A Room with a View | Gradually Hardening Danish A1

A Room with a View | Gradually Hardening Danish A1

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ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignora
havde
had
nobusinesstodoit,”
sagde
said
MissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
She
lovede
promised
ussouthroomswith
en
a
viewclosetogether,insteadof
hvilke
which
herearenorthrooms,
ser
looking
intoacourtyard,and
en
a
longwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“And
en
a
Cockney,besides!”
saidLucy,
der
who
hadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“It
kan
might
beLondon.”
Shelookedat
de
the
tworowsofEnglishpeople
der
who
weresittingatthetable;
attherowofwhitebottlesofwater
og
and
redbottlesofwine
der
that
ranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
attheportraitsofthe
afdøde
late
QueenandthelatePoetLaureate
der
that
hungbehindtheEnglish
folk
people
,heavilyframed;
atthenoticeof
den
the
Englishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwasthe
eneste
only
otherdecorationofthewall.
“Charlotte,don’tyou
føler
feel
,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
I
kan
can
hardlybelievethatallkindsof
andre
other
thingsarejustoutside.
Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeathassurelybeen
brugt
used
forsoup,”saidMissBartlett,laying
ned
down
herfork.
“Iwantsoto
se
see
theArno.
Therooms
de
the
Signorapromisedusinherletter
ville
would
havelookedovertheArno.
TheSignora
havde
had
nobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itis
en
a
shame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseem
svært
hard
thatyoushouldn’thave
en
a
view.”
Lucyfeltthatshe
havde
had
beenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoil
mig
me
:
ofcourse,youmust
se
look
overtheArno,too.
I
mente
meant
that.
Thefirstvacant
værelse
room
inthefront—”
“You
must
haveit,”saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswere
betalt
paid
byLucy’smother—apieceofgenerosityto
som
which
shemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,
nej
no
.Youmusthaveit.”
“Iinsiston
det
it
.
Yourmotherwouldneverforgive
mig
me
,Lucy.”
“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthesadtruthbeowned—a
lidt
little
peevish.
Theyweretired,
og
and
undertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Nogle
Some
oftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,
og
and
oneofthem—oneof
de
the
ill-bredpeoplewhomonedoes
møder
meet
abroad—leantforwardoverthetable
og
and
actuallyintrudedintotheirargument.
He
sagde
said:
.
“Ihaveaview,I
har
have
aview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyat
en
a
pensionpeoplelookedthemoverfor
en
a
dayortwobefore
talte
speaking
,andoftendidnot
fandt
find
outthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.
She
vidste
knew
thattheintruderwasill-bred,
selv
even
beforesheglancedat
ham
him
.
Hewasanold
mand
man
,ofheavybuild,withafair,shaven
ansigt
face
andlargeeyes.
Therewas
noget
something
childishinthoseeyes,
selv
though
itwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
What
præcis
exactly
itwasMissBartlettdidnot
stoppe
stop
toconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.
Disse
These
didnotattracther.
Hewas
sikkert
probably
tryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththem
før
before
theygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumed
en
a
dazedexpressionwhenhespoketo
hende
her
,andthensaid:
“Aview?
Oh,
en
a
view!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”
sagde
said
theoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
He
har
has
aviewtoo.”
“Ah,”
sagde
said
MissBartlett,repressingLucy,
der
who
wasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“is
at
that
youcanhaveourrooms,
og
and
we’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
The
bedre
better
classoftouristwasshockedat
dette
this
,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.
Miss
Miss
Bartlett,inreply,openedhermouthas
lidt
little
aspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;
thatisoutof
det
the
question.”
“Why?”
saidthe
gamle
old
man,withbothfistson
den
the
table.
“Becauseitis
helt
quite
outofthequestion,thankyou.”
“You
ser
see
,wedon’tliketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousin
igen
again
repressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Women
lide
like
lookingataview;
mendon’t.”
Og
And
hethumpedwithhisfists
som
like
anaughtychild,andturnedtohis
søn
son
,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’ssoobviousthey
burde
should
havetherooms,”saidthe
sønnen
son
.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
kiggede
look
attheladiesashe
talte
spoke
,buthisvoicewasperplexed
og
and
sorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
men
but
shesawthattheywereinforwhatis
kendt
known
as“quiteascene,”
og
and
shehadanoddfeelingthatwhenever
disse
these
ill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidened
og
and
deepenedtillitdealt,not
med
with
roomsandviews,butwith—well,
med
with
somethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshe
havde
had
notrealizedbefore.
Now
den
the
oldmanattackedMissBartlett
næsten
almost
violently:
Whyshouldshenot
ændre
change
?
Whatpossibleobjectionhad
hun
she
?
Theywouldclearoutin
halv
half
anhour.
MissBartlett,
selv
though
skilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessin
de
the
presenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnub
nogen
any
onesogross.
Her
ansigt
face
reddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelooked
omkring
around
asmuchasto
sige
say
,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Og
And
twolittleoldladies,
der
who
weresittingfurtherupthetable,
med
with
shawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,
kiggede
looked
back,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
aftensmad
dinner
,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,
og
and
begantotoyagain
med
with
themeatthatshe
havde
had
oncecensured.
Lucymumbled
at
that
thoseseemedveryodd
mennesker
people
opposite.
“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Denne
This
pensionisafailure.
To-morrowwe
vil
will
makeachange.”
Hardly
havde
had
sheannouncedthisfelldecision
da
when
shereversedit.
Thecurtainsatthe
enden
end
oftheroomparted,
og
and
revealedaclergyman,stout
men
but
attractive,whohurriedforwardto
tage
take
hisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.
Lucy,
der
who
hadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,
hvor
how
perfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
must
stopnow,howeverbadtheroomsare.
Oh!”
Miss
Miss
Bartlettsaid,withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpect
at
that
youhaveforgottenus:
Miss
Miss
BartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWells
da
when
youhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthat
meget
very
coldEaster.”
Theclergyman,who
havde
had
theairofoneonaholiday,didnot
huskede
remember
theladiesquiteasclearlyasthey
huskede
remembered
him.
Buthecameforwardpleasantly
nok
enough
andacceptedthechairinto
som
which
hewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamsogladto
se
see
you,”saidthegirl,
der
who
wasinastateofspiritualstarvation,
og
and
wouldhavebeengladto
se
see
thewaiterifhercousinhadpermittedit.
“Justfancy
hvor
how
smalltheworldis.
Summer
Street
Street
,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesin
de
the
parishofSummerStreet,”
sagde
said
MissBartlett,fillingup
de
the
gap,“andshehappenedto
fortælle
tell
meinthecourseofconversationthatyou
har
have
justacceptedtheliving—”.
“Yes,I
hørte
heard
frommothersolast
uge
week
.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
men
but
Iwrotebackatonce,
og
and
Isaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
sagde
said
theclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummer
Street
Street
nextJune.
Iam
heldig
lucky
tobeappointedtosuch
et
a
charmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,howgladIam!
Thenameofour
hus
house
isWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereis
mor
mother
andmegenerally,andmy
bror
brother
,thoughit’snotoftenwe
får
get
himtoch——
Thechurchisrather
langt
far
off,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,
lad
let
Mr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iam
spiser
eating
it,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
Hepreferredto
tale
talk
toLucy,whoseplayinghe
huskede
remembered
,ratherthantoMissBartlett,
der
who
probablyrememberedhissermons.
He
spurgte
asked
thegirlwhethershe
kendte
knew
Florencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengththatshe
havde
had
neverbeentherebefore.
Itisdelightfultoadvise
en
a
newcomer,andhewas
første
first
inthefield.
“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.
“The
første
first
fineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,
og
and
roundbySettignano,or
noget
something
ofthatsort.”
“No!”
cried
en
a
voicefromthetopofthetable.
“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
Den
The
firstfineafternoonyourladies
skal
must
gotoPrato.”
“That
dame
lady
lookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
Og
And
,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburston
dem
them
.
Peopletoldthemwhatto
se
see
,whentoseeit,howto
stoppe
stop
theelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,how
meget
much
togiveforavellumblotter,how
meget
much
theplacewouldgrowupon
dem
them
.
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,
næsten
almost
enthusiastically,thattheywould
gøre
do
.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiled
og
and
shoutedatthem.
Andabove
alt
all
rosethevoiceof
den
the
cleverlady,crying:
“Prato!
They
must
gotoPrato.
That
sted
place
istoosweetlysqualidforwords.
I
elsker
love
it;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
Den
The
youngmannamedGeorgeglancedat
den
the
cleverlady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohisplate.
Obviouslyhe
og
and
hisfatherdidnot
gjorde
do
.
Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,
fandt
found
timetowishthey
gjorde
did
.
Itgavehernoextrapleasure
at
that
anyoneshouldbe
efterladt
left
inthecold;
and
da
when
sherosetogo,sheturned
tilbage
back
andgavethetwooutsiders
en
a
nervouslittlebow.
Thefatherdidnot
see
it;
thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,
men
but
byraisinghiseyebrows
og
and
smiling;
heseemedtobesmilingacross
noget
something
.
Shehastenedafterhercousin,whohad
allerede
already
disappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,
og
and
seemedheavywithmore
end
than
cloth.
Beyondthemstood
den
the
unreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,
og
and
supportedby’Enery,her
lille
little
boy,andVictorier,her
datter
daughter
.
Itmadeacurious
lille
little
scene,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegrace
og
and
genialityoftheSouth.
Og
And
evenmorecuriouswas
den
the
drawing-room,whichattemptedtorival
den
the
solidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
Wasthis
virkelig
really
Italy?
MissBartlettwas
allerede
already
seatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,
som
which
hadthecolourandthecontoursof
en
a
tomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,
og
and
asshespoke,herlongnarrow
hoved
head
drovebackwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishing
nogle
some
invisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
sagde
saying
.
“Thefirsteveningmeansso
meget
much
.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
en
a
peculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,know
den
the
nameofanold
mand
man
whosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Ishe
en
a
friendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—as
man
one
isinpensions.”
“ThenI
vil
will
saynomore.”
Hepressedher
meget
very
slightly,andshesaid
mere
more
.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmy
unge
young
cousin,Lucy,andit
ville
would
beaseriousthing
hvis
if
Iputherunderanobligationto
folk
people
ofwhomweknow
intet
nothing
.
Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
I
håber
hope
Iactedforthebest.”
“Youacted
meget
very
naturally,”saidhe.
Heseemedthoughtful,
og
and
afterafewmomentsadded:
“All
det
the
same,Idon’tthink
meget
much
harmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,of
selvfølgelig
course
.
Butwecouldnotbe
under
under
anobligation.”
“Heisrather
en
a
peculiarman.”
Againhehesitated,
og
and
thensaidgently:
“I
tror
think
hewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyouto
vise
show
gratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
sige
saying
exactlywhathemeans.
He
har
has
roomshedoesnotvalue,
og
and
hethinksyouwouldvalue
dem
them
.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligation
end
than
hethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,I
finder
find
itdifficult—tounderstandpeople
der
who
speakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,
og
and
said:
“Iwashoping
at
that
hewasnice;
Idoso
altid
always
hopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“I
tror
think
heis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimon
næsten
almost
everypointofanyimportance,
og
and
so,Iexpect—Imay
sige
say
Ihope—youwilldiffer.
Men
But
hisisatypeonedisagrees
med
with
ratherthandeplores.
Whenhe
først
first
cameherehenotunnaturally
satte
put
people’sbacksup.
He
har
has
notactandnomanners—Idon’t
mener
mean
bythatthathe
har
has
badmanners—andhewillnot
holde
keep
hisopinionstohimself.
WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,
men
but
Iamgladto
sige
say
wethoughtbetterofit.”
“AmItoconclude,”
sagde
said
MissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebeaccepted
det
the
convenientword,notwithout
en
a
slighttwitchingofthelips.
“Andpresumablyhe
har
has
broughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”
“Ihardly
kender
know
George,forhehasn’t
lært
learnt
totalkyet.