comptar fins a deu: el mestre amuntegava la seva ira. Després parlà:
-Qui ha esquinçat aquest llibre?
There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt.
Ni un so: hom hauria sentit caure una agulla. El silenci continuà: el mestre cercava en aquesta i aquella cara senyals de culpabilitat.
"Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?"
-Benjamí Rogers: heu esquinçat aquest llibre?
A denial. Another pause.
Una negativa. Una altra pausa.
"Joseph Harper, did you?"
-Josep Harper: i vós?
Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls:
Altra negativa. La inquietud de Tom es tornà més i més intensa sota la lenta tortura d'aquests procediments. El mestre donà una ullada a les files dels minyons, reflexionà una mica, i es girà a les noies:
"Amy Lawrence?"
-Amy Lawrence?
A shake of the head.
Una sacsejada de cap.
"Gracie Miller?"
-Gràcia Miller?
The same sign.
El mateix senyal.
"Susan Harper, did you do this?"
-Susan Harper: ho heu fet vós, això?
Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.
Altra negativa. La noia següent era Becky Thatcher. Tom tremolava de cap a peus, de l'excitació, i comprenent el desastre inevitable.
"Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror]--"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal]--"did you tear this book?"
-Rebeca Thatcher...- (Tom donà una llambregada a son rostre: era blanc de terror.) -Heu esquinçat... No, mireu-me la cara.- (Les mans d'ella se aixecaren en una invocació.) -Heu esquinçat aquest llibre?
A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!"
Un pensament es precipità com el llamp a través del cervell de Tom. Saltà damunt sos peus i cridà:
-Jo ho he fet!
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either.
Tota l'escola mirà bocabadada, confosa, aquesta increïble follia. Tom romangué aturat un moment per aplegar les seves facultats disperses; i quan avançà per adreçar-se al càstig, la sorpresa, la gratitud, l'adoració que feren resplendir al seu damunt els ulls de la pobre Becky, semblaven paga abastament per cent fueteigs. Inspirat per la magnificència del seu acte, rebé sense un esgarip el fueteig més implacable que mai hagués administrat el senyor Dobbins i aiximateix rebé amb indiferència l'afegida crueltat d'una orde de romandre dues hores, després que l'escola fos aviada; perquè prou sabia qui havia d'esperar-se a fora fins que son captiveri fos acabat, sense comptar la tediosa estona com a temps perdut.
Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear--
Tom va colgar-se entre els llençols aquella nit, projectant una venjança contra Alfred Temple; perquè, avergonyida i penedida, Becky li havia fet una narració completa, sense oblidar la seva pròpia traidoria. Però fins i tot el daler de venjança hagué de cedir aviat a pensaments més gustosos, i a la fi va adormir-se amb les darreres paraules de Becky, somniosament penjades de la seva orella:
"Tom, how could you be so noble!"
-Tom! Còm heu pogut ésser tan noble!