EN + ES
Escuchar
23
Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 3, Página 3
"Well,
Sid
doesn't
bother
me
like
you
do.
You'd
be
in
that
sugar
all
the
time
if
I
didn't
watch
you."
Soon
she
went
into
the
kitchen,
and
Sid,
feeling
safe,
reached
for
the
sugar
bowl,
showing
off
to
Tom,
which
was
almost
unbearable.
But
Sid's
fingers
slipped,
and
the
bowl
fell
and
broke.
Tom
was
thrilled.
He
was
so
happy
that
he
kept
quiet.
He
decided
not
to
say
a
word,
even
when
his
aunt
came
back.
He
would
wait
until
she
asked
who
did
it,
and
then
he
would
tell,
and
nothing
would
be
better
than
seeing
Sid
get
in
trouble.
He
was
so
full
of
excitement
that
he
could
barely
contain
himself
when
Aunt
Polly
returned,
standing
over
the
mess
with
anger
flashing
from
her
eyes.
He
thought,
"Now
it's
coming!"
And
the
next
moment
he
was
on
the
floor!
Her
hand
was
raised
to
hit
again
when
Tom
shouted:
"Wait,
why
are
you
hitting
me?—Sid
broke
it!"
Aunt
Polly
stopped,
confused,
and
Tom
hoped
for
some
sympathy.
But
when
she
spoke
again,
she
only
said:
"Hmm!
Well,
you
didn't
get
hit
for
nothing,
I
guess.
You've
probably
been
up
to
some
other
trouble
when
I
wasn't
looking."
Then
her
conscience
bothered
her,
and
she
wanted
to
say
something
kind
and
loving.
But
she
thought
this
would
show
she
was
wrong,
and
she
couldn't
allow
that.
So
she
stayed
silent
and
went
about
her
day
with
a
troubled
heart.
Tom
sulked
in
a
corner
and
felt
sorry
for
himself.
He
knew
that
deep
down,
his
aunt
felt
sorry
too,
and
he
felt
a
dark
satisfaction
from
this.
He
wouldn't
give
any
signs,
nor
would
he
notice
any.
He
knew
she
sometimes
looked
at
him
with
tears
in
her
eyes,
but
he
ignored
it.
He
imagined
himself
lying
sick,
almost
dying,
with
his
aunt
begging
for
one
forgiving
word,
but
he
would
turn
away
and
die
without
saying
it.
How
would
she
feel
then?
He
imagined
being
brought
home
from
the
river,
dead,
with
wet
curls
and
a
peaceful
heart.
She
would
cry
over
him,
her
tears
falling
like
rain,
praying
to
have
him
back
and
promising
never
to
be
harsh
again.
But
he
would
lie
there
cold
and
still,
a
little
sufferer
whose
troubles
were
over.
He
got
so
caught
up
in
these
sad
thoughts
that
he
had
to
swallow
to
keep
from
choking.
His
eyes
filled
with
tears
that
ran
down
his
nose.
He
enjoyed
feeling
sorry
for
himself
so
much
that
he
didn't
want
any
happiness
to
ruin
it.
So
when
his
cousin
Mary
came
in,
full
of
joy
after
a
week
in
the
country,
he
got
up
and
left,
moving
in
gloom
as
she
brought
happiness
into
the
room.
He
wandered
far
from
where
boys
usually
played
and
looked
for
lonely
places
that
matched
his
mood.
A
log
raft
in
the
river
caught
his
eye,
and
he
sat
on
its
edge,
staring
at
the
wide,
empty
river.
He
wished
he
could
drown
without
feeling
anything.
Then
he
remembered
his
flower.
He
took
it
out,
rumpled
and
wilted,
and
it
added
to
his
sad
happiness.
He
wondered
if
she
would
pity
him
if
she
knew.
Would
she
cry
and
wish
she
could
comfort
him?
Or
would
she
turn
away
like
everyone
else?
This
thought
brought
him
such
sweet
sorrow
that
he
imagined
it
again
and
again
until
it
lost
its
power.
Finally,
he
sighed,
got
up,
and
left
in
the
darkness.
Around
half-past
nine
or
ten,
he
walked
down
the
empty
street
to
where
the
Adored
Unknown
lived.
He
paused
for
a
moment;
no
sound
reached
his
ears.
A
candle
cast
a
faint
glow
on
a
second-story
window.
Was
she
there?
He
climbed
the
fence
and
quietly
moved
through
the
plants
until
he
stood
under
the
window.
He
looked
up
at
it
with
deep
emotion,
then
lay
down
on
the
ground,
hands
clasped
on
his
chest,
holding
his
poor
wilted
flower.
He
imagined
dying
there,
in
the
cold
world,
with
no
shelter,
no
one
to
wipe
the
sweat
from
his
brow,
no
loving
face
to
comfort
him.
And
when
she
looked
out
in
the
morning,
would
she
drop
a
tear
for
him?
Would
she
sigh
at
the
sight
of
a
young
life
lost
so
soon?
||
||
Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — B1 Inglés | Cuentana