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A Room with a View | Progressive Norwegian A1 Translation Books

A Room with a View | Progressive Norwegian A1 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.

ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignora
hadde
hadnobusinesstodoit,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
She
lovet
promisedussouthroomswith
en
aviewclosetogether,insteadof
som
whichherearenorthrooms,
ser
lookingintoacourtyard,and
en
alongwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“And
en
aCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,
som
whohadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“It
kan
mightbeLondon.”
Shelookedat
de
thetworowsofEnglish
mennesker
peoplewhoweresittingat
de
thetable;
attherowofwhitebottlesof
vann
waterandredbottlesofwine
som
thatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
at
den
theportraitsofthelateQueen
og
andthelatePoetLaureatethat
hengt
hungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;
at
den
thenoticeoftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),
som
thatwastheonlyotherdecorationof
den
thewall.
“Charlotte,don’tyou
føler
feel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
I
kan
canhardlybelievethatallkindsof
andre
otherthingsarejustoutside.
Isupposeitisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeat
har
hassurelybeenusedforsoup,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.
“I
vil
wantsotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignora
lovet
promisedusinherletter
ville
wouldhavelookedovertheArno.
TheSignora
hadde
hadnobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itis
en
ashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlettcontinued;
“butitdoesseem
vanskelig
hardthatyoushouldn’thave
en
aview.”
Lucyfeltthatshe
hadde
hadbeenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoil
meg
me:
ofcourse,youmust
se
lookovertheArno,too.
Imeant
det
that.
Thefirstvacantroominthefront—”
“Youmusthaveit,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,partofwhosetravellingexpenseswere
betalt
paidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerosityto
som
whichshemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,
nei
no.Youmusthaveit.”
“Iinsiston
det
it.
Yourmotherwouldneverforgive
meg
me,Lucy.”
“Shewouldneverforgiveme.”
Den
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—if
den
thesadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,
og
andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Noen
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,
og
andoneofthem—oneof
de
theill-bredpeoplewhomonedoes
møter
meetabroad—leantforwardoverthetable
og
andactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.
He
sa
said:.
“Ihaveaview,I
har
haveaview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyat
en
apensionpeoplelookedthem
over
overforadayor
to
twobeforespeaking,andoftendidnot
finne
findoutthattheywould“do”tillthey
hadde
hadgone.
Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,
selv
evenbeforesheglancedat
ham
him.
Hewasanold
mann
man,ofheavybuild,withafair,shaven
ansikt
faceandlargeeyes.
Therewas
noe
somethingchildishinthoseeyes,
om
thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
What
akkurat
exactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnot
stoppe
stoptoconsider,forherglancepassedontohisclothes.
Disse
Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewas
sannsynligvis
probablytryingtobecomeacquainted
med
withthembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumed
en
adazedexpressionwhenhespoketo
henne
her,andthensaid:
“Aview?
Oh,
en
aview!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”
sa
saidtheoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
He
har
hasaviewtoo.”
“Ah,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,
som
whowasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”hecontinued,“is
at
thatyoucanhaveourrooms,
og
andwe’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
The
bedre
betterclassoftouristwasshockedat
dette
this,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.
Frøken
MissBartlett,inreply,openedhermouthas
lite
littleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyou
veldig
verymuchindeed;
thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
sa
saidtheoldman,with
begge
bothfistsonthetable.
“Becauseitis
helt
quiteoutofthequestion,
takk
thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’t
liker
liketotake—”
beganLucy.
Hercousin
igjen
againrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Women
liker
likelookingataview;
mendon’t.”
Og
Andhethumpedwithhisfists
som
likeanaughtychild,andturnedtohis
sønnen
son,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’ssoobviousthey
burde
shouldhavetherooms,”saidthe
sønnen
son.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
så
lookattheladiesashe
snakket
spoke,buthisvoicewasperplexed
og
andsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
men
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatis
kjent
knownas“quiteascene,”
og
andshehadanoddfeelingthatwhenever
disse
theseill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidened
og
anddeepenedtillitdealt,not
med
withroomsandviews,butwith—well,
med
withsomethingquitedifferent,whoseexistenceshe
hadde
hadnotrealizedbefore.
Now
den
theoldmanattackedMissBartlett
nesten
almostviolently:
Whyshouldshenot
forandre
change?
Whatpossibleobjectionhad
hun
she?
Theywouldclearoutin
halv
halfanhour.
MissBartlett,
om
thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwasimpossibletosnub
noen
anyonesogross.
Her
ansiktet
facereddenedwithdispleasure.
She
så
lookedaroundasmuchasto
si
say,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Og
Andtwolittleoldladies,
som
whoweresittingfurtherupthetable,
med
withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,
så
lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
middag
dinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,
og
andbegantotoyagain
med
withthemeatthatshe
hadde
hadoncecensured.
Lucymumbled
at
thatthoseseemedveryodd
mennesker
peopleopposite.
“Eatyourdinner,
kjære
dear.
Thispensionisafailure.
To-morrowwe
vil
willmakeachange.”
Hardly
hadde
hadsheannouncedthisfelldecision
da
whenshereversedit.
Thecurtainsatthe
enden
endoftheroomparted,
og
andrevealedaclergyman,stout
men
butattractive,whohurriedforwardto
ta
takehisplaceatthetable,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.
Lucy,
som
whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Hvorfor
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,
hvor
howperfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
må
muststopnow,howeverbadtherooms
er
are.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,
med
withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
Iexpect
at
thatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlett
og
andMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWells
da
whenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthat
veldig
verycoldEaster.”
Theclergyman,who
hadde
hadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnot
husket
remembertheladiesquiteasclearlyasthey
husket
rememberedhim.
Buthecameforwardpleasantly
nok
enoughandacceptedthechairinto
som
whichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamsogladto
se
seeyou,”saidthegirl,
som
whowasinastateofspiritualstarvation,
og
andwouldhavebeengladto
se
seethewaiterifhercousinhadpermitted
det
it.
“Justfancyhowsmallthe
verden
worldis.
SummerStreet,too,
gjør
makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesin
de
theparishofSummerStreet,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,fillingup
de
thegap,“andshehappenedto
fortelle
tellmeinthecourseofconversation
at
thatyouhavejustaccepted
de
theliving—”.
“Yes,Iheardfrom
mor
mothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknow
at
thatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
men
butIwrotebackatonce,
og
andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
sa
saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummer
Street
StreetnextJune.
Iam
heldig
luckytobeappointedto
så
suchacharmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,
hvor
howgladIam!
The
navnet
nameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereis
mor
motherandmegenerally,andmy
bror
brother,thoughit’snotoftenwe
får
gethimtoch——
Thechurchisrather
langt
faroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,
la
letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iam
spiser
eatingit,thankyou,andenjoyingit.”
Hepreferredto
snakke
talktoLucy,whoseplayinghe
husket
remembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,
som
whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
He
spurte
askedthegirlwhethershe
kjente
knewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelength
at
thatshehadneverbeen
der
therebefore.
Itisdelightfultoadvise
en
anewcomer,andhewas
første
firstinthefield.
“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.
“The
første
firstfineafternoondriveuptoFiesole,
og
androundbySettignano,or
noe
somethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
cried
en
avoicefromthetopofthetable.
“Mr.
Beebe,youare
feil
wrong.
Thefirstfineafternoonyourladies
må
mustgotoPrato.”
“That
damen
ladylookssoclever,”whispered
Frøken
MissBartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
Og
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentofinformationburston
dem
them.
Peopletoldthemwhatto
se
see,whentoseeit,howto
stoppe
stoptheelectrictrams,howto
bli
getridofthebeggars,how
mye
muchtogiveforavellumblotter,how
mye
muchtheplacewouldgrowupon
dem
them.
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,
nesten
almostenthusiastically,thattheywould
gjøre
do.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiled
og
andshoutedatthem.
Andabove
alt
allrosethevoiceof
den
thecleverlady,crying:
“Prato!
They
må
mustgotoPrato.
That
stedet
placeistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
I
elsker
loveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
Den
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedat
den
thecleverlady,andthen
returnerte
returnedmoodilytohisplate.
Obviouslyhe
og
andhisfatherdidnot
gjorde
do.
Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,
fant
foundtimetowishthey
gjorde
did.
Itgavehernoextrapleasurethat
noen
anyoneshouldbeleftinthe
kulden
cold;
andwhensheroseto
gå
go,sheturnedbackandgave
de
thetwooutsidersanervous
liten
littlebow.
Thefatherdidnot
så
seeit;
thesonacknowledged
det
it,notbyanotherbow,
men
butbyraisinghiseyebrows
og
andsmiling;
heseemedtobesmilingacross
noe
something.
Shehastenedafterhercousin,who
hadde
hadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmote
en
oneintheface,andseemedheavy
med
withmorethancloth.
Beyondthemstood
den
theunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,
og
andsupportedby’Enery,her
lille
littleboy,andVictorier,her
datter
daughter.
Itmadeacurious
liten
littlescene,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegrace
og
andgenialityoftheSouth.
Og
Andevenmorecuriouswas
den
thedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorival
den
thesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
Was
dette
thisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwas
allerede
alreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,
som
whichhadthecolourandthecontoursof
en
atomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,
og
andasshespoke,herlongnarrow
hode
headdrovebackwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,as
om
thoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
sa
saying.
“Thefirsteveningmeansso
mye
much.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
en
apeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byany
tilfeldighet
chance,knowthenameof
en
anoldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Ishe
en
afriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—as
man
oneisinpensions.”
“ThenI
vil
willsaynomore.”
Hepressedher
veldig
veryslightly,andshesaid
mer
more.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmy
unge
youngcousin,Lucy,andit
ville
wouldbeaseriousthingifI
setter
putherunderanobligationto
folk
peopleofwhomweknow
ingenting
nothing.
Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
I
håper
hopeIactedforthebest.”
“Youacted
veldig
verynaturally,”saidhe.
Heseemedthoughtful,
og
andafterafewmomentsadded:
“All
de
thesame,Idon’tthink
mye
muchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,of
selvfølgelig
course.
Butwecouldnotbe
under
underanobligation.”
“Heisrather
en
apeculiarman.”
Againhehesitated,
og
andthensaidgently:
“I
tror
thinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,norexpectyouto
vise
showgratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
si
sayingexactlywhathemeans.
He
har
hasroomshedoesnotvalue,
og
andhethinksyouwouldvalue
dem
them.
Henomorethoughtof
sette
puttingyouunderanobligation
enn
thanhethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,I
finner
finditdifficult—tounderstandpeople
som
whospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,
og
andsaid:
“Iwashoping
at
thathewasnice;
I
gjør
dosoalwayshopethat
folk
peoplewillbenice.”
“I
tror
thinkheis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimon
nesten
almosteverypointofanyimportance,
og
andso,Iexpect—Imay
si
sayIhope—youwilldiffer.
Men
Buthisisatypeonedisagrees
med
withratherthandeplores.
Whenhe
først
firstcameherehenotunnaturally
sette
putpeople’sbacksup.
He
har
hasnotactandnomanners—Idon’t
mener
meanbythatthathe
har
hasbadmanners—andhewillnot
holde
keephisopinionstohimself.
WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,
men
butIamgladto
si
saywethoughtbetterofit.”
“AmItoconclude,”
sa
saidMissBartlett,“thatheis
en
aSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebeacceptedtheconvenient
ordet
word,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.
“Andpresumablyhe
har
hasbroughtuphissontobe
en
aSocialist,too?”
“Ihardly
kjenner
knowGeorge,forhehasn’t
lært
learnttotalkyet.