A Room with a View | Progressive Translation Books for Norwegian A1-B2 Students

A Room with a View | Progressive Translation Books for Norwegian A1-B2 Students

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ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignora
hadde
had
nobusinesstodoit,”
sa
said
MissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
She
lovet
promised
ussouthroomswith
en
a
viewclosetogether,insteadof
som
which
herearenorthrooms,
ser
looking
intoacourtyard,and
en
a
longwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“And
en
a
Cockney,besides!”
saidLucy,
som
who
hadbeenfurthersaddenedbytheSignora’sunexpected
aksent
accent
.
“ItmightbeLondon.”
She
looked
atthetworowsofEnglish
mennesker
people
whoweresittingat
de
the
table;
attherowofwhitebottlesof
vann
water
andredbottlesof
vin
wine
thatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
at
den
the
portraitsofthelateQueen
og
and
thelatePoetLaureatethat
hengt
hung
behindtheEnglishpeople,
tungt
heavily
framed;
atthenoticeof
den
the
Englishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),
som
that
wastheonlyother
dekorasjon
decoration
ofthewall.
“Charlotte,don’tyou
føler
feel
,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
I
kan
can
hardlybelievethatallkindsof
andre
other
thingsarejustoutside.
I
antar
suppose
itisone’sbeingsotired.”
“Thismeat
har
has
surelybeenusedforsoup,”
sa
said
MissBartlett,layingdownherfork.
“I
vil
want
sotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignora
lovet
promised
usinherletter
ville
would
havelookedovertheArno.
TheSignora
hadde
had
nobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itis
en
a
shame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlett
fortsatte
continued
;
“butitdoesseem
vanskelig
hard
thatyoushouldn’thave
en
a
view.”
Lucyfeltthatshe
hadde
had
beenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoilme:
of
selvfølgelig
course
,youmustlookovertheArno,
også
too
.
Imeantthat.
The
første
first
vacantroominthefront—”
“You
must
haveit,”saidMissBartlett,
del
part
ofwhosetravellingexpenseswere
betalt
paid
byLucy’smother—apieceofgenerosityto
som
which
shemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,
nei
no
.Youmusthaveit.”
“I
insisterer
insist
onit.
Yourmother
ville
would
neverforgiveme,Lucy.”
“She
ville
would
neverforgiveme.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—if
den
the
sadtruthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,
og
and
undertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Noen
Some
oftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,
og
and
oneofthem—oneof
de
the
ill-bredpeoplewhomonedoes
møter
meet
abroad—leantforwardoverthe
bordet
table
andactuallyintrudedintotheir
argument
argument
.
Hesaid:.
“Ihave
en
a
view,Ihaveaview.”
Frøken
Miss
Bartlettwasstartled.
Generallyat
en
a
pensionpeoplelookedthem
over
over
foradayor
to
two
beforespeaking,andoftendidnot
finne
find
outthattheywould“do”tillthey
hadde
had
gone.
Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,
selv
even
beforesheglancedat
ham
him
.
Hewasanold
mann
man
,ofheavybuild,withafair,shaven
ansikt
face
andlargeeyes.
Therewas
noe
something
childishinthoseeyes,
om
though
itwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
What
akkurat
exactly
itwasMissBartlettdidnot
stoppe
stop
toconsider,forher
blikk
glance
passedontohisclothes.
Disse
These
didnotattracther.
Hewas
sannsynligvis
probably
tryingtobecomeacquainted
med
with
thembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Soshe
antatt
assumed
adazedexpressionwhenhespoketo
henne
her
,andthensaid:
“A
utsikt
view
?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightful
en
a
viewis!”
“Thisismyson,”
sa
said
theoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
He
har
has
aviewtoo.”
“Ah,”
sa
said
MissBartlett,repressingLucy,
som
who
wasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”he
fortsatte
continued
,“isthatyoucan
ha
have
ourrooms,andwe’ll
ha
have
yours.
We’llchange.”
The
bedre
better
classoftouristwas
sjokkert
shocked
atthis,andsympathized
med
with
thenew-comers.
MissBartlett,in
svar
reply
,openedhermouthas
lite
little
aspossible,andsaid“Thankyou
veldig
very
muchindeed;
thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
sa
said
theoldman,with
begge
both
fistsonthetable.
“Becauseitis
helt
quite
outofthequestion,
takk
thank
you.”
“Yousee,wedon’t
liker
like
totake—”
beganLucy.
Her
fetter
cousin
againrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
he
vedvarte
persisted
.
“Womenlikelookingat
en
a
view;
mendon’t.”
Andhethumped
med
with
hisfistslikeanaughty
barn
child
,andturnedtohis
sønnen
son
,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’ssoobviousthey
burde
should
havetherooms,”saidthe
sønnen
son
.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnot
look
attheladiesashe
snakket
spoke
,buthisvoicewasperplexed
og
and
sorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
men
but
shesawthattheywereinforwhatis
kjent
known
as“quiteascene,”
og
and
shehadanoddfeelingthatwhenever
disse
these
ill-bredtouristsspokethe
konkurransen
contest
widenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,not
med
with
roomsandviews,butwith—well,
med
with
somethingquitedifferent,whose
eksistens
existence
shehadnotrealized
før
before
.
Nowtheoldman
angrepet
attacked
MissBartlettalmostviolently:
Hvorfor
Why
shouldshenotchange?
What
mulig
possible
objectionhadshe?
They
ville
would
clearoutinhalf
en
an
hour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,was
maktesløs
powerless
inthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwas
umulig
impossible
tosnubanyoneso
grov
gross
.
Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
She
looked
aroundasmuchasto
si
say
,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Og
And
twolittleoldladies,
som
who
weresittingfurtherupthe
bordet
table
,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,
looked
back,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyour
middag
dinner
,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,
og
and
begantotoyagain
med
with
themeatthatshe
hadde
had
oncecensured.
Lucymumbled
at
that
thoseseemedveryodd
mennesker
people
opposite.
“Eatyourdinner,
kjære
dear
.
Thispensionisa
fiasko
failure
.
To-morrowwewillmake
en
a
change.”
Hardlyhadshe
annonsert
announced
thisfelldecisionwhenshe
reverserte
reversed
it.
Thecurtainsatthe
enden
end
oftheroomparted,
og
and
revealedaclergyman,stout
men
but
attractive,whohurriedforwardto
ta
take
hisplaceatthe
bordet
table
,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.
Lucy,
som
who
hadnotyetacquired
anstendighet
decency
,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Hvorfor
Why
,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,
hvor
how
perfectlylovely!
Oh,Charlotte,we
must
stopnow,howeverbadtherooms
er
are
.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,
med
with
morerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
I
forventer
expect
thatyouhaveforgotten
oss
us
:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWells
da
when
youhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthat
veldig
very
coldEaster.”
Theclergyman,who
hadde
had
theairofoneona
ferie
holiday
,didnotremembertheladies
helt
quite
asclearlyasthey
husket
remembered
him.
Buthecame
frem
forward
pleasantlyenoughandacceptedthechairinto
som
which
hewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamso
glad
glad
toseeyou,”saidthe
jenta
girl
,whowasina
tilstand
state
ofspiritualstarvation,and
ville
would
havebeengladto
se
see
thewaiterifher
fetter
cousin
hadpermittedit.
“Justfancy
hvor
how
smalltheworldis.
Summer
Street
Street
,too,makesitso
spesielt
specially
funny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesin
de
the
parishofSummerStreet,”
sa
said
MissBartlett,fillingup
de
the
gap,“andshehappenedtotellmein
de
the
courseofconversationthatyou
har
have
justacceptedtheliving—”.
“Yes,I
hørte
heard
frommothersolast
uke
week
.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
men
but
Iwrotebackatonce,
og
and
Isaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”
sa
said
theclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummer
Street
Street
nextJune.
Iam
heldig
lucky
tobeappointedto
such
acharmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,
hvor
how
gladIam!
The
navnet
name
ofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebe
bøyde
bowed
.
“Thereismotherandme
generelt
generally
,andmybrother,thoughit’snot
ofte
often
wegethimtoch——
The
kirken
church
isratherfaroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,
la
let
Mr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iam
spiser
eating
it,thankyou,and
nyter
enjoying
it.”
Hepreferredto
snakke
talk
toLucy,whoseplayinghe
husket
remembered
,ratherthantoMissBartlett,
som
who
probablyrememberedhissermons.
He
spurte
asked
thegirlwhethershe
kjente
knew
Florencewell,andwas
informert
informed
atsomelengththatshe
hadde
had
neverbeentherebefore.
Itisdelightfulto
råd
advise
anewcomer,andhewas
første
first
inthefield.
“Don’t
forsøm
neglect
thecountryround,”his
råd
advice
concluded.
“Thefirstfineafternoon
kjører
drive
uptoFiesole,and
rundt
round
bySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
cried
en
a
voicefromthetopofthe
bordet
table
.
“Mr.
Beebe,youare
feil
wrong
.
Thefirstfineafternoonyourladies
must
gotoPrato.”
“That
damen
lady
lookssoclever,”whispered
Frøken
Miss
Bartletttohercousin.
“Weareinluck.”
Og
And
,indeed,aperfecttorrentof
informasjon
information
burstonthem.
People
fortalte
told
themwhattosee,
når
when
toseeit,howto
stoppe
stop
theelectrictrams,howto
bli
get
ridofthebeggars,how
mye
much
togiveforavellumblotter,how
mye
much
theplacewouldgrowupon
dem
them
.
ThePensionBertolinihaddecided,
nesten
almost
enthusiastically,thattheywould
gjøre
do
.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladiessmiled
og
and
shoutedatthem.
And
over
above
allrosethevoiceof
den
the
cleverlady,crying:
“Prato!
They
must
gotoPrato.
That
stedet
place
istoosweetlysqualidforwords.
I
elsker
love
it;
Irevelin
riste
shaking
offthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
Den
The
youngmannamedGeorgeglancedat
den
the
cleverlady,andthen
returnerte
returned
moodilytohisplate.
Åpenbart
Obviously
heandhisfather
gjorde
did
notdo.
Lucy,inthemidstofher
suksess
success
,foundtimetowishthey
gjorde
did
.
Itgaveherno
ekstra
extra
pleasurethatanyone
skulle
should
beleftinthe
kulden
cold
;
andwhensheroseto
go
,sheturnedbackandgave
de
the
twooutsidersanervous
liten
little
bow.
Thefatherdidnot
see
it;
thesonacknowledged
det
it
,notbyanotherbow,
men
but
byraisinghiseyebrows
og
and
smiling;
heseemedtobe
smile
smiling
acrosssomething.
Shehastened
etter
after
hercousin,whohad
allerede
already
disappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmote
en
one
intheface,and
virket
seemed
heavywithmorethancloth.
Beyondthemstood
den
the
unreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,
og
and
supportedby’Enery,her
lille
little
boy,andVictorier,her
datter
daughter
.
Itmadeacurious
liten
little
scene,thisattemptoftheCockneyto
formidle
convey
thegraceandgenialityofthe
Sør
South
.
Andevenmorecuriouswas
den
the
drawing-room,whichattemptedtorival
den
the
solidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
Was
dette
this
reallyItaly?
MissBartlettwas
allerede
already
seatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,
som
which
hadthecolourandthecontoursof
en
a
tomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,
og
and
asshespoke,herlong
smale
narrow
headdrovebackwardsandforwards,
sakte
slowly
,regularly,asthoughshewere
rive
demolishing
someinvisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewas
sa
saying
.
“Thefirsteveningmeansso
mye
much
.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinfor
en
a
peculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
He
uttrykte
expressed
hisregret.
“Doyou,byany
tilfeldighet
chance
,knowthenameof
en
an
oldmanwhosat
overfor
opposite
usatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Ishe
en
a
friendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—as
man
one
isinpensions.”
“ThenI
vil
will
saynomore.”
Hepressedher
veldig
very
slightly,andshesaid
mer
more
.
“Iam,asitwere,”she
konkluderte
concluded
,“thechaperonofmy
unge
young
cousin,Lucy,andit
ville
would
beaseriousthingifI
setter
put
herunderanobligationto
folk
people
ofwhomweknow
ingenting
nothing
.
Hismannerwassomewhat
uheldig
unfortunate
.
IhopeIactedfor
den
the
best.”
“Youactedverynaturally,”
sa
said
he.
Heseemedthoughtful,
og
and
afterafewmoments
lagt
added
:
“Allthesame,Idon’t
tror
think
muchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“No
skade
harm
,ofcourse.
Butwe
kunne
could
notbeunderanobligation.”
“Heis
ganske
rather
apeculiarman.”
Againhe
nølte
hesitated
,andthensaidgently:
“I
tror
think
hewouldnottakeadvantageofyour
aksept
acceptance
,norexpectyouto
vise
show
gratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—of
si
saying
exactlywhathemeans.
He
har
has
roomshedoesnotvalue,
og
and
hethinksyouwouldvalue
dem
them
.
Henomorethoughtof
sette
putting
youunderanobligation
enn
than
hethoughtofbeing
høflig
polite
.
Itissodifficult—atleast,I
finner
find
itdifficult—tounderstandpeople
som
who
speakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,
og
and
said:
“Iwashoping
at
that
hewasnice;
I
gjør
do
soalwayshopethat
folk
people
willbenice.”
“I
tror
think
heis;
niceand
kjedelig
tiresome
.
Idifferfromhimon
nesten
almost
everypointofany
betydning
importance
,andso,Iexpect—I
kan
may
sayIhope—youwill
forskjellig
differ
.
Buthisisa
type
type
onedisagreeswithrather
enn
than
deplores.
Whenhefirst
kom
came
herehenotunnaturally
sette
put
people’sbacksup.
He
har
has
notactandnomanners—Idon’t
mener
mean
bythatthathe
har
has
badmanners—andhewillnot
holde
keep
hisopinionstohimself.
We
nesten
nearly
complainedabouthimtoour
deprimerende
depressing
Signora,butIam
glad
glad
tosaywethought
bedre
better
ofit.”
“AmItoconclude,”
sa
said
MissBartlett,“thatheis
en
a
Socialist?”
Mr.
Beebeacceptedtheconvenient
ordet
word
,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.
“And
antagelig
presumably
hehasbroughtuphis
sønn
son
tobeaSocialist,too?”
“I
knapt
hardly
knowGeorge,forhehasn’t
lært
learnt
totalkyet.