La cultiveria de la animales

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par George Orwell
Traduida par David Mann (david@davidmann.us)

Capitol 1

Sr Jones, de la Cultiveria Manor, securi la casas de gales per la note, ma el es tro ebra per memora clui la bucetas. Con la anelo de lus de sua lampa dansante de lado a lado, el pasea lenta tra la patio, despone sua botas par colpa con pede a la porte posterior, versa per se un vitro final de bir de la baril en la cosina posterior, e vade a sua leto, do Sra Jones resona ja.

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

Direta pos cuando on estingui la lus en la sala de dormi, on ave disturba en tota la construidas de la cultiveria. On sperde un rumor a la dia ce Old Major, la porco mas e premior Middle White, ia ave sonia strana a note ier e vole comunica lo a la otra animales. On ia acorda ce cadun va encontra en la graneria grande direta pos cuando Sr Jones va es secur estra vista. En la cultiveria on regarda tan bon Old Major (on sempre clama el tal, an si la nom par cual on ia esibi el es Willingdon Beauty) ce cadun es multe volente perde un ora de dormi per oia lo cual el vole dise.

As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other animals. It had been agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to lose an hour’s sleep in order to hear what he had to say.

A un fini de la graneria grande, sur un tipo de plataforma levada, Major senta ja sur sua leto de palia, su un lampo cual pende de un faxon. El ave des-du anios, e el crese resente alga obesa, ma el es un porco de aspeta gloriosa, saja, e bonvolente an si on nunca ia talia sua dentones. Pronto la otra animales comensa ariva e fa ce los es comfortosa en sua propre modas. Prima la tri canes veni, Bluebell, Jessie, e Pincher, e pos alora la porcos, ci senta sur la palia direta ante la plataforma. La gales fema perxi sur la cornisas de fenetra, la pijones voleta supra a la faxones, e la oveas e la boves reclina pos la porcos e comensa remastica. La du cavalos de caro, Boxer e Clover, entra juntada, paseante multe lenta e ponente multe curante sua ungias grande e pelos per caso ce un animal peti asconde en la palia. Clover es un cavalo obesa e madrin prosiminte la eda media, ci ia reobteni vera nunca sua forma pos sua cavaleta cuatro. Boxer es un besta enorme, a sirca des-oto manos de altia, e el es tan forte como cualce du cavalos normal juntada. Un raio blanca longo sua nas dona a el un aspeta alga stupida, e en fato el no ave un intelijentia vera alta, ma on el es universal respetada per sua firmia de carater e sua potia enorme de labora. Pos la cavalos, Muriel, la capra blanca, e Benjamin, la asino, entra. Benjamin es la animal la plu vea en la cultiveria e ave la plu mal tempera. El parla rara, e cuando el parla, el fa usual un comenta sinical — per esemplo, el dise ce Dio ia dona a el un coda per forsa a via la moscas, ma el ta prefere ce el ta ave no coda e no moscas. El es la sola animal ci rie nunca. Si on demanda perce, el dise ce el vide no cosa riable. An tal, sin reconose abrida, el es dedicada a Boxer; la du pasa usual soldi juntada en la campo peti de cavalos ultra la bosce de frutas, comente a pasto con lado a lado e nunca parlante.

At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the fact that his tushes had never been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw immediately in front of the platform. The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud. The two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover, came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of first-rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and tremendous powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark — for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usually spent their Sundays together in the small paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and never speaking.

La du cavalos veni de reclina cuando un grupo de patetas, ci ia perde sua madre, entra la graneria en un linia, ruidinte debil e vagante de lado a lado per trova un loca do on no ta fa un paso sur los. Clover fa un tipo de mur sirca los per sua gama fronte, e la patetas nidi a interna de lo e adormi rapida. A la momento final, Mollie, la cavalo fema, blanca e fol ci tira la caro de Sr Jones, entra delicata, masticante un masa de zucar. El prende un loca prosima a la fronte e comensa penduli sua crinera blanca, esperante per fa persepi a la sintas roja per cual on ia trensa lo. A fini la gato entra, ci xerca como usual la loca la plu calda e presa se entre Boxer e Clover; ala el ronrona contente tra la parla de Major sen escuta un parola de lo cual el dise.

The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find some place where they would not be trodden on. Clover made a sort of wall round them with her great foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones’s trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with. Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major’s speech without listening to a word of what he was saying.

Tota la animales es aora presente con eseta de Moses, la corvo domada, ci dormi sur un perxo pos la porta posterior. Pos cuando Major vide ce tota de los fa ce los es comfortosa e los espeta atendente, el fa sua garga es clar e comensa:

All the animals were now present except Moses, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that they had all made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat and began:

“Cameradas, vos ia oia ja de la sonia strana cual me ia ave a note ier. Ma me va parla de la sonia plu tarda. Me ave un otra cosa cual me vole dise prima. Me no opina, cameradas, ce me va es con vos pos multe plu menses, e ante cuando me va mori, me senti ce me obliga dona a vos la sajia cual me ia oteni. Me ia ave un vive longa, e me ia ave multe tempo per pensa en cuando me ia reclina en mea stala, e me opina ce me pote dise ce me comprende la natur de la vive sur esta tera tan bon como cualce animal aora vivente. Lo es sur esta cual me vole parla a vos.

‘Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I shall be with you for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long life, I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my stall, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of life on this earth as well as any animal now living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you.

“Cameradas, cual es la natur de esta vive nosa? Ta ce nos fasa la veria: nosa vives es misera, laborosa, e corta. Nos nase, on dona a nos la comeda sola sufisinte per manteni la aira en nosa corpos, e on fa ce aceles de nos es capas labora asta la atom final de nosa fortia; e a la momento un cuando nosa usosia fini, on mata nos con cruelia xocante fea. No animal en England sabe la sinifia de felisia o osio pos cuando el ave un anio. No animal en England es libre. La vive de un animal es miseria e sclavia: acel es la veria clar.

‘Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth.

“Ma esce esta es simple la ordina de natur? Esce esta car esta tera nosa es tan povre ce lo no pote dona un bon vive a los ci abita el? No, cameradas, mil veses no! La tera de England es fertil, sua clima es bon, e lo es capas de dona la comeda abunda a un numero de animales enorme plu grande ca ci aora abita el. Esta un cultiveria nosa ta susta un desduple de cavalos, dudes boves, sentos de oveas — e tota los vivente en un comforta e un dinia cual es aora cuasi ultra nosa potia de imajina. Perce nos dura en esta state misera? Car umanas fura cuasi la intera de nosa labora de nos. Ala, cameradas, on ave la responde a nosa problemes. On pote dise lo con un parola — Umana. Umana es la sola enemi vera cual nos ave. Si nos ta estrae Umana de la vista, on ta aboli sempre la causa radisal de famia e de labora tro multe.

‘But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of England is fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance to an enormously greater number of animals than now inhabit it. This single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep — and all of them living in a comfort and a dignity that are now almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our labour is stolen from us by human beings. There, comrades, is the answer to all our problems. It is summed up in a single word — Man. Man is the only real enemy we have. Remove Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever.

“Umana es la sola creada ci consuma sin produi. El no dona la lete, el no ovipari, el es tro debil per tira la arado, e el no pote core sufisinte rapida per catura la coneos. An tal el es la padron de tota la animales. El fa ce los labora, el redona a los la minima asoluta cual preveni ce los ta mori de famia, e el reteni la resta per se. Nosa labora aradi la tera, nosa fese fertili el, e an tal nun de nos posese plu ca nosa propre pel. Vos boves ci me vide ante me, cuanto miles de galones de lete vos ia dona a esta anio pasada? E cual ia aveni a acel lete cual ia ta debe eleva bovetas forte? Cada gota de lo ia vade longo la gargas de nosa enemis. E vos gales fema, cuanto ovos vos ia dona a esta anio pasada, e cuanto ovos ia sorti de casca e ia deveni gales? La resta ia vade a la mercato per trae alga mone a Jones e sua omes. E tu, Clover, do es acel cuatro cavaletas cual tu ia fa nase, ci ia ta debe es tua suporta e plaser de tua eda vea? On vende cada a la eda de un anio — tu va vide nunca denova los. Per tua cuatro restrinjes e tota tua labora en la campos, cual tu ia ave a cualce ves con eseta de tua divide povre de comeda e un stala?

‘Man is the only creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run fast enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of all the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet there is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how many thousands of gallons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies. And you hens, how many eggs have you laid in this last year, and how many of those eggs ever hatched into chickens? The rest have all gone to market to bring in money for Jones and his men. And you, Clover, where are those four foals you bore, who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at a year old — you will never see one of them again. In return for your four confinements and all your labour in the fields, what have you ever had except your bare rations and a stall?

“E on no permete an ce la vives misera cual nos gida ateni sua longia natural. Regardante me, me no murmura, car me es un de la fortunosas. Me ave des-du anios e ave plu ca cuatrosentro enfantes. Tal es la vive natural de un porco. Ma no animal evade la cotel cruel a la fin. Vos porcos joven ci senta ante me, cada de vos va cria per vosa vives a la bloco ante cuando un anio va pasa. A acel teror nos tota debe veni—boves, porcos, gales, oveas, cadun. An la cavalos e la canes no ave un fortuna plu bon. Tu, Boxer, a la mesma dia cuando tua musculos grande va perde sua potia, Jones va vende tu a la carnor, ci va talia tua garga e va boli tu per la canes xasante. Regardante la canes, pos cuando los va senese e va perde sua dentes, Jones va lia un brice a sirca sua colos e va afoca los en la lageta la plu prosima.

‘And even the miserable lives we lead are not allowed to reach their natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones. I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred children. Such is the natural life of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror we all must come — cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those great muscles of yours lose their power, Jones will sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds. As for the dogs, when they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick round their necks and drowns them in the nearest pond.

“Esce lo no es vera clar, donce, cameradas, ce tota la malias de esta vive veni par causa de la tirania de umanas? Si sola nos ta aboli Umana, la produidas de nosa labora ta es la nosas. Cuasi direta nos ta deveni rica e libre. Pos alora cual nos debe fa? Labora a dia e note, con la corpo e la spirito, per suverti la raza umana! Acel es mea mesaje a vos, cameradas: La Rebela! Me no sabe cuando acel Rebela va veni, cisa pos un semano o sento anios, ma me sabe, tan serta como me vide esta palia su mea pedes, ce a un ves o un otra on va fa justia. Fisa vosa oios a acel, cameradas, tra la resta de vosa vives! E supra tota, comunica esta mesaje mea a los ci va veni pos vos, afin la jeneras futur dura la luta asta cuando lo va es vinsente.

‘Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that all the evils of this life of ours spring from the tyranny of human beings? Only get rid of Man, and the produce of our labour would be our own. A1most overnight we could become rich and free. What then must we do? Why, work night and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the human race! That is my message to you, comrades: Rebellion! I do not know when that Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I know, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that sooner or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above all, pass on this message of mine to those who come after you, so that future generations shall carry on the struggle until it is victorious.

“E memora, cameradas, vosa determina debe no vasila. No disputa debe malgida vos. Escuta nunca cuando los dise a vos ce Umana e la animales ave interesa comun, ce la ricia de un es la ricia de la otras. Tota es mentis. Umana servi la interesas de no creada con eseta de se. E entre nos animales, ta ce on ave unia perfeta, cameradia perfeta en la luta. Tota umanas es enemis. Tota animales es cameradas.”

‘And remember, comrades, your resolution must never falter. No argument must lead you astray. Never listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is all lies. Man serves the interests of no creature except himself. And among us animals let there be perfect unity, perfect comradeship in the struggle. All men are enemies. All animals are comrades.’

A acel momente on ave tumulta enorme. En cuando Major ia parla, cuatro ratas grande ia rampe de sua foras e ia senta sur sua culos, escutante el. La canes ia vide subita los, e sola un core rapida a sua foras ia salva sua vives. Major leva sua pede per demanda per silentia.

At this moment there was a tremendous uproar. While Major was speaking four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight of them, and it was only by a swift dash for their holes that the rats saved their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence.

“Cameradas,” el dise, “asi on ave un punto cual on debe deside. La creadas savaje, per esemplo, la ratas e la coneos — esce los es nosa amis o nosa enemis? Ta ce nos deside per vota. Me proposa esta demanda a la reuni: Esce la ratas es cameradas?”

‘Comrades,’ he said, ‘here is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits — are they our friends or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats comrades?’

Los vota direta, e los acorda con un majoria inondante ce la ratas es cameradas. On ave sola cuatro oposante, la tre canes e la gato, ma on va trova plu tarda ce la gato ia vota ambos si e no. Major continua:

The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. There were only four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on both sides. Major continued:

“Me ave sola poca plu cual me vole dise. Me sola repete: memora sempre vosa debe de odia a la Umana e tota sua modos. Cualcun pasea per du gamas es un enemi. Cualcun pasea per cuatro gamas, o ave alas, es un ami. E ance memora ce, par combata la Umana, nos debe no comensa sembla el. An pos cuando vos va vinse el, no adota sua vilias. No animal debe nunca vive en un casa, o dormi en un leto, o bevi la alcohol, o fumi la tabaco, o toca la mone, o comersia. Tota la abituas de la Umana es mal. E supra tota, no animal debe nunca terori sua propre spesie. Debil o forte, intelijente o stupida, tota de nos es frates. No animal debe nunca mata cualce otra animal. Tota la animales es egal.

‘I have little more to say. I merely repeat, remember always your duty of enmity towards Man and all his ways. Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs, or has wings, is a friend. And remember also that in fighting against Man, we must not come to resemble him. Even when you have conquered him, do not adopt his vices. No animal must ever live in a house, or sleep in a bed, or wear clothes, or drink alcohol, or smoke tobacco, or touch money, or engage in trade. All the habits of Man are evil. And, above all, no animal must ever tyrannise over his own kind. Weak or strong, clever or simple, we are all brothers. No animal must ever kill any other animal. All animals are equal.

“E aora, cameradas, me va dise a vos de mea sonia de la note presedente. Me no pote descrive acel sonia a vos. Lo ia es un sonia de la tera como lo va es pos cuando la Umana va desapare. Ma lo ia recorda me de alga cosa cual me ia oblida a multe tempo a ante. Ante multe anios, cuando me ia es un porco peti, mea madre e la otra porcos fema ia canta un cantada vea de cual los ia conose sola la melodio e la tre parolas prima. Me ia conose acel melodio en mea bebia, ma lo ia departi de mea mente a multe tempo a ante. An tal a la note presedente lo ia reveni a me en mea sonia. En ajunta, la parolas de la cantada ance ia reveni—parolas, me es serta, cual la animales ia canta a multe tempo a ante e cual on ia perde de la memoria per jeneras. Me va canta acel cantada aora a vos, cameradas. Me es vea e me vose es ronca, ma pos cuando me va ensenia la melodio a vos, vos va pote canta lo plu bon per vos mesmas. On clama lo, Bestas de England.”

‘And now, comrades, I will tell you about my dream of last night. I cannot describe that dream to you. It was a dream of the earth as it will be when Man has vanished. But it reminded me of something that I had long forgotten. Many years ago, when I was a little pig, my mother and the other sows used to sing an old song of which they knew only the tune and the first three words. I had known that tune in my infancy, but it had long since passed out of my mind. Last night, however, it came back to me in my dream. And what is more, the words of the song also came back — words, I am certain, which were sung by the animals of long ago and have been lost to memory for generations. I will sing you that song now, comrades. I am old and my voice is hoarse, but when I have taught you the tune, you can sing it better for yourselves. It is called Beasts of England.’

Old Major fa ce sua garga es clar e comensa canta. Como el ia dise, sua vose es ronca, ma el canta sufisinte bon, e lo es un cantada stimulante, alga cosa entre Clementine e La Cucaracha. La parolas es:

Old Major cleared his throat and began to sing. As he had said, his voice was hoarse, but he sang well enough, and it was a stirring tune, something between Clementine and La Cucaracha. The words ran:

Bestas de England, Bestas de Er,
Bestas de cada nasion e clima,
Escuta mea novas joiosa
De la tempo futur e orosa.

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken to my joyful tidings
Of the golden future time.

Pronto o tarda la dia va ariva,
On va suverti Umana Tiranal,
E sola la bestas va crase su pede
La campos frutosa de England.

Soon or late the day is coming,
Tyrant Man shall be o’erthrown,
And the fruitful fields of England
Shall be trod by beasts alone.

La anelos va desapare de nosa nases,
E la arnes de nosa dorsos,
La brida e la stribo va osidi sempre,
La flajelos cruel va craci no plu.

Rings shall vanish from our noses,
And the harness from our back,
Bit and spur shall rust forever,
Cruel whips no more shall crack.

La ricia plu ca la mente pote imajina,
La trigo e la orzo, la avena e la feno,
La trefolia, favas, e betas
Va es la nosa a acel dia.

Riches more than mind can picture,
Wheat and barley, oats and hay,
Clover, beans, and mangel-wurzels
Shall be ours upon that day.

La campos de England va brilia,
Sua acuas va es plu pur,
Sua ventetas va sofla an plu dulse
A la dia cual va libri nos.

Bright will shine the fields of England,
Purer shall its waters be,
Sweeter yet shall blow its breezes
On the day that sets us free.

Per acel dia tota de nos debe labora
An si nos va mori ante cuando lo va veni;
Boves e cavalos, gansos e pavos,
Tota debe labora per la libria.

For that day we all must labour,
Though we die before it break;
Cows and horses, geese and turkeys,
All must toil for freedom’s sake.

Bestas de England, Bestas de Er,
Bestas de cada nasion e clima,
Escuta mea novas joiosa
De la tempo futur e orosa.

Beasts of England, beasts of Ireland,
Beasts of every land and clime,
Hearken well and spread my tidings
Of the golden future time.

La canta de esta cantada stimula multe la animales. Apena ante cuando Major ateni la fini, los mesmas comensa canta lo. An la animales la plu stupida aprende ja la melodia e poca parolas, e la intelijentes, per esemplo la porcos e la canes, los memora tota la cantada pos poca minutos. E pos alora, pos poca atentas prima, tota la cultiveria comensa canta completa unida Bestas de England. Cada animal abaia lo en sua propre modo. La cantada deleta tan multe los ce los canta lo a sinco veses en segue, e posable los ta dura canta lo a tota note si on no ta interompe los.

The singing of this song threw the animals into the wildest excitement. Almost before Major had reached the end, they had begun singing it for themselves. Even the stupidest of them had already picked up the tune and a few of the words, and as for the clever ones, such as the pigs and dogs, they had the entire song by heart within a few minutes. And then, after a few preliminary tries, the whole farm burst out into Beasts of England in tremendous unison. The cows lowed it, the dogs whined it, the sheep bleated it, the horses whinnied it, the ducks quacked it. They were so delighted with the song that they sang it right through five times in succession, and might have continued singing it all night if they had not been interrupted.

Nonfortunosa, la tumulta velia Sr Jones, ci salta de sua leto e serti ce on ave un volpe en la patio. El prende la fusil cual sta sempre a un angula de sua sala de dormi, e el xuta un carga de xutadas numero sis a en la oscuria. La xutadas entera a en la mur de la graneria, e on rompe rapida la reuni. Cadun fuji a sua propre loca de dormi. La avias salta a sua perxas, la animales reposa en la feno, e tota la cultiveria adormi pos un momento.

Unfortunately, the uproar awoke Mr. Jones, who sprang out of bed, making sure that there was a fox in the yard. He seized the gun which always stood in a corner of his bedroom, and let fly a charge of number 6 shot into the darkness. The pellets buried themselves in the wall of the barn and the meeting broke up hurriedly. Everyone fled to his own sleeping-place. The birds jumped on to their perches, the animals settled down in the straw, and the whole farm was asleep in a moment.

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