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34
Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer
Capítulo 5, Página 2
There
was
a
rustling
of
dresses,
and
the
standing
congregation
sat
down.
The
boy
whose
history
this
book
relates
did
not
enjoy
the
prayer,
he
only
endured
it—if
he
even
did
that
much.
He
was
restive
all
through
it;
he
kept
tally
of
the
details
of
the
prayer,
unconsciously—for
he
was
not
listening,
but
he
knew
the
ground
of
old,
and
the
clergyman’s
regular
route
over
it—and
when
a
little
trifle
of
new
matter
was
interlarded,
his
ear
detected
it
and
his
whole
nature
resented
it;
he
considered
additions
unfair,
and
scoundrelly.
In
the
midst
of
the
prayer
a
fly
had
lit
on
the
back
of
the
pew
in
front
of
him
and
tortured
his
spirit
by
calmly
rubbing
its
hands
together,
embracing
its
head
with
its
arms,
and
polishing
it
so
vigorously
that
it
seemed
to
almost
part
company
with
the
body,
and
the
slender
thread
of
a
neck
was
exposed
to
view;
scraping
its
wings
with
its
hind
legs
and
smoothing
them
to
its
body
as
if
they
had
been
coat-tails;
going
through
its
whole
toilet
as
tranquilly
as
if
it
knew
it
was
perfectly
safe.
As
indeed
it
was;
for
as
sorely
as
Tom’s
hands
itched
to
grab
for
it
they
did
not
dare—he
believed
his
soul
would
be
instantly
destroyed
if
he
did
such
a
thing
while
the
prayer
was
going
on.
But
with
the
closing
sentence
his
hand
began
to
curve
and
steal
forward;
and
the
instant
the
“Amen”
was
out
the
fly
was
a
prisoner
of
war.
His
aunt
detected
the
act
and
made
him
let
it
go.
The
minister
gave
out
his
text
and
droned
along
monotonously
through
an
argument
that
was
so
prosy
that
many
a
head
by
and
by
began
to
nod—and
yet
it
was
an
argument
that
dealt
in
limitless
fire
and
brimstone
and
thinned
the
predestined
elect
down
to
a
company
so
small
as
to
be
hardly
worth
the
saving.
Tom
counted
the
pages
of
the
sermon;
after
church
he
always
knew
how
many
pages
there
had
been,
but
he
seldom
knew
anything
else
about
the
discourse.
However,
this
time
he
was
really
interested
for
a
little
while.
The
minister
made
a
grand
and
moving
picture
of
the
assembling
together
of
the
world’s
hosts
at
the
millennium
when
the
lion
and
the
lamb
should
lie
down
together
and
a
little
child
should
lead
them.
But
the
pathos,
the
lesson,
the
moral
of
the
great
spectacle
were
lost
upon
the
boy;
he
only
thought
of
the
conspicuousness
of
the
principal
character
before
the
on-looking
nations;
his
face
lit
with
the
thought,
and
he
said
to
himself
that
he
wished
he
could
be
that
child,
if
it
was
a
tame
lion.
Now
he
lapsed
into
suffering
again,
as
the
dry
argument
was
resumed.
Presently
he
bethought
him
of
a
treasure
he
had
and
got
it
out.
It
was
a
large
black
beetle
with
formidable
jaws—a
“pinchbug,”
he
called
it.
It
was
in
a
percussion-cap
box.
The
first
thing
the
beetle
did
was
to
take
him
by
the
finger.
A
natural
fillip
followed,
the
beetle
went
floundering
into
the
aisle
and
lit
on
its
back,
and
the
hurt
finger
went
into
the
boy’s
mouth.
The
beetle
lay
there
working
its
helpless
legs,
unable
to
turn
over.
Tom
eyed
it,
and
longed
for
it;
but
it
was
safe
out
of
his
reach.
Other
people
uninterested
in
the
sermon
found
relief
in
the
beetle,
and
they
eyed
it
too.
Presently
a
vagrant
poodle
dog
came
idling
along,
sad
at
heart,
lazy
with
the
summer
softness
and
the
quiet,
weary
of
captivity,
sighing
for
change.
He
spied
the
beetle;
the
drooping
tail
lifted
and
wagged.
He
surveyed
the
prize;
walked
around
it;
smelt
at
it
from
a
safe
distance;
walked
around
it
again;
grew
bolder,
and
took
a
closer
smell;
then
lifted
his
lip
and
made
a
gingerly
snatch
at
it,
just
missing
it;
made
another,
and
another;
began
to
enjoy
the
diversion;
subsided
to
his
stomach
with
the
beetle
between
his
paws,
and
continued
his
experiments;
grew
weary
at
last,
and
then
indifferent
and
absent-minded.
His
head
nodded,
and
little
by
little
his
chin
descended
and
touched
the
enemy,
who
seized
it.
There
was
a
sharp
yelp,
a
flirt
of
the
poodle’s
head,
and
the
beetle
fell
a
couple
of
yards
away,
and
lit
on
its
back
once
more.
The
neighboring
spectators
shook
with
a
gentle
inward
joy,
several
faces
went
behind
fans
and
hand-kerchiefs,
and
Tom
was
entirely
happy.
The
dog
looked
foolish,
and
probably
felt
so;
but
there
was
resentment
in
his
heart,
too,
and
a
craving
for
revenge.
So
he
went
to
the
beetle
and
began
a
wary
attack
on
it
again;
jumping
at
it
from
every
point
of
a
circle,
lighting
with
his
fore-paws
within
an
inch
of
the
creature,
making
even
closer
snatches
at
it
with
his
teeth,
and
jerking
his
head
till
his
ears
flapped
again.
But
he
grew
tired
once
more,
after
a
while;
tried
to
amuse
himself
with
a
fly
but
found
no
relief;
followed
an
ant
around,
with
his
nose
close
to
the
floor,
and
quickly
wearied
of
that;
yawned,
sighed,
forgot
the
beetle
entirely,
and
sat
down
on
it.
Then
there
was
a
wild
yelp
of
agony
and
the
poodle
went
sailing
up
the
aisle;
the
yelps
continued,
and
so
did
the
dog;
he
crossed
the
house
in
front
of
the
altar;
he
flew
down
the
other
aisle;
he
crossed
before
the
doors;
he
clamored
up
the
home-stretch;
his
anguish
grew
with
his
progress,
till
presently
he
was
but
a
woolly
comet
moving
in
its
orbit
with
the
gleam
and
the
speed
of
light.
At
last
the
frantic
sufferer
sheered
from
its
course,
and
sprang
into
its
master’s
lap;
he
flung
it
out
of
the
window,
and
the
voice
of
distress
quickly
thinned
away
and
died
in
the
distance.
By
this
time
the
whole
church
was
red-faced
and
suffocating
with
suppressed
laughter,
and
the
sermon
had
come
to
a
dead
standstill.
The
discourse
was
resumed
presently,
but
it
went
lame
and
halting,
all
possibility
of
impressiveness
being
at
an
end;
for
even
the
gravest
sentiments
were
constantly
being
received
with
a
smothered
burst
of
unholy
mirth,
under
cover
of
some
remote
pew-back,
as
if
the
poor
parson
had
said
a
rarely
facetious
thing.
It
was
a
genuine
relief
to
the
whole
congregation
when
the
ordeal
was
over
and
the
benediction
pronounced.
Tom
Sawyer
went
home
quite
cheerful,
thinking
to
himself
that
there
was
some
satisfaction
about
divine
service
when
there
was
a
bit
of
variety
in
it.
He
had
but
one
marring
thought;
he
was
willing
that
the
dog
should
play
with
his
pinchbug,
but
he
did
not
think
it
was
upright
in
him
to
carry
it
off.
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Las aventuras de Tom Sawyer — C1 Inglés | Cuentana