# The Seven Madmen, The Humiliated Man

Los siete locos · Roberto Arlt · Part One

Source: https://1732studios.com/books/arlt/el-humillado. Data: https://1732studios.com/books/arlt/el-humillado.json. Audio: https://audio.1732studios.com/arlt/<line id>.m4a.


A las ocho de la noche llegó a su casa.  
At eight o'clock at night he came home.
> Preterite of «llegar»: «llegó» is the preterite (simple past) of «llegar», 'to arrive'. The preterite reports a single completed event with a definite time — here pinned to «a las ocho de la noche», 'at eight at night'. The whole chapter is framed as something that happened on one specific evening.

–El comedor estaba iluminado...  
"The dining room was lit...
> «el comedor»: «el comedor» is the dining room. The irony lands a few sentences later: in their poverty the so-called dining room holds nothing but a pine table. The word keeps its dignified name even when the room is nearly empty.
Pero expliquémonos –contaba más tarde Erdosain–, mi esposa y yo habíamos sufrido tanta miseria, que el llamado comedor consistía en cuarto vacío de muebles.  
But let me explain myself," Erdosain would recount later, "my wife and I had suffered such poverty that the so-called dining room amounted to a room empty of furniture.
> Pluperfect tense: «habíamos sufrido» ('we had suffered') is the pluperfect: «haber» in the imperfect plus a past participle. It marks an action completed before another point in the past — the long stretch of misery that lay behind them by the night of the story.
> «nosotros» command, reflexive: «expliquémonos» is a first-person-plural ('let's') command from the pronominal verb «explicarse», with the pronoun «-nos» attached to the end. Literally 'let us explain ourselves' — a storyteller's aside inviting the listener to follow along.
La otra pieza hacía de dormitorio.  
The other room served as the bedroom.
> «hacer de» = to serve as: «hacer de» means 'to act as' or 'to serve as / double as'. «La otra pieza hacía de dormitorio» = 'the other room served as the bedroom'. «pieza» here is River Plate usage for a room.
Usted me dirá cómo siendo pobres alquilábamos una casa, pero éste era un antojo de mi esposa, que recordando tiempos mejores, no se avenía a no «tener armado» su hogar.  
You'll tell me how, being poor, we rented a whole house, but this was a whim of my wife's, who, remembering better times, would not resign herself to leaving her home 'unset up.'
> «avenirse a» (pronominal): «avenirse a» is a pronominal verb meaning 'to agree to' or 'to resign oneself to'. In the imperfect and negated, «no se avenía a no tener armado su hogar» = 'she would not bring herself to leave her home un-set-up' — a habitual refusal, not a one-off.

«En el comedor no había más mueble que una mesa de pino.  
"In the dining room there was no furniture but a pine table.
> «no... más... que» = only: «no había más mueble que una mesa» means 'there was no furniture other than a table' — i.e. 'only a table'. The frame «no... más... que» expresses 'nothing but / only', and is distinct from «más de», which would mean 'more than (a quantity)'.
En un rincón colgaban de un alambre nuestras ropas, y otro ángulo estaba ocupado por un baúl con conteras de lata y que producía una sensación de vida nómade que terminaría con un viaje definitivo.  
In one corner our clothes hung from a wire, and another angle of the room was taken up by a trunk with tin corner-caps that gave off a sense of nomadic life destined to end in some final journey.
> Conditional as 'future-in-the-past': «terminaría» is the conditional of «terminar». Beyond 'would end', the conditional often expresses a future seen from a past vantage point: from where the trunk sat, the 'final journey' was still to come. It quietly foreshadows the departure the chapter is building toward.
Más tarde, cuántas veces he pensado en 'la sensación de viaje' que aquel baúl barato, estibado en un rincón, lanzaba a mi tristeza de hombre que se sabe al margen de la cárcel.  
Later, how many times I have thought about 'the sense of travel' that that cheap trunk, stowed in a corner, cast over my sadness — the sadness of a man who knows himself one step from prison.
> «saberse» + state: «saberse» (pronominal «saber») means 'to know oneself to be (in some state)'. «un hombre que se sabe al margen de la cárcel» = 'a man who knows himself to be on the edge of prison'. The pronoun turns 'to know' into 'to be aware of one's own condition'.

«Como le contaba, el comedor estaba iluminado.  
"As I was telling you, the dining room was lit.
Al abrir la puerta me detuve.  
On opening the door I stopped.
> «Al» + infinitive: «Al» plus an infinitive means 'upon / on (doing something)': «al abrir la puerta» = 'on opening the door', 'as I opened the door'. It packs a whole clause of time into two words — one of the most common Spanish constructions, and a hallmark of Arlt's terse openings.
Aguardábame mi esposa, vestida para salir, sentada junto a la mesa.  
My wife was waiting for me, dressed to go out, seated beside the table.
> Enclitic pronoun on a conjugated verb: «Aguardábame» is «me aguardaba» ('she was waiting for me') with the object pronoun «me» attached to the end of the conjugated verb. This enclisis is a literary, slightly old-fashioned word order; in everyday speech the pronoun comes before the verb.
Un tul negro cubría hasta el mentón su carita sonrosada.  
A black tulle veil covered her little rosy face up to the chin.
> Diminutive «-ita»: «carita» is «cara» ('face') plus the diminutive «-ita». Diminutives add smallness but also tenderness or pity; «su carita sonrosada» = 'her little rosy face' carries Erdosain's affection for the wife who is about to leave him.
A su derecha, junto a los pies, estaba una valija, y al otro lado de la mesa un hombre se puso de pie cuando yo entré, mejor dicho, cuando la sorpresa me detuvo en el umbral.  
To her right, by her feet, sat a suitcase, and on the other side of the table a man rose to his feet when I came in — or rather, when surprise stopped me on the threshold.
> «valija» (River Plate): «valija» is the everyday Argentine word for a suitcase, where Peninsular Spanish would more often say «maleta». The packed suitcase at Elsa's feet tells the whole story before a word is spoken.

«Así permanecimos los tres un segundo...  
"So the three of us stayed for a second...
> Preterite of «permanecer»: «permanecimos» is the preterite of «permanecer» ('to remain'). The preterite frames the frozen instant as one bounded, completed beat of time — a held second that Erdosain then says he could never forget.
El capitán de pie, con una mano apoyada en la tabla de la mesa y otra en la empuñadura de la espada, mi esposa con la cabeza inclinada, y yo frente a ellos, olvidados los dedos en el canto de la puerta.  
The captain on his feet, one hand resting on the tabletop and the other on the hilt of his sword, my wife with her head bowed, and I facing them, my fingers forgotten on the edge of the door.
> Absolute participle construction: «olvidados los dedos en el canto de la puerta» is an absolute participle: a past participle plus its own noun, set off as a small clause meaning 'with my fingers forgotten on the edge of the door'. It freezes a posture in a single brushstroke, like a stage direction.
Aquel segundo me fue suficiente para no olvidar más al otro hombre.  
That second was enough for me never to forget the other man.
Era grande, de reciedumbre atlética dentro de la tela verde del uniforme.  
He was big, of athletic sturdiness inside the green cloth of the uniform.
Al apartar los ojos de mi esposa, su mirada recobró una dureza curiosa.  
On taking his eyes off my wife, his gaze recovered a curious hardness.
No exagero si digo que me examinaba con insolencia, como a un inferior.  
I do not exaggerate if I say that he was examining me with insolence, as one looks at an inferior.
> Imperfect for an ongoing look: «examinaba» is the imperfect of «examinar». The imperfect paints an action in progress, with no fixed endpoint — the captain's gaze is held on Erdosain throughout the scene, sizing him up, rather than completed in a single moment.
Yo continué mirándolo.  
I went on looking at him.
> «continuar» + gerund: «continuar» followed by a gerund («mirándolo») means 'to keep / go on doing something'. The object pronoun «lo» ('him') attaches to the end of the gerund. Together: 'I kept looking at him.'
Su grandor físico contrastaba con la ovalada pequeñez de su rostro, con la delicadeza de la fina nariz y la austeridad de sus labios apretados.  
His physical bigness contrasted with the oval smallness of his face, with the delicacy of his fine nose and the austerity of his tight-pressed lips.
En el pecho llevaba la insignia de piloto aviador.  
On his chest he wore the insignia of an aviator pilot.

«Mis primeras palabras fueron:  
"My first words were:

«–¿Qué pasa aquí?  
"—What's going on here?

«–El señor... –mas avergonzándose, se corrigió–.  
"—The gentleman..." —but, growing ashamed, she corrected herself—.
> «avergonzarse» (pronominal): «avergonzarse» is a pronominal verb meaning 'to be / become ashamed'. As a gerund with the attached pronoun, «avergonzándose» = 'growing ashamed'. Elsa starts to refer to the captain as «el señor» — the formal 'the gentleman' — then catches herself, growing ashamed.
Remo –dijo llamándome por mi nombre–, Remo, yo no voy a vivir más con vos.»  
Remo," she said, calling me by my name, "Remo, I'm not going to live with you anymore."
> «vos» — Argentine voseo: «vos» is the standard familiar 'you' in Argentina, replacing «tú». It takes its own present-tense forms (e.g. «vos tenés», «vos sos»), though here it follows a preposition as «con vos» ('with you'). The whole couple's intimate dialogue runs on «vos».

Erdosain no tuvo tiempo de temblar.  
Erdosain had no time to tremble.
El capitán tomó la palabra:  
The captain took the floor:
> «tomar la palabra»: «tomar la palabra» is an idiom meaning 'to take the floor', 'to begin to speak'. It is not literally about taking a word; it marks someone stepping in to address the room.

–Su esposa, a quien he conocido hace un tiempo...  
—Your wife, whom I met some time ago...
> «conocer» in the perfect = 'met': In the preterite/perfect, «conocer» shifts from 'to know' to 'to meet (for the first time)'. «a quien he conocido hace un tiempo» = 'whom I met some time ago', the start of their acquaintance, not its ongoing state.

–¿Y dónde la conoció usted?  
—And where did you meet her?

–¿Por qué preguntas esas cosas? –interrumpió Elsa.  
—Why do you ask such things? —Elsa broke in.

–Sí, cierto –objetó el capitán–.  
—Yes, true —the captain objected—.
Usted comprenderá que ciertas cosas no deben preguntarse...  
You'll understand that certain things ought not to be asked...
> Passive / impersonal «se»: «no deben preguntarse» uses «se» to form a passive-impersonal: 'ought not to be asked', with no named agent. Spanish often prefers this «se» construction where English reaches for a passive, keeping who-does-the-asking politely vague.

Erdosain se ruborizó.  
Erdosain blushed.
> «ruborizarse» = to blush: «ruborizarse» is a pronominal verb meaning 'to blush, to turn red'. The «se» marks the change happening to the subject himself: «Erdosain se ruborizó» = 'Erdosain blushed'.

–Quizá usted tenga razón... disculpe...  
—Maybe you're right... forgive me...
> «quizá» + subjunctive: «quizá» ('maybe, perhaps') typically triggers the subjunctive when the speaker is genuinely unsure. «Quizá usted tenga razón» = 'maybe you're right', with «tenga» (subjunctive of «tener») signalling open doubt rather than fact.

–Y como usted no ganaba para mantenerla...  
—And since you weren't earning enough to support her...
> «como» = since / because: At the head of a clause, «como» means 'since' or 'because', giving a reason: «como usted no ganaba para mantenerla» = 'since you didn't earn enough to support her'. «ganaba» (imperfect) frames it as an ongoing situation.

Apretando el cabo del revólver en el bolsillo de su pantalón, Erdosain miró al capitán.  
Gripping the butt of the revolver in his trouser pocket, Erdosain looked at the captain.
Luego, involuntariamente, sonrió pensando que nada tenía que temer, ya que podía matarlo.  
Then, involuntarily, he smiled, thinking he had nothing to fear, since he could kill him.
> «ya que» = since / given that: «ya que» is a connector meaning 'since, given that, seeing as'. It introduces a reason the listener already accepts: «nada tenía que temer, ya que podía matarlo» = 'he had nothing to fear, since he could kill him'.

–No creo que pueda causarle gracia lo que le digo.  
—I don't think what I'm telling you can be funny to you.
> «no creer que» + subjunctive: Negating «creer» ('to believe') casts doubt and pulls the following verb into the subjunctive: «No creo que pueda causarle gracia» = 'I don't think it can be amusing to you', with «pueda» (subjunctive of «poder»).
> «hacer/causar gracia»: «causar gracia» (more usually «hacer gracia») is an idiom: 'to strike someone as funny, to amuse'. «No creo que pueda causarle gracia» = 'I don't think it can strike you as funny'.

–No; sonreía de una ocurrencia estúpida... ¿Así que también le contó eso?  
—No; I was smiling at a stupid notion... So she told you that too?
> «ocurrencia»: «una ocurrencia» is a sudden idea, a notion or a witty remark that pops into the mind — from «ocurrir», 'to occur'. Erdosain excuses his smile as 'a stupid notion', covering the real thought: that he could shoot the man.

–Sí, y además me habló de usted como de un genio en desgracia...  
—Yes, and besides she spoke of you to me as of a genius fallen on misfortune...
> «desgracia» (false friend): «desgracia» is a false friend: it means 'misfortune, ill fortune', not 'disgrace'. «un genio en desgracia» = 'a genius down on his luck', a man of talent struck by bad fortune.

–Hablamos de tus inventos...  
—We talked about your inventions...

–Sí... de su proyecto de metalizar las flores...  
—Yes... about your project to metallize flowers...

–¿Por qué te vas, entonces?  
—Why are you leaving, then?
> «irse» = to leave / go away: «irse» (pronominal «ir») means 'to leave, to go away', stressing departure rather than destination. «¿Por qué te vas?» = 'Why are you leaving?' The reflexive «te» is what shifts plain 'go' into 'go off / leave'.

–Estoy cansada, Remo.  
—I'm tired, Remo.

Erdosain sintió que el furor le encrespaba la boca en malas palabras.  
Erdosain felt rage curl his mouth into foul words.
La hubiera insultado, mas al pensar que el otro podía aplastarle la cara a puñetazos retuvo la injuria, replicando:  
He would have insulted her, but on thinking that the other man could smash his face with his fists he held back the slur, replying:
> Pluperfect subjunctive as conditional: «hubiera insultado» is the pluperfect subjunctive, used here for the past conditional: 'he would have insulted her'. It names an action that almost happened but didn't — exactly the unspoken insult Erdosain swallows.
> «mas» vs «más»: «mas» (no accent) is a literary conjunction meaning 'but', equivalent to «pero». Do not confuse it with «más» (with accent), 'more'. Arlt favours the bookish «mas» in narration.

–Vos siempre estuviste cansada.  
—You were always tired.
En tu casa estabas cansada... aquí... allá... también allá en la montaña... ¿te acordás?  
At your parents' house you were tired... here... there... up in the mountains too... do you remember?
> Voseo present: «acordarse»: «te acordás» is the voseo present of «acordarse de» ('to remember'). The «vos» form keeps the stem unbroken and stresses the final syllable («acordás», not «acuerdas»). Note the pronominal «te» — one remembers 'of' something with «acordarse de».

No sabiendo qué responder, Elsa inclinó la cabeza.  
Not knowing what to answer, Elsa bowed her head.

–Cansada... ¿qué es lo que tenés cansada vos?...  
—Tired... what is it you've got that's tired?...
> Voseo present: «tener»: «tenés» is the «vos» present of «tener» ('to have'), where «tú» would give «tienes». Voseo forms drop the stem-vowel change and stress the ending. The needling «vos» at the end of the question throws the word back in Elsa's face.
Y todas están cansadas, no sé por qué... pero están cansadas...  
And all of them are tired, I don't know why... but they're tired...
Usted, capitán, ¿no está cansado también?  
You, captain — aren't you tired too?

El intruso lo observó largamente.  
The intruder observed him at length.
> «el intruso»: «el intruso» means 'the intruder, the outsider'. The narration keeps relabeling the captain as «el intruso» — a quiet reminder, from Erdosain's side, of who does not belong in this room.

–¿Y qué entiende usted por cansancio?  
—And what do you mean by tiredness?
> «entender por» = to mean by: «entender por (algo)» means 'to understand / mean by (something)'. «¿Qué entiende usted por cansancio?» = 'What do you mean by tiredness?' — asking how the other defines a word.

–El aburrimiento, la angustia... ¿no se ha fijado usted que éstos parecen los tiempos de tribulación de que habla la Biblia?  
—Boredom, anguish... haven't you noticed that these seem to be the times of tribulation the Bible speaks of?
> «fijarse en» = to notice: «fijarse (en)» is a pronominal verb meaning 'to notice, to pay attention to'. «¿No se ha fijado usted que...?» = 'Haven't you noticed that...?' Distinct from «fijar» alone, which means 'to fix / fasten'.
> «la angustia» — Arlt's keyword: «la angustia» is anguish, dread, existential anxiety. It is the signature word of Arlt's world, returning again and again: Erdosain diagnoses the whole age, and himself, with «la angustia».
Así los nombra un amigo mío que se ha casado con una coja.  
That's what a friend of mine calls them — a friend who married a lame woman.
La coja es la ramera de las Escrituras...  
The lame woman is the harlot of the Scriptures...

–Nunca me di cuenta de eso.  
—I never realized that.
> «darse cuenta de» = to realize: «darse cuenta de» is the everyday way to say 'to realize, to become aware of'. «Nunca me di cuenta de eso» = 'I never realized that'. Note «de» before the object — one realizes 'of' something.

–En cambio yo sí.  
—I have, though.
> «en cambio» = on the other hand: «en cambio» means 'on the other hand, by contrast'. «En cambio yo sí» sets Erdosain against the captain: 'I, on the other hand, have' — the bare «sí» standing in for the whole verb just denied.
A usted le parecerá extraño que le hable de sufrimientos en estas circunstancias... pero es así... los hombres están tan tristes que tienen necesidad de ser humillados por alguien.  
It will seem strange to you that I should speak of suffering in these circumstances... but that's how it is... men are so sad that they have a need to be humiliated by someone.
> Subjunctive after a value judgement: «le parecerá extraño que le hable» uses the subjunctive «hable» because it follows an expression of reaction ('it will seem strange that...'). Spanish puts what is judged or felt-about into the subjunctive, not the indicative.
> «humillar» and the chapter's title: «humillar» is 'to humiliate'; «humillado» 'humiliated'. The line — men 'have a need to be humiliated' — names the chapter's title «El humillado», 'The Humiliated Man', and its whole theme.

–Yo no veo tal cosa.  
—I see no such thing.

–Claro, usted con su sueldo... ¿Qué sueldo gana usted?  
—Of course, you with your salary... What salary do you earn?
> «claro» as 'of course': «claro» literally means 'clear', but on its own as an interjection it means 'of course, sure, naturally'. Here it is faintly sarcastic: 'Of course — you, with your salary...'.
¿Quinientos?  
Five hundred?

–Más o menos.  
—More or less.

–Claro, con ese sueldo es lógico...  
—Of course, with that salary it's logical...

–¿Qué es lógico?  
—What is logical?

–Que no sienta su servidumbre.  
—That you don't feel your servitude.
> Subjunctive in the answer: The reply «Que no sienta su servidumbre» completes the earlier 'it's logical that...', so the verb stays subjunctive: «sienta» (subjunctive of «sentir»). Spanish keeps the subjunctive across the question-and-answer because the clause is still governed by 'it's logical that'.

El capitán detuvo una mirada severa en Erdosain.  
The captain held a severe look on Erdosain.

–Germán, no le haga caso –interrumpió Elsa–.  
—Germán, pay him no mind —Elsa broke in—.
> «hacer caso» = to pay attention: «hacer caso (a alguien)» is an idiom: 'to pay attention to, to take notice of someone'. «No le haga caso» = 'Don't pay him any mind, ignore him' — here a polite (usted) command to the captain.
Remo está siempre con esa historia de la angustia.  
Remo is always going on with that story about anguish.

–¿Es cierto?  
—Is that true?

–Sí... ella, en cambio, cree en la felicidad, en el sentido de «eterna felicidad» que estaría en su vida si pudiera pasar los días entre fiestas...  
—Yes... she, on the other hand, believes in happiness — in the sense of an 'eternal happiness' that would fill her life if she could spend her days among parties...
> Unreal conditional: «estaría... si pudiera» is the contrary-to-fact conditional: imperfect subjunctive in the «si» clause («si pudiera», 'if she could'), conditional in the main clause («estaría», 'would be'). It frames Elsa's happiness as a wish that present life denies her.

–Detesto la miseria.  
—I detest poverty.

–Claro, porque vos no crees en la miseria... la horrible miseria está en nosotros, es la miseria de adentro... del alma que nos cala los huesos como la sífilis.  
—Of course, because you don't believe in misery... the horrible misery is inside us, it's the misery within... of the soul, which soaks into our bones like syphilis.
> «miseria» — two senses: «miseria» can mean material 'destitution, poverty' or moral/spiritual 'wretchedness, misery'. Erdosain plays on both: Elsa hates «la miseria» as poverty, while he means «la miseria de adentro», the wretchedness of the soul.

Callaron.  
They fell silent.
> «callar» = to fall silent: «callar» (and pronominal «callarse») means 'to go quiet, to fall silent' — not 'to be quiet' as a state but the act of stopping speech. «Callaron» = 'they fell silent', a single completed turn in the preterite.
El capitán, ostensiblemente aburrido, examinaba sus uñas, cuidadosamente lustradas.  
The captain, plainly bored, was examining his nails, carefully buffed.

Elsa miraba fijamente tras los rombos del velo, el semblante demacrado de aquel esposo que tanto quisiera un día, en tanto que Erdosain se preguntaba por qué existía en él un vacío tan inmenso, vacío en el que su conciencia se disolvía sin acertar con palabras que ladraran su pena de un modo eterno.  
Elsa gazed fixedly through the diamonds of her veil at the gaunt face of that husband she had once loved so much, while Erdosain asked himself why there existed in him so immense a void — a void in which his consciousness dissolved without finding words that might bark out his sorrow in some eternal way.
> «en tanto que» = while: «en tanto que» is a literary connector meaning 'while, whereas', setting two things side by side. It runs Elsa's gaze and Erdosain's inner questioning in parallel within one long sentence.
> Subjunctive in a relative clause: «palabras que ladraran su pena» uses the imperfect subjunctive «ladraran» because the words are sought but not found — hypothetical, not actual. Spanish puts the verb of a relative clause into the subjunctive when its antecedent is desired or uncertain rather than real.

De pronto el capitán levantó la cabeza.  
Suddenly the captain raised his head.
> «de pronto» = suddenly: «de pronto» means 'suddenly, all at once'. It is one of Arlt's favourite hinges, snapping the static tableau back into motion — it recurs throughout the chapter to mark each abrupt shift.

–¿Y cómo piensa usted metalizar sus flores?  
—And how do you intend to metallize your flowers?
> «pensar» + infinitive = to intend: «pensar» followed by an infinitive means 'to plan / intend to do something', not 'to think about'. «¿Cómo piensa usted metalizar...?» = 'How do you intend to metallize...?'

–Fácilmente...  
—Easily...
Se toma una rosa, por ejemplo, y se la sumerge en una solución de nitrato de plata disuelto en alcohol.  
You take a rose, for example, and submerge it in a solution of silver nitrate dissolved in alcohol.
> Impersonal «se» = 'you / one': «se toma una rosa», «se la sumerge» use the impersonal «se»: 'one takes a rose', 'one submerges it'. With no named subject, it states a general procedure, the natural Spanish for recipes and instructions — English renders it with 'you' or the passive.
Luego se coloca la flor a la luz que reduce el nitrato a plata metálica, quedando de consiguiente la rosa cubierta de una finísima película metálica, conductora de corriente.  
Then the flower is placed in the light, which reduces the nitrate to metallic silver, the rose consequently being left coated in a very fine metallic film that conducts current.
> Superlative «-ísimo»: «finísima» is «fina» ('fine, thin') plus the absolute superlative «-ísima»: 'extremely fine, very finest'. The «-ísimo/-ísima» ending intensifies an adjective without needing «muy» — «una finísima película» = 'an exceedingly fine film'.
Luego se trata por el común procedimiento galvanoplastia» del cabreado... y, naturalmente, la flor queda convertida en una rosa de cobre.  
Then it's treated by the common electroplating process of copper-plating... and, naturally, the flower ends up turned into a rose of copper.
> «quedar» + participle = to end up: «quedar» plus a past participle expresses the resulting state: 'to end up / be left (in some condition)'. «la flor queda convertida en una rosa de cobre» = 'the flower ends up turned into a copper rose'.
Tendría muchas aplicaciones.  
It would have many applications.

–La idea es original.  
—The idea is original.

–¿No le decía yo, Germán, que Remo tiene talento?  
—Didn't I tell you, Germán, that Remo has talent?

–Lo creo.  
—I believe it.
> Neuter «lo» = 'it': The «lo» in «Lo creo» is the neuter object pronoun standing for a whole idea, not a masculine noun: 'I believe it' — i.e. that Remo has talent. Spanish uses «lo» this way to refer back to an entire statement.

–Sí, puede ser que tenga talento, pero me falta vida... entusiasmo... algo que sea como un sueño extraordinario... una mentira grande que empuje la realización... pero, hablando de todo un poco, ¿esperan ustedes ser felices?  
—Yes, it may be that I have talent, but I lack life... enthusiasm... something that would be like an extraordinary dream... a great lie to drive the achievement... but, speaking of a bit of everything, do you two expect to be happy?
> «faltar» like «gustar»: «faltar» ('to be lacking') works backwards like «gustar»: the thing lacking is the subject and the person is an indirect object. «me falta vida» literally 'life is lacking to me' = 'I lack life'.

–Sí.  
—Yes.

Otra vez sobrevino el silencio.  
Once again silence came over them.
En torno de la lámpara amarilla los tres semblantes parecían tres mascarillas de cera.  
Around the yellow lamp the three faces seemed three wax masks.
> «en torno de/a» = around: «en torno de» (also «en torno a») means 'around, surrounding'. «En torno de la lámpara» = 'around the lamp'. It is more literary than the everyday «alrededor de».
Erdosain sabía que dentro de breves instantes todo terminaría y escarbando en su angustia, le preguntó al capitán:  
Erdosain knew that within a few moments it would all be over, and digging into his anguish, he asked the captain:

–¿Por qué vino usted a mi casa?  
—Why did you come to my house?

El otro vaciló, después:  
The other man hesitated, then:

–Tenía interés en conocerlo.  
—I was interested in meeting you.

–¿Le parecía divertido?  
—Did it seem amusing to you?

–No... le juro que no.  
—No... I swear to you it didn't.

–¿Y entonces?  
—And so?

–Curiosidad de conocerlo.  
—Curiosity to meet you.
Su esposa me habló mucho de usted en estos últimos tiempos.  
Your wife has spoken to me a great deal about you lately.
Además, nunca imaginé encontrarme en una situación semejante... en realidad, no podría explicarme por qué he venido.  
Besides, I never imagined finding myself in such a situation... in truth, I couldn't explain to myself why I have come.
> «en realidad» (false friend): «en realidad» means 'actually, in fact, in truth' — not 'in reality' in the philosophical sense. It signals a correction or admission: 'in truth, I couldn't explain why I came.'

–¿Ha visto usted?  
—You see?
Hay cosas inexplicables.  
There are inexplicable things.
Yo, desde hace un rato, trato de explicarme por qué no lo mato de un tiro teniendo el revólver aquí, en el bolsillo.  
I, for a while now, have been trying to explain to myself why I don't shoot you dead, having the revolver right here in my pocket.
> «desde hace» + time: «desde hace un rato» means 'for a while now' — «desde hace» plus a span marks how long an ongoing action has been happening. Spanish keeps the present tense («trato») where English uses 'have been trying'.

Elsa levantó la cabeza hacia Erdosain, que estaba a la cabecera de la mesa...  
Elsa raised her head toward Erdosain, who was at the head of the table...
El capitán preguntó:  
The captain asked:

–¿Qué es lo que lo contiene?  
—What is it that holds you back?
> «lo que» = what / that which: «lo que» means 'what' in the sense of 'that which'. «¿Qué es lo que lo contiene?» literally 'what is that which holds you back?' — an emphatic way of asking 'what holds you back?'

–En verdad, no sé... o... sí, tengo la seguridad de que es por esto.  
—In truth, I don't know... or... yes, I'm certain it's because of this.
Creo que en el corazón de cada uno de nosotros hay una longitud de destino.  
I believe that in the heart of each one of us there is a length of destiny.
Es como una adivinación de las cosas por intermedio de un misterioso instinto.  
It is like a divination of things by means of a mysterious instinct.
Lo que ahora me sucede, lo siento comprendido en esa longitud de destino... algo así como si lo hubiera visto ya... no sé en qué parte.  
What is happening to me now, I feel contained within that length of destiny... something like having seen it already... I don't know where.
> «como si» + past subjunctive: «como si» ('as if') always takes a past subjunctive, here the pluperfect «hubiera visto». «como si lo hubiera visto ya» = 'as if I had already seen it' — a comparison to something contrary to fact.

–¿Cómo?  
—What?

–¿Qué decís?  
—What are you saying?
> Voseo present: «decir»: «decís» is the «vos» present of «decir» ('to say'), where «tú» would give «dices». The voseo form keeps the stem regular and stresses the ending. «¿Qué decís?» = 'What are you saying?'

–No era porque vos me dieras motivo... no... ya te digo... una certidumbre remota.  
—It wasn't because you gave me cause... no... I'm telling you... a remote certainty.
> Subjunctive after negated cause: «No era porque vos me dieras motivo» uses the imperfect subjunctive «dieras» because the reason is being denied: 'it wasn't because you gave me cause'. Spanish often shifts «porque» into the subjunctive when the cause it introduces is rejected.

–No lo entiendo.  
—I don't understand it.

–Yo sí me entiendo.  
—I understand myself, though.
Vea, es así.  
Look, it's like this.
> «vea» — usted command: «Vea» is the formal (usted) command of «ver» ('to look, to see'), used as a conversational opener: 'Look,' 'See here.' The captain and Erdosain address each other with «usted», so the commands take this -a ending.
De pronto a uno se le ocurre que tienen que sucederle determinadas cosas en la vida... para que la vida se transforme y se haga nueva.  
All at once it occurs to one that certain things have to happen to one in life... so that life may be transformed and made new.
> «para que» + subjunctive: «para que» ('so that, in order that') always takes the subjunctive: «para que la vida se transforme y se haga nueva» = 'so that life may be transformed and made new'. Purpose pointing at an unrealized goal calls for the subjunctive.

–¿Y vos?  
—And you?

–¿Usted cree que su vida?  
—Do you believe that your life...?

Erdosain, desentendiéndose de la pregunta, continuó:  
Erdosain, ignoring the question, went on:
> «desentenderse de»: «desentenderse de» means 'to take no notice of, to wash one's hands of, to ignore'. As a gerund with its pronoun, «desentendiéndose de la pregunta» = 'paying no attention to the question'.

–Y lo de ahora no me extraña.  
—And what's happening now doesn't surprise me.
> «lo de» = the matter of: «lo de» plus a phrase means 'the business / matter of'. «lo de ahora» = 'this present business, what's happening now'. Spanish uses neuter «lo» to nominalize a situation without naming it outright.
Si usted me dijera que fuese a comprarle un paquete de cigarrillos, a propósito, ¿tiene un cigarrillo usted?  
If you were to tell me to go buy you a pack of cigarettes — by the way, do you have a cigarette?
> Two imperfect subjunctives: «Si usted me dijera que fuese...» chains two imperfect subjunctives: «dijera» in the hypothetical «si» clause and «fuese» governed by «decir que» as a command-in-the-past. Note Spanish has two interchangeable forms, «-ra» («dijera») and «-se» («fuese»).

–Sírvase... ¿y luego?  
—Help yourself... and then?
> «servirse» — usted command: «Sírvase» is the formal command of pronominal «servirse» ('to help oneself, to serve oneself'). Offering the cigarettes, the captain says «Sírvase» = 'Help yourself,' with the pronoun «se» attached to the command.

–No sé.  
—I don't know.
En estos últimos tiempos he vivido incoherentemente... aturdido por la angustia.  
Lately I've lived incoherently... dazed by anguish.
Ya ve con qué tranquilidad converso con usted.  
You can see how calmly I'm conversing with you.

–Sí, siempre esperó él algo extraordinario.  
—Yes, he always expected something extraordinary.

–Y vos también.  
—And you too.

–¿Cómo?  
—What?
¿Usted, Elsa, también?  
You too, Elsa?

–Sí.  
—Yes.

–¿Pero usted?  
—But you?

–Siga, capitán, yo lo entiendo.  
—Go on, captain, I understand you.
> «seguir» — usted command: «Siga» is the formal command of «seguir» ('to continue, to go on'). «Siga, capitán» = 'Go on, captain.' The stem-change «e→i» of «seguir» shows up in the command as well.
Usted quiere decir que lo extraordinario de Elsa está ocurriendo ahora, ¿no?  
You mean to say that Elsa's extraordinary thing is happening right now, don't you?
> «querer decir» = to mean: «querer decir» literally 'to want to say' is the ordinary idiom for 'to mean'. «Usted quiere decir que...» = 'You mean that...'

–Sí.  
—Yes.

–Pues está equivocado, ¿no es cierto, Elsa?  
—Well, you're mistaken — isn't that right, Elsa?
> «estar equivocado» = to be wrong: «estar equivocado» means 'to be mistaken / wrong'. It uses «estar» (a state someone is in), not «ser». «está equivocado» = 'you're mistaken'. The verb «equivocarse» gives the action, 'to make a mistake'.

–¿Vos crees?  
—You think so?

–Decí la verdad, vos esperas algo extraordinario que no es esto, ¿no?  
—Tell the truth: you're expecting something extraordinary that isn't this, aren't you?
> Voseo command: «decir»: «Decí» is the affirmative «vos» command of «decir» ('to say'). Voseo commands are formed by dropping the final -r of the infinitive and adding an accent: «decir» → «decí». A «tú» speaker would say «di».

–No sé.  
—I don't know.

–¿Ha visto, capitán?  
—You see, captain?
Siempre fue ésa nuestra vida.  
That was always our life.
Estábamos los dos en silencio junto a esta mesa...  
The two of us would sit in silence beside this table...

–Callate.  
—Be quiet.
> Voseo command: «callarse»: «Callate» is the affirmative «vos» command of pronominal «callarse» ('to be quiet, to shut up'), with «-te» attached. Note the voseo stress: «callate» (on the second syllable): ca-LLÁ-te. The tú form «cállate» is stressed on the first syllable.

–¿Para qué?  
—What for?
> «¿para qué?» vs «¿por qué?»: «¿Para qué?» asks 'for what purpose? to what end?', while «¿por qué?» asks 'for what reason / cause?'. Here «¿Para qué?» = 'What for?' — Erdosain challenges the point of staying quiet.
Estábamos sentados y comprendíamos sin decirnos, lo que éramos, dos desdichados, de un desigual deseo.  
We would be sitting there and we understood, without telling each other, what we were: two wretched souls, of an unequal desire.
> «desdichado»: «desdichado» means 'wretched, unfortunate, hapless' — literally 'un-fortuned' (the opposite of «dicha», 'happiness, good fortune'). «dos desdichados» = 'two wretched souls', the couple's verdict on themselves.
Y cuando nos acostábamos...  
And when we would lie down to sleep...

–¡Remo!  
—Remo!

–¡Señor Erdosain!  
—Señor Erdosain!

–Déjense de aspavientos ridículos... ¿no se van a acostar ustedes acaso?  
—Stop with the ridiculous fuss... aren't the two of you going to go to bed, after all?
> «dejarse de» + noun: «dejarse de (algo)» is a colloquial idiom: 'to cut out, to quit (something)'. «Déjense de aspavientos» = 'Quit the fuss / drop the theatrics'. «aspavientos» are exaggerated gestures of shock or alarm.

–De esta forma no podemos seguir hablando.  
—This way we can't go on talking.

–Bueno, y cuando nos separábamos teníamos esta idea semejante: ¿y el placer de la vida y del amor consiste en esto?...  
—All right, and when we would part we both had this same idea: so the pleasure of life and of love consists in this?...
Y sin decir nada comprendíamos que pensábamos en lo mismo... mas cambiando de tema... ¿piensan ustedes quedarse aquí en la ciudad?  
And without saying anything we understood that we were thinking the same thing... but, to change the subject... do you two plan to stay here in the city?
> «cambiar de tema»: «cambiar de tema» means 'to change the subject'. The pattern «cambiar de + noun» (de tema, de idea, de ropa) expresses swapping one thing for another of the same kind, without an article.
Súbitamente Erdosain tuvo la fría sensación del viaje.  
Suddenly Erdosain had the cold sensation of the voyage.

Le pareció verla a Elsa en el pasamano, bajo la hilera de vidriosos ojos de buey, contemplando el hilo azul de la distancia.  
He seemed to see Elsa at the railing, beneath the row of glassy portholes, gazing at the blue thread of the distance.
> «ojo de buey» = porthole: «ojo de buey» (literally 'ox eye') is the nautical term for a round ship's window, a porthole. The vision is of an ocean liner — the 'final journey' the trunk foretold at the start of the chapter.
El sol caía en los amarillos trinquetes de los mástiles y en los aguilones negros de los guinches.  
The sun fell on the yellow foremasts of the masts and on the black jibs of the cranes.
Atardecía, pero ellos permanecían con el pensamiento fijo en otros climas, a la sombra de las camareras, apoyados en la pasarela blanca.  
Evening was falling, but they remained with their thoughts fixed on other climes, in the shade of the stewardesses, leaning on the white gangway.
> Impersonal weather verb: «atardecer» ('to grow late / for evening to fall') is an impersonal verb used only in the third person with no subject, like «llover» or «amanecer». «Atardecía» = 'evening was falling', the imperfect setting the scene.
El viento soplaba yodado en las olas y Elsa miraba las aguas a través de cuyo enrejado cambiante se animaba su sombra.  
The wind blew iodine-laden over the waves, and Elsa looked at the waters through whose shifting lattice her shadow came alive.
> «cuyo» = whose: «cuyo/cuya» is the relative possessive 'whose', agreeing with the thing possessed, not the owner: «cuyo enrejado» = 'whose lattice' (masculine, like «enrejado»). It is bookish and rare in speech but common in Arlt's denser passages.

Por momentos volvía la carita empalidecida y entonces ambos parecían escuchar un reproche que subía de lo profundo del mar.  
Now and then she would turn her paled little face, and then both of them seemed to hear a reproach rising up from the depths of the sea.
> «por momentos»: «por momentos» means 'now and then, at moments, from time to time'. It marks an intermittent action: «Por momentos volvía la carita» = 'now and then she would turn her little face'.
Y Erdosain se imaginaba que les decía:  
And Erdosain imagined it was saying to them:

–¿Qué hicieron del pobre muchachito?  
—What did you do with the poor little boy?
> Diminutive «muchachito»: «muchachito» is «muchacho» ('boy, lad') with the diminutive «-ito», so 'little boy, poor kid'. The pity in the diminutive is the whole point of Erdosain's self-image, spelled out in the parenthesis that follows.
(«Porque yo, a pesar de mi edad, era como un muchacho –decíame más tarde Remo–.  
("Because I, in spite of my age, was like a boy," Remo would tell me later.
> «a pesar de» = in spite of: «a pesar de» means 'in spite of, despite'. «a pesar de mi edad» = 'in spite of my age'. The phrase concedes one thing while asserting another — grown in years, but a boy at heart.
¿Usted comprende, un hombre que se deja llevar la mujer en sus barbas... es un desgraciado... es como un muchacho, comprende usted?»)  
Do you understand — a man who lets his wife be taken right under his nose... he's a wretch... he's like a boy, do you understand?")
> «en sus barbas» = to one's face: «(hacer algo) en las barbas de alguien» is an idiom: 'right in front of someone, under their very nose, to their face'. «la mujer en sus barbas» = his wife taken right in front of him — the heart of the humiliation.

Erdosain se apartó de la alucinación.  
Erdosain pulled away from the hallucination.
Aquella pregunta que le surgió, estaba ahondada contra su voluntad en él.  
That question that rose up in him lay buried deep within him against his will.

–¿Me vas a escribir?  
—Are you going to write to me?

–¿Para qué?  
—What for?

–Sí, claro, ¿para qué? –repitió cerrando los ojos.  
—Yes, of course, what for? —he repeated, closing his eyes.
Sentíase ahora más que nunca caído en una profundidad no soñada por hombre alguno.  
He felt now more than ever fallen into a depth undreamed of by any man.
> Postposed «alguno» = 'no... at all': «alguno» placed after the noun becomes emphatically negative: «por hombre alguno» = 'by no man whatsoever', stronger than «ningún hombre». A small but vivid feature of literary Spanish.

–Bueno, señor Erdosain –y el capitán se levantó–, nosotros nos retiramos.  
—Well, Señor Erdosain —and the captain stood up—, we'll be taking our leave.
> «retirarse» = to withdraw / leave: «retirarse» is a pronominal verb meaning 'to withdraw, to take one's leave, to retire (from a place)'. «nosotros nos retiramos» = 'we'll be leaving / taking our leave' — a formal way to announce departure.

–¡Ah, se van!...  
—Ah, you're leaving!...
¿Se van ya?  
Are you leaving already?

Elsa le tendió su mano enguantada.  
Elsa held out her gloved hand to him.

–¿Te vas?  
—You're leaving?

–Sí... me voy... comprendes que...  
—Yes... I'm leaving... you understand that...

–Si... comprendo.  
—Yes... I understand.

–No podía ser, Remo.  
—It couldn't be, Remo.

–Sí, claro... no podía ser... claro...  
—Yes, of course... it couldn't be... of course...
El capitán describiendo un círculo en torno de la mesa, cogió la valija, la misma valija que Elsa trajo el día de su casamiento.  
The captain, tracing a circle around the table, took up the suitcase, the same suitcase Elsa had brought the day of their wedding.
> «casamiento» = wedding / marriage: «casamiento» means 'wedding, marriage' (from «casarse», 'to get married'). The detail that it is the very suitcase Elsa brought to the marriage closes the circle: she leaves with what she arrived with.

–Señor Erdosain, adiós.  
—Señor Erdosain, goodbye.

–A sus órdenes, capitán... pero una cosa... ¿se van... vos, Elsa...vos te vas?  
—At your service, captain... but one thing... are you leaving... you, Elsa... you're leaving?
> «a sus órdenes»: «a sus órdenes» literally 'at your orders' is a formal courtesy phrase, 'at your service', common in military and old-fashioned address. Erdosain echoes it back to the officer with bitter politeness.

–Sí, nos vamos.  
—Yes, we're leaving.

–Permiso, me voy a sentar.  
—Excuse me, I'm going to sit down.
> «permiso» = excuse me: «permiso» (short for «con permiso», 'with your permission') is the courtesy said when moving past someone or doing something in their presence. Here it is 'excuse me / if you'll allow me' as Erdosain sits.
Permítame un momento, capitán... un momentito.  
Allow me a moment, captain... just a little moment.
> «permitir» — usted command + pronoun: «Permítame» is the formal command of «permitir» ('to allow') with «me» attached: 'allow me, let me'. The diminutive «momentito» ('just a little moment') softens the request that follows.

El intruso reprimió palabras de impaciencia.  
The intruder held back words of impatience.
Tenía unos brutales deseos de gritar a ese marido:  
He had a brutal urge to shout at that husband:

«¡A ver, firme, imbécil», mas por consideración a Elsa se retuvo.  
"Come on, stand at attention, you idiot," but out of consideration for Elsa he restrained himself.
> «firme» = attention (military): «¡Firme!» is the military command 'Attention!', the order to stand stiff and straight. The captain's impulse is to bark it at Erdosain like a soldier — a final stroke of contempt and class superiority.

De pronto Erdosain abandonó la silla.  
Suddenly Erdosain rose from the chair.
Con lentitud fue hasta un rincón del cuarto.  
Slowly he walked to a corner of the room.
Luego, volviéndose bruscamente al capitán, dijo con voz muy clara, en la que se adivinaba el contenido deseo de que fuera suave:  
Then, turning abruptly to the captain, he spoke in a very clear voice, in which one could sense the held-back wish that it might be gentle:
> Subjunctive after «el deseo de que»: «el deseo de que fuera suave» takes the imperfect subjunctive «fuera» because a wish (deseo) projects onto something not yet real: 'the wish that it might be gentle'. Expressions of wanting govern the subjunctive in the subordinate clause.

–¿Sabe usted por qué no lo mato como a un perro?  
—Do you know why I don't kill you like a dog?

Los otros se volvieron alarmados.  
The others turned, alarmed.

–Pues porque estoy en frío.  
—Well, because I'm in cold blood.
> «estar en frío»: «estar en frío» (related to «en frío», 'cold, coolly, in cold blood') describes acting without heat of emotion. Erdosain means he is not in the grip of passion — that detachment, not mercy, is what stops him from shooting.

Ahora Erdosain caminaba de un lado a otro de la habitación, con las manos cruzadas a la espalda.  
Now Erdosain paced from one side of the room to the other, his hands crossed behind his back.
> «de un lado a otro» = back and forth: «de un lado a otro» means 'from one side to the other, back and forth, to and fro'. «caminaba de un lado a otro» = 'he paced back and forth' — the imperfect makes the pacing continuous.
Ellos lo observaban, esperando algo.  
They watched him, waiting for something.
Por fin, el marido, sonriendo con un gesto, esguince pálido, continuó suavemente, languidecida su voz en una desesperación de sollozo retenido:  
At last the husband, smiling with a grimace, a pale flinch, went on softly, his voice slackened into a despair of held-back sobbing:
> «por fin» = at last: «por fin» means 'at last, finally, in the end'. It marks the arrival of something awaited — here the moment Erdosain finally breaks his pacing to speak.

–Sí, estaba en frío... estoy en frío.  
—Yes, I was in cold blood... I'm in cold blood.
–Ahora su mirada se había tornado vaga, pero sonreía con la misma sonrisa, extraña, alucinada–.  
—By now his gaze had turned vague, but he smiled with the same strange, hallucinated smile—.
> «tornarse» = to turn / become: «tornarse» is a literary pronominal verb meaning 'to become, to turn (into a state)'. «su mirada se había tornado vaga» = 'his gaze had turned vague'. It is a more elevated synonym of «volverse» or «ponerse».
Escúchenme... esto no tendrá explicación para ustedes, pero yo sí le he encontrado la explicación.  
Listen to me... this will have no explanation for you, but I have indeed found the explanation for it.
> «ustedes» command + pronoun: «Escúchenme» is the plural (ustedes) command of «escuchar» with «me» attached: 'listen to me (all of you)'. He now addresses both the captain and Elsa together, so the command takes the -en plural ending.

Sus ojos brillaban extraordinariamente y su voz enronqueció a través del esfuerzo que hizo por hablar.  
His eyes shone extraordinarily, and his voice grew hoarse through the effort he made to speak.
> Imperfect vs preterite together: «brillaban» (imperfect) paints the eyes shining as an ongoing state, while «enronqueció» (preterite) reports the single moment the voice cracked into hoarseness. The two tenses side by side show Spanish framing a continuous backdrop against a sudden event.

–Vean... mi vida ha sido horriblemente ofendida... horriblemente magullada.  
—See... my life has been horribly offended... horribly battered.
> Passive with «ser» in the perfect: «ha sido ofendida» is a true passive: «ser» plus a past participle, agreeing with the subject («vida», feminine → «ofendida»). 'My life has been offended.' The participle matches the noun in gender and number.

Calló, deteniéndose en un ángulo de la pieza.  
He fell silent, stopping in a corner of the room.
En su rostro se mantenía la sonrisa extraña del hombre que está viviendo un sueño peligroso.  
On his face there lingered the strange smile of a man who is living a dangerous dream.
Elsa, repentinamente irritada, mordía la punta de su pañuelo.  
Elsa, suddenly irritated, bit the corner of her handkerchief.
El capitán, de pie, junto a la valija, aguardaba.  
The captain, on his feet, beside the suitcase, waited.

De pronto Erdosain sacó el revólver del bolsillo y lo arrojó a un rincón.  
Suddenly Erdosain pulled the revolver from his pocket and hurled it into a corner.
La «Browning» desconchó el revoque del muro, golpeando pesadamente en el suelo.  
The Browning chipped the plaster off the wall, striking the floor heavily.

–¡Para lo que sirve este trasto! –murmuró.  
—For all the good this contraption is! —he muttered.
> «trasto»: «trasto» is a dismissive word for a useless or junky object — 'piece of junk, contraption, old thing'. «¡Para lo que sirve este trasto!» = 'For all the good this junk is!', a scornful exclamation hurled at the discarded pistol.
Luego, con una mano en el bolsillo del saco y la sien apoyada en el muro, habló despacio–:  
Then, with one hand in his coat pocket and his temple resting against the wall, he spoke slowly:
> «saco» (River Plate) = jacket: «saco» in Argentina means a suit jacket or coat, where other dialects say «chaqueta» or «americana». «el bolsillo del saco» = 'his jacket pocket'.
Sí, mi vida ha sido horriblemente ofendida... humillada.  
Yes, my life has been horribly offended... humiliated.
Créalo, capitán.  
Believe it, captain.
> «creer» — usted command + «lo»: «Créalo» is the formal command of «creer» ('to believe') with the neuter «lo» attached: 'believe it'. The accent on «Cré-» marks the stress kept where it falls before the pronoun is added.
No se impaciente.  
Don't get impatient.
> Negative usted command, pronominal: «No se impaciente» is the negative formal command of pronominal «impacientarse» ('to grow impatient'). In negative commands the pronoun «se» comes before the verb, not attached: 'don't get impatient.'
Le voy a contar algo.  
I'm going to tell you something.
Quien comenzó este feroz trabajo de humillación fue mi padre.  
The one who began this ferocious work of humiliation was my father.
> «quien» = the one who: «quien» on its own means 'the one who, whoever'. «Quien comenzó este trabajo fue mi padre» = 'the one who began this work was my father'. It folds a relative clause and its antecedent into a single word.
Cuando yo tenía diez años y había cometido alguna falta, me decía: «Mañana te pegaré».  
When I was ten years old and had committed some misdeed, he would say to me: "Tomorrow I'll beat you."
> Imperfect for habit: «tenía» ('I was') and «me decía» ('he used to say to me') are imperfects of repeated, habitual past action: across his childhood the father said this again and again. English renders the habit with 'would say' or 'used to say'.

Siempre era así, mañana...  
It was always like that — tomorrow...
¿Se dan cuenta?, mañana...  
Do you realize? — tomorrow...
Y esa noche dormía, pero dormía mal, con un sueño de perro, despertándome a media noche para mirar asustado los vidrios de la ventana y ver si ya era de día, mas cuando la luna cortaba de barrote del ventanillo, cerraba los ojos, diciéndome: falta mucho tiempo.  
And that night I would sleep, but sleep badly, with a dog's sleep, waking at midnight to stare in fright at the panes of the window and see whether it was already day, but when the moon cut across the bar of the little window, I would close my eyes, telling myself: there's a long time still.
> «un sueño de perro»: «un sueño de perro» literally 'a dog's sleep' means a restless, broken, fitful sleep — the way a wary dog sleeps with one ear open. It captures the boy's dread the night before the beating.
Más tarde me despertaba otra vez, al sentir el canto de los gallos.  
Later I would wake again, on hearing the crowing of the roosters.
La luna ya no estaba allí, pero una claridad azulada entraba por los cristales, y entonces yo me tapaba la cabeza con las sábanas para no mirarla, aunque sabía que estaba allí... aunque sabía que no había fuerza humana que pudiera echarla a esa claridad.  
The moon was no longer there, but a bluish brightness came in through the panes, and then I would cover my head with the sheets so as not to look at it, even though I knew it was there... even though I knew there was no human force that could drive that brightness away.
> Subjunctive after a negated antecedent: «no había fuerza humana que pudiera echarla» uses the imperfect subjunctive «pudiera» because the force is denied to exist: 'there was no human force that could drive it away'. A relative clause describing a non-existent thing takes the subjunctive.
Y cuando al fin me había dormido para mucho tiempo, una mano me sacudía la cabeza en la almohada.  
And when at last I had fallen asleep for a good while, a hand would shake my head on the pillow.
Era él que me decía con voz áspera: «Vamos... es hora».  
It was he, saying to me in a harsh voice: "Come on... it's time."
Y mientras yo me vestía lentamente, sentía que en el patio ese hombre movía la silla.  
And while I dressed slowly, I could hear that man moving the chair out in the patio.
«Vamos», me gritaba otra vez, y yo, hipnotizado, iba en línea en línea recta hacia él: quería hablar, pero eso era imposible ante su espantosa mirada.  
"Come on," he would shout at me again, and I, hypnotized, walked in a straight line toward him: I wanted to speak, but that was impossible before his terrifying stare.
Caía su mano sobre mi hombro obligándome a arrodillarme, yo apoyaba el pecho en el asiento de la silla, tomaba mi cabeza entre sus rodillas y, de pronto, crueles latigazos me cruzaban las nalgas.  
His hand would fall on my shoulder, forcing me to kneel, I would rest my chest on the seat of the chair, he gripped my head between his knees, and suddenly cruel lashes crossed my buttocks.
> «arrodillarse» = to kneel: «arrodillarse» means 'to kneel down' (from «rodilla», 'knee'). «obligándome a arrodillarme» = 'forcing me to kneel'. The pronominal form marks the action done to one's own body.
Cuando me soltaba, corría llorando a mi cuarto.  
When he let go of me, I would run crying to my room.
Una vergüenza enorme me hundía el alma en las tinieblas.  
An enormous shame sank my soul into darkness.
> «vergüenza» = shame: «vergüenza» means 'shame, embarrassment'. It is the emotional engine of the whole confession: not the pain of the lashes but the «vergüenza» they leave behind is what 'sinks his soul into darkness'.
Porque las tinieblas existen aunque usted no lo crea.  
Because the darkness exists, even if you don't believe it.
> «aunque» + subjunctive: «aunque» takes the subjunctive when the concession is hypothetical or set aside as not the point: «aunque usted no lo crea» = 'even if / even though you don't believe it'. The subjunctive «crea» leaves the captain's belief open.

Elsa miraba sobresaltada a su esposo.  
Elsa looked, startled, at her husband.
El capitán, de pie, cruzados los brazos, escuchaba aburrido.  
The captain, on his feet, his arms crossed, listened, bored.
> Absolute participle again: «cruzados los brazos» is another absolute participle: 'his arms crossed', a posture stated as a compact clause. Arlt repeatedly freezes the captain in such postures — standing, arms folded, examining his nails — to mark his cold detachment.
Erdosain sonreía con vaguedad.  
Erdosain smiled vaguely.
Continuó:  
He went on:

–Yo sabía que a la mayoría de los chicos los padres no les pegaban y en la escuela, cuando les oía hablar de sus casas, me paralizaba una angustia tan atroz que si estábamos en clase y el maestro me llamaba, yo lo miraba atontado, sin darme cuenta del sentido de sus preguntas, hasta que un día me gritó: «¿Pero usted, Erdosain, es un imbécil que no me oye?»  
—I knew that most children weren't beaten by their parents, and at school, when I heard them talk about their homes, I was paralyzed by an anguish so atrocious that if we were in class and the teacher called on me, I would look at him stunned, not grasping the meaning of his questions, until one day he shouted at me: "But you, Erdosain, are you an idiot who can't hear me?"
> «pegar a» + indirect object: «pegar» in the sense 'to hit / beat (someone)' takes an indirect object: «les pegaban» = 'they beat them / hit them'. The «les» refers to «los chicos» — one beats 'to' a person in Spanish, hence the dative pronoun.
Toda la clase se echó a reír, y desde ese día me llamaron Erdosain «el imbécil».  
The whole class burst out laughing, and from that day they called me Erdosain "the idiot."
> «echarse a» + infinitive: «echarse a» plus an infinitive means 'to start / burst out (doing something)' suddenly: «se echó a reír» = 'burst out laughing'. It stresses the abrupt onset of the action, more vivid than plain «empezó a reír».
Y yo, más triste, sintiéndome más ofendido que nunca, callaba por temor a los latigazos de mi padre, sonriendo a los que me insultaban... pero tímidamente.  
And I, sadder, feeling more offended than ever, would keep silent for fear of my father's lashes, smiling at those who insulted me... but timidly.
> «por temor a» = for fear of: «por temor a» means 'for fear of, out of fear of'. «callaba por temor a los latigazos» = 'I kept silent for fear of the lashes'. «temor» is fear, dread — a slightly more formal word than «miedo».
¿Se da cuenta, capitán?  
Do you realize, captain?
Lo insultan a usted... y usted todavía sonríe tímidamente, como si le hicieran un favor al injuriarlo.  
They insult you... and you still smile timidly, as if they were doing you a favor by insulting you.
> «al» + infinitive (means/time): «al injuriarlo» is «al» plus infinitive again: 'on / by insulting him'. Here it expresses the circumstance — 'as if they were doing you a favor by insulting you'. The pronoun «lo» ('him/you') attaches to the infinitive.

El intruso frunció el ceño.  
The intruder frowned.
> «fruncir el ceño» = to frown: «fruncir el ceño» is the set phrase for 'to frown, to knit one's brow' — «ceño» is the frown / the brow itself. «El intruso frunció el ceño» = 'the intruder frowned'.

–Más tarde –permítame, capitán–, más tarde me llamaron muchas veces «el imbécil».  
—Later —allow me, captain—, later they called me "the idiot" many times.
Entonces súbitamente el alma se me recogía a lo largo de los nervios, y esa sensación de que el alma se escondía avergonzada dentro de mi misma carne, me aniquilaba todo coraje; sintiendo que me hundía cada vez más y mirando a los ojos al que me injuriaba, en vez de tumbarlo de una cachetada, me decía:  
Then suddenly my soul would draw itself in along my nerves, and that sensation of the soul hiding in shame inside my own flesh annihilated all my courage; feeling myself sink deeper and deeper and looking into the eyes of the one insulting me, instead of knocking him down with a slap, I would tell myself:
> «en vez de» + infinitive: «en vez de» ('instead of') is followed by an infinitive: «en vez de tumbarlo de una cachetada» = 'instead of knocking him down with a slap'. «cachetada» is a slap across the face — the retaliation Erdosain never delivers.

¿Se dará cuenta este hombre hasta que punto me humilla?  
Does this man realize to what point he humiliates me?
> Future of conjecture: «¿Se dará cuenta...?» uses the future tense not for time but for conjecture about the present: 'I wonder whether he realizes...'. Spanish often uses the future to muse about something happening right now.
Luego me iba; comprendía que los otros no hacían más que terminar lo que había comenzado mi padre.  
Then I would leave; I understood that the others were only finishing what my father had begun.
> «no hacer más que» = to do nothing but: «no hacer más que» plus an infinitive means 'to do nothing but, to merely (do)': «no hacían más que terminar» = 'they were only finishing / they did nothing but finish'. It limits the action to that one thing.

–Y ahora –repuso el capitán– ¿yo también lo hundo?  
—And now —the captain rejoined— do I sink you too?
> «reponer» = to retort / reply: «repuso» is the preterite of «reponer» in its sense 'to reply, retort, rejoin' (an irregular like «poner»). In dialogue tags Arlt varies «dijo» with «repuso», «objetó», «interrumpió» to color who is pushing back.

–No, hombre, usted no.  
—No, man, not you.
Naturalmente, he sufrido tanto, que ahora el coraje está en mi encogido, escondido.  
Naturally, I've suffered so much that now my courage is shrunken, hidden away inside me.
Yo soy mi espectador y me pregunto: ¿Cuándo saltará mi coraje?  
I am my own spectator, and I ask myself: when will my courage leap out?
Y ése es el acontecimiento que espero.  
And that is the event I am waiting for.
> «acontecimiento» = event: «acontecimiento» means a momentous 'event, happening, occurrence' — weightier than the plain «suceso». Erdosain awaits not just any event but the great «acontecimiento» that will remake him.
Algún día algo monstruosamente estallará en mí y yo me convertiré en otro hombre.  
Someday something will monstrously explode within me, and I will turn into another man.
> «convertirse en» = to turn into: «convertirse en (algo)» means 'to turn into, to become (something)', with «en» before the new state. «me convertiré en otro hombre» = 'I will turn into another man'. Note the «en», not «a».

Entonces, si usted vive, iré a buscarle y le escupiré en la cara.  
Then, if you are alive, I will come looking for you and spit in your face.
> «escupir» = to spit: «escupir» means 'to spit'. «le escupiré en la cara» = 'I will spit in your (his) face'. The future tense makes it a vow — the promised act of the new, fearless man Erdosain dreams he will become.

El intruso lo miró sereno.  
The intruder looked at him, calm.

–Pero no por odio, sino para jugar con mi coraje, que me parecerá la cosa más nueva del mundo...  
—But not out of hatred, rather to play with my courage, which will seem to me the newest thing in the world...
> «sino» vs «pero»: «sino» means 'but rather', correcting a preceding negative: «no por odio, sino para jugar» = 'not out of hatred, but rather to play'. Use «sino» (not «pero») after a negation when replacing one idea with another.
Ahora, puede usted retirarse.  
Now, you may withdraw.

El intruso vaciló un instante.  
The intruder hesitated an instant.
La mirada de Erdosain, intensamente agrandada, estaba fija en él.  
Erdosain's gaze, intensely enlarged, was fixed on him.

Tomó la valija y salió.  
He took the suitcase and left.

Elsa se detuvo temblorosa ante su esposo.  
Elsa stopped, trembling, before her husband.

–Bueno, me voy, Remo... era necesario que esto terminara así.  
—Well, I'm going, Remo... it was necessary that this end this way.
> Subjunctive after «necesario que»: «era necesario que esto terminara así» uses the imperfect subjunctive «terminara» because impersonal expressions of necessity govern the subjunctive: 'it was necessary that this end this way'. The tense is past because the main verb «era» is past.

–Pero, ¿tú?... ¿tú?...  
—But... you?... you?...

–¿Y qué querías que hiciese?  
—And what did you want me to do?
> Wanting + subjunctive (past): «¿Qué querías que hiciese?» pairs «querer» in the imperfect with the imperfect subjunctive «hiciese»: 'What did you want me to do?'. When the wanting and the wished-for action have different subjects, the second verb goes subjunctive.

–No sé.  
—I don't know.

–¿Y entonces?  
—And so?
Quédate tranquilo, te pido.  
Stay calm, I beg you.
Ya te dejé la ropa preparada.  
I've already left your clothes laid out for you.
Cambiate el cuello.  
Change your collar.
> Voseo command: «cambiarse»: «Cambiate» is the «vos» command of pronominal «cambiarse» ('to change one's clothes'), with «-te» attached. Voseo stresses the syllable before the pronoun: «cambiate», versus the «tú» form «cámbiate». «el cuello» here is a detachable shirt collar.
Siempre le haces pasar vergüenza a una.  
You always make a person feel ashamed.
> «hacer pasar vergüenza»: «hacer pasar vergüenza a alguien» means 'to embarrass someone, to make someone feel ashamed'. «a una» is Elsa referring to herself impersonally as 'a woman / a person', a softened way of saying 'you embarrass me'.

–Pero tú, Elsa... ¿tú?  
—But you, Elsa... you?
¿Y nuestros proyectos?  
And our plans?

–Ilusiones, Remo... esplendores.  
—Illusions, Remo... splendors.

–Sí, esplendores... pero ¿dónde aprendiste esa palabra tan linda?  
—Yes, splendors... but where did you learn that such a lovely word?
> «lindo/linda» (River Plate): «lindo/linda» means 'lovely, pretty, nice' and is the everyday word for it in Argentina, where Peninsular Spanish leans on «bonito» or «guapo». «esa palabra tan linda» = 'that such a lovely word'.
Esplendores.  
Splendors.

–No sé.  
—I don't know.

–¿Y nuestra vida quedará siempre deshecha?  
—And will our life remain forever undone?
> «deshecho» = undone / shattered: «deshecho/deshecha» is the participle of «deshacer» ('to undo'), meaning 'undone, ruined, shattered, fallen apart'. «nuestra vida quedará deshecha» = 'our life will be left shattered'.

–¿Qué querés?  
—What do you want?
> Voseo present: «querer»: «querés» is the «vos» present of «querer» ('to want'), where «tú» gives «quieres». Voseo keeps the stem regular (no «e→ie» change) and stresses the ending. «¿Qué querés?» = 'What do you want?', here close to 'What can you do?'
Sin embargo yo fui buena.  
And yet I was good.
> «sin embargo» = nevertheless: «sin embargo» means 'however, nevertheless, and yet'. It introduces a contrast with what came before: 'And yet I was good.' One of the most common Spanish discourse connectors.
Después te tomé odio... pero ¿por qué no fuiste también igual?...  
Afterward I came to hate you... but why weren't you the same too?...
> «tomar odio» = to come to hate: «tomar odio a alguien» is an idiom: 'to come to hate, to take a hatred to someone'. «te tomé odio» = 'I came to hate you'. The pattern «tomar + emotion» (tomar cariño, tomar odio) means to grow into that feeling toward someone.

–¡Ah!,sí... igual... igual...  
—Ah, yes... the same... the same...

Lo aturdía la pena como un gran día de sol en el trópico.  
Grief dazed him like a great day of tropical sun.
> «aturdir» = to daze / stun: «aturdir» means 'to daze, stun, bewilder, leave reeling'. «Lo aturdía la pena» = 'grief dazed him', with «la pena» (the grief) as subject and «lo» (him) as object — the sorrow acting upon him.
Se le caían los párpados.  
His eyelids were drooping.
> «se» + dative of the affected person: «Se le caían los párpados» literally 'the eyelids were falling to him' = 'his eyelids were drooping'. Spanish marks involuntary bodily events with «se» plus an indirect-object pronoun («le») for the person, rather than a possessive 'his'.
Hubiera querido dormir.  
He would have liked to sleep.
El sentido de las palabras se hundía en su entendimiento con la lentitud de una piedra en un agua demasiado espesa.  
The meaning of the words sank into his understanding with the slowness of a stone in water too thick.
Cuando la palabra tocaba en el fondo de su conciencia, fuerzas oscuras retorcían su angustia.  
When the word touched the bottom of his consciousness, dark forces wrung his anguish.
Y durante un instante, en el fondo de su pecho, quedaban flotando y estremecidas como en el fangal de un charco, sus hierbajos de sufrimiento.  
And for an instant, at the bottom of his chest, his weeds of suffering remained floating and shuddering as in the mire of a puddle.
> «hierbajo» = weed (pejorative): «hierbajo» is «hierba» ('grass, weed') with the disparaging suffix «-ajo»: a worthless, ugly weed. «sus hierbajos de sufrimiento» = 'his weeds of suffering', a grotesque image of pain as rank vegetation in stagnant water.
Ella continuó con la voz apaciguada por una resignación interior:  
She went on, her voice calmed by an inner resignation:

–Ahora es inútil... ahora yo me voy.  
—Now it's useless... now I'm leaving.
¿Por qué no fuiste bueno vos?  
Why weren't you good?
¿Por qué no trabajaste?  
Why didn't you work?
Erdosain tuvo la certidumbre como él, y una piedad inmensa lo hizo caer al borde de la silla, aplastada la cabeza sobre el brazo estirado en la mesa.  
Erdosain had the certainty, as he did, and an immense pity made him drop onto the edge of the chair, his head crushed against his arm stretched out on the table.
> «hacer» + infinitive (causative): «hacer» plus an infinitive is the causative 'to make someone do something': «una piedad inmensa lo hizo caer» = 'an immense pity made him fall'. The pronoun «lo» is the one made to act.

–¿Así que te vas?  
—So you're leaving?
¿De veras que te vas?  
Are you really leaving?
> «de veras» = really / truly: «de veras» means 'really, truly, for real'. «¿De veras que te vas?» = 'Are you really leaving?' — an incredulous plea, asking her to confirm what he can't believe.

–Sí, quiero ver si nuestra vida mejora, ¿sabes?  
—Yes, I want to see if our life gets better, you know?
Mira mis manos –y desenguantando la diestra la presentó magullada por los fríos, mordida por las lejías, picoteada por las agujas de la costura, oscurecida por el hollín de las cacerolas.  
Look at my hands —and ungloving the right one she held it out, bruised by the cold, eaten by the lyes, pricked by the sewing needles, darkened by the soot of the pots.
> «la diestra» = the right hand: «la diestra» is a literary word for 'the right hand' (from «diestro», 'right, dexterous'). The catalogue of damage that follows — bruised, eaten by lye, pricked, soot-darkened — makes Elsa's hand the evidence of the poverty she is fleeing.
Erdosain se levantó, envarado por una alucinación.  
Erdosain rose, stiffened by a hallucination.

Veía a su desdichada esposa en los tumultos monstruosos de las ciudades de portland y de hierro, cruzando diagonales oscuras a la oblicua sombra de los rascacielos bajo una amenazadora red de negros cables de alta tensión.  
He saw his wretched wife in the monstrous tumults of the cities of Portland cement and iron, crossing dark diagonals in the slanting shade of the skyscrapers beneath a threatening web of black high-tension cables.
> «rascacielos» = skyscraper: «rascacielos» literally 'scrape-skies' is a compound noun meaning 'skyscraper', invariable in the plural. Arlt's vision of cement, iron and high-tension cables is the industrial modern city that haunts the whole novel.
Pasaba una multitud de hombres de negocios protegidos por paraguas.  
A crowd of businessmen passed by, shielded by umbrellas.

Su carita estaba más pálida que nunca, pero ella lo recordaba mientras el aliento de los desconocidos se cortaba en su perfil.  
Her little face was paler than ever, but she remembered him while the breath of strangers broke against her profile.

«–¿Dónde estará mi muchachito?»  
"—Where can my little boy be?"
> Future of conjecture: «¿Dónde estará mi muchachito?» uses the future «estará» to wonder about the present: 'Where can my little boy be?' / 'I wonder where he is.' The future tense is the Spanish way of voicing a present-tense guess or musing.

Erdosain interrumpió su proyección de futuro:  
Erdosain interrupted his projection of the future:

–Elsa... ya sabes... vení cuando quieras... podes venir... pero decí la verdad, ¿me quisiste alguna vez?  
—Elsa... you know... come whenever you want... you can come... but tell the truth, did you ever love me?
> Voseo command + subjunctive: «vení» is the «vos» command of «venir» ('come!'), formed by dropping the -r and adding an accent: «venir» → «vení» (a «tú» speaker says «ven»). «cuando quieras» ('whenever you want') keeps the subjunctive «quieras» for an unset future time.

Despaciosamente levantó ella los párpados.  
Slowly she raised her eyelids.
Sus pupilas se agrandaron.  
Her pupils widened.
La voz llenaba el cuarto de calidez humana.  
Her voice filled the room with human warmth.
A Erdosain le parecía vivir ahora.  
To Erdosain it seemed he was alive now.

–Siempre te quise... ahora también te quiero... nunca, ¿por qué nunca hablaste como esta noche?  
—I always loved you... now I love you too... never, why did you never speak as you did tonight?
> «querer» = to love: Beyond 'to want', «querer» means 'to love' for people. «Siempre te quise» (preterite) = 'I always loved you'; «te quiero» (present) = 'I love you'. The shift from past to present tracks Elsa's feeling reviving in the moment.
Siento que te voy a querer toda la vida... que el otro a tu lado es la sombra de un hombre...  
I feel I'm going to love you all my life... that the other one beside you is the shadow of a man...

–Alma, mi pobre alma... qué vida la nuestra... qué vida...  
—Soul, my poor soul... what a life ours is... what a life...
> «alma» as an endearment: «alma» ('soul') is used here as a term of endearment, like 'my soul, my darling'. Erdosain calls Elsa «alma» throughout this last exchange — the same word that names the inner wound he has been describing all night.

Un rizo de sonrisa encrespó dolorosamente los labios de ella.  
A curl of a smile crimped her lips painfully.
Elsa lo miró ardientemente un instante.  
Elsa looked at him ardently for an instant.
Luego, con la voz seria de promesas:  
Then, with a voice grave with promises:

–Mira... espérame.  
—Look... wait for me.
Si la vida es como siempre me dijiste, yo vuelvo, ¿sabes?, y entonces, si vos querés, nos matamos juntos... ¿Estás contento?  
If life is the way you always told me, I'll come back, you know, and then, if you want, we'll kill ourselves together... Are you happy?
> Reciprocal / planned present: «nos matamos juntos» uses the reflexive-reciprocal «nos» — 'we kill ourselves together' — with the present tense standing in for a near-certain future ('we'll kill ourselves'). Spanish often uses the present for a planned or promised future action.

Una ola de sangre subió hasta las sienes del hombre.  
A wave of blood rose to the man's temples.

–Alma, qué buena sos, alma... dame esa mano –y mientras ella, aun sobrecogida, sonreía con timidez, Erdosain se la besó–.  
—Soul, how good you are, soul... give me that hand —and while she, still overcome, smiled timidly, Erdosain kissed it—.
> Voseo present: «ser»: «sos» is the «vos» present of «ser» ('to be'), where «tú» gives «eres». «qué buena sos» = 'how good you are'. «sos» is one of the most recognizable markers of Argentine speech.
¿No te enojas, alma?  
You're not angry, soul?
> «enojarse» = to get angry: «enojarse» is the standard Latin American verb for 'to get angry / upset', where Spain often prefers «enfadarse». «¿No te enojas?» = 'You're not getting angry / upset?'

Ella enderezó la cabeza grave de dicha.  
She straightened her head, grave with happiness.
> «dicha» = bliss / happiness: «dicha» (noun) means 'happiness, bliss, good fortune' — the root behind «dichoso» ('happy') and the opposite of «desdicha». «grave de dicha» = 'grave / solemn with happiness', a strange, weighted joy.

–Mirá Remo... yo voy a venir, ¿sabes?, y si es cierto lo que decís de la vida... sí, yo vengo... voy a venir.  
—Look, Remo... I'm going to come, you know, and if what you say about life is true... yes, I'll come... I'm going to come.
> Voseo command: «mirar»: «Mirá» is the «vos» command of «mirar» ('look!'), with the stress on the final syllable, versus the «tú» form «mira». Elsa shifts between «Mira» and «Mirá» in these closing lines — Arlt's spelling tracks the intimate voseo of their speech.

–¿Vas a venir?  
—You're going to come?

–Con lo que tenga.  
—With whatever I have.
> «lo que» + subjunctive: «con lo que tenga» = 'with whatever I (may) have', using the subjunctive «tenga» because the amount is unknown and future. «lo que» plus subjunctive expresses 'whatever' about something not yet determined.

–¿Aunque seas rica?  
—Even if you're rich?
> «aunque» + subjunctive (hypothetical): «¿Aunque seas rica?» uses the subjunctive «seas» because the wealth is hypothetical, not a fact: 'even if you're rich'. «aunque» with the subjunctive means 'even if'; with the indicative it would mean 'even though (you are)'.

–Aunque tenga todos los millones de la tierra, vengo.  
—Even if I have all the millions on earth, I'll come.
¡Te lo juro!  
I swear it to you!
> Two object pronouns: «Te lo juro» stacks two pronouns: «te» (indirect, 'to you') then «lo» (direct, 'it') — 'I swear it to you'. The indirect object always comes before the direct in Spanish, the reverse of the English order.

–¡Alma, pobre alma!  
—Soul, poor soul!
¡Qué alma la tuya!  
What a soul yours is!
Sin embargo, vos no me conociste... no importa... ¡ah, nuestra vida!  
And yet, you never knew me... it doesn't matter... ah, our life!

–No importa.  
—It doesn't matter.
> «no importa» = it doesn't matter: «no importa» means 'it doesn't matter, never mind'. «importar» here is 'to matter / be important', working like «gustar» (the thing that matters is the subject). A staple of everyday spoken Spanish.
Estoy contenta.  
I'm happy.
¿Te das cuenta de tu sorpresa, Remo?  
Do you realize your surprise, Remo?
Estás sólito, de noche.  
You're all alone, at night.
> Diminutive «solito»: «sólito» (more usually written «solito») is «solo» ('alone') with the diminutive «-ito», softening it to 'all alone, all by yourself' with a note of tenderness. Elsa is painting the lonely scene of her imagined return.
Estás solo... de pronto, cric... la puerta se abre... y soy yo... ¡yo que he venido!  
You're alone... suddenly, click... the door opens... and it's me... me, who has come!
Estás con un traje de baile... zapatos blancos y tenés un collar de perlas.  
You're in a ball gown... white shoes, and you have a pearl necklace.

–Y vine sola, a pie por las calles oscuras, buscándote... pero vos no me ves, estás solo... la cabeza...  
—And I came alone, on foot through the dark streets, looking for you... but you don't see me, you're alone... your head...
> «a pie» = on foot: «a pie» means 'on foot, walking'. «vine sola, a pie por las calles oscuras» = 'I came alone, on foot through the dark streets'. The fixed phrase takes no article.

–Decí... habla... habla...  
—Say it... speak... speak...

–La cabeza apoyada en la mano y el codo en la mesa... me miras... y de pronto...  
—Your head resting on your hand and your elbow on the table... you look at me... and suddenly...

–Te reconozco y te digo: Elsa, ¿sos vos, Elsa?  
—I recognize you and I say to you: Elsa, is it you, Elsa?
> «¿sos vos?» = is it you?: «¿sos vos?» is the wholly Argentine way to say 'is it you?', pairing «sos» (vos form of «ser») with the pronoun «vos» for emphasis. Where standard Spanish says «¿eres tú?», the River Plate says «¿sos vos?».

–Y yo te contesto: Remo, yo vine, ¿te acordás de esa noche?  
—And I answer you: Remo, I came, do you remember that night?
Esa noche es esta noche y afuera sopla el gran viento y nosotros no tenemos frío ni pena.  
That night is this night, and outside the great wind is blowing, and we feel neither cold nor sorrow.
> «tener» for states: Spanish uses «tener» ('to have') where English uses 'to be' for many bodily and emotional states: «tener frío» = 'to be cold', «tener pena» = 'to feel sorrow'. «no tenemos frío ni pena» = 'we are neither cold nor sorrowful'.
¿Estás contento, Remo?  
Are you happy, Remo?

–Sí, te juro que estoy contento.  
—Yes, I swear to you I'm happy.

–Bueno, me voy.  
—All right, I'm going.

–¿Te vas?  
—You're leaving?

–Sí...  
—Yes...

El semblante del hombre se deformó en la súbita pena.  
The man's face contorted in the sudden grief.
> «semblante» = face / countenance: «semblante» is a literary word for 'face, countenance, expression' — the face as it shows feeling. Arlt uses «semblante» throughout for the masklike faces around the lamp; here it 'contorts' as grief breaks through.

–Bueno, ándate.  
—All right, go.
> «ándate» — the tú command, beside River Plate «andate»: «ándate» (from «andarse», colloquial for 'to go / be off') is the familiar command 'get going, off you go'. As printed — stressed on the first syllable, with the written accent — it is the «tú» form; the River Plate voseo equivalent is «andate», stressed on the last syllable of the stem, or simply «andá». Arlt's dialogue moves between the two.

–Hasta pronto, mi esposo.  
—See you soon, my husband.
> «hasta pronto» = see you soon: «hasta pronto» means 'see you soon, until soon'. The «hasta + ...» family of farewells (hasta luego, hasta mañana) literally says 'until...'. Calling him «mi esposo» as she leaves is what makes him ask her to repeat it.

–¿Qué dijiste?  
—What did you say?

–Te digo esto, Remo.  
—I'm telling you this, Remo.
Espérame.  
Wait for me.
Aunque tenga todos los millones del mundo, yo vuelvo.  
Even if I have all the millions in the world, I'll come back.

–Bueno... entonces adiós... pero dame un beso.  
—All right... then goodbye... but give me a kiss.
> «dar» command + pronoun: «dame» is the familiar command of «dar» ('give!') with «me» attached: 'give me'. «dame un beso» = 'give me a kiss'. Affirmative commands take the pronoun on the end; the same form serves «tú» and «vos» here.

–No, cuando vuelva... adiós, mi esposo.  
—No, when I come back... goodbye, my husband.
> «cuando» + subjunctive (future): «cuando vuelva» = 'when I come back', with the subjunctive «vuelva» because the return is in the unrealized future. After «cuando», Spanish uses the subjunctive for an event yet to happen, the indicative for habitual or past ones.

De pronto, Erdosain lanzado por un espasmo sin nombre, la cogió brutalmente de las manos por los pulsos.  
Suddenly, Erdosain, flung forward by a nameless spasm, seized her brutally by the hands, by the wrists.

–Decíme: ¿te acostaste con él?  
—Tell me: did you sleep with him?
> «acostarse con» = to sleep with: «acostarse» is 'to lie down / go to bed'; «acostarse con alguien» is the idiom 'to sleep with someone' in the sexual sense. «Decíme» is the voseo command of «decir» with «me» attached — 'tell me'.
–Soltame, Remo... yo no creía que vos...  
—Let go of me, Remo... I didn't think you...
> Voseo command: «soltar»: «Soltame» is the «vos» command of «soltar» ('to let go, release') with «-me» attached: 'let go of me'. The «vos» command keeps the stem whole (no «o→ue» change) and stresses the ending — «soltame», not «suéltame».

–Confesa, ¿te acostaste o no?  
—Confess: did you sleep with him or not?

–No.  
—No.

En el marco de la puerta se detuvo el capitán.  
In the doorframe the captain stopped.
Una flojedad inmensa relajó los nervios de sus dedos.  
An immense slackness loosened the nerves of his fingers.
Erdosain sintió que caía y ya no vio más.  
Erdosain felt himself falling and saw nothing more.
> «ya no» = no longer: «ya no» means 'no longer, not anymore'. «ya no vio más» = 'he saw no more, he saw nothing further'. «ya no» marks the end of a state that held until now — a fitting last beat for the chapter, as consciousness goes out.
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Source text: public domain (Roberto Arlt, d. 1942). English translation: © 2026 1732 Studios, LLC — original draft, pending editorial review. NOTE: this is a minimal seed excerpt to make the app target runnable; full verified content is authored through the content pipeline.