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A Christmas Carol | Gradually Hardening Italian B1 Books

A Christmas Carol | Gradually Hardening Italian B1 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.

STAVEONE.
MARLEY’SGHOST.
Marleywasdead:
tobeginwith.
Thereisnodoubtwhateveraboutthat.
Theregisterofhisburialwassignedbytheclergyman,theclerk,theundertaker,andthechiefmourner.
Scroogesignedit:
andScrooge’snamewasgoodupon’Change,foranythinghechosetoputhishandto.
OldMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Mind!
Idon’tmeantosaythatIknow,ofmyown
conoscenza
knowledge,whatthereisparticularlydeadaboutadoor-nail.
Imighthavebeeninclined,myself,toregardacoffin-nailasthedeadestpieceofironmongeryinthetrade.
Butthewisdomofourancestorsisinthesimile;
andmyunhallowedhandsshallnotdisturbit,ortheCountry’sdonefor.
Youwill
perciò
thereforepermitmetorepeat,emphatically,thatMarleywasasdeadasadoor-nail.
Scroogeknewhewasdead?
Ofcoursehedid.
Howcoulditbeotherwise?
ScroogeandhewerepartnersforIdon’tknowhowmanyyears.
Scroogewashissoleexecutor,hissoleadministrator,hissoleassign,hissoleresiduarylegatee,hissolefriend,andsolemourner.
AndevenScroogewasnotsodreadfullycutupbythesad
evento
event,butthathewasanexcellentmanofbusinessontheverydayofthe
funerale
funeral,andsolemniseditwithanundoubtedbargain.
ThementionofMarley’s
funerale
funeralbringsmebacktothepointIstartedfrom.
ThereisnodoubtthatMarleywasdead.
Thismustbedistinctlyunderstood,ornothingwonderfulcancomeofthestoryIamgoingtorelate.
Ifwewerenot
perfettamente
perfectlyconvincedthatHamlet’sFatherdiedbeforetheplaybegan,therewouldbenothingmoreremarkableinhistakingastrollatnight,inaneasterlywind,uponhisownramparts,thantherewouldbeinanyothermiddle-aged
gentiluomo
gentlemanrashlyturningoutafterdarkinabreezyspot—saySaintPaul’sChurchyardforinstance—literallytoastonishhisson’s
debole
weakmind.
ScroogeneverpaintedoutOldMarley’sname.
Thereitstood,years
dopo
afterwards,abovethewarehousedoor:
ScroogeandMarley.
ThefirmwasknownasScroogeandMarley.
SometimespeoplenewtothebusinesscalledScroogeScrooge,andsometimesMarley,butheansweredtobothnames.
Itwasallthesametohim.
Oh!
Buthewasatight-fistedhandatthegrindstone,Scrooge!
asqueezing,wrenching,grasping,scraping,clutching,covetous,oldsinner!
Hardand
affilato
sharpasflint,fromwhichno
acciaio
steelhadeverstruckoutgenerousfire;
secret,andself-contained,andsolitaryasanoyster.
Thecoldwithinhim
congelato
frozehisoldfeatures,nippedhispointednose,shrivelledhischeek,stiffenedhisgait;
madehiseyesred,histhinlipsblue;
andspokeoutshrewdlyinhisgratingvoice.
Afrostyrimewasonhishead,andonhiseyebrows,andhiswirychin.
Hecarriedhisownlowtemperaturealwaysaboutwithhim;
heicedhisofficeinthedog-days;
anddidn’tthawitone
grado
degreeatChristmas.
ExternalheatandcoldhadlittleinfluenceonScrooge.
Nowarmthcouldwarm,nowintry
tempo
weatherchillhim.
Nowindthatblewwasbittererthanhe,nofalling
neve
snowwasmoreintentuponits
scopo
purpose,nopeltingrainlessopentoentreaty.
Foulweatherdidn’tknowwheretohavehim.
Theheaviestrain,and
neve
snow,andhail,andsleet,couldboastoftheadvantageoverhiminonlyonerespect.
Theyoften“camedown”handsomely,andScroogeneverdid.
Nobodyeverstoppedhiminthestreettosay,withgladsomelooks,“MydearScrooge,howareyou?
Whenwillyoucometoseeme?”
Nobeggarsimploredhimtobestowatrifle,nochildrenaskedhimwhatitwaso’clock,nomanorwomaneveronceinallhislifeinquiredthewaytosuchandsuchaplace,ofScrooge.
Eventheblindmen’sdogs
sembravano
appearedtoknowhim;
andwhentheysawhimcomingon,wouldtugtheirownersintodoorwaysandupcourts;
andthenwouldwagtheirtailsasthoughtheysaid,“Noeyeatallisbetterthananevileye,darkmaster!”
ButwhatdidScroogecare!
Itwastheverythingheliked.
Toedgehiswayalongthecrowdedpathsoflife,warningallhumansympathytokeepitsdistance,waswhattheknowingonescall“nuts”toScrooge.
Onceuponatime—ofallthegooddaysintheyear,onChristmasEve—oldScroogesatbusyinhiscounting-house.
Itwascold,bleak,biting
tempo
weather:
foggywithal:
andhecouldhearthepeopleinthecourtoutside,gowheezingupanddown,beatingtheirhandsupontheirbreasts,andstampingtheirfeetuponthepavementstonestowarmthem.
Thecityclockshadonlyjustgonethree,butitwasquitedarkalready—ithadnotbeenlightallday—andcandleswereflaringinthewindowsoftheneighbouringoffices,likeruddysmearsuponthepalpable
marrone
brownair.
Thefogcamepouringinateverychinkandkeyhole,andwassodensewithout,that
anche se
althoughthecourtwasofthenarrowest,thehouses
di fronte
oppositeweremerephantoms.
Toseethedingycloudcomedroopingdown,obscuringeverything,onemighthavethoughtthatNaturelivedhardby,andwasbrewingonalargescale.
ThedoorofScrooge’scounting-housewasopenthathemightkeephiseyeuponhisclerk,whoinadismallittlecell
oltre
beyond,asortoftank,was
copiando
copyingletters.
Scroogehadaverysmallfire,buttheclerk’sfirewassoverymuchsmallerthatitlookedlikeonecoal.
Buthecouldn’treplenishit,forScroogekeptthecoal-boxinhisownroom;
andso
sicuramente
surelyastheclerkcameinwiththeshovel,themasterpredictedthatitwouldbenecessaryforthemtopart.
Whereforetheclerkputonhiswhitecomforter,andtriedtowarmhimselfatthecandle;
inwhich
sforzo
effort,notbeingamanofastrong
immaginazione
imagination,hefailed.
“AmerryChristmas,uncle!
Godsaveyou!”
criedacheerfulvoice.
ItwasthevoiceofScrooge’s
nipote
nephew,whocameuponhimsoquicklythatthiswasthefirstintimationhehadofhis
approccio
approach.
“Bah!”
saidScrooge,“Humbug!”
Hehadso
riscaldato
heatedhimselfwithrapidwalkinginthefogandfrost,this
nipote
nephewofScrooge’s,thathewasallinaglow;
hisfacewasruddyand
bello
handsome;
hiseyessparkled,andhis
fiato
breathsmokedagain.
“Christmasahumbug,uncle!”
saidScrooge’s
nipote
nephew.
“Youdon’tmeanthat,Iamsure?”
“Ido,”saidScrooge.
“MerryChristmas!
Whatrighthaveyoutobe
allegro
merry?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobe
allegro
merry?
You’repoorenough.”
“Come,then,”returnedthe
nipote
nephewgaily.
“Whatrighthaveyoutobedismal?
Whatreasonhaveyoutobemorose?
You’rerichenough.”
Scroogehavingnobetteranswerreadyonthespurofthemoment,said,“Bah!”
again;
andfolloweditupwith“Humbug.”
“Don’tbecross,uncle!”
saidthe
nipote
nephew.
“WhatelsecanIbe,”returnedtheuncle,“whenIliveinsuchaworldoffoolsasthis?
MerryChristmas!
OutuponmerryChristmas!
What’sChristmastimetoyoubutatimeforpayingbillswithoutmoney;
atimeforfindingyourselfayear
vecchio
older,butnotanhourricher;
atimefor
bilanciare
balancingyourbooksandhavingeveryitemin’emthrougharounddozenofmonthspresenteddeadagainstyou?
IfIcouldworkmywill,”saidScroogeindignantly,“everyidiotwhogoesaboutwith‘MerryChristmas’onhislips,shouldbeboiledwithhisownpudding,andburiedwithastakeofhollythroughhisheart.
Heshould!”
“Uncle!”
pleadedthe
nipote
nephew.
“Nephew!”
returnedtheunclesternly,“keepChristmasinyourownway,andletmekeepitinmine.”
“Keepit!”
ripetuto
repeatedScrooge’snephew.
“Butyoudon’tkeepit.”
“Letmeleaveitalone,then,”saidScrooge.
“Muchgoodmayitdoyou!
Muchgoodithaseverdoneyou!”
“TherearemanythingsfromwhichImighthavederivedgood,bywhichIhavenotprofited,Idaresay,”returnedthe
nipote
nephew.
“Christmasamongtherest.
ButIamsureIhavealwaysthoughtofChristmastime,whenithascomeround—apartfromthevenerationduetoitssacrednameandorigin,ifanything
appartiene
belongingtoitcanbeapartfromthat—asagoodtime;
akind,forgiving,charitable,pleasanttime;
theonlytimeIknowof,inthelongcalendaroftheyear,whenmenandwomenseembyoneconsenttoopentheirshut-upheartsfreely,andtothinkofpeople
sotto
belowthemasiftheyreallywerefellow-passengerstothe
tomba
grave,andnotanotherraceofcreatures
legate
boundonotherjourneys.
And
quindi
therefore,uncle,thoughithasneverputascrapofgoldorsilverinmy
tasca
pocket,Ibelievethatithasdonemegood,andwilldomegood;
andIsay,Godblessit!”
Theclerkinthe
Serbatoio
Tankinvoluntarilyapplauded.
Becomingimmediatelysensibleoftheimpropriety,hepokedthefire,andextinguishedthelastfrailsparkforever.
“Letmehearanothersoundfromyou,”saidScrooge,“andyou’llkeepyourChristmasbylosingyoursituation!
You’requitea
potente
powerfulspeaker,sir,”headded,turningtohis
nipote
nephew.
“Iwonderyoudon’tgointoParliament.”
“Don’tbeangry,uncle.
Come!
Dinewithusto-morrow.”
Scroogesaidthathewouldseehim—yes,indeedhedid.
Hewentthewholelengthoftheexpression,andsaidthathewouldseehiminthatextremityfirst.
“Butwhy?”
criedScrooge’s
nipote
nephew.
“Why?”
“Whydidyougetmarried?”
saidScrooge.
“BecauseIfellinlove.”
“Becauseyoufellinlove!”
growledScrooge,asifthatweretheonlyonethingintheworldmoreridiculousthanamerryChristmas.
“Goodafternoon!”
“Nay,uncle,butyounevercametoseemebeforethathappened.
Whygiveitasareasonfornotcomingnow?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iwantnothingfromyou;
Iasknothingofyou;
whycannotwebefriends?”
“Goodafternoon,”saidScrooge.
“Iamsorry,withallmyheart,tofindyousoresolute.
Wehaveneverhadanyquarrel,towhichIhavebeenaparty.
ButIhavemadethe
processo
trialinhomagetoChristmas,andI’llkeepmyChristmashumourtothelast.
SoAMerryChristmas,uncle!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
“AndAHappyNewYear!”
“Goodafternoon!”
saidScrooge.
His
nipote
nephewlefttheroomwithoutanangryword,notwithstanding.
Hestoppedattheouterdoortobestowthegreetingsofthe
stagione
seasonontheclerk,who,coldashewas,waswarmerthanScrooge;
forhereturnedthemcordially.
“There’sanotherfellow,”mutteredScrooge;
whooverheardhim:
“myclerk,withfifteenshillingsaweek,andawifeandfamily,talkingaboutamerryChristmas.
I’llretiretoBedlam.”
Thislunatic,inlettingScrooge’s
nipote
nephewout,hadlettwootherpeoplein.Theywereportlygentlemen,pleasanttobehold,andnowstood,withtheirhatsoff,inScrooge’soffice.
Theyhadbooksandpapersintheirhands,and
inchinarono
bowedtohim.
“ScroogeandMarley’s,Ibelieve,”saidoneofthegentlemen,referringtohislist.
“HaveIthepleasureofaddressingMr.Scrooge,orMr.Marley?”
“Mr.
Marleyhasbeendeadthesesevenyears,”Scroogereplied.
“Hediedsevenyearsago,thisverynight.”
“Wehavenodoubthisliberalityiswellrepresentedbyhissurvivingpartner,”saidthe
signore
gentleman,presentinghiscredentials.
Itcertainlywas;
fortheyhadbeentwokindredspirits.
Attheominousword“liberality,”Scroogefrowned,andshookhishead,andhandedthecredentialsback.
“Atthisfestiveseasonoftheyear,Mr.Scrooge,”saidthe
signore
gentleman,takingupapen,“itismorethanusuallydesirablethatweshouldmakesomeslightprovisionforthePooranddestitute,who
soffrono
suffergreatlyatthepresenttime.
Manythousandsareinwantofcommonnecessaries;
hundredsofthousandsareinwantofcommoncomforts,sir.”
“Aretherenoprisons?”
askedScrooge.
“Plentyofprisons,”saidthe
signore
gentleman,layingdownthepenagain.
“AndtheUnionworkhouses?”
demandedScrooge.
“Aretheystillinoperation?”
“Theyare.
Still,”returnedthe
signore
gentleman,“IwishIcouldsaytheywerenot.”
“TheTreadmillandthePoorLawareinfullvigour,then?”
saidScrooge.
“Bothverybusy,sir.”
“Oh!
Iwasafraid,fromwhatyousaidatfirst,thatsomethinghadoccurredtostopthemintheir
utile
usefulcourse,”saidScrooge.
“I’mverygladtohearit.”
“UndertheimpressionthattheyscarcelyfurnishChristiancheerofmindorbodytothemultitude,”returnedthe
signore
gentleman,“afewofusareendeavouringtoraiseafundtobuythePoorsomemeatanddrink,andmeansofwarmth.
Wechoosethistime,becauseitisatime,ofallothers,whenWantiskeenlyfelt,andAbundancerejoices.
WhatshallIputyoudownfor?”
“Nothing!”
Scroogereplied.
“Youwishtobeanonymous?”
“Iwishtobeleftalone,”saidScrooge.
“SinceyouaskmewhatIwish,gentlemen,thatismyanswer.