| THE PROCESSION "Madam, I know not of what you speak," answered Hester Prynne, feeling Mistress Hibbins to be of infirm mind; yet strangely startled and awe-stricken by the confidence with which she affirmed a personal connexion between so many persons (herself among them) and the Evil One. "It is not for me to talk lightly of a learned and pious minister of the Word, like the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale." "Fie, woman—fie!" cried the old lady, shaking her finger at Hester. "Dost thou think I have been to the forest so many times, and have yet no skill to judge who else has been there? Yea, though no leaf of the wild garlands which they wore while they danced be left in their hair! I know thee, Hester, for I behold the token. We may all see it in the sunshine! and it glows like a red flame in the dark. Thou wearest it openly, so there need be no question about that. But this minister! Let me tell thee in thine ear! When the Black Man sees one of his own servants, signed and sealed, so shy of owning to the bond as is the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, he hath a way of ordering matters so that the mark shall be disclosed, in open daylight, to the eyes of all the world! What is that the minister seeks to hide, with his hand always over his heart? Ha, Hester Prynne?" "What is it, good Mistress Hibbins?" eagerly asked little Pearl.
"Hast thou seen it?" "No matter, darling!" responded Mistress Hibbins, making Pearl a profound reverence. "Thou thyself wilt see it, one time or another. They say, child, thou art of the lineage of the Prince of Air! Wilt thou ride with me some fine night to see thy father? Then thou shalt know wherefore the minister keeps his hand over his heart!" Laughing so shrilly that all the market-place could hear her, the weird old gentlewoman took her departure.
By this time the preliminary prayer had been offered in the meeting-house, and the accents of the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale were heard commencing his discourse. An irresistible feeling kept Hester near the spot. As the sacred edifice was too much thronged to it another auditor, she took up her position close beside the scaffold of the pillory. It was in sufficient proximity to bring the whole sermon to her ears, in the shape of an indistinct but varied murmur and flow of the minister's very peculiar voice. This vocal organ was in itself a rich endowment, insomuch that a listener, comprehending nothing of the language in which the preacher spoke, might still have been swayed to and fro by the mere tone and cadence. Like all other music, it breathed ion and pathos, and emotions high or tender, in a tongue native to the human heart, wherever educated. Muffled as the sound was by its age through the church walls, Hester Prynne listened with such intenseness, and sympathized so intimately, that the sermon had throughout a meaning for her, entirely apart from its indistinguishable words. These, perhaps, if more distinctly heard, might have been only a grosser medium, and have clogged the spiritual sense. Now she caught the low undertone, as of the wind sinking down to repose itself; then ascended with it, as it rose through progressive gradations of sweetness and power, until its volume seemed to envelop her with an atmosphere of awe and solemn grandeur. And yet, majestic as the voice sometimes became, there was for ever in it an essential character of plaintiveness. A loud or low expression of anguish—the whisper, or the shriek, as it might be conceived, of suffering humanity, that touched a sensibility in every bosom! At times this deep strain of pathos was all that could be heard, and scarcely heard sighing amid a desolate silence. But even when the minister's voice grew high and commanding—when it gushed irrepressibly upward—when it assumed its utmost breadth and power, so overfilling the church as to burst its way through the solid walls, and diffuse itself in the open air—still, if the auditor listened intently, and for the purpose, he could detect the same cry of pain. What was it? The complaint of a human heart, sorrow-laden, perchance guilty, telling its secret, whether of guilt or sorrow, to the great heart of mankind; beseeching its sympathy or forgiveness,—at every moment,—in each accent,—and never in vain! It was this profound and continual undertone that gave the clergyman his most appropriate power. During all this time, Hester stood, statue-like, at the foot of the scaffold. If the minister's voice had not kept her there, there would, nevertheless, have been an inevitable magnetism in that spot, whence she dated the first hour of her life of ignominy. There was a sense within her—too ill-defined to be made a thought, but weighing heavily on her mind—that her whole orb of life, both before and after, was connected with this spot, as with the one point that gave it unity.
Little Pearl, meanwhile, had quitted her mother's side, and was playing at her own will about the market-place. She made the sombre crowd cheerful by her erratic and glistening ray, even as a bird of bright plumage illuminates a whole tree of dusky foliage by darting to and fro, half seen and half concealed amid the twilight of the clustering leaves. She had an undulating, but oftentimes a sharp and irregular movement. It indicated the restless vivacity of her spirit, which to-day was doubly indefatigable in its tip-toe dance, because it was played upon and vibrated with her mother's disquietude. Whenever Pearl saw anything to excite her ever active and wandering curiosity, she flew thitherward, and, as we might say, seized upon that man or thing as her own property, so far as she desired it, but without yielding the minutest degree of control over her motions in requital. The Puritans looked on, and, if they smiled, were none the less inclined to pronounce the child a demon offspring, from the indescribable charm of beauty and eccentricity that shone through her little figure, and sparkled with its activity. She ran and looked the wild Indian in the face, and he grew conscious of a nature wilder than his own. Thence, with native audacity, but still with a reserve as characteristic, she flew into the midst of a group of mariners, the swarthy-cheeked wild men of the ocean, as the Indians were of the land; and they gazed wonderingly and iringly at Pearl, as if a flake of the sea-foam had taken the shape of a little maid, and were gifted with a soul of the sea-fire, that flashes beneath the prow in the night-time. One of these seafaring men the shipmaster, indeed, who had spoken to Hester Prynne was so smitten with Pearl's aspect, that he attempted to lay hands upon her, with purpose to snatch a kiss. Finding it as impossible to touch her as to catch a humming-bird in the air, he took from his hat the gold chain that was twisted about it, and threw it to the child. Pearl immediately twined it around her neck and waist with such happy skill, that, once seen there, it became a part of her, and it was difficult to imagine her without it.
"Thy mother is yonder woman with the scarlet letter," said the seaman, "Wilt thou carry her a message from me?"
"If the message pleases me, I will," answered Pearl.
"Then tell her," reed he, "that I spake again with the black-a-visaged, hump shouldered old doctor, and he engages to bring his friend, the gentleman she wots of, aboard with him. So let thy mother take no thought, save for herself and thee. Wilt thou tell her this, thou witch-baby?"
"Mistress Hibbins says my father is the Prince of the Air!" cried Pearl, with a naughty smile. "If thou callest me that ill-name, I shall tell him of thee, and he will chase thy ship with a tempest!"
Pursuing a zigzag course across the marketplace, the child returned to her mother, and communicated what the mariner had said. Hester's strong, calm steadfastly-enduring spirit almost sank, at last, on beholding this dark and grim countenance of an inevitable doom, which at the moment when a age seemed to open for the minister and herself out of their labyrinth of misery—showed itself with an unrelenting smile, right in the midst of their path. With her mind harassed by the terrible perplexity in which the shipmaster's intelligence involved her, she was also subjected to another trial. There were many people present from the country round about, who had often heard of the scarlet letter, and to whom it had been made terrific by a hundred false or exaggerated rumours, but who had never beheld it with their own bodily eyes. These, after exhausting other modes of amusement, now thronged about Hester Prynne with rude and boorish intrusiveness. Unscrupulous as it was, however, it could not bring them nearer than a circuit of several yards. At that distance they accordingly stood, fixed there by the centrifugal force of the repugnance which the mystic symbol inspired. The whole gang of sailors, likewise, observing the press of spectators, and learning the purport of the scarlet letter, came and thrust their sunburnt and desperado-looking faces into the ring. Even the Indians were affected by a sort of cold shadow of the white man's curiosity and, gliding through the crowd, fastened their snake-like black eyes on Hester's bosom, conceiving, perhaps, that the wearer of this brilliantly embroidered badge must needs be a personage of high dignity among her people. Lastly, the inhabitants of the town (their own interest in this worn-out subject languidly reviving itself, by sympathy with what they saw others feel) lounged idly to the same quarter, and tormented Hester Prynne, perhaps more than all the rest, with their cool, well-acquainted gaze at her familiar shame. Hester saw and recognized the selfsame faces of that group of matrons, who had awaited her forthcoming from the prison-door seven years ago; all save one, the youngest and only comionate among them, whose burial-robe she had since made. At the final hour, when she was so soon to fling aside the burning letter, it had strangely become the centre of more remark and excitement, and was thus made to sear her breast more painfully, than at any time since the first day she put it on. While Hester stood in that magic circle of ignominy, where the cunning cruelty of her sentence seemed to have fixed her for ever, the irable preacher was looking down from the sacred pulpit upon an audience whose very inmost spirits had yielded to his control. The sainted minister in the church! The woman of the scarlet letter in the marketplace! What imagination would have been irreverent enough to surmise that the same scorching stigma was on them both! |
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LA PROCESIN —Seora, no s de qu me estis hablando,—respondi Ester, conociendo, como conoca, que la dama Hibbins no tena todos sus sentidos cabales, pero sorprendida en extremo, y hasta amedrentada, al or la seguridad con que afirmaba las relaciones personales que existan entre tantos individuos (entre ellos Ester misma) y el enemigo malo.—No me corresponde a m hablar con ligereza de un ministro tan piadoso y sabio como el Reverendo Sr. Dimmesdale.
—Ja! ja! mujer!—exclam la anciana seora alzando el dedo y movindolo de un modo significativo.—Crees t que despus de haber ido yo a la selva tantas veces, no me sera dado conocer a los que han estado tambin all? S; aunque no hubiera quedado en sus cabellos ninguna hojita de las guirnaldas silvestres con que se adornaron la cabeza mientras bailaban. Yo te conozco, Ester; pues veo la seal que te distingue entre todas las dems. Todos podemos verla a la luz del sol; pero en las tinieblas brilla como una llama rojiza. T la llevas a la faz del mundo; de modo que no hay necesidad de preguntarte nada acerca de este asunto. Pero este ministro!... Djame decrtelo al odo! Cuando el Hombre Negro ve a alguno de sus propios sirvientes, que tiene la marca y el sello suyo, y que se muestra tan cauteloso en no querer que se sepan los lazos que a l le ligan, como sucede con el Reverendo Sr. Dimmesdale, entonces tiene un medio de arreglar las cosas de manera que la marca se ostente a la luz del da y sea visible a los ojos de todo el mundo. Qu es lo que el ministro trata de ocultar con la mano siempre sobre el corazn? Ah! Ester Prynne!
—Qu es lo que oculta, buena Sra. Hibbins?—pregunt con vehemencia Perla.—Lo has visto?
—Nada, querida nia,—respondi la Sra. Hibbins haciendo una profunda reverencia a Perla.—T misma lo vers algn da. Dicen, nia, que desciendes del Prncipe del Aire. Quieres venir conmigo una noche que sea hermosa a visitar a tu padre? Entonces sabrs por qu el ministro se lleva siempre la mano al corazn.
Y riendo tan estrepitosamente, que todos los que estaban en la plaza del mercado pudieron orla, la anciana hechicera se separ de Ester.
Mientras esto pasaba, se haba hecho la plegaria preliminar en la iglesia, y el Reverendo Sr. Dimmesdale haba comenzado su discurso. Un sentimiento irresistible mantena a Ester cerca del templo. Como el sagrado edificio estaba tan lleno que no poda dar cabida a ninguna persona ms, se situ junto al tablado de la picota, hallndose lo bastante cerca de la iglesia para poder or todo el sermn como si fuera un murmullo vago, pero variado, lo mismo que el dbil acento de la voz peculiar del ministro.
El rgano vocal del Sr. Dimmesdale era de suyo un rico tesoro, de modo que el oyente, aunque no comprendiera nada del idioma en que el orador hablaba, poda sin embargo sentirse arrastrado por el simple sonido y cadencia de las palabras. Como toda otra msica respiraban pasin y vehemencia, y despertaban emociones ya tiernas, ya elevadas, en una lengua que todos podan entender. a pesar de lo indistinto de los sonidos, Ester escuchaba con atencin tal y con tan profunda simpata, que el sermn tuvo para ella una significacin propia, completamente personal, y sin relacionarse en manera alguna con las palabras; las cuales, si las hubiera podido or ms claramente, slo habran sido un medio materializado que hubiera obscurecido su sentido espiritual. Ya oa las notas bajas a semejanza del viento que se calma como para reposarse; ya se elevaba con los sonidos, como si ascendiera por gradaciones progresivas, ora suaves, ya fuertes, hasta que el volumen de la voz pareca envolverla en una atmsfera de respetuoso temor y solemne grandeza. Y sin embargo, a pesar de lo imponente que a veces se volva aquella voz, tena siempre algo esencialmente quejumbroso. Haba en ella una expresin de angustia, ya leve, ya aguda, el murmullo o el grito, como quiera concebrsele, de la humanidad sufriente, que brotaba de un corazn que padeca e iba a herir la sensibilidad de los dems corazones. a veces lo nico que se perciba era esta expresin inarticulada de profundo sentimiento, a manera de un sollozo que se oyera en medio de hondo silencio. Pero an en los momentos en que la voz del ministro adquira ms fuerza y vigor, ascendiendo de una manera irresistible, con mayor amplitud y volumen, llenando la iglesia de tal modo que pareca querer abrirse paso al travs de las paredes y difundirse en los espacios,—an entonces, si el oyente prestaba cuidadosa atencin, con ese objeto determinado, poda descubrir tambin el mismo grito de dolor. Qu era eso? La queja de un corazn humano, abrumado de penas, quizs culpable, que revelaba su secreto, cualquiera que ste fuese, al gran corazn de la humanidad, pidiendo su simpata o su perdn,— cada momento—en cada acento—y nunca en vano. Esta nota profunda y dominante, era lo que proporcionaba gran parte de su poder al ministro.
Durante todo este tiempo Ester permaneci, como una estatua, clavada al pie del tablado fatdico. Si la voz del ministro no la hubiese mantenido all, habra de todos modos habido un inevitable magnetismo en aquel lugar, en que comenz la primera hora de su vida de ignominia. Reinaba en Ester la idea vaga, confusa, aunque pesaba gravemente en su espritu, de que toda la rbita de su vida, tanto antes como despus de aquella fecha, estaba relacionada con aquel sitio, como si fuera el punto que le diera unidad a su existencia.
Perla, entretanto, se haba apartado de su madre y estaba jugando como mejor le pareca en la plaza del mercado, alegrando a aquella sombra multitud con sus movimientos y vivacidad, a manera de un ave de brillantes plumas que ilumina todo un rbol de follaje obscuro, saltando de un lado a otro, medio visible y medio oculta entre la sombra de las espesas hojas. Tena movimientos ondulantes, a veces irregulares, que indicaban la inquietud de su espritu, mucho mayor en aquel da porque reflejaba la de su madre. Donde quiera que Perla vea algo que excitara su curiosidad, siempre alerta, all se diriga rpidamente, pudiendo decirse que la nia tomaba plena posesin de lo que fuere, como si lo considerase su propiedad. Los puritanos la miraban y si se sonrean; mas no por eso se sentan menos inclinados a creer que la nia era el vstago de un espritu malo, a juzgar por el encanto indescriptible de belleza y excentricidad que brillaba en todo su cuerpecito y se manifestaba en su actividad. Se dirigi hacia el indio salvaje y le mir fijamente al rostro, hasta que el indio tuvo conciencia de que se las haba con un ser ms selvtico que l mismo. De all, con innata audacia, pero siempre con caracterstica reserva, corri al medio de un grupo de marineros de tostadas mejillas, aquellos salvajes del ocano, como los indios lo eran de la tierra, los que con sorpresa y iracin contemplaron a Perla como si una espuma del mar hubiese tomado la forma de una niita, y estuviera dotada de un alma con esa fosforescencia de las olas que se ve brillar de noche bajo la proa del buque que va cortando las aguas.
Uno de estos marinos, el capitn seguramente, que haba hablado con Ester, se qued tan prendado del aspecto de Perla, que intent asirla para besarla; pero viendo que eso era tan imposible como atrapar un colibr en el aire, tom la cadena de oro que adornaba su sombrero, y se la arroj a la niita. Perla inmediatamente se la puso al rededor del cuello y de la cintura, con tal habilidad que, al verla, pareca que formaba parte de ella y era difcil imaginarla sin ese adorno.
—Es tu madre aquella mujer que est all con la letra escarlata?—dijo el capitn.—Quieres llevarle un recado mo?
—Si el recado me agrada, lo har,—dijo Perla.
—Entonces dile,—replic el capitn,—que he hablado otra vez con el viejo mdico de rostro moreno, y que l se compromete a traer a su amigo, el caballero que ella sabe, a bordo de mi buque. De consiguiente, tu madre slo tiene que pensar en ella y en ti. Quieres decirle esto, nia brujita?
—La Sra. Hibbins dice que mi padre es el Prncipe del Aire,—exclam Perla con una maligna sonrisa.—Si vuelves a llamarme bruja, se lo dir a ella, y perseguir tu buque con una tempestad.
Atravesando la plaza del mercado regres la nia junto a su madre y le comunic lo que el marino le haba dicho. Ester, a pesar de su nimo fuerte, tranquilo, resuelto, y constante en la adversidad, estuvo a punto de desmayarse al or esta noticia precursora de inevitable desastre, precisamente en los momentos en que pareca haberse abierto un camino para que ella y el ministro pudieran salir del laberinto de dolor y de angustias en que estaban perdidos.
Abrumado su espritu y llena de terrible perplejidad con las noticias que le comunicaba el capitn del buque, se vio adems sujeta en aquellos momentos a otra clase de prueba. Se hallaban all presentes muchos individuos de los lugares circunvecinos, que haban odo hablar con frecuencia de la letra escarlata, y para quienes sta se haba convertido en algo terrfico por los millares de historias falsas o exageradas que acerca de ella circulaban, pero que nunca la haban visto con sus propios ojos; los cuales, despus de haber agotado toda otra clase de distracciones, se agolpaban en torno de Ester de una manera rudamente indiscreta. Pero a pesar de lo poco escrupulosos que eran, no podan llegar sino a unas cuantas varas de distancia de ella. All se detenan, merced a la especie de fuerza repulsiva de la repugnancia que les inspiraba el mstico smbolo. Los marineros, observando la aglomeracin de los espectadores, y enterados de lo que significaba la letra escarlata, vinieron con sus rostros ennegrecidos por el sol, y de hombres de alma atravesada, a formar tambin parte del crculo que rodeaba a Ester; y hasta los indios se vieron contagiados con la curiosidad de los blancos, y deslizndose al travs de la multitud, fijaron sus ojos negros, a manera de serpiente, en el seno de la pobre mujer, creyendo acaso que el portador de este brillante emblema bordado tena que ser persona de alta categora entre los suyos. Finalmente, los vecinos de la poblacin, a pesar de que no experimentaban ya inters alguno en este asunto, se dirigieron tambin a aquel sitio y atormentaron a Ester, tal vez mucho ms que todo el resto de los circunstantes, con la fra e indiferente mirada que fijaban en la insignia de su vergenza. Ester vio y reconoci los mismos rostros de aquel grupo de matronas que haban estado esperando su salida en la puerta de la crcel siete aos antes; todas estaban all, excepto la ms joven y la nica compasiva entre ellas, cuya veste funeraria hizo despus de aquel acontecimiento. En aquella hora final, cuando crea que pronto iba a arrojar para siempre la letra candente, se haba sta convertido singularmente en centro de la mayor atencin y curiosidad, abrasndole el seno ms dolorosamente que en ningn tiempo desde el primer da que la llev.
Mientras Ester permaneca dentro de aquel crculo mgico de ignominia donde la crueldad de su sentencia pareca haberla fijado para siempre, el irable orador contemplaba desde su plpito un auditorio subyugado por el poder de su palabra hasta las fibras ms ntimas de su mltiple ser. El santo ministro en la iglesia! La mujer de la letra escarlata en la plaza del mercado! Qu imaginacin podra hallarse tan falta de reverencia que hubiera sospechado que ambos estaban marcados con el mismo candente estigma? |
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