Dubliners | Gradually Hardening French B2 Translation Books

Dubliners | Gradually Hardening French B2 Translation Books

Discover the advantages of this innovative translation method, designed to cater to your learning needs. You can select your preferred difficulty level, ensuring a well-balanced challenge that isn't too overwhelming. This technique sharpens your comprehension skills by encouraging you to derive meaning from context, minimizing the need for direct translations. While some words are purposefully obscured to promote contextual guessing, looking up unclear terms is always an option. With this method, language learning becomes both accessible and enjoyable, blending challenge with support. Explore translated classics and experience the excitement of learning through literature.

THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthethirdstroke.
NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:
andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyand
uniformément
evenly
.
Ifhewasdead,Ithought,Iwouldseethe
reflet
reflection
ofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofa
cadavre
corpse
.
Hehadoftensaidtome:
“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasI
regardant
gazed
upatthewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselftheword
paralysie
paralysis
.
Ithadalwayssoundedstrangelyinmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.
Itfilledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobenearertoitandtolookuponits
mortelle
deadly
work.
OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairsto
dîner
supper
.
Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformer
remarque
remark
ofhis:.
“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
Hebegantopuffathispipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.
Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;
butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhisendlessstoriesaboutthedistillery.
“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathispipewithoutgivingushistheory.
Myunclesawme
regarder
staring
andsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunder
observation
observation
soIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnotinterestedme.
MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“The
jeune
youngster
andheweregreatfriends.
Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmyauntpiously.
OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
IfeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswereexaminingmebutIwouldnot
satisfaisais
satisfy
himbylookingupfrommyplate.
Hereturnedtohispipeandfinallyspatrudelyintothegrate.
“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoung
garçon
lad
runaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....
AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smy
principe
principle
,too,”saidmyuncle.
“Lethimlearntoboxhiscorner.
That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterandsummer.
Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineandlarge....
MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.
“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.
“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.
Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.
InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavy
gris
grey
faceoftheparalytic.
IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.
Butthe
gris
grey
facestillfollowedme.
Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredto
avouer
confess
something.
Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosome
agréable
pleasant
andviciousregion;
andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
Itbeganto
confesser
confess
tomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiled
continuellement
continually
andwhythelipsweresomoistwithspittle.
ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedof
paralysie
paralysis
andIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.
ThenextmorningafterbreakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.
Itwasanunassumingshop,
enregistré
registered
underthevaguenameofDrapery.
Thedraperyconsisted
principalement
mainly
ofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;
andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:
UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewas
visible
visible
nowfortheshutterswereup.
Acrape
bouquet
bouquet
wastiedtothedoor-knockerwith
ruban
ribbon
.
Twopoorwomenandatelegramboywerereadingthecardpinnedonthecrape.
Ialsoapproachedandread:.
Juillet
July
1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),
âgé
aged
sixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.
Thereadingofthecard
convaincu
persuaded
methathewasdeadandIwas
dérangé
disturbed
tofindmyselfatcheck.
HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.
Perhapsmyauntwouldhavegivenmea
paquet
packet
ofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.
ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthe
paquet
packet
intohisblacksnuff-boxforhishands
tremblait
trembled
toomuchtoallowhimtodothiswithout
renverser
spilling
halfthesnuffaboutthefloor.
Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.
Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersof
tabac
snuff
whichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookforthered
mouchoir
handkerchief
,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedtobrushawaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.
IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecouragetoknock.
Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthe
ensoleillé
sunny
sideofthestreet,readingallthetheatricaladvertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.
IfounditstrangethatneitherInorthedayseemedinamourningmoodandIfeltevenannoyedat
découvrir
discovering
inmyselfasensationoffreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.
Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmeto
prononcer
pronounce
Latinproperly.
HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehadexplainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepriest.
Sometimeshehadamusedhimselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhethersuchandsuchsinswere
mortel
mortal
orvenialoronlyimperfections.
HisquestionsshowedmehowcomplexandmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.
ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthe
secret
secrecy
oftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecourageto
entreprendre
undertake
them;
andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandas
étroitement
closely
printedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.
OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyavery
stupide
foolish
andhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileand
hocher
nod
hisheadtwiceorthrice.
SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;
and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensivelyand
hocher
nod
hishead,nowandthenpushinghugepinchesof
tabac
snuff
upeachnostrilalternately.
Whenhesmiledheusedto
découvrir
uncover
hisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistonguelieuponhislowerlip—ahabitwhichhadmademefeeluneasyinthebeginningofouracquaintancebeforeIknewhimwell.
AsIwalkedalonginthesunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.
IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlong
velours
velvet
curtainsandaswinging
lampe
lamp
ofantiquefashion.
IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmyaunttookmewithhertovisitthehouseofmourning.
Itwasafter
coucher du soleil
sunset
;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewest
reflétaient
reflected
thetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.
Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,myauntshookhandswithherforall.
Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’snodding,
procédé
proceeded
totoilupthenarrowstaircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeing
à peine
scarcely
abovethelevelofthebanister-rail.
Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.
Myauntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatIhesitatedtoenter,begantobeckontomeagain
à plusieurs reprises
repeatedly
withherhand.
Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthe
dentelle
lace
endoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlightamidwhichthecandleslookedlikepalethin
flammes
flames
.
Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethree
agenouillés
knelt
downatthefootofthebed.
IpretendedtopraybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutterings
distraient
distracted
me.
Inoticedhowclumsilyher
jupe
skirt
washookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofher
tissu
cloth
bootsweretroddendownalltooneside.
Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwassmilingashelaythereinhis
cercueil
coffin
.
Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.
Therehelay,
solennel
solemn
andcopious,vestedasforthealtar,hislargehandslooselyretainingachalice.
Hisfacewasverytruculent,
gris
grey
andmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhite
fourrure
fur
.
Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.
IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthetableandinvitedustotakealittleglassofwine.
Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutIdeclinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.
Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmy
refus
refusal
andwentoverquietlytothe
canapé
sofa
whereshesatdownbehindhersister.
Noonespoke:
weall
regardé
gazed
attheemptyfireplace.
MyauntwaiteduntilEliza
soupire
sighed
andthensaid:.
“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Eliza
soupira
sighed
againandbowedherheadinassent.
Myauntfingeredthe
tige
stem
ofherwine-glassbefore
siroter
sipping
alittle.
“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quite
paisiblement
peacefully
,ma’am,”saidEliza.
“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’RourkewasinwithhimaTuesdayandanointedhimandpreparedhimandall.”
“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmyaunt.
“That’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthat
paisible
peaceful
andresigned.
Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
She
siroté
sipped
alittlemorefromherglassandsaid:.
“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreat
réconfort
comfort
foryoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.
Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Eliza
lissé
smoothed
herdressoverherknees.
“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowandseemedabouttofallasleep.
“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomantowashhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthe
cercueil
coffin
andthenarrangingabouttheMassinthe
chapelle
chapel
.
OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
Itwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthe
chapelle
chapel
andwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthe
cimetière
cemetery
andpoorJames’sinsurance.”
“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmyaunt.
Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherheadslowly.
“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmyaunt.
“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohiseternalrewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyour
bonté
kindness
tohim.”
“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmyaunt.
“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymore,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhis
tabac
snuff
.
Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthechairandhismouthopen.”
Shelaidafingeragainsthernoseandfrowned:
thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmyaunt.
Elizatookouther
mouchoir
handkerchief
andwipedhereyeswithit.
Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketand
regardé
gazed
intotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.