El cómplice / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Accomplice

     I feared the presence of the Castilian woman. I was mistrustful of her austere morality and her indifferent pride.

     She had dismissed several suitors of savage humor, military coarseness. They disdained the moderation of gesture and the sound judgment of discourse.

     She had retracted herself from society, adopting an even, insipid life. She attained, at the same time, the satisfaction of punctiliousness and the reestablishment of the estate.

     She preferred me among the domestics and family members. I had won her esteem by attending to her jealously and without precipitation. I would retire from her presence after responding to her in strict terms.

     She made an appointment with me once to tell me about her resentment against a licentious cleric, raised on acorns, and captured my willingness for the purpose of her vengeance.

     We invited him to a hunting party and I myself chose for him, from my lady’s stables, a cunning horse, full of nasty habits.

     The three of us departed along an avenue toward the open countryside, in the presence of dawn.

     The Castilian woman reminded me of the agreed upon scream.

     The disloyal brute threw off its rider head first, after executing a series of vehement leaps.

     I approached the inanimate face and advised we return, considering as fruitful the journey.

     Spring had sewn modest flowers, during the night, along the breadth of the green fields.




Las formas del fuego (1929)




{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }