1984-bilingue

George Orwell 1 9 8 4
him not to be greedy. There was a long, nagging
argument that went round and round, with shouts,
whines, tears, remonstrances, bargainings. His
tiny sister, clinging to her mother with both
hands, exactly like a baby monkey, sat looking
over her shoulder at him with large, mournful
eyes. In the end his mother broke off threequarters
of the chocolate and gave it to Winston,
giving the other quarter to his sister. The little
girl took hold of it and looked at it dully, perhaps
not knowing what it was. Winston stood
watching her for a moment. Then with a sudden
swift spring he had snatched the piece of
chocolate out of his sister's hand and was fleeing
for the door.
'Winston, Winston!' his mother called after him.
'Come back! Give yoursister back her chocolate!'
He stopped, but did not come back. His mother's
anxious eyes were fixed on his face. Even now
he was thinking about the thing, he did not know
what it was that was on the point of happening.
His sister, conscious of having been robbed of
something, had set up a feeble wail. His mother
drew her arm round the child and pressed its face
against her breast. Something in the gesture told
him that his sister was dying. He turned and fled
down the stairs, with the chocolate growing
sticky in his hand.
He never saw his mother again. After he had
devoured the chocolate he felt somewhat
ashamed of himself and hung about in the streets
for several hours, until hunger drove him home.
When he came back his mother had disappeared.
This was already becoming normal at that time.
Nothing was gone from the room except his
mother and his sister. They had not taken any
clothes, not even his mother's overcoat. To this
day he did not know with any certainty that his
mother was dead. It was perfectly possible that
she had merely been sent to a forced-labour
camp. As for his sister, she might have been
removed, like Winston himself, to one of the
colonies for homeless children (Reclamation
Centres, they were called) which had grown up
as a result of the civil war, or she might have
193
hubo llantos, lloros, reprimendas, regateos... su
hermanita agarrándose a la madre con las dos manos
— exactamente como una monita — miraba a
Winston con ojos muy abiertos y llenos de tristeza.
Al final, la madre le dio al niño las tres cuartas partes
de la tableta y a la hermanita la otra cuarta parte. La
pequeña la cogió y se puso a mirarla con
indiferencia, sin saber quizás lo que era. Winston se
la quedó mirando un momento. Luego, con un súbito
movimiento, le arrancó a la nena el trocito de
chocolate y salió huyendo.
— ¡Winston! ¡Winston! — le gritó su madre. Ven
aquí, devuélvele a tu hermana el chocolate.
El niño se detuvo pero no regresó a su sitio. Su
madre lo miraba preocupadísima. Incluso en ese
momento, pensaba en aquello, en lo que había de
suceder de un momento a otro y que Winston
ignoraba. La hermanita, consciente de que le habían
robado algo, rompió a llorar. Su madre la abrazó con
fuerza. Algo había en aquel gesto que le hizo
comprender a Winston que su hermana se moría.
Salió corriendo escaleras abajo con el chocolate
derritiéndosele entre los dedos.
Nunca volvió a ver a su madre. Después de comerse
el chocolate, se sintió algo avergonzado y corrió por
las calles mucho tiempo hasta que el hambre le hizo
volver. Pero su madre ya no estaba allí. En aquella
época, estas desapariciones eran normales. Todo
seguía igual en la habitación. Sólo faltaban la madre
y la hermanita. Ni siquiera se había llevado el abrigo.
Ni siquiera ahora estaba seguro Winston de que su
madre hubiera muerto. Era muy posible que la
hubieran mandado a un campo de trabajos forzados.
En cuanto a su hermana, quizás se la hubieran
llevado — como hicieron con el mismo Winston — a
una de las colonias de niños huérfanos (les llamaban
Centros de Reclamación) que fueron una de las
consecuencias de la guerra civil; o quizás la hubieran
enviado con la madre al campo de trabajos forzados
o sencillamente la habrían dejado morir en cualquier