Edgar Allan Poe-El gato negro- translation of Julio Cortazar
neither expect nor ask anyone to believe in the strange yet simple story that I am about to write. Would be crazy if you wait, when my senses reject their own evidence. But I'm not crazy and I know that this is not a dream. Tomorrow I'm going to die and I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to make clear, simple, quietly and without comment, a series of domestic events. The consequences of these events have terrified, I have tortured I finally destroyed. But do not try to explain. If you have been horrible for me, others seem less terrible than baroque. Later, perhaps, someone whose intelligence will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace, some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, able to see fearfully describe the circumstances, an ordinary succession of natural causes and effects . From childhood I stood out by the docility and humanity of my disposition. The tenderness that sheltered my heart was so big that it becomes an object of ridicule for my teammates. I was especially fond of animals, and my parents allowed me to have a large variety. Walked by most of the time, and never was happier than when I was feeding and stroking. This character trait grew up with me and when I came to manhood, became one of my principal sources of pleasure. Those who have ever experienced love for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need not bother to explain the nature or severity of the remuneration received. There is something in the generous and selfless love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of that which has often proven false friendship and gossamer fidelity of man. I married young and had the joy of my wife with my own. By observing my love pets, lost no opportunity of procuring the most enjoyable of them. We had birds, fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a monkey and a cat. The latter was an animal of considerable size and beauty, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing. Referring to his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little superstitious, frequently alluded to the ancient popular notion that all black cats are witches metamorphosed. Not that I seriously believe, and I mention the thing because I just remember it. Pluto was the name of the cat had become my favorite and my comrade. I just fed him and he followed me everywhere at home. Hard for me to stop were walking behind me on the street. Our friendship lasted so many years, during which (blush to confess it) my temperament and my character is radically altered because of the devil. Intemperance. Every day I grew more melancholy, irritable and indifferent to others' feelings. He even talking or bad for my wife and I ended up inflicting personal violence. My favorite, of course, also felt the change in my character. Not only neglected, but I got hurt. To Pluto, however, I retained sufficient regard to restrain me of abuse, which he did with the rabbits, monkeys and even the dog when, by chance or moved by the affection, they came in my way. My illness, however, worsened, then, what disease is like alcohol? - And ultimately the same Pluto, which was quite old and, therefore, somewhat cranky, began to suffer the consequences of my bad mood. One night, returning home drunk, after one of my wanderings around town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I lifted the arms, but, frightened by my violence, I bit lightly on the hand. Point took me a demonic fury and no longer knew what he was doing. It was as if Following my soul is separated from the beat of my body, a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-fed, thrilled every fiber of my being. Drawing from his waistcoat pocket a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately, I did skip one eye. Blush, I burn, I shudder as I write so damnable atrocity. When reason returned with the morning, when I had the dream dissipated the fumes of the orgy night, I felt the horror mingled with remorse at the crime, but my feeling was weak and ambiguous, not enough to appeal to the soul. I once again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of what happened. The cat, meanwhile, slowly recovered. True that the socket of the lost eye presented a frightful appearance, but he no longer seemed to suffer. He went about as usual, around the house, although, as is expected, fled in terror at my approach. I had so much of my old, as to be grieved by this evident dislike of an animal that once had loved me so much. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then to my final and irrevocable overthrow, was presented the spirit of perversity. The philosophy takes no account of this spirit, and yet, as sure that my soul lives the wicked is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart, one of the indivisible primary faculties, one of those feelings that direct the nature of man. Who has not, himself a hundred times that committing a vile or silly action, for the simple reason that they should not? Is there in us a permanent trend, boldly facing the right direction, a tendency to violate that which is the law for the mere fact of being? This spirit of perverseness, as I said in my final overthrow. And the unfathomable longing of my soul had vejarse itself, to violate their very nature to do evil for evil's sake, I encouraged to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cold blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it on the branch of a tree hung it with tears streaming from my eyes and with the bitterest remorse at my heart, hung it because I remembered had wanted to and because I was sure I had not reason to kill him hung it because I knew that by doing so, committed a sin, a mortal sin to commit my soul to take, if possible, beyond the scope of infinite mercy of God most merciful and most terrible. The night of that same day that I committed such a cruel action woke me screaming: "Fire!" The curtains of my bed was an open flame and the whole house was blazing. With great difficulty we were able to escape the conflagration my wife, a servant and me. Everything was destroyed. My worldly possessions were lost and since then I had to resign myself to despair. Incur no weakness to establish a cause and effect between the disaster and my criminal action. But I am detailing a chain of events and do not want to leave any link incomplete. The day after the fire I went to visit the ruins. Except one, the walls had collapsed. The one left standing was a low room divider thick, located in the center of the house, and against which had rested before the head of my bed. The plaster had been spared by the action of fire, which I attributed to its recent implementation. A dense crowd had gathered outside the wall and several people seemed to review part of it with great care and detail. The words "strange!, Curious!" and others like it excited my curiosity. As I approached I saw that the white surface, recorded as a relief, appeared the image of a gigantic cat. The contour sharpness was truly wonderful. There was a rope around the neck of the animal. Upon discovering this apparition, as it could not consider something else, I felt overpowered by the wonder and terror. But after reflection came to my aid. I remembered that he had hanged the cat in a garden adjoining the house. To the alarm of fire, the crowd was immediately filled the garden, someone had cut the rope and throw the cat in my room through the open window. Undoubtedly, had tried to wake up that way. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the freshly applied plaster, as lime, along with the action of the flames and the ammonia from the carcass, had the image I had seen. While this form was satisfied my reason, if not my conscience, about the strange episode, what happened was deeply impressed my imagination. For many months I could not get rid of the ghost cat, and in that time dominated my mind a sentiment report that seemed, but was not, remorse. I got to the point of lamenting the loss of animal and look at the vile dens usually frequented, some other of the same species and look that could take his place. One night, half drunk, I was in a tavern that infamous black called my attention to something sitting on one of the huge barrels of gin, which constituted the principal furniture of the place. For some minutes had been looking at the barrel and I was surprised no sooner perceived the presence of black spot on top. I approached and touched his hand. It was a very large black cat, as big as Pluto and quite like this one, but one. Pluto had not a white hair on the body, but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering the entire chest. Feeling cherished quickly straightened up, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand and seemed delighted with my attention. Just, then, to find the animal that just was looking for. Immediately, I proposed purchase of the landlord, but he said that the animal was not his and that he had never seen before or knew anything about him. Continue caresses, and, as I was returning home, the animal seemed willing to accompany me. I let him do it, stopping again and again to bend over and pet him. When he was at home, got used to it immediately and became the favorite of my wife. For my part, I soon born in me a dislike to that animal. It was exactly the opposite of what I had anticipated, but, without being able to say how or why, its strong affection for me disgusted and distressed me. Gradually, the feeling of disgust and fatigue rose to the bitterness of hatred. Avoid running into the animal, a sense of shame and the memory of my cruelty vedaban old mistreat me. For some weeks I refrained from doing so hit or a victim of any violence, but gradually-very gradually-I came at him with unspeakable hatred and to flee silently from its odious presence, as if it were an emanation of the plague. What undoubtedly helped to increase my hatred was discovered, the next morning I brought it home, that cat, like Pluto, was blind in one eye. This circumstance was precisely what made it more pleasing to my wife, who, as I said, possessed in high degree, humanitarian sentiments that had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of my simple pleasures and more pure. Affection cat for me seemed to grow in the same grade as my aversion. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity that would cost me make it clear to the reader. Whenever I sat, it would ovillarse under my chair, or spring upon my knees, lavishing his odious caresses. If you missed a walk it would get between my feet, threatening to make me fall, or fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, to climb up my chest. In those moments, but longed to annihilate at one blow, I felt paralyzed by the memory of my first crime, but above all, let me confess right now, by a terrible fear of the animal. This dread was not exactly afraid of a physical illness, and yet, it would be impossible define it differently. I am almost ashamed to admit, yes, even in this criminal cell, I am almost ashamed to admit that the terror, the terror that this animal inspired me, was intensified by one of the most insane fantasies that would be given to conceive. More than once my wife had called attention to the shape of the white spot which I have spoken, and which constituted the only difference between the strange beast and the one I had killed. The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had seemed at first indefinitely, but gradually, so imperceptibly that my reason struggled to reject long as fantastic the blot was taking a thorough outline of precision. Now represented something that I shudder to name, and therefore hated, feared, and wanted to get rid of the monster had been able to presume, represented, say, the image of a perfectly dreadful, sinister ... the image of the gallows! Oh, mournful and terrible engine of horror and crime, agony and death! I felt more miserable then all human miseries. To think that a beast, whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed, a beast was capable of producing such unbearable anguish of a man created in the image and likeness of God! Oh, day or night and I could enjoy the blessing the rest! By day, the creature left me no moment alone at night, wake up time when the most horrible dream, to feel the hot breath of the thing in my face and heavy weight-incarnate nightmare that I could not rid-incumbent eternally upon my heart. Under the burden of such torments, succumbed to me how little I was good. Evil thoughts only because of my privacy, the darkest and most evil of thoughts. My usual melancholy mood grew into hatred of all around me and all mankind, and my poor wife, who complained of nothing, became a regular patient and victim the sudden and frequent outbursts of blind rage to leave me. One day, to complete a chore, accompanied me to the basement of the old building which our poverty compelled us to live. The cat followed me as I descended the steep stairs and was about to pull my head down, which exasperated me to madness. Raising an ax and forgetting, in my wrath, the childish fears which had hitherto stayed my hand, I downloaded a blow that would have instantly killed the animal from achieving it. But my wife's hand stopped his career. Then, led by its intervention to a rage more than demoniacal, I stretched forth his grasp and buried the hatchet in the head. Without a groan, fell dead at my feet. Once this gruesome murder, gave me the point and in cold blood all the task of concealing the body. I knew it was impossible to remove from home, day and night, without running the risk of a neighbor watching me. Several projects entered my mind. For a moment I thought of dismembering the body and burn the pieces. Then I dig a grave in the basement floor. I also thought if it was not advisable to throw the body into the well in the yard or put it in a drawer, as if it were a common commodity, and call a porter to withdraw it from home. But at last I found what I thought was the best record I decided to wall up in the cellar, as it is said that the monks of the Middle Ages have walled up their victims. The cellar was well adapted to this purpose. The walls were very resistant material and were freshly plastered with ordinary mortar, the humidity of the atmosphere had left to harden. Furthermore, in one of the walls was the salience of a false chimney, which was filled and treated like the rest of the basement. Undoubtedly, it would be very easy to take out the bricks in this part, enter the body and cover the hole as before, so that no eye could detect anything suspicious. I was not mistaken in my calculations. Easily I took the bricks with a lever and then carefully placing the body against the inner wall, I kept it in place while the masonry applied again in its original form. After attempting mortar, sand and sow, I prepared a plaster which was indistinguishable from the previous and carefully reverse the new brickwork. After the task, I felt sure that everything was fine. The wall did not show the slightest sign of being touched. Had swept to the smallest fragment of loose material. I looked around triumphantly, and I said, "Here, at least, I have not worked in vain." My next step was to look for the beast cause of so much misfortune, as the final I had decided to kill her. If at that time the cat had come before me, his fate would have been sealed, but, apparently, the wily animal, alarmed by the violence of my first fit of anger, was careful not to appear while not change my mood. Impossible to describe or imagine the deep, the wonderful relief that the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my chest. Not presented that night, and thus for the first time since his arrival at the house, I soundly and quietly, yes, slept even with the burden of murder upon my soul. They spent their second and third day and my tormentor came not. Once again I breathed as a free man. Terrified, the monster had fled the premises forever! I would never contemplate! Enjoyed a supreme happiness, and guilt of my dark deed disturbed me very little. Were carried out some research, which was not hard to answer. There was even a perquisición at home, but of course, was not discovered anything. My future seemed secure peace. On the fourth day of the murder, a group of policemen suddenly appeared and proceeded to a new and rigorous inspection. Convinced that my cache was impenetrable, I did not feel the slightest concern. The officers asked me to accompany them in their review. They left no hole or corner unexplored. In the end, for the third or fourth time, fell the basement. I followed them without a muscle quivered. My heart beat calmly as that of one who slumbers in innocence. I walked from one side to another in the basement. He had crossed his arms over his chest and walked quietly to and fro. The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to leave. The joy of my heart was too great to suppress. Longed to say, at least, a word as proof of success and double confirm my innocence. "Gentlemen," I said at last, when the party ascended the steps, I'm glad to have allayed your suspicions. I wish you happiness and a little more courtesy. By the way, gentlemen, This house is very well built ... (In my frantic desire to say something naturally, I hardly realized my words). Again it is a great house construction. These walls ... "And leave you gentlemen? ... have a great strength. And then, driven by my own bravado, I rapped heavily with the cane in his hand on the brick wall behind which lay the corpse of the wife of my heart. May God protect me and deliver me from the clutches of arch-fiend! Just had stopped the echo of my shock when a voice answered from inside the tomb. A groan, dull and choppy at first, like the sobbing of a child, then grew rapidly into a long, sharp and continuous scream, abnormal, as inhuman, a howl, a cry of lamentation, half horror, half of triumph, as it can only have sprung up in the hell of the damned throat His agony and demons exult in the damnation. Talk about what I thought at that time would be madness. Dam of vertigo, I staggered to the opposite wall. For a moment the group of men on the stairs was paralyzed with terror. Then, a dozen stout arms were toiling at the wall, which fell in one piece. The corpse, already very corrupt and stained with gore, stood erect before the eyes of the spectators. Above his head, with red extended mouth and solitary eye of fire, sat the hideous beast whose craft had led me to murder, and whose voice gave me the executioner telltale. Had walled the monster in the grave!
"Never again, never again ... 
Artist Photograph taken Piopio. 
