1984-bilingue

George Orwell 1 9 8 4
Chapter 6 CAPÍTULO VI
It had happened at last. The expected message had
come. All his life, it seemed to him, he had been
waiting for this to happen.
He was walking down the long corridor at the
Ministry and he was almost at the spot where Julia
had slipped the note into his hand when he became
aware that someone larger than himself was
walking just behind him. The person, whoever it
was, gave a small cough, evidently as a prelude to
speaking. Winston stopped abruptly and turned. It
was O'Brien.
At last they were face to face, and it seemed that
his only impulse was to run away. His heart
bounded violently. He would have been incapable
of speaking. O'Brien, however, had continued
forward in the same movement, laying a friendly
hand for a moment on Winston's arm, so that the
two of them were walking side by side. He began
speaking with the peculiar grave courtesy that
differentiated him from the majority of Inner Party
members.
'I had been hoping for an opportunity of talking to
you,' he said. 'I was reading one of your Newspeak
articles in 'The Times' the other day. You take a
scholarly interest in Newspeak, I believe?'
Winston had recovered part of his self-possession.
'Hardly scholarly,' he said. 'I'm only an amateur. It's
not my subject. I have never had anything to do
with the actual construction of the language.'
'But you write it very elegantly,' said O'Brien. 'That
is not only my own opinion. I was talking recently
to a friend of yours who is certainly an expert. His
name has slipped my memory for the moment.'
186
Por fin, había ocurrido. Había llegado el
esperado mensaje. Le parecía a Winston que toda
su vida había estado esperando que esto
sucediera.
Iba por el largo pasillo del Ministerio y casi
había llegado al sitio donde Julia le deslizó aquel
día en la mano su declaración. La persona, quien
quiera que fuese, tosió ligeramente sin duda
como preludio para hablar. Winston se detuvo en
seco y volvió la cara. Era O'Brien.
Por fin, se hallaban cara a cara y el único
impulso que sentía Winston era emprender la
huida. El corazón le latía a toda velocidad. No
habría podido hablar en ese momento. Sin
embargo, O'Brien, poniéndole amistosamente
una mano en el hombro, siguió andando junto a
él. Empezó a hablar con su característica
cortesía, seria y suave, que le diferenciaba de la
mayor parte de los miembros del Partido Interior.
— He estado esperando una oportunidad de
hablar contigo — le dijo —; estuve leyendo uno
de tus artículos en neolengua publicados en el
Times. Tengo entendido que te interesa, desde un
punto de vista erudito, la neolengua.
Winston había recobrado ánimos, aunque sólo en
parte.
— No muy erudito —dijo —. Soy sólo un
aficionado. No es mi especialidad. Nunca he
tenido que ocuparme de la estructura interna del
idioma.
— Pero lo escribes con mucha elegancia —dijo
O'Brien —. Y ésta no es sólo una opinión mía.
Estuve hablando recientemente con un amigo
tuyo que es un especialista en cuestiones