Selected Stories

The first paperback variation of the chosen tales of this nice Argentine writer.

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I had an orchestra seat in the course of a row, in order that i might need to hassle a protracted line of spectators with a view to go out. yet because the seat to my left was once empty, i used to be approximately to wake up and go away while i spotted a girl in white imminent from a similar direc­ tion. the woman sat down beside me, and that i m uttered: “The die is solid. I’ll remain. ” I then puzzled how I had recognized that Berlioz was once a good 48 ADOLFO BIOY CASARES musician, a guy in whom the tune fan can have whole self assurance. O f direction: Cecilia had spoken approximately him to me, Cecilia together with her monstrous wisdom. She was once as better to me because the masters of the Italian Renaissance to the petty males of our occasions. We have been buddies all our lives, even though while the instant arrived for it to develop into anything extra, it one way or the other handed us via (and whilst it passes you by means of, it doesn’t go back, she herself explained). these days we not often see one another, given that we don’t even continue to exist an analogous continent. Cecilia is together with her hus­ band, a diplomatic attache who used to be despatched no longer in the past to a undeniable vague put up in important Europe. possibly through now—time flies, you know—he has been promoted to a better place; he can even be an envoy, prepared for retirem ent and oblivion. at any time when they’ve recalled her husband to the Ministry to do penance, he turns into an ogre simply because he’s pressured to install a day’s paintings and, as though this weren't adequate punishment, they pay him in Argen­ tine forex. On such events, I abandon every little thing else and commit myself to Cecilia. That evening in my seat on the Solis Theater, I arrived on the following end: “No doubt approximately it: Cecilia stands excessive chiefly different girls. It’s as though she have been the sole individual between cardboard figures. She’s the girl of my lifestyles, although we’re merely neighbors. ” by surprise I rem em­ bered what she acknowledged: “Berlioz is a brilliant second-rate composer for the normal guy, yet for the cognoscenti, he’s one of many few genuine musicians that ever existed. ” The orchestra started its traditional tuning and fiddling. all of sudden i used to be struck through a doubt that made my presence within the theater an excruciating torture. probably Cecilia were speaking approximately Gluck and that i had conceivably careworn him with Berlioz, which intended that i used to be creating a meaningless sacrifice. The reminiscence of the-devil-knows-what feud among Puccini and Gluck lovers— basically Cecilia spoke to me on such topics—deepened my suspi­ cions. If there has been no cause to recognize Berlioz, then why was once I the following? To endure? to fret approximately no longer understanding even if I cherished the tune i used to be hearing? With the sane goal of distracting myself from such preoc­ cupations, I took a glance at my neighbor. not just used to be she wearing white, she had a very reasonable complexion. O r faded, too PEARLS ahead of SWINE forty nine faded. i do know completely good that reviews on light ladies could be followed via a condemning grimace, yet I’m bored with pre­ tending. I’ll confess: I’m now not relatively sophisticated. For me such complexions signify a variation—one no much less attention-grabbing than others—on Goethe’s everlasting female.

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