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P. G. Wodehouse El Código De Los Wooster Prefacio

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P. G. Wodehouse El Código De Los Wooster Prefacio P. G. WODEHOUSE EL CÓDIGO DE LOS WOOSTER PREFACIO El problema de discutir por cuánto tiempo puede permitirse a un autor relatar las aventuras de un personaje o personajes determinados, es cosa que ha ocupado frecuentemente la atención de los pensadores. La publicación de este libro sitúa de nuevo esa cuestión en el primer plano de los asuntos nacionales. Hace ahora cosa de catorce años, siendo yo un vehemente muchacho de algo más de treinta, empecé a escribir las aventuras de Jeeves, y mucha gente opina que debería dejar ya de seguir tomándome semejante molestia. Carpers dice que con lo hecho basta. Cavillers juzga lo mismo. Ambos miran la perspectiva de los años venideros, y el prever que en ellos se multiplicarán estas crónicas como conejos, les abruma. Pero contra eso puede alegarse el hecho de que el componer relatos sobre Jeeves me causa intenso placer; y, además, mientras los escribo no ando por las tabernas. ¿A qué conclusión vamos, pues, a llegar? El asunto es indudablemente muy discutible. De entre la turbamulta de los detalles y recriminaciones, emerge un hecho: el de que ya tenemos aquí un volumen más de la serie. Y yo profeso la arraigada creencia de que, si una cosa vale la pena de hacerla, debe hacerse a conciencia y del todo. Es perfectamente posible, sin duda, leer ¡Muy bien, Jeeves!, efectuando un supremo esfuerzo, y no menos posible, desde luego, no leerlo; pero prefiero pensar que nuestro país contiene seres de enérgico espíritu absolutamente capaces de revolver el fondo del viejo arcón de roble hasta encontrar la suma necesaria para adquirir los volúmenes anteriores de la serie de «Jeeves». Sólo así podrían obtenerse los máximos resultados. Sólo así las alusiones incluidas en este libro a propósito de incidentes sucedidos en los anteriores se harán inteligibles, en lugar de ser enigmáticas y brumosas. Podemos ofrecer a usted esos previos libros al irrisorio precio de 25 pesetas cada uno, y el método de obtenerlos es, puedo decirlo, la sencillez misma. No tiene usted que hacer otra cosa sino dirigirse a la librería más cercana, donde se desarrollará el diálogo siguiente: USTED: Buenos días, señor librero. LIBRERO: Buenos días, señor Fulano. USTED : Deseo comprar los volúmenes publicados de la serie de «Jeeves». LIBRERO: Muy bien, señor Fulano. Efectúe usted el módico pago de 25 pesetas por volumen, y los tomos le serán entregados a su comodidad. USTED: Buenos días, señor librero. LIBRERO: Buenos días, señor Fulano. Supongamos el caso de un viajero francés, de tránsito en nuestra capital, y, para mejor comprensión, llamemos a ese viajero Jules St. Xavier Popinot. En ese caso, la escena transcurrirá como sigue: AU COIN DE LIVRES POPINOT: Bonjour, Monsieur le marchand de livres. MARCHAND: Bonjour, Monsieur. Quel beau temps aujourd’hui, n'est-ce-pas? POPINOT: Absolument. Eskervous la collection de «Jeeves» du maitre Vodeouse? MARCHAND: Mais certainement, Monsieur. POPINOT: Donnez-moi touts les volumes, s'il vous plait. MARCHAND: Oui, par exemple, morbleu. Et aussi la plume, l'encre, et la tante du jardinière? POPINOT: Je m'en fiche de cela. Je désire seulement le Vodeouse. MARCHAND: Pas de chemises, de cravats, ou le tonic par les cheveux? POPINOT: Seulemente le Vodeouse, je vous assure. MARCHAND: Parfaitement, Monsieur, 25 pesetas pour chaqué bibelot, Monsieur. POPINOT: Bonjour, Monsieur. MARCHAND: Bonjour Monsieur. ¿Ven qué sencillo es? ¡Ah! Exijan el nombre «Wodehouse» en todas las cubiertas. P. G. W. CAPÍTULO I Saqué una mano de entre las sábanas y toqué el timbre llamando a Jeeves. —Buenas tardes, Jeeves. —Buenos días, señor. Esto me sorprendió. —¿Es aún de mañana? —Sí, señor. —¿Está usted cierto? Me parece todo muy oscuro. —Hay niebla, señor. Si el señor quiere recordar, estamos en otoño, la estación de las nieblas y la dulce fecundidad. —¿Estación de qué? —De las nieblas y la dulce fecundidad, señor. —¡Ah...! Sí, sí, ya comprendo. En fin, sea como sea, ¿quiere traerme uno de esos cordiales que usted prepara? —Tengo uno a punto en la nevera, señor. Salió silenciosamente y me senté en la cama con aquella desagradable sensación que se siente algunas veces de que se está a cinco minutos de la muerte. La noche anterior, había dado una pequeña cena, en el «Club de los Zánganos», en honor de Gussie Fink-Nottle, como despedida de soltero antes de su próximo enlace con Madeline, hija única de Sir Watkyn Bassett, C. B. E.1 y esas cosas tienen su resonancia. Por esta razón, antes de que Jeeves entrase en mi habitación, estaba soñando que un verdugo me clavaba dardos en la cabeza, pero no dardos corrientes como los que usó Jael, la esposa de Heber, sino dardos al rojo blanco. Jeeves regresó con el brebaje restaurador. Me lo eché al coleto y, después de soportar el pasajero malestar, inevitable cuando se bebe el brebaje matinal, patente de Jeeves, de lanzar contra el techo el occipucio y jugar al tenis con los ojos contra la pared de enfrente, me sentí aliviado. Hubiera sido exagerado decir que Bertram estaba 1 Commander British Empire. de nuevo en la plena forma de su media edad, pero había por lo menos entrado en la categoría de los convalecientes y se sentía capaz de soportar un poco de conversación. —¡Ah! —dije, recuperando mis ojos y poniéndolos en su lugar correspondiente—. Bueno, Jeeves. ¿Qué pasa por ese mundo? ¿Qué trae usted en la mano? ¿Es el periódico? —No, señor. Es un prospecto de la Agencia de Viajes. He pensado que al señor podría quizá interesarle echarle una ojeada. —¿De veras? ¿Conque ha pensado usted...? —dije. Y en la habitación se hizo un breve y... angustioso, si es que puedo expresarme así, silencio. Es de suponer que cuando dos hombres de voluntad de hierro viven en estrecha asociación, tienen forzosamente que chocar algunas veces, y uno de estos choques había tenido lugar recientemente en casa de Wooster. Jeeves se empeñaba en llevarme a hacer un Crucero Alrededor del Mundo, y yo me había empeñado en no hacerlo. Pero, a pesar de mis categóricas afirmaciones en este sentido, raras veces pasaba día sin que Jeeves me trajese un montón de aquellos prospectos prometedores que los Amantes De Los Amplios Espacios distribuyen a fin de reclutar adeptos a son de bombo y platillos. Su actitud recordaba irresistiblemente la del sabueso que persiste con obstinación en traer una rata muerta sobre la alfombra del salón, a pesar de habérsele dicho que la demanda de aquella mercancía era nula o inexistente. —Jeeves —le dije—. Creo que es hora de que cese esta molestia. —Viajar es muy instructivo, señor. —Me es imposible tener más instrucción, Jeeves. Ya hace años que la completé. No, Jeeves, ya sé lo que le ocurre. Es la sangre ancestral de los vikingos que bulle en sus venas. Suspira usted por respirar brisas salobres. Se ve usted deambulando por cubierta con una gorra de marino en la cabeza. Es posible que alguien le haya hablado de las bailarinas de Bali. Lo comprendo y merece mis simpatías. Pero rehúso formalmente embarcar en barco alguno y dar la vuelta al mundo. —Muy bien, señor. Dijo estas palabras con cierto tono de ¿qué pasará aquí?, y me di cuenta de que si no estaba profundamente disgustado tampoco había quedado complacido, por lo cual cambié de conversación. —Bueno, Jeeves, anoche nos corrimos una juerga bastante divertida. —¿De veras, señor? —Mucho. Nos divertimos todos enormemente. Gussie me dio recuerdos para usted. —Aprecio muchísimo la atención, señor. Espero que Mr. Fink- Nottle estaría de buen humor. —Muy bueno; teniendo en cuenta que todo va adelante y en breve tendrá a Sir Watkyn Bassett por suegro. ¡Antes él que yo, Jeeves, antes él que yo! Dije estas palabras con profundo sentimiento y se comprenderá por qué. Hacía pocos meses, durante la celebración de unas regatas nocturnas, había caído en las garras de la ley por haber tratado de privar a un agente de policía de su canoa, y, después de haber dormido profundamente sobre un lecho de madera, fui llevado a Bosher Street, a la mañana siguiente, y condenado a desprenderme de cinco de mis mejores libras. El magistrado que me había infligido esta monstruosa sentencia —con el aditamento de algunas ofensivas observaciones por parte del tribunal— no era otro que el propio Pop Bassett, padre de la futura esposa de Gussie. El azar quiso que yo fuese uno de sus últimos clientes, porque, un par de semanas después, heredó una importante suma de un lejano pariente y se retiró a vivir en el campo. Ésta por lo menos fue la historia referida. Mi opinión particular es que había recaudado el capital agarrándose a las multas como si estuviesen untadas de pez. Cinco libritas por aquí, cinco libritas por allá, ya ven ustedes a cuánto puede ascender la cosa al cabo de unos años. —No puede haber olvidado usted a aquel hombre rencoroso, Jeeves. Fue un caso terrible, ¿no? —Acaso sea menos temible en la vida privada, señor. —Lo dudo, lo dudo... Córtelo a trozos o en rodajas, un sabueso es siempre un sabueso. ¡En fin! Basta por hoy, Jeeves. ¿Hay cartas? —No, señor. —¿Llamada telefónica? —Una, señor. De Mrs. Travers. —¿Tía Dalia? ¿Ha regresado, pues? —Sí, señor. Ha expresado su deseo de que el señor la llame, a su conveniencia, lo antes posible. —Haré algo mejor, Jeeves —dije cordialmente—. Iré a verla personalmente. Y media hora después subía la escalera de su residencia y era recibido por el viejo Seppings, el mayordomo. Poco podía yo suponer, mientras franqueaba aquella entrada, que en menos que cantase un gallo me iba a ver envuelto en un imbroglio que iba a poner a prueba el tesón de los Wooster como pocas veces había sido puesto.
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