Cumbres Borrascosas (Wuthering Heights)

Cumbres Borrascosas (Wuthering Heights)

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by Emily Brontë
     
 

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Lockwood, el nuevo inquilino de la Granja de los Tordos, situada en los inhóspitos páramos de Yorkshire, se ve forzado a buscar refugio una noche en Cumbres Borrascosas, el hogar de su casero. Aquí descubre los hechos que tuvieron lugar unos años antes: la intensa pasión entre el joven expósito Heathcliff y Catherine Earnshaw, y su traici…  See more details below

Overview

Lockwood, el nuevo inquilino de la Granja de los Tordos, situada en los inhóspitos páramos de Yorkshire, se ve forzado a buscar refugio una noche en Cumbres Borrascosas, el hogar de su casero. Aquí descubre los hechos que tuvieron lugar unos años antes: la intensa pasión entre el joven expósito Heathcliff y Catherine Earnshaw, y su traición hacia él. Dado que la amargura y la venganza de Heathcliff revierten en la siguiente generación, a sus inocentes herederos no les queda más remedio que luchar por escapar del legado del pasado...

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9788498414929
Publisher:
Siruela
Publication date:
09/20/2010
Series:
Tiempo de Clásicos , #2
Sold by:
Barnes & Noble
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
392
Sales rank:
724,533
File size:
600 KB
Age Range:
18 Years

Read an Excerpt

Cumbres Borrascosas / Wuthering Heights


By Emily Bronte

Planeta

Copyright © 1998 Emily Bronte
All right reserved.

ISBN: 843204038X

Chapter One




1801-I have just returned from a visit to my landlord-the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist's Heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name.

'Mr. Heathcliff?' I said.

A nod was the answer.

'Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts-'

'Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing. 'I should not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it-walk in!'

The 'walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, 'Go to the Deuce':even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathizing movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself.

When he saw my horse's breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did pull out his hand to unchain it, and then suddenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court,-

'Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse; and bring up some wine.'

'Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,' was the reflection, suggested by this compound order. 'No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.'

Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy.

'The Lord help us!' he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent.

Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's dwelling. 'Wuthering' being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones.

Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date '1500,' and the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.' I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium.

One step brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house' pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fire-place; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been underdrawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villanous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser, reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.

The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as belonging to a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance, and stalwart limbs set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated in his armchair, his mug of ale frothing on the round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose. Possibly, some people might suspect him of a degree of underbred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling-to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He'll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No. I'm running on too fast: I bestow my own attributes over liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those which actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say I should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one.

While enjoying a month of fine weather at the seacoast, I was thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me. I 'never told my love' vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears: she understood me at last, and looked a return-the sweetest of all imaginable looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame-shrunk icily into myself, like a snail; at every glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp.

By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate.

I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch.

My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl.

'You'd better let the dog alone,' growled Mr. Heathcliff in unison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot. 'She's not accustomed to be spoiled-not kept for a pet.'

Then, striding to a side door, he shouted again-'Joseph!'-

Joseph mumbled indistinctly in the depths of the cellar, but gave no intimation of ascending; so his master dived down to him, leaving me vis-a-vis the ruffianly bitch and a pair of grim shaggy sheep-dogs, who shared with her a jealous guardianship over all my movements.

Not anxious to come in contact with their fangs, I sat still; but, imagining they would scarcely understand tacit insults, I unfortunately indulged in winking and making faces at the trio, and some turn of my physiognomy so irritated madam, that she suddenly broke into a fury, and leapt on my knees. I flung her back, and hastened to interpose the table between us. This proceeding roused the whole hive. Half-a-dozen four-footed fiends, of various sizes and ages, issued from hidden dens to the common centre. I felt my heels and coat-laps peculiar subjects of assault; and, parrying off the larger combatants as effectually as I could with the poker, I was constrained to demand, aloud, assistance from some of the household in re-establishing peace.

Mr. Heathcliff and his man climbed the cellar steps with vexatious phlegm: I don't think they moved one second faster than usual, though the hearth was an absolute tempest of worrying and yelping.

Happily, an inhabitant of the kitchen made more dispatch: a lusty dame, with tucked-up gown, bare arms, and fire-flushed cheeks, rushed into the midst of us flourishing a frying-pan: and used that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically, and she only remained, heaving like a sea after a high wind, when her master entered on the scene.

'What the devil is the matter?' he asked, eyeing me in a manner I could ill endure after this inhospitable treatment.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered. 'The herd of possessed swine could have had no worse spirits in them than those animals of yours, sir. You might as well leave a stranger with a brood of tigers!'

'They won't meddle with persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me, and restoring the displaced table. 'The dogs do right to be vigilant. Take a glass of wine?'

'No, thank you.'

'Not bitten, are you?'

'If I had been, I would have set my signet on the biter.'

Heathcliff's countenance relaxed into a grin.

'Come, come,' he said, 'you are flurried, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so exceedingly rare in this house that I and my dogs, I am willing to own, hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir!'

I bowed and returned the pledge; beginning to perceive that it would be foolish to sit sulking for the misbehaviour of a pack of curs: besides, I felt loath to yield the fellow further amusement at my expense; since his humour took that turn.

He-probably swayed by prudential considerations of the folly of offending a good tenant-relaxed a little in the laconic style of chipping off1 his pronouns and auxiliary verbs, and introduced what he supposed would be a subject of interest to me,-a discourse on the advantages and disadvantages of my present place of retirement.

I found him very intelligent on the topics we touched; and before I went home, I was encouraged so far as to volunteer another visit to-morrow.

He evidently wished no repetition of my intrusion. I shall go, notwithstanding. It is astonishing how sociable I feel myself compared with him.



CHAPTER 2



Yesterday afternoon set in misty and cold. I had half a mind to spend it by my study fire, instead of wading through heath and mud to Wuthering Heights.

On coming up from dinner, however, (N.B.-I dine between twelve and one o'clock; the housekeeper, a matronly lady, taken as a fixture along with the house, could not, or would not, comprehend my request that I might be served at five.) On mounting the stairs with this lazy intention, and stepping into the room, I saw a servant-girl on her knees, surrounded by brushes, and coal-scuttles; and raising an infernal dust as she extinguished the flames with heaps of cinders. This spectacle drove me back immediately; I took my hat, and, after a four miles' walk, arrived at Heathcliff's garden gate just in time to escape the first feathery flakes of a snow-shower.

On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged cause-way bordered with straggling gooseberry bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles tingled, and the dogs howled.

'Wretched inmates!' I ejaculated, mentally, 'you deserve perpetual isolation from your species for your churlish inhospitality. At least, I would not keep my doors barred in the day-time. I don't care-I will get in!'

So resolved, I grasped the latch and shook it vehemently. Vinegar-faced Joseph projected his head from a round window of the barn.

'Whet are ye for?' he shouted. 'T' maister's dahn i' t' fowld. Goa rahnd by th' end ut' laith, if yah went tuh spake tull him.'2

'Is there nobody inside to open the door?' I hallooed, responsively.

'They's nobbut t' missis; and shoo'll nut oppen 't an ye mak yer flaysome dins till neeght.'3

'Why? cannot you tell her who I am, eh, Joseph?'

'Nor-ne me! Aw'll hae noa hend wi't,' muttered the head, vanishing.4

The snow had began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cote, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment, where I was formerly received.

It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the 'missis,' an individual whose existence I had never previously suspected.

I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me take a seat. She looked at me, leaning back in her chair, and remained motionless and mute.

'Rough weather!' I remarked. 'I'm afraid, Mrs. Heathcliff, the door5 must bear the consequence of your servants' leisure attendance: I had hard work to make them hear me!'

She never opened her mouth. I stared-she stared also. At any rate, she kept her eyes on me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.

'Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly. 'He'll be in soon.'

I obeyed; and hemmed, and called the villain Juno, who deigned, at this second interview, to move the extreme tip of her tail, in token of owning my acquaintance.

'A beautiful animal!' I commenced again. 'Do you intend parting with the little ones, madam?'

'They are not mine,' said the amiable hostess, more repellingly than Heathcliff himself could have replied.


From the Paperback edition.

Continues...


Excerpted from Cumbres Borrascosas / Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte Copyright © 1998 by Emily Bronte. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Meet the Author

Cristina Sánchez-Andrade (Santiago de Compostela 1968) es licenciada en Ciencias de la Información y en Derecho, colaboradora de la prensa y crítica literaria. Ha publicado la novela Las lagartijas huelen a hierba (1999).

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Cumbres Borrascosas 3.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 10 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
la traduccion de cumbres borrascosas no tiene sentido aunque lo leas cinco veces no lo puedes entender.
Demonik More than 1 year ago
this is the second ebook that i buy in that way, the translation is poor, you can't understand it at all, don' buy it. am realy mad now.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Howncan u even buy it? Its so expensive!!!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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Guest More than 1 year ago
My Name is Mario Canizalez, i am a senior from Narbonne High School in Lomita, CA. I read this book and it shows that often times, authors will write a story using their personal lives and experiences to somehow influence their novel. According to the content of Wuthering Heights, a haunting love story, the reader learns that the author, Emily Brontë, was quite the romantic. Although she was a sensitive Victorian lady, Wuthering Heights goes to show that her thoughts and ideas were cruel and barbaric. In the classic Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë based herself, her thoughts, and her family members to fashion the characters and settings in her book. Wuthering Heights is a weather-beaten farm on the windswept moors in England. It is described to have ¿narrow windows¿deeply set in the wall¿ with ¿corners [that were] defended with large jutting stones.¿ The building seems to be based on a noble house, called High Sunderland, where Emily Brontë taught in 1838. Wuthering Heights also resembles Haworth ¿ an isolated Yorkshire village where Emily Brontë lived her entire life. Emily Brontë had a strong mind and was free spirited. She was different from the rest of her siblings and had a powerful imagination. In fact, her personality favors that of Catherine Earnshaw, one of the main characters in Wuthering Heights. Catherine had high, lively spirits and was occasionally cruel ¿ just as Emily Brontë was. Emily never made strong attempts to make any friends and once told her classmates that the school¿s dog meant more to her than any of them. Her harsh character very much relates to that of Catherine. In the novel, Catherine cried out to one of her guests, ¿I hate you to be fidgeting in my presence.¿ Emily Brontë certainly used the character of Catherine Earnshaw to interpret her own thoughts and feelings, as well as to reveal some of her fantasies. Catherine Earnshaw¿s obsession for Heathcliff, a homeless gypsy who later became a part of her family, might have been an indication that Emily Brontë might have wanted to have someone to love, but just did not have the social characteristics to pursue a relationship. The fact that Catherine¿s father brought Heathcliff off the streets of Liverpool and to his new home at Wuthering Heights may have reflected the time when Emily Brontë¿s father brought home twelve wooden soldiers. Even Heathcliff¿s appearance was described as having model configuration. He had ¿an erect and handsome figure.¿ Heathcliff also represents the English economy at the time when Emily Brontë wrote her book in the 1840¿s. The economy of England was so severely depressed that the upper and middle classes feared a violent revolt from the factory workers in industrial areas. By the end of the story, Emily Brontë allowed the character of Heathcliff to gain economical and social power. Another character in the story that connects to Emily Brontë was Catherine¿s brother, Hindley. Hindley falls into alcoholism and dissipation when his wife dies. He ¿came home rapid drunk, ready to pull the old place about our ears.¿ Although his family loses respect for Hindley, Emily Brontë allows the readers to feel some sort of sympathy for him. Similarly, Emily Brontë¿s brother, Branwell, fell into deep depression when he broke up with a lady he was having an affair with. He began abusing drugs and alcohol as his family, except Emily, became merciless in expressing their disapproval over his behavior. Emily Brontë uses Hindley to express her disappointment, yet sympathetic point of view towards Branwell. Emily Brontë¿s aunt, Elizabeth Branwell, influenced the development of the character Joseph. He was a tedious and self-righteous character with a Yorkshire dialect. Both Elizabeth and Joseph were very religious. In the story, Catherine turned ¿Joseph¿s religious curses into ridicule.¿ When someone sinned, Joseph would ask him or her to ¿say thy prayers¿and ask God¿s pardon.¿ Emily Brontë did not pay attention
nonon More than 1 year ago
este libro habla de como es de egoista los seres humanos