Mona and Other Tales Read Online Free

novel—or story— that he had not even begun to write.
    The six Chihuahuas began barking excitedly, and Alfredo thought that they too had seen his characters. Fortunately, however, their barking was just one of Gladys’s bright ideas (or “exquisite touches,” as the countess called them) to entertain her guests. And entertain them she did when, following her steps and the beat of the orchestra drums, the Chihuahuas surrounded Narcisa the Saint Bernard, and, standing on their hind legs, imitated complicated dance steps with Narcisa herself as the central figure. For a moment Alfredo was sure he saw a sadness in the eyes of the huge Saint Bernard, as the dog looked over at him. Finally, the audience burst into applause, and the orchestra shifted to the soft rhythms of a Cuban
danzón.
    Berta, Nicolás, and Delfín were now pounding even harder on the windows, while Alfredo, becoming more and more exasperated, whirled around in the arms of the award-winning poetess, Señora Clara del Prado (haven’t we mentioned her by name yet?), who at that moment was confessing to the writer how difficult it was to get a book of poetry published.
    â€œI know exactly what you mean,” Alfredo agreed mechanically, distracted by his characters, who were now struggling on the other side of the glass like huge insects drawn to a hermetically sealed street lamp.
    â€œYou couldn’t possibly understand,” he heard the poet’s voice counter.
    â€œWhy not?”
    By then, out in the garden, Daniel and Olga had begun sobbing in unison.
    â€œBecause you are a novelist and novels always sell more than poems, especially when the author is famous like you. . . .”
    â€œDon’t make me laugh.”
    By now Daniel’s and Olga’s sobs were no longer sobs at all but agonized screams that ended in a single, unanimous plea for help.
    â€œRescue us! Rescue us!”
    â€œCome on,” urged the celebrated poetess, “stop acting so modest and tell me, just between you and me, how much do you get a year in royalties?”
    And as if the screams coming from the garden were not enough to drive anyone out of his mind, Nicolás and Berta were now trying to break through the glass walls of the tower, with Delfín’s enthusiastic encouragement.
    â€œRoyalties? Don’t make me laugh. Don’t you know that there’s no copyright law in Cuba? All my books were published in other countries, while I was still in Cuba.”
    â€œRescue us, or we’ll break down the door!” This was, without a doubt, Berta’s infuriated voice.
    â€œThey’re all thieves, I know that. But other countries don’t have to abide by Cuban law.”
    With their bare hands, and then their feet, Berta and Nicolás were beating on the glass wall, while the screams coming from the garden grew louder and louder.
    â€œOther countries will adopt any law that allows them to plunder with impunity,” Alfredo asserted clearly, ready to abandon the poetess in order to save his characters, who seemed, strangely enough, to be gasping for air, although out in the open.
    â€œSo how are you planning to get funding for the great publishing house?” inquired the award-winning poetess, with an ingratiating twinkle, before adding in a conspiratorial tone: “Oh, come on, I’m not going to ask you for a loan. I only want to publish a little volume of mine. . . .”
    Somehow—Alfredo could not figure out exactly how— Berta had managed to slip one hand through the glass, and right in front of her astonished creator, turned the lock and opened one of the tower windows.
    â€œLook, lady,” Alfredo said curtly, “the fact is I don’t have any money. As far as the publishing house is concerned, I am here to find out how everyone here plans on establishing it and whether I can get my books published, too.”
    â€œWe’ve all been told that you are going