CAPTULO XII continuacin - Pag 41

As the Reverend Mr. Wilson ed beside the scaffold, closely muffling his Geneva cloak about him with one arm, and holding the lantern before his breast with the other, the minister could hardly restrain himself from speaking—
"A good evening to you, venerable Father Wilson. Come up hither, I pray you, and a pleasant hour with me!"
Good Heavens! Had Mr. Dimmesdale actually spoken? For one instant he believed that these words had ed his lips. But they were uttered only within his imagination. The venerable Father Wilson continued to step slowly onward, looking carefully at the muddy pathway before his feet, and never once turning his head towards the guilty platform. When the light of the glimmering lantern had faded quite away, the minister discovered, by the faintness which came over him, that the last few moments had been a crisis of terrible anxiety, although his mind had made an involuntary effort to relieve itself by a kind of lurid playfulness.
Shortly afterwards, the like grisly sense of the humorous again stole in among the solemn phantoms of his thought. He felt his limbs growing stiff with the unaccustomed chilliness of the night, and doubted whether he should be able to descend the steps of the scaffold. Morning would break and find him there. The neighbourhood would begin to rouse itself. The earliest riser, coming forth in the dim twilight, would perceive a vaguely-defined figure aloft on the place of shame; and half-crazed betwixt alarm and curiosity, would go knocking from door to door, summoning all the people to behold the ghost—as he needs must think it—of some defunct transgressor. A dusky tumult would flap its wings from one house to another. Then—the morning light still waxing stronger—old patriarchs would rise up in great haste, each in his flannel gown, and matronly dames, without pausing to put off their night-gear. The whole tribe of decorous personages, who had never heretofore been seen with a single hair of their heads awry, would start into public view with the disorder of a nightmare in their aspects. Old Governor Bellingham would come grimly forth, with his King James' ruff fastened askew, and Mistress Hibbins, with some twigs of the forest clinging to her skirts, and looking sourer than ever, as having hardly got a wink of sleep after her night ride; and good Father Wilson too, after spending half the night at a death-bed, and liking ill to be disturbed, thus early, out of his dreams about the glorified saints. Hither, likewise, would come the elders and deacons of Mr. Dimmesdale's church, and the young virgins who so idolized their minister, and had made a shrine for him in their white bosoms, which now, by-the-bye, in their hurry and confusion, they would scantly have given themselves time to cover with their kerchiefs. All people, in a word, would come stumbling over their thresholds, and turning up their amazed and horror-stricken visages around the scaffold. Whom would they discern there, with the red eastern light upon his brow? Whom, but the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, half-frozen to death, overwhelmed with shame, and standing where Hester Prynne had stood!
Carried away by the grotesque horror of this picture, the minister, unawares, and to his own infinite alarm, burst into a great peal of laughter. It was immediately responded to by a light, airy, childish laugh, in which, with a thrill of the heart—but he knew not whether of exquisite pain, or pleasure as acute—he recognised the tones of little Pearl.
"Pearl! Little Pearl!" cried he, after a moment's pause; then, suppressing his voice—"Hester! Hester Prynne! Are you there?"
"Yes; it is Hester Prynne!" she replied, in a tone of surprise; and the minister heard her footsteps approaching from the side-walk, along which she had been ing. "It is I, and my little Pearl."
"Whence come you, Hester?" asked the minister. "What sent you hither?"
"I have been watching at a death-bed," answered Hester Prynne "at Governor Winthrop's death-bed, and have taken his measure for a robe, and am now going homeward to my dwelling."
"Come up hither, Hester, thou and little Pearl," said the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale. "Ye have both been here before, but I was not with you. Come up hither once again, and we will stand all three together."
She silently ascended the steps, and stood on the platform, holding little Pearl by the hand. The minister felt for the child's other hand, and took it. The moment that he did so, there came what seemed a tumultuous rush of new life, other life than his own pouring like a torrent into his heart, and hurrying through all his veins, as if the mother and the child were communicating their vital warmth to his half-torpid system. The three formed an electric chain.
"Minister!" whispered little Pearl.
"What wouldst thou say, child?" asked Mr. Dimmesdale.
"Wilt thou stand here with mother and me, to-morrow noontide?" inquired Pearl.
"Nay; not so, my little Pearl," answered the minister; for, with the new energy of the moment, all the dread of public exposure, that had so long been the anguish of his life, had returned upon him; and he was already trembling at the conjunction in which—with a strange joy, nevertheless—he now found himself—"not so, my child. I shall, indeed, stand with thy mother and thee one other day, but not to-morrow."
Pearl laughed, and attempted to pull away her hand. But the minister held it fast.
"A moment longer, my child!" said he.
"But wilt thou promise," asked Pearl, "to take my hand, and mother's hand, to-morrow noontide?"
"Not then, Pearl," said the minister; "but another time."
"And what other time?" persisted the child.
"At the great judgment day," whispered the minister; and, strangely enough, the sense that he was a professional teacher of the truth impelled him to answer the child so. "Then, and there, before the judgment-seat, thy mother, and thou, and I must stand together. But the daylight of this world shall not see our meeting!"

Cuando el Reverendo Sr. Wilson pas junto al tablado, envolvindose muy bien en los pliegues de su manto genovs con una mano, mientras sostena con la otra la linterna, el Sr. Dimmesdale apenas pudo reprimir el deseo de hablar.
—Buenas noches, venerable padre Wilson; os ruego que subis y que pasis un rato en mi compaa.
Cielos! Haba hablado realmente el Sr. Dimmesdale? As lo crey l mismo un instante; pero esas palabras fueron pronunciadas slo en su imaginacin. El venerable padre Wilson continu lentamente su camino, teniendo el mayor cuidado en evitar mancharse con el lodo de la calle, y sin volver siquiera la cabeza hacia el fatdico tablado. Cuando la luz de su linterna se hubo desvanecido a lo lejos por completo, el joven ministro se dio cuenta, por la especie de desmayo que le sobrecogi, de que los ltimos momentos haban sido para l una crisis de terrible ansiedad, aunque su espritu haba hecho un esfuerzo involuntario para salir de ella con una especie de gracia estridente dirigido al Sr. Wilson.
Poco despus se desliz nuevamente en Dimmesdale el sentimiento de lo grotesco en medio de las solemnes visiones que se forjaba su cerebro. Crey que las piernas se le iban poniendo rgidas con el fro de la noche, y empez a imaginarse que no podra descender los escalones del tablado. La maana se acercaba entretanto y all se encontrara l: los vecinos empezaran a levantarse. El ms madrugador, saliendo en la semioscuridad del crepsculo, percibira una vaga figura de pie en el lugar consagrado a expiar los crmenes y delitos; y casi fuera de juicio, movido de susto y de curiosidad, ira llamando de puerta en puerta a todo el pueblo para que viniese a contemplar el espectro,—pues as se lo figurara,—de algn difunto criminal. En esto, la luz de la maana ira creciendo cada vez en intensidad: los ancianos patriarcas de la poblacin se iran levantando apresuradamente, cada uno envuelto en su bata de franela, y las respetables matronas sin detenerse a cambiar su traje de dormir. Toda la congregacin de personas decentes y decorosas, que jams hasta entonces se haban dejado ver con un solo cabello despeinado, se presentaran ahora con la cabellera y el vestido en el mayor desorden. El viejo Gobernador Bellingham saldra con severo rostro llevando sus cuellos de lechuguilla al revs; y la Seora Hibbins, su hermana, vendra con algunos ramitos de la selva prendidos a su traje, y con rostro ms avinagrado que nunca, como que apenas haba podido dormir un minuto despus de su paseo nocturno; y el buen padre Wilson se presentara tambin, despus de haber pasado la mitad de la noche junto a la cabecera de un moribundo, sin que le hubiera agradado mucho que le turbaran el sueo tan temprano. Vendran igualmente los dignatarios de la iglesia del Sr. Dimmesdale y las jvenes vrgenes que idolatraban a su pastor espiritual y le haban erigido un altar en sus puros corazones. Todos llegaran apresuradamente, dando tumbos y tropiezos, y dirigiendo con espanto y horror las miradas hacia el tablado fatdico. Y a quin percibiran all a la luz rojiza de la aurora? quin, sino al Reverendo Arturo Dimmesdale, medio helado de fro, abrumado de vergenza, y de pie donde haba estado Ester Prynne!
Movido por el grotesco horror de este cuadro, el ministro, olvidndose de su inquietud y alarma infinitas, prorrumpi en una carcajada, que fue respondida inmediatamente por una risa ligera, area, infantil, en la que con un estremecimiento del corazn—que no saba si era de intenso dolor, o de placer extremo,—reconoci el acento de la pequea Perla.
—Perla! Perlita!—exclam despus de un momento de pausa; y luego, con voz ms baja, agreg:—Ester, Ester Prynne, estis ah?
—S; es Ester Prynne,—replic ella con acento de sorpresa;—y el ministro oy sus pisadas que se iban acercando.—Soy yo y mi pequea Perla.
—De dnde vens, Ester?—pregunt el ministro. Qu os ha trado aqu?
—He estado velando a un moribundo,—respondi Ester,—he estado junto al lecho de muerte del Gobernador Winthrop, he tomado las medidas para su traje, y ahora me dirijo a mi habitacin.
—Sube aqu, Ester; ven tu con Perlita, dijo el Reverendo Sr. Dimmesdale. Ambas habis estado aqu antes de ahora, pero yo no me hallaba a vuestro lado. Subid aqu una vez ms, y los tres estaremos juntos.
Ester subi en silencio los escalones, y permaneci de pie en el tablado, asiendo a Perla de la mano. El ministro tom entre las suyas la otra mano de la nia. No bien lo hizo, parece como si una nueva vida hubiera penetrado en su ser, invadiendo su corazn a manera de un torrente y esparcindose por sus venas. Se dira que madre e hija estaban comunicando su calor vital a la naturaleza medio congelada del joven eclesistico. Los tres formaban una cadena elctrica.
—Ministro!—susurr la pequea Perla.
—Qu deseas decir, nia?—le pregunt el Sr. Dimmesdale.
—Quieres estar aqu maana al medioda con mi madre y conmigo?—pregunt Perla.
—No; no as, Perlita ma,—respondi el ministro; porque con la nueva energa adquirida en aquel instante, se apoder de l todo el antiguo temor de revelacin pblica que por tanto tiempo fue la agona de su vida, y ya estaba temblando, aunque con una mezcla de extraa alegra, al fijarse en la situacin en que se encontraba en la actualidad.—No, no as, nia ma, continu. Estar de pie contigo y con tu madre otro da; s, otro da; pero no maana.
Perla se ri e intent desasir la mano que le tena asida el ministro, pero ste la mantuvo firme.
—Un instante ms, nia ma,—dijo.
—Pero quieres prometerme que maana al medioda nos tomars de la mano a mi madre y a m?—le pregunt Perla.
—No, no maana, Perla,—dijo el ministro,—pero otro da.
—Qu da?—persisti la nia.
—En el gran da del Juicio Final,—murmur el eclesistico, que se vi como obligado a responder de este modo a la nia en su carcter sagrado de ministro del altar.—Entonces, y all ante el Juez Supremo, continu, tendremos que comparecer tu madre, t y yo, al mismo tiempo. Pero la luz del sol de este mundo no habr de vernos reunidos.