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George Orwell 1 9 8 4<br />
Parsons was removed. More prisoners came and<br />
went, mysteriously. One, a woman, was consigned<br />
to ‘Room 101’, and, Winston noticed, seemed to<br />
shrivel and turn a different colour when she heard<br />
the words. A time came when, if it had been<br />
morning when he was brought here, it would be<br />
afternoon; or if it had been afternoon, then it would<br />
be midnight. There were six prisoners in the cell,<br />
men and women. All sat very still. Opposite<br />
Winston there sat a man with a chinless, toothy face<br />
exactly like that of some large, harmless rodent. His<br />
fat, mottled cheeks were so pouched at the bottom<br />
that it was difficult not to believe that he had little<br />
stores of food tucked away there. His pale-grey<br />
eyes flitted timorously from face to face and turned<br />
quickly away again when he caught anyone’s eye.<br />
The door opened, and another prisoner was brought<br />
in whose appearance sent a momentary chill<br />
through Winston. He was a commonplace, meanlooking<br />
man who might have been an engineer or<br />
technician of some kind. But what was startling was<br />
the emaciation of his face. It was like a skull.<br />
Because of its thinness the mouth and eyes looked<br />
disproportionately large, and the eyes seemed filled<br />
with a murderous, unappeasable hatred of<br />
somebody or something.<br />
The man sat down on the bench at a little distance<br />
from Winston. Winston did not look at him again,<br />
but the tormented, skull-like face was as vivid in<br />
his mind as though it had been straight in front of<br />
his eyes. Suddenly he realized what was the matter.<br />
The man was dying of starvation. The same thought<br />
seemed to occur almost simultaneously to everyone<br />
in the cell. There was a very faint stirring all the<br />
way round the bench. The eyes of the chinless man<br />
kept flitting towards the skull-faced man, then<br />
turning guiltily away, then being dragged back by<br />
an irresistible attraction. Presently he began to<br />
fidget on his seat. At last he stood up, waddled<br />
clumsily across the cell, dug down into the pocket<br />
of his overalls, and, with an abashed air, held out a<br />
grimy piece of bread to the skull-faced man.<br />
266<br />
Se llevaron a Parsons. Entraron y salieron más<br />
presos, misteriosamente. Una mujer fue enviada a<br />
la «habitación 101» y Winston observó que esas<br />
palabras la hicieron cambiar de color. Llegó el<br />
momento en que, si hubiera sido de día cuando le<br />
llevaron allí, sería ya la última hora de la tarde; y<br />
de haber entrado por la tarde, sería ya media<br />
noche. Había seis presos en la celda entre hombres<br />
y mujeres. Todos estaban sentados muy quietos.<br />
Frente a Winston se hallaba un hombre con cara de<br />
roedor; apenas tenía barbilla y sus dientes eran<br />
afilados y salientes. Los carrillos le formaban<br />
bolsones de tal modo que podía pensarse que<br />
almacenaba allí comida. Sus ojos gris pálido se<br />
movían temerosamente de un lado a otro y se<br />
desviaba su mirada en cuanto tropezaba con la de<br />
otra persona.<br />
Se abrió la puerta de nuevo y entró otro preso cuyo<br />
aspecto le causó un escalofrío a Winston. Era un<br />
hombre de aspecto vulgar, quizás un ingeniero o<br />
un técnico. Pero lo sorprendente en él era su figura<br />
esquelético. Su delgadez era tan exagerada que la<br />
boca y los ojos parecían de un tamaño<br />
desproporcionado y en sus ojos se almacenaba un<br />
intenso y criminal odio contra algo o contra<br />
alguien.<br />
El individuo se sentó en el banco a poca distancia<br />
de Winston. Éste no volvió a mirarle, pero la cara<br />
de calavera se le había quedado tan grabada como<br />
si la tuviera continuamente frente a sus ojos. De<br />
pronto comprendió de qué se trataba. Aquel<br />
hombre se moría de hambre. Lo mismo pareció<br />
ocurrírseles casi a la vez a cuantos allí se hallaban.<br />
Se produjo un leve movimiento por todo el banco.<br />
El hombre de la cara de ratón miraba de cuando en<br />
cuando al esquelético y desviaba en seguida la<br />
mirada con aire culpable para volverse a fijarse en<br />
él irresistiblemente atraído. Por fin se levantó,<br />
cruzó pesadamente la celda, se rebuscó en el<br />
bolsillo del «mono» y con aire tímido sacó un<br />
mugriento mendrugo de pan y se lo tendió al<br />
hambriento.