×

Select Store

Dowload from Google Play Dowload from the App Store

Scan with Camera

Dowload via QR Code
The Blue Castle | Gradually Hardening Italian B2 Books

The Blue Castle | Gradually Hardening Italian B2 Books

This progressive translation technique brings multiple benefits to language learners. It lets you choose the difficulty level that matches your abilities, making sure the material is challenging but not too difficult. By focusing on understanding words in context, this method boosts your comprehension skills. While direct translations are slightly hidden to promote guessing from context, you can always check unfamiliar words. This approach makes learning a new language both engaging and accessible, offering the right mix of difficulty and encouragement. Embark on a journey through translated classics and enjoy the process of learning through reading.

CHAPTERI
IfithadnotrainedonacertainMaymorningValancyStirling’swholelifewouldhavebeenentirelydifferent.
Shewouldhavegone,withtherestofher
clan
clan,toAuntWellington’sengagement
picnic
picnicandDr.TrentwouldhavegonetoMontreal.
Butitdidrainandyoushallhearwhathappenedtoherbecauseofit.
Valancywakenedearly,inthe
senza vita
lifeless,hopelesshourjustprecedingdawn.
Shehadnotsleptverywell.
Onedoesnotsleepwell,sometimes,whenoneistwenty-nineonthemorrow,andunmarried,inacommunityandconnectionwheretheunmarriedaresimplythosewhohavefailedtogetaman.
DeerwoodandtheStirlingshadlongsincerelegatedValancyto
senza speranza
hopelessoldmaidenhood.
ButValancyherselfhadneverquiterelinquishedacertainpitiful,shamed,littlehopethat
Romanzo
Romancewouldcomeherwayyet—never,untilthiswet,horriblemorning,whenshewakenedtothefactthatshewastwenty-nineandunsoughtbyanyman.
Ay,therelaythesting.
Valancydidnotmindsomuchbeinganoldmaid.
Afterall,shethought,beinganoldmaidcouldn’tpossiblybeas
terribile
dreadfulasbeingmarriedtoanUncleWellingtonoranUncleBenjamin,orevenanUncleHerbert.
Whathurtherwasthatshehadneverhadachancetobeanythingbutanoldmaid.
Nomanhadeverdesiredher.
Thetearscameintohereyesasshelaytherealoneinthefaintlygreyingdarkness.
Shedarednotletherselfcryashardasshewantedto,fortworeasons.
Shewasafraidthatcryingmightbringonanotherattackofthatpainaroundtheheart.
Shehadhadaspellofitaftershehadgotintobed—ratherworsethananyshehadhadyet.
Andshewasafraidhermotherwouldnoticeherredeyesatbreakfastandkeepatherwithminute,persistent,mosquito-likequestionsregardingthecausethereof.
“Suppose,”thoughtValancywitha
orribile
ghastlygrin,“Iansweredwiththe
semplice
plaintruth,‘IamcryingbecauseIcannotgetmarried.’HowhorrifiedMotherwouldbe—thoughsheisashamedeverydayofherlifeofheroldmaiddaughter.”
Butofcourseappearancesshouldbekeptup.
“Itisnot,”Valancycouldhearhermother’sprim,dictatorialvoiceasserting,“itisnotmaidenlytothinkaboutmen.”
Thethoughtofhermother’sexpressionmadeValancylaugh—forshehadasenseofhumournobodyinher
clan
clansuspected.
Forthatmatter,therewereagoodmanythingsaboutValancythatnobodysuspected.
Butherlaughterwasvery
superficiale
superficialandpresentlyshelaythere,ahuddled,
inutile
futilelittlefigure,listeningtotherainpouringdownoutsideandwatching,withasickdistaste,thechill,mercilesslightcreepingintoherugly,sordidroom.
Sheknewtheuglinessofthatroombyheart—knewitandhatedit.
Theyellow-paintedfloor,withone
orribile
hideous,“hooked”rugbythebed,witha
grottesco
grotesque,“hooked”dogonit,always
sorrideva
grinningatherwhensheawoke;
thefaded,dark-redpaper;
the
soffitto
ceilingdiscolouredbyoldleaksandcrossedbycracks;
the
stretto
narrow,pinchedlittlewashstand;
thebrown-paperlambrequinwith
viola
purplerosesonit;
thespottedoldlooking-glasswiththecrackacrossit,proppeduponthe
inadeguato
inadequatedressing-table;
thejarofancientpotpourrimadebyhermotherinhermythical
luna di miele
honeymoon;
theshell-coveredbox,withone
scoppiato
burstcorner,whichCousinStickleshadmadeinherequallymythicalgirlhood;
thebeadedpincushionwithhalfitsbead
frangia
fringegone;
theonestiff,yellowchair;
the
sbiadito
fadedoldmotto,“Gonebutnotforgotten,”workedincolouredyarnsaboutGreat-grand-motherStirling’s
cupo
grimoldface;
theoldphotographsofancientrelativeslongbanishedfromtheroomsbelow.
Therewereonlytwopicturesthatwerenotofrelatives.
One,anoldchromoofa
cucciolo
puppysittingonarainy
porta
doorstep.
ThatpicturealwaysmadeValancyunhappy.
Thatforlornlittledogcrouchedonthe
porta
doorstepinthedrivingrain!
Whydidn’tsomeoneopenthedoorandlethimin?
Theotherpicturewasafaded,passe-partoutedengravingofQueenLouisecomingdownastairway,whichAuntWellingtonhadlavishlygivenheronher
decimo
tenthbirthday.
Fornineteenyearsshehadlookedatitandhatedit,beautiful,smug,self-satisfiedQueenLouise.
Butsheneverdareddestroyitorremoveit.
MotherandCousinStickleswouldhavebeenaghast,or,asValancyirreverentlyexpresseditinherthoughts,wouldhavehadafit.
Everyroominthehousewasugly,ofcourse.
Butdownstairsappearanceswerekeptupsomewhat.
Therewasnomoneyforroomsnobodyeversaw.
Valancysometimesfeltthatshecouldhavedonesomethingforherroomherself,evenwithoutmoney,ifshewere
permesso
permitted.
Buthermotherhadnegativedevery
timido
timidsuggestionandValancydidnot
persisteva
persist.
Valancyneverpersisted.
Shewasafraidto.
Hermothercouldnotbrookopposition.
Mrs.Stirlingwouldsulkfordaysifoffended,withtheairsofaninsulted
duchessa
duchess.
TheonlythingValancylikedaboutherroomwasthatshecouldbealonethereatnighttocryifshewantedto.
But,afterall,whatdiditmatterifaroom,whichyouusedfornothingexceptsleepinganddressingin,wereugly?
Valancywasnever
permesso
permittedtostayaloneinherroomforanyotherpurpose.
Peoplewhowantedtobealone,soMrs.FrederickStirlingandCousinSticklesbelieved,couldonlywanttobealoneforsome
sinistro
sinisterpurpose.
ButherroomintheBlueCastlewaseverythingaroomshouldbe.
Valancy,socowedandsubduedandoverriddenandsnubbedinreallife,waswonttoletherselfgorathersplendidlyinherday-dreams.
NobodyintheStirling
clan
clan,oritsramifications,suspectedthis,leastofallhermotherandCousinStickles.
TheyneverknewthatValancyhadtwohomes—theuglyred
di mattoni
brickboxofahome,onElmStreet,andtheBlueCastleinSpain.
ValancyhadlivedspirituallyintheBlueCastleeversinceshecouldremember.
Shehadbeenaverytinychildwhenshefoundherselfpossessedofit.
Always,whensheshuthereyes,shecouldseeit
chiaramente
plainly,withitsturretsandbannersonthepine-cladmountainheight,wrappedinits
debole
faint,blueloveliness,againstthe
tramonto
sunsetskiesofafairandunknownland.
Everythingwonderfulandbeautifulwasinthatcastle.
Jewelsthatqueensmighthaveworn;
robesof
luna
moonlightandfire;
couchesofrosesandgold;
longflightsofshallow
marmo
marblesteps,withgreat,whiteurns,andwithslender,mist-cladmaidensgoingupanddownthem;
courts,marble-pillared,whereshimmeringfountainsfellandnightingalessangamongthemyrtles;
hallsofmirrorsthat
riflettevano
reflectedonlyhandsomeknightsandlovelywomen—herselftheloveliestofall,forwhose
sguardo
glancemendied.
Allthatsupportedherthroughthe
noia
boredomofherdayswasthehopeofgoingonadreamspreeatnight.
Most,ifnotall,oftheStirlingswouldhavediedof
orrore
horroriftheyhadknownhalfthethingsValancydidinherBlueCastle.
Foronethingshehadquiteafewloversinit.
Oh,onlyoneatatime.
Onewhowooedherwithalltheromanticardouroftheageofchivalryandwonherafterlong
devozione
devotionandmanydeedsofderring-do,andwasweddedtoherwithpompand
circostanza
circumstanceinthegreat,banner-hung
cappella
chapeloftheBlueCastle.
Attwelve,thisloverwasafair
ragazzo
ladwithgoldencurlsand
celesti
heavenlyblueeyes.
Atfifteen,hewastallanddarkand
pallido
pale,butstillnecessarilyhandsome.
Attwenty,hewasascetic,
sognante
dreamy,spiritual.
Attwenty-five,hehadaclean-cut
mascella
jaw,slightlygrim,andafacestrongandruggedratherthanhandsome.
Valancynevergrewolderthantwenty-fiveinherBlueCastle,butrecently—veryrecently—herherohadhadreddish,tawnyhair,atwistedsmileanda
misterioso
mysteriouspast.
Idon’tsayValancy
deliberatamente
deliberatelymurderedtheseloversassheoutgrewthem.
Onesimplyfadedawayasanothercame.
ThingsareveryconvenientinthisrespectinBlueCastles.
But,onthismorningofherdayoffate,ValancycouldnotfindthekeyofherBlueCastle.
Realitypressedonhertoohardly,
abbaiando
barkingatherheelslikeamaddeninglittledog.
Shewastwenty-nine,lonely,undesired,ill-favoured—theonlyhomelygirlinahandsome
clan
clan,withnopastandnofuture.
Asfarasshecouldlookback,lifewasdrabandcolourless,withnotonesingle
cremisi
crimsonorpurplespotanywhere.
Asfarasshecouldlookforwarditseemedcertaintobejustthesameuntilshewasnothingbuta
solitario
solitary,littlewitheredleafclingingtoawintrybough.
Themomentwhenawomanrealisesthatshehasnothingtolivefor—neitherlove,duty,purposenorhope—holdsforherthebitternessofdeath.
“AndIjusthavetogoonlivingbecauseIcan’tstop.
Imayhavetoliveeightyyears,”thoughtValancy,inakindofpanic.
“We’reallhorriblylong-lived.
Itsickensmetothinkofit.”
Shewasgladitwasraining—orrather,shewasdrearilysatisfiedthatitwasraining.
Therewouldbeno
picnic
picnicthatday.
Thisannual
picnic
picnic,wherebyAuntandUncleWellington—onealwaysthoughtoftheminthatsuccession—inevitablycelebratedtheir
fidanzamento
engagementatapicnicthirtyyearsbefore,hadbeen,oflateyears,averitablenightmaretoValancy.
Byanimpishcoincidenceitwasthesamedayasherbirthdayand,aftershehadpassedtwenty-five,nobodyletherforgetit.
Muchasshehatedgoingtothe
picnic
picnic,itwouldneverhaveoccurredtohertorebelagainstit.
Thereseemedtobenothingofthe
rivoluzionario
revolutionaryinhernature.
Andsheknewexactlywhateveryonewouldsaytoheratthe
picnic
picnic.
UncleWellington,whomshedislikedand
disprezzava
despisedeventhoughhehad
soddisfatto
fulfilledthehighestStirlingaspiration,“marryingmoney,”wouldsaytoherinapig’s
sussurro
whisper,“Notthinkingofgettingmarriedyet,mydear?”
andthengooffintothebellowoflaughterwithwhichheinvariably
concluso
concludedhisdullremarks.
AuntWellington,ofwhomValancystoodinabjectawe,wouldtellheraboutOlive’snewchiffondressandCecil’slastdevotedletter.
ValancywouldhavetolookaspleasedandinterestedasifthedressandletterhadbeenhersorelseAuntWellingtonwouldbeoffended.
AndValancyhadlongagodecidedthatshewouldrather
offendere
offendGodthanAuntWellington,becauseGodmightforgiveherbutAuntWellingtonneverwould.
AuntAlberta,enormouslyfat,withanamiable
abitudine
habitofalwaysreferringtoherhusbandas“he,”asifheweretheonlymalecreatureintheworld,whocouldneverforgetthatshehadbeenagreatbeautyinheryouth,wouldcondolewithValancyonhersallowskin—.
“Idon’tknowwhyallthegirlsoftodayaresosunburned.
WhenIwasagirlmyskinwasrosesandcream.
IwascountedtheprettiestgirlinCanada,mydear.”
PerhapsUncleHerbertwouldn’tsayanything—orperhapshewouldremarkjocularly,“Howfatyou’regetting,Doss!”
Andtheneverybodywouldlaughovertheexcessivelyhumorousideaofpoor,scrawnylittleDossgettingfat.
Handsome,
solenne
solemnUncleJames,whomValancydislikedbutrespectedbecausehewasreputedtobeverycleverandwasthereforethe
clan
clanoracle—brainsbeingnonetooplentifulintheStirlingconnection—wouldprobablyremarkwiththeowl-like
sarcasmo
sarcasmthathadwonhimhisreputation,“Isupposeyou’rebusywithyourhope-chestthesedays?”
AndUncleBenjaminwouldasksomeofhisabominableconundrums,betweenwheezychuckles,andanswerthemhimself.
“WhatisthedifferencebetweenDossandamouse?
“ThemousewishestoharmthecheeseandDosswishesto
affascinare
charmthehe’s.”
Valancyhadheardhimaskthatriddlefiftytimesandeverytimeshewantedtothrowsomethingathim.
Butsheneverdid.
Inthefirstplace,theStirlingssimplydidnotthrowthings;
inthesecondplace,UncleBenjaminwasa
ricco
wealthyandchildlessoldwidowerandValancyhadbeenbroughtupinthefearandadmonitionofhismoney.
Ifshe
offendeva
offendedhimhewouldcutheroutofhiswill—supposingshewereinit.
ValancydidnotwanttobecutoutofUncleBenjamin’swill.
Shehadbeenpoorallherlifeandknewthegalling
amarezza
bitternessofit.
Soshe
sopportato
enduredhisriddlesandevensmiledtorturedlittlesmilesoverthem.
AuntIsabel,downrightanddisagreeableasaneastwind,wouldcriticiseherinsomeway—Valancycouldnot
prevedere
predictjusthow,forAuntIsabelneverrepeatedacriticism—shefoundsomethingnewwithwhichtojabyoueverytime.
AuntIsabelpridedherselfonsayingwhatshethought,butdidn’tlikeitsowellwhenotherpeoplesaidwhattheythoughttoher.
Valancyneversaidwhatshethought.
CousinGeorgiana—namedafterhergreat-great-grand-mother,whohadbeennamedafterGeorgetheFourth—wouldrecountdolorouslythenamesofallrelativesandfriendswhohaddiedsincethelast
picnic
picnicandwonder“whichofuswillbethefirsttogonext.”
Oppressively
competente
competent,AuntMildredwouldtalkendlesslyofherhusbandandherodiousprodigiesofbabiestoValancy,becauseValancywouldbetheonlyoneshecouldfindtoputupwithit.
Forthesamereason,CousinGladys—reallyFirstCousinGladysonceremoved,accordingtothe
rigoroso
strictwayinwhichtheStirlingstabulatedrelationship—atall,thinladywhoadmittedshehadasensitive
disposizione
disposition,woulddescribeminutelythetorturesofherneuritis.
AndOlive,thewondergirlofthewholeStirling
clan
clan,whohadeverythingValancyhadnot—beauty,
popolarità
popularity,love,—wouldshowoffherbeautyandpresumeonher
popolarità
popularityandflauntherdiamondinsigniaofloveinValancy’sdazzled,
invidiosi
enviouseyes.
Therewouldbenoneofallthistoday.
Andtherewouldbenopackingupofteaspoons.
ThepackingupwasalwaysleftforValancyandCousinStickles.
Andonce,sixyearsago,asilverteaspoonfromAuntWellington’sweddingsethadbeenlost.
Valancyneverheardthelastofthatsilverteaspoon.
ItsghostappearedBanquo-likeateverysubsequentfamily
festa
feast.
Oh,yes,Valancyknewexactlywhatthe
picnic
picnicwouldbelikeandsheblessedtherainthathadsavedherfromit.
Therewouldbeno
picnic
picnicthisyear.
IfAuntWellingtoncouldnotcelebrateonthe
sacro
sacreddayitselfshewouldhaveno
celebrazione
celebrationatall.
Thankwhatevergodstherewereforthat.
Sincetherewouldbeno
picnic
picnic,Valancymadeuphermindthat,iftherainheldupintheafternoon,shewouldgouptothelibraryandgetanotherofJohnFoster’sbooks.
Valancywasneverallowedtoreadnovels,butJohnFoster’sbookswerenotnovels.
Theywere“naturebooks”—sothe
bibliotecario
librariantoldMrs.FrederickStirling—“allaboutthewoodsandbirdsandbugsandthingslikethat,youknow.”
SoValancywasallowedtoreadthem—under
protesta
protest,foritwasonlytoo
evidente
evidentthatsheenjoyedthemtoomuch.
Itwaspermissible,evenlaudable,toreadto
migliorare
improveyourmindandyourreligion,butabookthatwas
piacevole
enjoyablewasdangerous.
Valancydidnotknowwhetherhermindwasbeing
migliorando
improvedornot;
butshefelt
vagamente
vaguelythatifshehadcomeacrossJohnFoster’sbooksyearsagolifemighthavebeenadifferentthingforher.
Theyseemedtohertoyieldglimpsesofaworldintowhichshemightoncehaveentered,thoughthedoorwasforeverbarredtohernow.
ItwasonlywithinthelastyearthatJohnFoster’sbookshadbeenintheDeerwoodlibrary,thoughthe
bibliotecario
librariantoldValancythathehadbeenawell-knownwriterforseveralyears.
“Wheredoeshelive?”
Valancyhadasked.
“Nobodyknows.
FromhisbookshemustbeaCanadian,butnomoreinformationcanbehad.
Hispublisherswon’tsayaword.
QuitelikelyJohnFosterisanomdeplume.
Hisbooksaresopopularwecan’tkeeptheminatall,thoughIreallycan’tseewhatpeoplefindinthemtoraveover.”
“Ithinkthey’rewonderful,”saidValancy,timidly.
“Oh—well—”
MissClarksonsmiledinapatronisingfashionthatrelegatedValancy’sopinionstolimbo,“Ican’tsayIcaremuchforbugsmyself.
ButcertainlyFosterseemstoknowallthereistoknowaboutthem.”
Valancydidn’tknowwhethershecaredmuchforbugseither.
ItwasnotJohnFoster’suncannyknowledgeofwildcreaturesandinsectlifethatenthralledher.
Shecouldhardlysaywhatitwas—sometantalisinglureofamysteryneverrevealed—some
accenno
hintofagreatsecretjustalittlefurtheron—some
debole
faint,elusiveechooflovely,forgottenthings—JohnFoster’smagicwasindefinable.
Yes,shewouldgetanewFosterbook.
ItwasamonthsinceshehadThistleHarvest,sosurelyMothercouldnotobject.
Valancyhadreaditfourtimes—sheknewwholepassagesoffbyheart.
And—shealmostthoughtshewouldgoandseeDr.Trentaboutthatqueerpainaroundtheheart.
Ithadcomeratheroftenlately,andthepalpitationswerebecomingannoying,nottospeakofan
occasionale
occasionaldizzymomentandaqueershortnessofbreath.
Butcouldshegotoseehimwithouttellinganyone?
Itwasamostdaringthought.
NoneoftheStirlingseverconsultedadoctorwithoutholdingafamilycouncilandgettingUncleJames’approval.
Then,theywenttoDr.AmbroseMarshofPortLawrence,whohadmarriedSecondCousinAdelaideStirling.
ButValancydislikedDr.AmbroseMarsh.
And,besides,shecouldnotgettoPortLawrence,fifteenmilesaway,withoutbeingtakenthere.
Shedidnotwantanyonetoknowaboutherheart.
Therewouldbesuchafussmadeandeverymemberofthefamilywouldcomedownandtalkitoverandadviseherandcautionherandwarnherandtellherhorribletalesofgreat-auntsandcousinsfortytimesremovedwhohadbeen“justlikethat”and“droppeddeadwithoutamoment’swarning,mydear.”
AuntIsabelwouldrememberthatshehadalwayssaidDosslookedlikeagirlwhowouldhavehearttrouble—“so
pizzicato
pinchedandpeakedalways”;
andUncleWellingtonwouldtakeitasapersonal
insulto
insult,when“noStirlingeverhadheartdiseasebefore”;
andGeorgianawouldforebodeinperfectly
udibile
audibleasidesthat“poor,dearlittleDossisn’tlongforthisworld,I’mafraid”;
andCousinGladyswouldsay,“Why,myhearthasbeenlikethatforyears,”inatonethat
implicava
impliednooneelsehadanybusinesseventohaveaheart;
andOlive—Olivewould
semplicemente
merelylookbeautifulandsuperioranddisgustinglyhealthy,asiftosay,“WhyallthisfussoverafadedsuperfluitylikeDosswhenyouhaveme?”
Valancyfeltthatshecouldn’ttellanybodyunlessshehadto.
Shefeltquitesuretherewasnothingatallseriouslywrongwithherheartandnoneedofallthepotherthatwouldensueifshementionedit.
ShewouldjustslipupquietlyandseeDr.Trentthatveryday.
Asforhisbill,shehadthetwohundreddollarsthatherfatherhadputinthebankforherthedayshewasborn.
Shewasneverallowedtouseeventheinterestofthis,butshewould
segretamente
secretlytakeoutenoughtopayDr.Trent.
Dr.
Trentwasagruff,outspoken,absent-mindedoldfellow,buthewasarecognisedauthorityonheartdisease,evenifhewereonlyageneralpractitionerinout-of-the-worldDeerwood.
Dr.Trentwasoverseventyandtherehadbeenrumoursthathemeanttoretiresoon.
NoneoftheStirling
clan
clanhadevergonetohimsincehehadtoldCousinGladys,tenyearsbefore,thatherneuritiswasallimaginaryandthatsheenjoyedit.
Youcouldn’tpatroniseadoctorwho
insultato
insultedyourfirst-cousin-once-removedlikethat—nottomentionthathewasaPresbyterianwhenalltheStirlingswenttotheAnglicanchurch.
Capitolo
CHAPTERII
WhenCousinSticklesknockedatherdoor,Valancyknewitwashalf-pastsevenandshemustgetup.
Aslongasshecouldremember,CousinStickleshadknockedatherdoorathalf-pastseven.
CousinSticklesandMrs.FrederickStirlinghadbeenupsinceseven,butValancywasallowedtolieabedhalfanhourlongerbecauseofafamily
tradizione
traditionthatshewasdelicate.
Valancygotup,thoughshehatedgettingupmorethismorningthanevershehadbefore.