×

Select Store

Dowload from Google Play Dowload from the App Store

Scan with Camera

Dowload via QR Code
The Great Gatsby | Progressive Translation Books for Norwegian A1-B2 Students

The Great Gatsby | Progressive Translation Books for Norwegian A1-B2 Students

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.

I
Inmyyounger
og
andmorevulnerableyearsmy
faren
fathergavemesomeadvice
som
thatI’vebeenturningoverinmymindever
siden
since.
“Wheneveryoufeellike
kritisere
criticizinganyone,”hetoldme,“justremember
at
thatallthepeoplein
denne
thisworldhaven’thadtheadvantages
at
thatyou’vehad.”
Hedidn’t
sa
sayanymore,butwe’ve
alltid
alwaysbeenunusuallycommunicativein
en
areservedway,andIunderstoodthathe
betydde
meantagreatdealmore
enn
thanthat.
Inconsequence,I’minclinedtoreservealljudgements,
en
ahabitthathasopenedupmanycuriousnaturestome
og
andalsomademethe
offer
victimofnotafew
veteran
veteranbores.
Theabnormalmindis
rask
quicktodetectandattachitselfto
denne
thisqualitywhenitappearsin
en
anormalperson,andsoit
kom
cameaboutthatincollegeIwasunjustly
anklaget
accusedofbeingapolitician,
fordi
becauseIwasprivytothesecretgriefsofwild,unknownmen.
De fleste
Mostoftheconfidenceswereunsought—frequentlyI
har
havefeignedsleep,preoccupation,ora
fiendtlig
hostilelevitywhenIrealizedby
noen
someunmistakablesignthatanintimate
åpenbaring
revelationwasquiveringonthe
horisonten
horizon;
fortheintimaterevelationsof
unge
youngmen,oratleastthetermsin
som
whichtheyexpressthem,are
vanligvis
usuallyplagiaristicandmarredby
åpenbare
obvioussuppressions.
Reservingjudgementsis
et
amatterofinfinitehope.
Iam
fortsatt
stillalittleafraidof
glipp
missingsomethingifIforgetthat,asmy
far
fathersnobbishlysuggested,andIsnobbishly
gjentar
repeat,asenseofthe
grunnleggende
fundamentaldecenciesisparcelledoutunequallyat
fødselen
birth.
And,afterboastingthis
måten
wayofmytolerance,I
kommer
cometotheadmissionthatithas
en
alimit.
Conductmaybefoundedonthe
harde
hardrockorthewetmarshes,
men
butafteracertainpointIdon’tcarewhatit’sfounded
på
on.
WhenIcamebackfromthe
Østen
EastlastautumnIfelt
at
thatIwantedtheworldtobein
uniform
uniformandatasortof
moralsk
moralattentionforever;
Iwantednomoreriotousexcursions
med
withprivilegedglimpsesintothe
menneskelige
humanheart.
OnlyGatsby,the
mannen
manwhogiveshisnameto
denne
thisbook,wasexemptfrommyreaction—Gatsby,who
representerte
representedeverythingforwhichI
har
haveanunaffectedscorn.
If
personlighet
personalityisanunbrokenseriesofsuccessfulgestures,thentherewas
noe
somethinggorgeousabouthim,someheightened
følsomhet
sensitivitytothepromisesoflife,asifhewere
relatert
relatedtooneofthoseintricatemachinesthat
registrerer
registerearthquakestenthousandmiles
unna
away.
Thisresponsivenesshadnothingto
gjøre
dowiththatflabbyimpressionabilitywhichis
verdig
dignifiedunderthenameof
den
the“creativetemperament”—itwasanextraordinary
gave
giftforhope,aromanticreadinesssuchasI
har
haveneverfoundinany
annen
otherpersonandwhichitisnotlikelyIshallever
finne
findagain.
No—Gatsbyturnedoutallrightatthe
slutten
end;
itiswhatpreyedonGatsby,what
stygt
fouldustfloatedinthe
kjølvannet
wakeofhisdreamsthat
midlertidig
temporarilyclosedoutmyinterestin
de
theabortivesorrowsandshort-windedelationsofmen.
My
familie
familyhavebeenprominent,well-to-do
mennesker
peopleinthisMiddleWestern
byen
cityforthreegenerations.
TheCarrawaysare
noe
somethingofaclan,andwe
har
haveatraditionthatwe’redescendedfrom
den
theDukesofBuccleuch,but
den
theactualfounderofmy
linje
linewasmygrandfather’sbrother,who
kom
camehereinfifty-one,sent
en
asubstitutetotheCivilWar,
og
andstartedthewholesalehardware
virksomhet
businessthatmyfathercarriesontoday.
I
aldri
neversawthisgreat-uncle,butI’msupposedto
se
looklikehim—withspecialreferenceto
den
theratherhard-boiledpaintingthat
henger
hangsinfather’soffice.
IgraduatedfromNewHavenin1915,
bare
justaquarterofa
århundre
centuryaftermyfather,and
et
alittlelaterIparticipatedinthatdelayedTeutonicmigration
kjent
knownastheGreatWar.
Ienjoyedthecounter-raidso
grundig
thoroughlythatIcameback
rastløs
restless.
Insteadofbeingthe
varme
warmcentreoftheworld,
den
theMiddleWestnowseemed
som
liketheraggededgeof
den
theuniverse—soIdecidedto
gå
goEastandlearnthebondbusiness.
EverybodyI
kjente
knewwasinthebondbusiness,soIsupposedit
kunne
couldsupportonemoresingle
mann
man.
Allmyauntsanduncles
snakket
talkeditoverasiftheywere
valgte
choosingaprepschoolforme,
og
andfinallysaid,“Why—ye-es,”with
veldig
verygrave,hesitantfaces.
Fatheragreedto
finansiere
financemeforayear,
og
andaftervariousdelaysI
kom
cameEast,permanently,Ithought,inthe
våren
springoftwenty-two.
Thepracticalthingwasto
finne
findroomsinthecity,
men
butitwasawarm
årstid
season,andIhadjust
forlatt
leftacountryofwidelawns
og
andfriendlytrees,sowhena
ung
youngmanattheoffice
foreslo
suggestedthatwetakea
hus
housetogetherinacommutingtown,it
hørtes
soundedlikeagreatidea.
He
fant
foundthehouse,aweather-beaten
papp
cardboardbungalowateightyamonth,
men
butatthelastminutethe
firmaet
firmorderedhimtoWashington,
og
andIwentouttothecountry
alene
alone.
Ihadadog—atleastI
hadde
hadhimforafewdays
før
untilheranaway—andan
gammel
oldDodgeandaFinnish
kvinne
woman,whomademybed
og
andcookedbreakfastandmutteredFinnish
visdom
wisdomtoherselfovertheelectricstove.
Itwaslonelyfora
dag
dayorsountilone
morgen
morningsomeman,morerecently
ankom
arrivedthanI,stoppedmeonthe
veien
road.
“Howdoyougetto
West
WestEggvillage?”
heaskedhelplessly.
I
fortalte
toldhim.
AndasI
gikk
walkedonIwaslonelynolonger.
Iwasa
guide
guide,apathfinder,anoriginalsettler.
He
hadde
hadcasuallyconferredonmethe
frihet
freedomoftheneighbourhood.
Andso
med
withthesunshineandthe
store
greatburstsofleavesgrowingonthetrees,
akkurat
justasthingsgrowin
raske
fastmovies,Ihadthatfamiliarconvictionthat
livet
lifewasbeginningoveragain
med
withthesummer.
Therewasso
mye
muchtoread,forone
ting
thing,andsomuchfine
helse
healthtobepulleddownoutof
den
theyoungbreath-givingair.
I
kjøpte
boughtadozenvolumeson
bank
bankingandcreditandinvestmentsecurities,
og
andtheystoodonmyshelfin
rødt
redandgoldlikenew
penger
moneyfromthemint,promisingtounfoldtheshiningsecretsthat
bare
onlyMidasandMorganandMaecenas
visste
knew.
AndIhadthe
høye
highintentionofreadingmany
andre
otherbooksbesides.
Iwas
ganske
ratherliteraryincollege—oneyearI
skrev
wroteaseriesofverysolemn
og
andobviouseditorialsfortheYaleNews—and
nå
nowIwasgoingto
bringe
bringbackallsuchthingsintomy
livet
lifeandbecomeagainthat
mest
mostlimitedofallspecialists,
den
the“well-roundedman.”
Thisisn’t
bare
justanepigram—lifeismuch
mer
moresuccessfullylookedatfroma
enkelt
singlewindow,afterall.
Itwasamatterof
tilfeldighet
chancethatIshouldhaverenteda
hus
houseinoneofthestrangestcommunitiesin
Nord
NorthAmerica.
Itwasonthat
slanke
slenderriotousislandwhichextendsitselfdue
øst
eastofNewYork—andwherethere
er
are,amongothernaturalcuriosities,
to
twounusualformationsofland.
Twentymilesfrom
den
thecityapairofenormouseggs,
identisk
identicalincontourandseparated
bare
onlybyacourtesybay,jut
ut
outintothemostdomesticated
kroppen
bodyofsaltwaterin
den
theWesternhemisphere,thegreat
våte
wetbarnyardofLongIslandSound.
Theyarenotperfectovals—likethe
egget
eggintheColumbusstory,theyare
begge
bothcrushedflatatthecontactend—buttheir
fysiske
physicalresemblancemustbea
kilde
sourceofperpetualwondertothegulls
som
thatflyoverhead.
Tothewingless
et
amoreinterestingphenomenonistheirdissimilarityineveryparticularexcept
form
shapeandsize.
Ilivedat
West
WestEgg,the—well,theless
fasjonable
fashionableofthetwo,though
dette
thisisamostsuperficial
tag
tagtoexpressthebizarre
og
andnotalittlesinister
kontrast
contrastbetweenthem.
Myhousewasatthevery
spissen
tipoftheegg,onlyfiftyyardsfromtheSound,
og
andsqueezedbetweentwohugeplaces
som
thatrentedfortwelveorfifteen
tusen
thousandaseason.
Theoneonmy
høyre
rightwasacolossalaffairbyanystandard—itwasafactual
imitasjon
imitationofsomeHôteldeVilleinNormandy,
med
withatowerononeside,spanking
ny
newunderathinbeardof
rå
rawivy,andamarbleswimmingpool,
og
andmorethanfortyacresoflawn
og
andgarden.
ItwasGatsby’smansion.
Eller
Or,rather,asIdidn’t
kjente
knowMr.Gatsby,itwasamansioninhabitedbya
gentleman
gentlemanofthatname.
My
eget
ownhousewasaneyesore,
men
butitwasasmalleyesore,
og
andithadbeenoverlooked,soI
hadde
hadaviewofthe
vannet
water,apartialviewofmyneighbour’slawn,
og
andtheconsolingproximityofmillionaires—allforeightydollarsamonth.
Acrossthe
høflighet
courtesybaythewhitepalacesof
moderne
fashionableEastEggglitteredalongthe
vannet
water,andthehistoryofthe
sommeren
summerreallybeginsonthe
kvelden
eveningIdroveoverthereto
ha
havedinnerwiththeTomBuchanans.
Daisy
Daisywasmysecondcousinonce
fjernet
removed,andI’dknownTomin
college
college.
Andjustafterthe
krigen
warIspenttwodays
med
withtheminChicago.
Her
ektemann
husband,amongvariousphysicalaccomplishments,
hadde
hadbeenoneofthemostpowerful
ender
endsthateverplayedfootballatNewHaven—a
nasjonal
nationalfigureinaway,oneofthosemenwho
når
reachsuchanacutelimited
fortreffelighet
excellenceattwenty-onethateverythingafterwardsavoursofanticlimax.
His
familie
familywereenormouslywealthy—evenin
college
collegehisfreedomwithmoneywas
en
amatterforreproach—butnowhe’d
forlatt
leftChicagoandcomeEastin
en
afashionthatrathertookyour
pusten
breathaway:
forinstance,he’dbrought
ned
downastringofpoloponiesfrom
Lake
LakeForest.
Itwashardto
innse
realizethatamaninmy
egen
owngenerationwaswealthyenoughto
gjøre
dothat.
WhytheycameEastIdon’t
vet
know.
Theyhadspenta
år
yearinFrancefornoparticular
grunn
reason,andthendriftedhere
og
andthereunrestfullywhereverpeople
spilte
playedpoloandwererich
sammen
together.
Thiswasapermanentmove,
sa
saidDaisyoverthetelephone,
men
butIdidn’tbelieveit—I
hadde
hadnosightintoDaisy’s
hjerte
heart,butIfeltthatTom
ville
woulddriftonforeverseeking,
et
alittlewistfully,forthe
dramatiske
dramaticturbulenceofsomeirrecoverablefootballgame.
Og
Andsoithappenedthaton
en
awarmwindyeveningI
kjørte
droveovertoEastEggto
se
seetwooldfriendswhomI
knapt
scarcelyknewatall.
Their
huset
housewasevenmoreelaborate
enn
thanIexpected,acheerfulred-and-whiteGeorgianColonialmansion,overlookingthe
bukten
bay.
Thelawnstartedatthe
stranden
beachandrantowardsthefrontdoorfor
en
aquarterofamile,jumping
over
oversundialsandbrickwalks
og
andburninggardens—finallywhenit
nådde
reachedthehousedriftingupthesideinbrightvinesas
om
thoughfromthemomentumofits
løp
run.
Thefrontwasbrokenby
en
alineofFrenchwindows,glowing
nå
nowwithreflectedgoldand
bredt
wideopentothewarmwindyafternoon,
og
andTomBuchananinriding
klær
clotheswasstandingwithhislegsaparton
den
thefrontporch.
Hehadchanged
siden
sincehisNewHavenyears.
Nå
Nowhewasasturdystraw-haired
mann
manofthirty,witha
ganske
ratherhardmouthandasupercilious
måte
manner.
Twoshiningarroganteyes
hadde
hadestablisheddominanceoverhis
ansiktet
faceandgavehimtheappearanceof
alltid
alwaysleaningaggressivelyforward.
Not
engang
eventheeffeminateswankofhisriding
klær
clothescouldhidetheenormouspowerofthatbody—he
syntes
seemedtofillthoseglisteningbootsuntilhe
anstrengt
strainedthetoplacing,andyou
kunne
couldseeagreatpackof
muskler
muscleshiftingwhenhisshoulder
beveget
movedunderhisthincoat.
Itwas
en
abodycapableofenormousleverage—a
grusom
cruelbody.
Hisspeakingvoice,
en
agruffhuskytenor,addedtotheimpressionoffractiousnesshe
formidlet
conveyed.
Therewasatouchofpaternal
forakt
contemptinit,eventoward
folk
peopleheliked—andthereweremenatNewHaven
som
whohadhatedhisguts.
“Now,don’t
tro
thinkmyopiniononthesemattersisfinal,”he
syntes
seemedtosay,“justbecauseI’m
sterkere
strongerandmoreofa
mann
manthanyouare.”
Wewereinthe
samme
sameseniorsociety,andwhilewewere
aldri
neverintimateIalwayshadthe
inntrykk
impressionthatheapprovedofme
og
andwantedmetolikehim
med
withsomeharsh,defiantwistfulnessofhis
egen
own.
Wetalkedfora
noen
fewminutesonthesunnyporch.
“I’vegot
et
aniceplacehere,”he
sa
said,hiseyesflashingaboutrestlessly.
Turningme
rundt
aroundbyonearm,he
flyttet
movedabroadflathand
langs
alongthefrontvista,includinginits
feie
sweepasunkenItaliangarden,a
halv
halfacreofdeep,pungentroses,
og
andasnub-nosedmotorboatthatbumpedthe
tidevannet
tideoffshore.
“ItbelongedtoDemaine,the
olje
oilman.”
Heturnedme
rundt
aroundagain,politelyandabruptly.
“We’llgoinside.”
We
gikk
walkedthroughahighhallwayinto
en
abrightrosy-colouredspace,fragilely
bundet
boundintothehousebyFrenchwindowsateither
ender
end.
Thewindowswereajar
og
andgleamingwhiteagainstthefreshgrass
utenfor
outsidethatseemedtogrow
en
alittlewayintothe
huset
house.
Abreezeblewthrough
den
theroom,blewcurtainsinatone
enden
endandouttheotherlikepaleflags,
vrir
twistingthemuptowardthefrostedwedding-cakeof
den
theceiling,andthenrippled
over
overthewine-colouredrug,makinga
skygge
shadowonitaswind
gjør
doesonthesea.
The
eneste
onlycompletelystationaryobjectinthe
rommet
roomwasanenormouscouchonwhich
to
twoyoungwomenwerebuoyed
opp
upasthoughuponan
forankret
anchoredballoon.
Theywerebothinwhite,
og
andtheirdresseswererippling
og
andflutteringasifthey
hadde
hadjustbeenblownbackin
etter
afterashortflightaroundthe
huset
house.
Imusthavestoodfor
et
afewmomentslisteningtothe
pisk
whipandsnapofthecurtains
og
andthegroanofa
bilde
pictureonthewall.
Then
det
therewasaboomasTomBuchanan
lukket
shuttherearwindowsandthe
fanget
caughtwinddiedoutaboutthe
rommet
room,andthecurtainsandtherugs
og
andthetwoyoungwomenballooned
sakte
slowlytothefloor.
The
yngre
youngerofthetwowas
en
astrangertome.
Shewas
utvidet
extendedfulllengthather
slutten
endofthedivan,completelymotionless,
og
andwithherchinraisedalittle,as
om
ifshewerebalancingsomethingonitwhichwasquite
sannsynlig
likelytofall.
Ifshe
så
sawmeoutofthecornerofhereyesshegave
ingen
nohintofit—indeed,Iwas
nesten
almostsurprisedintomurmuringan
unnskyldning
apologyforhavingdisturbedherby
komme
comingin.
Theothergirl,
Daisy
Daisy,madeanattempttorise—sheleaned
litt
slightlyforwardwithaconscientiousexpression—thenshe
lo
laughed,anabsurd,charminglittle
latter
laugh,andIlaughedtoo
og
andcameforwardintothe
rommet
room.
“I’mp-paralysedwithhappiness.”
She
lo
laughedagain,asifshe
sa
saidsomethingverywitty,and
holdt
heldmyhandfora
øyeblikk
moment,lookingupintomy
ansiktet
face,promisingthattherewas
ingen
nooneintheworldsheso
mye
muchwantedtosee.
Thatwas
en
awayshehad.
Shehintedin
en
amurmurthatthesurnameofthebalancing
jenta
girlwasBaker.
(I’vehearditsaidthatDaisy’smurmurwas
bare
onlytomakepeoplelean
mot
towardher;
anirrelevantcriticismthat
gjorde
madeitnolesscharming.)
Atanyrate,MissBaker’slipsfluttered,she
nikket
noddedatmealmostimperceptibly,
og
andthenquicklytippedher
hodet
headbackagain—theobjectshewasbalancing
hadde
hadobviouslytotteredalittle
og
andgivenhersomethingof
en
afright.
Againasortof
unnskyldning
apologyarosetomylips.
Nesten
Almostanyexhibitionofcompleteself-sufficiency
trekker
drawsastunnedtributefromme.
I
så
lookedbackatmycousin,
som
whobegantoaskmequestionsinher
lave
low,thrillingvoice.
Itwas
den
thekindofvoicethat
den
theearfollowsupand
ned
down,asifeachspeechis
en
anarrangementofnotesthat
vil
willneverbeplayedagain.
Her
ansiktet
facewassadandlovely
med
withbrightthingsinit,
lys
brighteyesandabright
lidenskapelig
passionatemouth,buttherewasan
spenning
excitementinhervoicethatmenwho
hadde
hadcaredforherfound
vanskelig
difficulttoforget:
asingingcompulsion,a
hvisket
whispered“Listen,”apromisethatshe
hadde
haddonegay,excitingthings
bare
justawhilesinceandthatthereweregay,
spennende
excitingthingshoveringinthe
neste
nexthour.
Itoldher
hvordan
howIhadstoppedoffinChicagofora
dag
dayonmywayEast,
og
andhowadozenpeople
hadde
hadsenttheirlovethroughme.
“Dotheymissme?”
she
gråt
criedecstatically.
“Thewholetownis
øde
desolate.
Allthecarshave
den
theleftrearwheelpainted
svart
blackasamourningwreath,
og
andthere’sapersistentwailall
natten
nightalongthenorthshore.”
“Howgorgeous!
Let’s
gå
goback,Tom.
Tomorrow!”
Thenshe
la
addedirrelevantly:
“Yououghtto
se
seethebaby.”
“I’dliketo.”
“She’sasleep.
She’s
tre
threeyearsold.
Haven’tyouever
sett
seenher?”
“Never.”
“Well,yououghtto
se
seeher.
She’s—”.
TomBuchanan,
som
whohadbeenhoveringrestlessly
om
abouttheroom,stoppedand
hvilte
restedhishandonmyshoulder.
“Whatyou
gjør
doing,Nick?”
“I’mabondman.”
“Whowith?”
I
fortalte
toldhim.
“Neverheardofthem,”heremarkeddecisively.
Dette
Thisannoyedme.
“Youwill,”I
svarte
answeredshortly.
“YouwillifyoustayintheEast.”
“Oh,I’llstayinthe
Øst
East,don’tyouworry,”he
sa
said,glancingatDaisyandthen
tilbake
backatme,asifhewerealertfor
noe
somethingmore.
“I’dbea
Gud
Goddamnedfooltoliveanywhereelse.”
At
dette
thispointMissBakersaid:
“Absolutely!”
med
withsuchsuddennessthatIstarted—itwasthe
første
firstwordshehaduttered
siden
sinceIcameintothe
rommet
room.
Evidentlyitsurprisedheras
mye
muchasitdidme,forsheyawned
og
andwithaseriesof
raske
rapid,deftmovementsstoodupintothe
rommet
room.
“I’mstiff,”shecomplained,“I’vebeenlyingonthat
sofaen
sofaforaslongasI
kan
canremember.”
“Don’tlookatme,”
Daisy
Daisyretorted,“I’vebeentryingto
få
getyoutoNewYorkallafternoon.”
“No,thanks,”
sa
saidMissBakertothe
fire
fourcocktailsjustinfrom
de
thepantry.
“I’mabsolutelyintraining.”
Her
vert
hostlookedatherincredulously.
“Youare!”
He
tok
tookdownhisdrinkas
om
ifitwereadropinthe
bunnen
bottomofaglass.
“Howyouever
får
getanythingdoneisbeyondme.”
I
så
lookedatMissBaker,wonderingwhatitwasshe“gotdone.”
Ienjoyed
se
lookingather.
Shewasa
slank
slender,small-breastedgirl,withan
oppreist
erectcarriage,whichsheaccentuatedby
kaste
throwingherbodybackwardattheshoulderslikea
ung
youngcadet.
Hergreysun-strainedeyes
så
lookedbackatmewith
høflig
politereciprocalcuriosityoutof
en
awan,charming,discontentedface.
Itoccurredtome
nå
nowthatIhadseen
henne
her,orapictureof
henne
her,somewherebefore.
“Youlivein
West
WestEgg,”sheremarkedcontemptuously.
“I
kjenner
knowsomebodythere.”
“Idon’t
kjenner
knowasingle—”.
“Youmust
kjenne
knowGatsby.”
“Gatsby?”
demandedDaisy.
“WhatGatsby?”
Før
BeforeIcouldreplythathewasmy
nabo
neighbourdinnerwasannounced;
wedginghistensearmimperativelyundermine,TomBuchanancompelledmefromthe
rommet
roomasthoughhewere
flyttet
movingacheckertoanother
firkant
square.
Slenderly,languidly,theirhands
satt
setlightlyontheirhips,the
to
twoyoungwomenprecededus
ut
outontoarosy-coloured
veranda
porch,opentowardthesunset,
hvor
wherefourcandlesflickeredonthe
bordet
tableinthediminishedwind.
“Whycandles?”
objected
Daisy
Daisy,frowning.
Shesnappedthem
ut
outwithherfingers.
“In
to
twoweeksit’llbethe
lengste
longestdayintheyear.”
She
så
lookedatusallradiantly.
“Doyou
alltid
alwayswatchforthelongest
dagen
dayoftheyearandthen
gå glipp av
missit?
Ialwayswatchfor
den
thelongestdayinthe
året
yearandthenmissit.”
“Weoughtto
planlegge
plansomething,”yawnedMissBaker,
sitter
sittingdownatthetableas
om
ifsheweregettinginto
sengen
bed.
“Allright,”saidDaisy.
“What’llweplan?”
Sheturnedtomehelplessly:
“Whatdo
folk
peopleplan?”
BeforeIcould
svare
answerhereyesfastenedwith
en
anawedexpressiononherlittlefinger.
“Look!”
she
klaget
complained;
“Ihurtit.”
Wealllooked—theknucklewas
svart
blackandblue.
“Youdid
det
it,Tom,”shesaidaccusingly.
“I
vet
knowyoudidn’tmeanto,
men
butyoudiddoit.
That’swhatI
får
getformarryingabruteof
en
aman,agreat,big,hulking
fysisk
physicalspecimenofa—”.
“I
hater
hatethatword‘hulking,’ ”objectedTomcrossly,“eveninkidding.”
“Hulking,”
insisterte
insistedDaisy.
SometimessheandMiss
Baker
Bakertalkedatonce,unobtrusively
og
andwithabanteringinconsequencethatwas
aldri
neverquitechatter,thatwasas
kjølig
coolastheirwhitedresses
og
andtheirimpersonaleyesinthe
fravær
absenceofalldesire.
Theywere
her
here,andtheyacceptedTom
og
andme,makingonlya
høflig
politepleasantefforttoentertain
eller
ortobeentertained.
They
visste
knewthatpresentlydinnerwouldbe
over
overandalittlelaterthe
kvelden
eveningtoowouldbeover
og
andcasuallyputaway.
Itwas
skarpt
sharplydifferentfromtheWest,
hvor
whereaneveningwashurriedfrom
fase
phasetophasetowardsitsclose,ina
kontinuerlig
continuallydisappointedanticipationorelsein
ren
sheernervousdreadofthe
øyeblikket
momentitself.
“Youmakemefeeluncivilized,Daisy,”Iconfessedonmy
andre
secondglassofcorkybut
ganske
ratherimpressiveclaret.
“Can’tyou
snakke
talkaboutcropsorsomething?”
Imeantnothingin
spesielt
particularbythisremark,butitwas
tatt
takenupinanunexpected
måte
way.
“Civilization’sgoingtopieces,”
brøt
brokeoutTomviolently.
“I’vegottentobe
en
aterriblepessimistaboutthings.
Har
HaveyoureadTheRiseoftheColouredEmpiresby
denne
thismanGoddard?”
“Why,no,”I
svarte
answered,rathersurprisedbyhis
tonen
tone.
“Well,it’safine
bok
book,andeverybodyoughtto
lese
readit.
Theideais
hvis
ifwedon’tlookout
den
thewhiteracewillbe—willbeutterlysubmerged.
It’s
alt
allscientificstuff;
it’sbeenproved.”