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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 5, Página 15
I
walked
out
the
back
way—just
like
Gatsby
had
when
he
nervously
circled
the
house
half
an
hour
earlier—and
ran
to
a
huge
black
knotted
tree,
whose
thick
leaves
formed
a
canopy
against
the
rain.
It
was
pouring
again,
and
my
uneven
lawn,
neatly
trimmed
by
Gatsby’s
gardener,
was
full
of
small
muddy
swamps
and
ancient
marshes.
There
was
nothing
to
see
from
under
the
tree
except
Gatsby’s
enormous
house,
so
I
stared
at
it,
like
Kant
at
his
church
steeple,
for
half
an
hour.
A
brewer
had
built
it
during
the
“period”
craze,
a
decade
ago,
and
there
was
a
story
that
he
promised
to
pay
five
years’
taxes
on
all
the
nearby
cottages
if
the
owners
would
thatch
their
roofs
with
straw.
Perhaps
their
refusal
crushed
his
dream
to
establish
a
family—he
quickly
declined.
His
children
sold
the
house
with
the
black
wreath
still
on
the
door.
Americans,
while
willing,
even
eager,
to
be
serfs,
have
always
resisted
being
peasants.
After
half
an
hour,
the
sun
came
out
again,
and
the
grocer’s
car
drove
around
Gatsby’s
drive
with
supplies
for
his
servants’
dinner—I
was
sure
he
wouldn’t
eat
a
bite.
A
maid
started
opening
the
upper
windows
of
his
house,
appearing
briefly
in
each,
and,
leaning
from
the
large
central
bay,
she
spat
thoughtfully
into
the
garden.
It
was
time
for
me
to
return.
While
the
rain
continued,
it
had
seemed
like
the
murmur
of
their
voices,
rising
and
swelling
now
and
then
with
bursts
of
emotion.
But
in
the
new
silence,
I
felt
that
silence
had
fallen
inside
the
house
too.
I
went
in—after
making
every
possible
noise
in
the
kitchen,
short
of
knocking
over
the
stove—but
I
don’t
think
they
heard
a
sound.
They
were
sitting
at
opposite
ends
of
the
couch,
looking
at
each
other
as
if
a
question
had
been
asked,
or
was
in
the
air,
and
all
signs
of
embarrassment
were
gone.
Daisy’s
face
was
streaked
with
tears,
and
when
I
entered,
she
jumped
up
and
began
wiping
it
with
her
handkerchief
in
front
of
a
mirror.
But
there
was
a
change
in
Gatsby
that
was
simply
astonishing.
He
literally
glowed;
without
a
word
or
a
gesture
of
triumph,
a
new
sense
of
happiness
radiated
from
him
and
filled
the
small
room.
“Oh,
hello,
old
sport,”
he
said,
as
if
he
hadn’t
seen
me
for
years.
I
thought
for
a
moment
he
was
going
to
shake
hands.
“It’s
stopped
raining.”
“Has
it?”
When
he
realized
what
I
was
talking
about,
that
there
were
bright
patches
of
sunshine
in
the
room,
he
smiled
like
a
weather
man,
like
a
joyful
admirer
of
returning
light,
and
repeated
the
news
to
Daisy.
“What
do
you
think
of
that?
It’s
stopped
raining.”
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana