SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
El matí del dissabte havia vingut, i tot el món estiuenc era brillant i gerd, i desbordant de vida. Hi havia una cantúria en cada cor, i, si el cor era jove, la música eixia als llavis. Hi havia joia en cada rostre, i primavera en cada pas. Els arbres «de la llagosta» (1) eren en plena florida, i la fragància de les flors omplia l'aire. Cardiff Hill, més enllà del poblet i damunt ell, estava tot verd de vegetació, i queia a prou distància per a semblar una Terra Paradisíaca, somniosa, sossegada i invitadora.
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:
Tom aparegué per la vorera, amb una galleda de blanc i una brotxa; i l'alegria fugí de la natura i una pregona melangia s'establí en son esperit. Trenta yardes d'un clos dilatat, de nou peus d'altura! Li semblà que la vida era tota buida, i l'existència una simple càrrega. Tot sospesant, enfonsà la brotxa a la galleda, i la passà damunt la post del cim; repetí l'operació; va tornar-hi; comparà la insignificant llenca emblanqueïda, i segué damunt una caixa de fusta, tot descoratjat. Jim eixí de la porta fent gambades, amb una galleda de llauna, i tot cantant la cançó Les Noies de Buffalo. El portar aigua de la bomba municipal havia estat sempre feina odiosa a l'esguard de Tom, fins aleshores; però ara no li semblà el mateix. Va recordar que hi havia colles de gent a la bomba. Nois i noies, de blancs, de mulatos i de negres, hi estaven sempre esperant el torn, descansant, baratant joguines, barallant-se, espinyant-se, fent aldarull. I va recordar que, encara que la bomba no era sinó cent cinquanta yardes enfora, Jim mai no tornava amb una galleda d'aigua sinó passada una hora; i, així i tot, algú, generalment, havia d'anar-lo a cercar. Tom digué:
"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."
-Escolteu, Jim: jo aniré a cercar l'aigua, si vos emblanquineu una mica.
Jim shook his head and said:
Jim bellugà el cap, i digué:
"Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed she'd 'tend to de whitewashin'."
-No puc, senyoret Tom. La vella senyora em digué que anés i portés aquesta aigua, i que no m'aturés a beneitejar amb ningú. I va dir que esperava que el senyoret Tom em demanaria que jo emblanquinés, i digué que jo toqués pirandó i tingués esment de la meva feina, i digué que ella vetllaria per l'emblanquinament.
"Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. She won't ever know."
-Oh! No en feu cabal, del que hagi dit, Jim. Ella sempre hi parla, així. Deu-me la galleda: no estaré fora sinó un minut. Ella no ho sabrà.
"Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would."
-Ah! No puc, senyoret Tom. La vella senyora em faria un cap nou. Ben cert que me'l faria.
"She! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!"
-Ella! Ella mai apallissa ningú: tusta el cap d'un hom amb el didal. I qui se n'encaparra d'això? Voldria saber-ho. Parla qui-sap-lo, però el parlar no fa mal: almenys no en fa si no es posa a gemegar. Jim, us donaré una bala! Us donaré una bala bona i blanca.
Jim began to waver.
Jim començà de vacil·lar.
"White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw."
-Bala blanca, Jim, i guanya sempre!
"My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--"
-Noi! És una cosa d'allò més bonica, a fe. Però, senyoret Tom, tinc una gran por de la vella senyora.
"And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe."
Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye.
Tanmateix Jim no era més que humà: una atracció com aquella era massa forta per a ell. Deixà en terra la galleda i prengué la bala blanca. Al cap d'un minut anava, cames ajudeu-me, carrer avall, amb la seva galleda i una pruïja a l'esquena: Tom emblanquinava amb vigor, i la tia Polly es retirava del camp amb una sabatilla a la mà i el triomf en sos ulls.
But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of work, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration.
Però l'energia de Tom no va durar gaire. Començà de pensar en la grifolda que s'havia proposat per aquell dia, i sos dols es multiplicaren. Aviat els nois en llibertat vindrien corrent, esmerçant-se en tota mena de delitoses expedicions; i en farien qui-sap-la riota, d'ell, perquè havia de treballar. Només el pensar-hi l'abrusava com un foc. Es tragué la seva mundanal riquesa i l'examinà: trossos de joguines, bales i escombraries; coses potser abastament per a comprar un canvi de feina, però no pas per a comprar tota una mitja hora de pura llibertat. Així, doncs, retornà sos minvats cabals a la seva butxaca, i abandonà la idea d'intentar la compra dels nois. En aquell moment, ombrívol i desesperat, una inspiració esclatà dins ell, no menys que una gran, magnífica inspiració.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them:
Agafà la seva brotxa i es posà tranquil·lament a treballar. Ben Rogers comparegué tot seguit a la vista; el noi, entre tots els nois, del que ell havia temut la mofa. Ben caminava fent salts, bots i gambades; prova abastament que el seu cor era gai i les seves esperances esbarjoses. Menjava una poma, i feia a intervals un llarg i melodiós esgarip seguit d'un ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, en to profund, perquè estava personificant un vapor. A mesura que s'anà atansant, apaivagà la seva celeritat, es posà al mig del carrer, es decantà d'allò més a estribor, i orsà feixugament, amb laboriosa pompa i minuciositat, perquè personificava el «Big Missouri», i es creia tenir un calat de nou peus d'aigua. Ell era vapor i capità, i campaner, tot plegat: així és que havia d'imaginar-se a sí mateix en sa pròpia coberta més alta, donant les ordes i executant-les.
"Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.
-Pareu, mestre! Ning, ning, ning!- La marxa del vaixell gairebé s'extingí, i ell tirà cap amunt, a pleret, envers la vorera.
"Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides.
-Màquina endarrera! Ning, ning, ning!- Redreçà sos braços, i els posà tots enravenats per sos flancs avall.
"Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, mean-time, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel.
-Màquina a babord! Ning, ning, ning! Xu, xx, xu, xu!- La mà dreta descrivia a l'ensems cercles majestuosos, perquè representava una roda de quaranta peus.
"Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles.
-Refermeu a estribord! Ning, ning, ning! Xu, xx, xu, xu!- La mà esquerra començà de descriure cercles.
"Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! lively now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks).
-Pareu a estribord! Ning, ning, ning! Pareu a babord! Proa avant, decantant l'estribord! Para! Gireu de mica en mica! Ning, ning, ning! Xu, xu, xu! Etzibeu aquesta rellinga de gratil! De pressa, ara! Enfora l'amarra! Que esteu badant? Deu un tomb a la soca amb la corda! Feu-vos arran del moll, ara! Engegueu! Pareu la màquina, mestre! Ning, ning, ning! Xt! xt! xt! (fent anar la clau de prova).
Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-Yi! You're up a stump, ain't you!"
Tom continuà emblanquinant: no feu cabal del vapor. Ben el mirà de fit a fit un moment, i després digué:
-Hi, hi! Esteu aquí estaqueta: no és veritat?
No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said:
Cap resposta. Tom examinà son darrer toc amb l'esguard d'un artista. Després donà una altra suau escomesa a la seva brotxa, i examinà el resultat, com abans. Ben es posà al seu costat. A Tom la poma li feia venir salivera, però romangué quiet, sempre maldant. Ben digué:
"Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"
-Hola, minyó! Us cal treballar: oi?
Tom wheeled suddenly and said:
Tom es mogué sobtadament i digué:
"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."
-Ah! Sou vós, Ben? No me n'havia atalaiat.
"Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther work--wouldn't you? Course you would!"
-Sabeu? me'n vaig a nedar, jo. No us agradaria de poder venir? Però, és clar, més us estimeu treballar: oi? És clar, que us ho estimeu més.
Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:
Tom contemplà el minyó una estona, i digué:
"What do you call work?"
-De què en dieu treball?
"Why, ain't that work?"
-Bé, no es feina, això?
Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:
Tom reprengué l'emblanquinament, i contestà amb negligència:
"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer."
-Bé, potser que en sigui i potser que no en sigui. El que jo sé és que ve a la mida de Tom Sawyer.
"Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you like it?"
-Oh! Escolteu: no voleu pas dar entenent que us agradi?
The brush continued to move.
La brotxa continuava movent-se.
"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"
-Agradar-me? Bé, no sé per què no m'hauria d'agradar. És que un hom té la sort d'emblanquinar una tanca cada dia?
That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:
Això posà l'afer sota una nova llum. Ben va parar de rosegar la seva poma. Tom passà la brotxa exquisidament d'ací d'allí, reculà per a veure l'efecte, afegí un toc en aquest indret i aquell altre, i sospesà de bell nou l'efecte, mentre Ben li reparava cada moviment, i esdevenia més i més interessat, més i més absort. Al cap de poc digué:
"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little."
-Escolteu, Tom: deixeu-me emblanquinar una mica.
Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:
Tom reflexionà: estava a punt de consentir, però canvià de determini.
"No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know--but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and she wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done."
-No, no; la tia Polly és molt mastegatatxes pel que fa a aquest clos (el de la banda del carrer, sabeu?); però, si fos el clos de la banda del darrera, a mi tant me fóra i a ella també. Sí, és molt mastegataxes, pel que fa a aquest clos: hom ha d'anar amb molt de compte: crec que no hi hauria un noi entre mil, i potser entre dos mil, que ho pogués fer de la manera que cal.
"No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let you, if you was me, Tom."
-Sí? De bo de bo? Oh! Vaja, deixeu-m'ho provar només: només una mica. Jo bé us ho deixaria fer, si vós fóssiu jo, Tom.
"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--"
-Bé, a mi em plauria, indi honrat; però la tia Polly... Mireu, Jim volia fer-ho, però ella no li ha volgut consentir. Sid també volia fer-ho, però ella tampoc li ha volgut consentir. No veieu, ara, que estic lligat, en aquest punt? Si vós us emprenguéssiu el clos, i passés qualsevol cosa...
"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple."
-Oh! Romansos! Tindré tant d'esment com vós mateix. Deixeu-m'ho provar. Escolteu... us daré el dintre de la poma.
"Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--"
-Bé, veureu... No, Ben: traieu-vos-ho del cap: tinc por...
"I'll give you all of it!"
-Us la daré tota!
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.
Tom féu remissió de la brotxa amb repugnància en el rostre, però amb daler en el cor. I, mentre l'ex-vapor «Big Missouri» treballava i suava al sol, l'artista retirat seia damunt un barril, a l'ombra, a curta distància; deixava penjar les cames, mossegava la poma amb la boca plena, i planejava el carnatge de més innocents. No mancava material: més nois s'esqueien per alli, a cada estona: venien per a fer mofes, però romanien per emblanquinar. Poc abans que Ben estigués atuït, Tom havia baratat la nova avinentesa d'emblanquinar, a Billy Fisher, per un estel, sòlidament adobat; i quan aquest ja en tingué prou, Johnny Miller comprà de ser-hi, mitjançant una rata morta i un cordill per a fer-la giravoltar; i així successivament, hora darrera hora. I, quan hom arribà a mitja tarda, el pobre minyó miserable del matí estava literalment saturat de riqueses. Tenia, a més de les coses abans esmentades, dotze bales, part d'una mandolina, un tros d'ampolla blava per a mirar-hi a través, un canó de rodet, una clau que no servia per a obrir res, un bocí de guix, un tap de vidre d'una garrafa, un soldat de plom, un parell de capgrossos, sis coets, un gatet borni, un pom de porta, de llautó, un collar de gos (sense gos), el mànec d'un ganivet, quatre peces de pela de taronja i un vell marc de finestra fet malbé.
He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company--and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.
Havia tingut, mentrestant, una bona, bella estona ociosa, i qui-sap-la companyia... i el clos lluïa de tres capes de blanc! Si el blanc no li hagués arribat a mancar, hauria causat la fallida de tots els nois del poblet.
Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.
Tom es digué que aquest món, al capdavall, no era tan buit com això. Havia descobert una gran llei d'activitat humana, sense saber-ho: és a dir, que per fer que un home o un noi desitgin una cosa, només cal convertir la cosa en difícil d'atènyer. Si hagués estat un gran filòsof ple de saviesa, com l'autor d'aquest llibre, hauria capit aleshores que la feina consisteix en qualsevol cosa que un hom estigui obligat a fer, i que el joc consisteix en qualsevol cosa que un hom no estigui obligat a fer. I això l'hauria ajudat a compendre per què el fer flors artificials o maldar en el molí dels forçats és feina, mentre el jugar a bitlles o trescar pel Mont Blanc no és sinó divertiment. Hi ha rics senyors a Anglaterra que menen carruatges de passatgers, tirats per quatre cavalls, per espai de vint o trenta milles, en una ruta diària, a l'istiu, perquè el privilegi els costa una pila de diners; però, si els oferissin soldada pel servei, això el convertiria en feina, i ells aleshores el deixaríen córrer.
The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.
El minyó medità una estona sobre el canvi substancial que s'havia esdevingut en les seves mundanes circumstàncies, i després s'adreçà al quarter general, a retre comptes.