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1984 by George Orwell, Part three, Chapter 1 (1)

Part three, Chapter 1 (1)

He did not know where he was. Presumably he was in the Ministry of Love, but there was no way of making certain.

He was in a high-ceilinged windowless cell with walls of glittering white porcelain. Concealed lamps flooded it with cold light, and there was a low, steady humming sound which he supposed had something to do with the air supply. A bench, or shelf, just wide enough to sit on ran round the wall, broken only by the door and, at the end opposite the door, a lavatory pan with no wooden seat. There were four telescreens, one in each wall.

There was a dull aching in his belly. It had been there ever since they had bundled him into the closed van and driven him away. But he was also hungry, with a gnawing, unwholesome kind of hunger. It might be twenty-four hours since he had eaten, it might be thirty-six. He still did not know, probably never would know, whether it had been morning or evening when they arrested him. Since he was arrested he had not been fed.

He sat as still as he could on the narrow bench, with his hands crossed on his knee. He had already learned to sit still. If you made unexpected movements they yelled at you from the telescreen. But the craving for food was growing upon him. What he longed for above all was a piece of bread. He had an idea that there were a few breadcrumbs in the pocket of his overalls. It was even possible — he thought this because from time to time something seemed to tickle his leg — that there might be a sizeable bit of crust there. In the end the temptation to find out overcame his fear; he slipped a hand into his pocket.

‘Smith!' yelled a voice from the telescreen. ‘6079 Smith W.!

Hands out of pockets in the cells!'

He sat still again, his hands crossed on his knee. Before being brought here he had been taken to another place which must have been an ordinary prison or a temporary lock-up used by the patrols. He did not know how long he had been there; some hours at any rate; with no clocks and no daylight it was hard to gauge the time. It was a noisy, evil-smelling place. They had put him into a cell similar to the one he was now in, but filthily dirty and at all times crowded by ten or fifteen people. The majority of them were common criminals, but there were a few political prisoners among them. He had sat silent against the wall, jostled by dirty bodies, too preoccupied by fear and the pain in his belly to take much interest in his surroundings, but still noticing the astonishing difference in demeanour between the Party prisoners and the others. The Party prisoners were always silent and terrified, but the ordinary criminals seemed to care nothing for anybody. They yelled insults at the guards, fought back fiercely when their belongings were impounded, wrote obscene words on the floor, ate smuggled food which they produced from mysterious hiding-places in their clothes, and even shouted down the telescreen when it tried to restore order. On the other hand some of them seemed to be on good terms with the guards, called them by nicknames, and tried to wheedle cigarettes through the spyhole in the door. The guards, too, treated the common criminals with a certain forbearance, even when they had to handle them roughly. There was much talk about the forced-labour camps to which most of the prisoners expected to be sent. It was ‘all right' in the camps, he gathered, so long as you had good contacts and knew the ropes. There was bribery, favouritism, and racketeering of every kind, there was homosexuality and prostitution, there was even illicit alcohol distilled from potatoes. The positions of trust were given only to the common criminals, especially the gangsters and the murderers, who formed a sort of aristocracy. All the dirty jobs were done by the politicals.

There was a constant come-and-go of prisoners of every description: drug-peddlers, thieves, bandits, black-marketeers, drunks, prostitutes. Some of the drunks were so violent that the other prisoners had to combine to suppress them. An enormous wreck of a woman, aged about sixty, with great tumbling breasts and thick coils of white hair which had come down in her struggles, was carried in, kicking and shouting, by four guards, who had hold of her one at each corner. They wrenched off the boots with which she had been trying to kick them, and dumped her down across Winston's lap, almost breaking his thigh-bones. The woman hoisted herself upright and followed them out with a yell of ‘F—— bastards!' Then, noticing that she was sitting on something uneven, she slid off Winston's knees on to the bench.

‘Beg pardon, dearie,' she said. ‘I wouldn't 'a sat on you, only the buggers put me there. They dono 'ow to treat a lady, do they?' She paused, patted her breast, and belched. ‘Pardon,' she said, ‘I ain't meself, quite.'

She leant forward and vomited copiously on the floor.

‘Thass better,' she said, leaning back with closed eyes. ‘Never keep it down, thass what I say. Get it up while it's fresh on your stomach, like.'

She revived, turned to have another look at Winston and seemed immediately to take a fancy to him. She put a vast arm round his shoulder and drew him towards her, breathing beer and vomit into his face.

‘Wass your name, dearie?' she said. ‘Smith,' said Winston.

‘Smith?' said the woman. ‘Thass funny. My name's Smith too.

Why,' she added sentimentally, ‘I might be your mother!'

She might, thought Winston, be his mother. She was about the right age and physique, and it was probable that people changed somewhat after twenty years in a forced-labour camp.

No one else had spoken to him. To a surprising extent the ordinary criminals ignored the Party prisoners. ‘The polITS,' they called them, with a sort of uninterested contempt. The Party prisoners seemed terrified of speaking to anybody, and above all of speaking to one another. Only once, when two Party members, both women, were pressed close together on the bench, he overheard amid the din of voices a few hurriedly-whispered words; and in particular a reference to something called ‘room one-oh- one', which he did not understand.

It might be two or three hours ago that they had brought him here. The dull pain in his belly never went away, but sometimes it grew better and sometimes worse, and his thoughts expanded or contracted accordingly. When it grew worse he thought only of the pain itself, and of his desire for food. When it grew better, panic took hold of him. There were moments when he foresaw the things that would happen to him with such actuality that his heart galloped and his breath stopped. He felt the smash of truncheons on his elbows and iron-shod boots on his shins; he saw himself grovelling on the floor, screaming for mercy through broken teeth.

He hardly thought of Julia. He could not fix his mind on her. He loved her and would not betray her; but that was only a fact, known as he knew the rules of arithmetic. He felt no love for her, and he hardly even wondered what was happening to her. He thought oftener of O'Brien, with a flickering hope. O'Brien might know that he had been arrested. The Brotherhood, he had said, never tried to save its members. But there was the razor blade; they would send the razor blade if they could. There would be perhaps five seconds before the guard could rush into the cell. The blade would bite into him with a sort of burning coldness, and even the fingers that held it would be cut to the bone. Everything came back to his sick body, which shrank trembling from the smallest pain. He was not certain that he would use the razor blade even if he got the chance. It was more natural to exist from moment to moment, accepting another ten minutes' life even with the certainty that there was torture at the end of it.

Sometimes he tried to calculate the number of porcelain bricks in the walls of the cell. It should have been easy, but he always lost count at some point or another. More often he wondered where he was, and what time of day it was. At one moment he felt certain that it was broad daylight outside, and at the next equally certain that it was pitch darkness. In this place, he knew instinctively, the lights would never be turned out. It was the place with no darkness: he saw now why O'Brien had seemed to recognize the allusion. In the Ministry of Love there were no windows. His cell might be at the heart of the building or against its outer wall; it might be ten floors below ground, or thirty above it. He moved himself mentally from place to place, and tried to determine by the feeling of his body whether he was perched high in the air or buried deep underground.

There was a sound of marching boots outside. The steel door opened with a clang. A young officer, a trim black-uniformed figure who seemed to glitter all over with polished leather, and whose pale, straight-featured face was like a wax mask, stepped smartly through the doorway. He motioned to the guards outside to bring in the prisoner they were leading. The poet Ampleforth shambled into the cell. The door clanged shut again.

Ampleforth made one or two uncertain movements from side to side, as though having some idea that there was another door to go out of, and then began to wander up and down the cell. He had not yet noticed Winston's presence. His troubled eyes were gazing at the wall about a metre above the level of Winston's head. He was shoeless; large, dirty toes were sticking out of the holes in his socks. He was also several days away from a shave. A scrubby beard covered his face to the cheekbones, giving him an air of ruffianism that went oddly with his large weak frame and nervous movements.

Winston roused himself a little from his lethargy. He must speak to Ampleforth, and risk the yell from the telescreen. It was even conceivable that Ampleforth was the bearer of the razor blade.

‘Ampleforth,' he said.

There was no yell from the telescreen. Ampleforth paused, mildly startled. His eyes focused themselves slowly on Winston.

‘Ah, Smith!' he said.

‘You too!' ‘What are you in for?'

‘To tell you the truth —' He sat down awkwardly on the bench opposite Winston. ‘There is only one offence, is there not?' he said.

‘And have you committed it?' ‘Apparently I have.'

He put a hand to his forehead and pressed his temples for a moment, as though trying to remember something.

‘These things happen,' he began vaguely. ‘I have been able to recall one instance — a possible instance. It was an indiscretion, undoubtedly. We were producing a definitive edition of the poems of Kipling. I allowed the word “God” to remain at the end of a line. I could not help it!' he added almost indignantly, raising his face to look at Winston. ‘It was impossible to change the line. The rhyme was “rod”. Do you realize that there are only twelve rhymes to “rod” in the entire language? For days I had racked my brains. There WAS no other rhyme.'

The expression on his face changed. The annoyance passed out of it and for a moment he looked almost pleased.

Part three, Chapter 1 (1) Dritter Teil, Kapitel 1 (1) Część trzecia, rozdział 1 (1)

He did not know where he was. Presumably he was in the Ministry of Love, but there was no way of making certain.

He was in a high-ceilinged windowless cell with walls of glittering white porcelain. Estaba en una celda sin ventanas de techos altos con paredes de porcelana blanca reluciente. Concealed lamps flooded it with cold light, and there was a low, steady humming sound which he supposed had something to do with the air supply. Lámparas ocultas lo inundaron de luz fría, y hubo un zumbido bajo y constante que supuso tenía algo que ver con el suministro de aire. A bench, or shelf, just wide enough to sit on ran round the wall, broken only by the door and, at the end opposite the door, a lavatory pan with no wooden seat. Un banco o estante, lo suficientemente ancho para sentarse, corría alrededor de la pared, solo roto por la puerta y, en el extremo opuesto a la puerta, un inodoro sin asiento de madera. Навколо стіни тяглася лава чи полиця, достатньо широка, щоб на ній можна було сидіти, її розбивали лише двері, а в кінці проти дверей — унітаз без дерев’яного сидіння. There were four telescreens, one in each wall.

There was a dull aching in his belly. Sentía un dolor sordo en el estómago. It had been there ever since they had bundled him into the closed van and driven him away. Había estado allí desde que lo metieron en la camioneta cerrada y se lo llevaron. But he was also hungry, with a gnawing, unwholesome kind of hunger. Pero también tenía hambre, con una especie de hambre malsana y mordaz. Але він також був голодний, з жахливим, нездоровим видом голоду. It might be twenty-four hours since he had eaten, it might be thirty-six. He still did not know, probably never would know, whether it had been morning or evening when they arrested him. Todavía no sabía, probablemente nunca lo sabría, si había sido por la mañana o por la noche cuando lo arrestaron. Since he was arrested he had not been fed. З моменту арешту його не годували.

He sat as still as he could on the narrow bench, with his hands crossed on his knee. He had already learned to sit still. Ya había aprendido a quedarse quieto. Він уже навчився сидіти на місці. If you made unexpected movements they yelled at you from the telescreen. But the craving for food was growing upon him. What he longed for above all was a piece of bread. He had an idea that there were a few breadcrumbs in the pocket of his overalls. It was even possible — he thought this because from time to time something seemed to tickle his leg — that there might be a sizeable bit of crust there. Було навіть можливо — він думав про це, тому що час від часу щось лоскотало його ногу — що там могла бути чимала кірка. In the end the temptation to find out overcame his fear; he slipped a hand into his pocket. Al final, la tentación de descubrirlo superó su miedo; deslizó una mano en su bolsillo.

‘Smith!' yelled a voice from the telescreen. ‘6079 Smith W.!

Hands out of pockets in the cells!'

He sat still again, his hands crossed on his knee. Before being brought here he had been taken to another place which must have been an ordinary prison or a temporary lock-up used by the patrols. He did not know how long he had been there; some hours at any rate; with no clocks and no daylight it was hard to gauge the time. It was a noisy, evil-smelling place. They had put him into a cell similar to the one he was now in, but filthily dirty and at all times crowded by ten or fifteen people. Вони помістили його в камеру, схожу на ту, в якій він сидів зараз, але брудну і весь час переповнену людьми по десять-п'ятнадцять. The majority of them were common criminals, but there were a few political prisoners among them. He had sat silent against the wall, jostled by dirty bodies, too preoccupied by fear and the pain in his belly to take much interest in his surroundings, but still noticing the astonishing difference in demeanour between the Party prisoners and the others. The Party prisoners were always silent and terrified, but the ordinary criminals seemed to care nothing for anybody. Партійні в’язні завжди були мовчазні й налякані, але звичайні злочинці, здавалося, ні до кого не зважали. They yelled insults at the guards, fought back fiercely when their belongings were impounded, wrote obscene words on the floor, ate smuggled food which they produced from mysterious hiding-places in their clothes, and even shouted down the telescreen when it tried to restore order. Вони кричали на адресу охоронців, люто відбивалися, коли їхні речі конфіскували, писали нецензурні слова на підлозі, їли контрабандну їжу, яку вони виготовили з таємничих схованок у своєму одязі, і навіть кричали в телеекран, коли той намагався відновити порядок . On the other hand some of them seemed to be on good terms with the guards, called them by nicknames, and tried to wheedle cigarettes through the spyhole in the door. Por otro lado, algunos de ellos parecían llevarse bien con los guardias, los llamaban por apodos y trataban de sacar cigarrillos por la mirilla de la puerta. З іншого боку, деякі з них, схоже, були в хороших стосунках з охоронцями, називали їх на прізвиська та намагалися виманити сигарети через лазок у дверях. The guards, too, treated the common criminals with a certain forbearance, even when they had to handle them roughly. До звичайних злочинців охорона теж ставилася з певною поблажливістю, навіть коли з ними доводилося поводитися грубо. There was much talk about the forced-labour camps to which most of the prisoners expected to be sent. Se habló mucho sobre los campos de trabajos forzados a los que la mayoría de los prisioneros esperaban ser enviados. It was ‘all right' in the camps, he gathered, so long as you had good contacts and knew the ropes. Todo estaba "bien" en los campos, dedujo, siempre que tuvieras buenos contactos y conocieras las cosas. Він переконав, що в таборах було «добре», якщо мати хороші контакти й знати суть справи. There was bribery, favouritism, and racketeering of every kind, there was homosexuality and prostitution, there was even illicit alcohol distilled from potatoes. The positions of trust were given only to the common criminals, especially the gangsters and the murderers, who formed a sort of aristocracy. Los puestos de confianza se daban solo a los delincuentes comunes, especialmente a los gánsteres y los asesinos, que formaban una especie de aristocracia. All the dirty jobs were done by the politicals.

There was a constant come-and-go of prisoners of every description: drug-peddlers, thieves, bandits, black-marketeers, drunks, prostitutes. Some of the drunks were so violent that the other prisoners had to combine to suppress them. Algunos de los borrachos eran tan violentos que los otros prisioneros tuvieron que combinarse para reprimirlos. An enormous wreck of a woman, aged about sixty, with great tumbling breasts and thick coils of white hair which had come down in her struggles, was carried in, kicking and shouting, by four guards, who had hold of her one at each corner. Un enorme naufragio de una mujer, de unos sesenta años, con grandes pechos caídos y espesos mechones de pelo blanco que se le había caído en sus forcejeos, fue traída, pateando y gritando, por cuatro guardias, que la sujetaban a uno en cada esquina. . Величезний уламок жінки, віком близько шістдесяти, з великими грудьми, що перепадають, і густим локоном білого волосся, що спало в її боротьбі, було внесено, б’ючи ногами та кричачи, чотирма охоронцями, які тримали її за кожним кутом. . They wrenched off the boots with which she had been trying to kick them, and dumped her down across Winston's lap, almost breaking his thigh-bones. Вони зірвали чоботи, якими вона намагалася їх штовхнути, і кинули її Вінстону на коліна, ледь не зламавши йому стегнові кістки. The woman hoisted herself upright and followed them out with a yell of ‘F—— bastards!' La mujer se incorporó y los siguió con un grito de "¡Malditos bastardos!" Жінка підвелася та пішла за ними з криком «Ф… виродки!» Then, noticing that she was sitting on something uneven, she slid off Winston's knees on to the bench. Luego, al darse cuenta de que estaba sentada sobre algo irregular, se deslizó de las rodillas de Winston hasta el banco.

‘Beg pardon, dearie,' she said. —Perdón, querida —dijo ella. ‘I wouldn't 'a sat on you, only the buggers put me there. They dono 'ow to treat a lady, do they?' No deben tratar a una dama, ¿verdad? She paused, patted her breast, and belched. Hizo una pausa, se palmeó el pecho y eructó. ‘Pardon,' she said, ‘I ain't meself, quite.' —Perdón —dijo ella—, no soy yo misma, del todo. «Вибачте, — сказала вона, — я зовсім не своя».

She leant forward and vomited copiously on the floor.

‘Thass better,' she said, leaning back with closed eyes. ‘Never keep it down, thass what I say. —Nunca lo bajes, eso es lo que digo. «Ніколи не стишайся, ось що я кажу. Get it up while it's fresh on your stomach, like.' Levántalo mientras esté fresco en tu estómago, como. Підніміть його, поки воно свіже на животі, наприклад.

She revived, turned to have another look at Winston and seemed immediately to take a fancy to him. Ella revivió, se volvió para mirar de nuevo a Winston e inmediatamente pareció encapricharse de él. Вона пожвавішала, обернулася, щоб ще раз поглянути на Вінстона, і, здавалося, одразу ж полюбила його. She put a vast arm round his shoulder and drew him towards her, breathing beer and vomit into his face. Ella le rodeó el hombro con un gran brazo y lo atrajo hacia ella, respirando cerveza y vómito en su cara.

‘Wass your name, dearie?' she said. ‘Smith,' said Winston.

‘Smith?' said the woman. ‘Thass funny. My name's Smith too.

Why,' she added sentimentally, ‘I might be your mother!'

She might, thought Winston, be his mother. She was about the right age and physique, and it was probable that people changed somewhat after twenty years in a forced-labour camp.

No one else had spoken to him. To a surprising extent the ordinary criminals ignored the Party prisoners. En una medida sorprendente, los delincuentes comunes ignoraron a los prisioneros del Partido. ‘The polITS,' they called them, with a sort of uninterested contempt. The Party prisoners seemed terrified of speaking to anybody, and above all of speaking to one another. Los prisioneros del Partido parecían aterrorizados de hablar con cualquiera y, sobre todo, de hablar entre ellos. Only once, when two Party members, both women, were pressed close together on the bench, he overheard amid the din of voices a few hurriedly-whispered words; and in particular a reference to something called ‘room one-oh- one', which he did not understand. Лише одного разу, коли двоє партійців, обидві жінки, тісно притиснулися на лаві, він випадково почув серед гоміну голосів кілька поспіхом прошепотених слів; і зокрема посилання на те, що називається «кімната один-о-один», чого він не розумів.

It might be two or three hours ago that they had brought him here. The dull pain in his belly never went away, but sometimes it grew better and sometimes worse, and his thoughts expanded or contracted accordingly. Тупий біль у животі ніколи не зникав, але іноді ставав кращим, а іноді гіршим, і його думки відповідно розширювалися або звужувалися. When it grew worse he thought only of the pain itself, and of his desire for food. When it grew better, panic took hold of him. There were moments when he foresaw the things that would happen to him with such actuality that his heart galloped and his breath stopped. Hubo momentos en los que previó las cosas que le sucederían con tal actualidad que su corazón galopó y su respiración se detuvo. He felt the smash of truncheons on his elbows and iron-shod boots on his shins; he saw himself grovelling on the floor, screaming for mercy through broken teeth.

He hardly thought of Julia. Apenas pensaba en Julia. He could not fix his mind on her. No podía fijar su mente en ella. He loved her and would not betray her; but that was only a fact, known as he knew the rules of arithmetic. La amaba y no la traicionaría; pero eso era sólo un hecho, conocido porque conocía las reglas de la aritmética. He felt no love for her, and he hardly even wondered what was happening to her. No sentía ningún amor por ella y apenas se preguntaba qué le estaba pasando. Він не відчував до неї жодної любові, і навіть не замислювався, що з нею відбувається. He thought oftener of O'Brien, with a flickering hope. Pensó con más frecuencia en O'Brien, con una esperanza vacilante. O'Brien might know that he had been arrested. The Brotherhood, he had said, never tried to save its members. But there was the razor blade; they would send the razor blade if they could. Pero estaba la hoja de afeitar; enviarían la hoja de afeitar si pudieran. There would be perhaps five seconds before the guard could rush into the cell. Минуло б, напевно, п’ять секунд, перш ніж охоронець зможе кинутися до камери. The blade would bite into him with a sort of burning coldness, and even the fingers that held it would be cut to the bone. La hoja lo mordía con una especie de frialdad ardiente, e incluso los dedos que la sostenían se cortaban hasta el hueso. Лезо впивалося б у нього з якоюсь пекучою холодністю, і навіть пальці, які його тримали, були б порізані до кісток. Everything came back to his sick body, which shrank trembling from the smallest pain. Todo volvió a su cuerpo enfermo, que se encogió temblando ante el más mínimo dolor. He was not certain that he would use the razor blade even if he got the chance. No estaba seguro de usar la hoja de afeitar incluso si tuviera la oportunidad. It was more natural to exist from moment to moment, accepting another ten minutes' life even with the certainty that there was torture at the end of it. Era más natural existir de un momento a otro, aceptando otros diez minutos de vida incluso con la certeza de que había tortura al final.

Sometimes he tried to calculate the number of porcelain bricks in the walls of the cell. It should have been easy, but he always lost count at some point or another. More often he wondered where he was, and what time of day it was. Частіше він думав, де він і котра зараз година. At one moment he felt certain that it was broad daylight outside, and at the next equally certain that it was pitch darkness. En un momento tuvo la certeza de que afuera estaba a plena luz del día, y al siguiente estaba igualmente seguro de que estaba completamente oscuro. Одного разу він відчув певність, що надворі серед білого дня, а наступної так само певний, що непроглядна темрява. In this place, he knew instinctively, the lights would never be turned out. En este lugar, sabía instintivamente, las luces nunca se apagarían. It was the place with no darkness: he saw now why O'Brien had seemed to recognize the allusion. Era el lugar sin oscuridad: ahora comprendía por qué O'Brien parecía reconocer la alusión. Це було місце без темряви: тепер він зрозумів, чому О'Браєн, здавалося, розпізнав натяк. In the Ministry of Love there were no windows. En el Ministerio del Amor no había ventanas. His cell might be at the heart of the building or against its outer wall; it might be ten floors below ground, or thirty above it. He moved himself mentally from place to place, and tried to determine by the feeling of his body whether he was perched high in the air or buried deep underground.

There was a sound of marching boots outside. The steel door opened with a clang. A young officer, a trim black-uniformed figure who seemed to glitter all over with polished leather, and whose pale, straight-featured face was like a wax mask, stepped smartly through the doorway. He motioned to the guards outside to bring in the prisoner they were leading. Hizo un gesto a los guardias que estaban afuera para que trajeran al prisionero que llevaban. Він махнув охоронцям, щоб вони ввели в’язня, якого вони вели. The poet Ampleforth shambled into the cell. El poeta Ampleforth entró tambaleándose en la celda. The door clanged shut again. La puerta volvió a cerrarse con un ruido metálico.

Ampleforth made one or two uncertain movements from side to side, as though having some idea that there was another door to go out of, and then began to wander up and down the cell. Ampleforth hizo uno o dos movimientos inseguros de un lado a otro, como si tuviera alguna idea de que había otra puerta por la que salir, y luego empezó a deambular de un lado a otro de la celda. He had not yet noticed Winston's presence. His troubled eyes were gazing at the wall about a metre above the level of Winston's head. He was shoeless; large, dirty toes were sticking out of the holes in his socks. He was also several days away from a shave. También estaba a varios días de afeitarse. A scrubby beard covered his face to the cheekbones, giving him an air of ruffianism that went oddly with his large weak frame and nervous movements. Una barba descuidada cubría su rostro hasta los pómulos, lo que le daba un aire de rufián que combinaba extrañamente con su gran figura débil y sus movimientos nerviosos. Скуйовджена борода закривала його обличчя аж до вилиць, надаючи йому вигляд хуліганства, який дивно поєднувався з його великою слабкою статурою та нервовими рухами.

Winston roused himself a little from his lethargy. Winston se despertó un poco de su letargo. Вінстон трохи прокинувся від летаргії. He must speak to Ampleforth, and risk the yell from the telescreen. Debía hablar con Ampleforth y arriesgarse al grito de la telepantalla. It was even conceivable that Ampleforth was the bearer of the razor blade. Incluso era concebible que Ampleforth fuera el portador de la hoja de afeitar. Можна було навіть припустити, що Амплфорт був носієм леза бритви.

‘Ampleforth,' he said.

There was no yell from the telescreen. Ampleforth paused, mildly startled. His eyes focused themselves slowly on Winston. Sus ojos se enfocaron lentamente en Winston.

‘Ah, Smith!' he said.

‘You too!' ‘What are you in for?' ¿Qué te espera? «За що ти?»

‘To tell you the truth —' He sat down awkwardly on the bench opposite Winston. ‘There is only one offence, is there not?' 'Solo hay una ofensa, ¿no es así?' he said.

‘And have you committed it?' —¿Y lo ha cometido? ‘Apparently I have.'

He put a hand to his forehead and pressed his temples for a moment, as though trying to remember something.

‘These things happen,' he began vaguely. ‘I have been able to recall one instance — a possible instance. “He podido recordar un caso, un posible caso. It was an indiscretion, undoubtedly. We were producing a definitive edition of the poems of Kipling. I allowed the word “God” to remain at the end of a line. Permití que la palabra "Dios" permaneciera al final de una línea. Я дозволив, щоб слово «Бог» залишилося в кінці рядка. I could not help it!' ¡No podría ayudarle!' he added almost indignantly, raising his face to look at Winston. ‘It was impossible to change the line. The rhyme was “rod”. Do you realize that there are only twelve rhymes to “rod” in the entire language? For days I had racked my brains. There WAS no other rhyme.' No HABÍA otra rima.

The expression on his face changed. The annoyance passed out of it and for a moment he looked almost pleased. La molestia desapareció y por un momento pareció casi complacido.