Dubliners | Gradually Hardening Norwegian B2

Dubliners | Gradually Hardening Norwegian B2

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THESISTERS
Therewasnohopeforhimthistime:
itwasthethirdstroke.
NightafternightIhadpassedthehouse(itwasvacationtime)andstudiedthelightedsquareofwindow:
andnightafternightIhadfounditlightedinthesameway,faintlyand
jevnt
evenly
.
Ifhewasdead,Ithought,IwouldseethereflectionofcandlesonthedarkenedblindforIknewthattwocandlesmustbesetattheheadofa
lik
corpse
.
Hehadoftensaidtome:
“Iamnotlongforthisworld,”andIhadthoughthiswordsidle.
NowIknewtheyweretrue.
EverynightasI
stirret
gazed
upatthewindowIsaidsoftlytomyselftheword
lammelse
paralysis
.
Ithadalwayssounded
merkelig
strangely
inmyears,likethewordgnomonintheEuclidandthewordsimonyintheCatechism.
Butnowitsoundedtomelikethenameofsomemaleficentandsinfulbeing.
Itfilledmewithfear,andyetIlongedtobe
nærmere
nearer
toitandtolookuponitsdeadlywork.
OldCotterwassittingatthefire,smoking,whenIcamedownstairsto
middag
supper
.
Whilemyauntwasladlingoutmystirabouthesaid,asifreturningtosomeformer
bemerkning
remark
ofhis:.
“No,Iwouldn’tsayhewasexactly...
buttherewassomethingqueer...
therewassomethinguncannyabouthim.
I’lltellyoumyopinion....”
Hebegantopuffathispipe,nodoubtarranginghisopinioninhismind.
Tiresomeoldfool!
Whenweknewhimfirstheusedtoberatherinteresting,talkingoffaintsandworms;
butIsoongrewtiredofhimandhis
endeløse
endless
storiesaboutthedistillery.
“Ihavemyowntheoryaboutit,”hesaid.
“Ithinkitwasoneofthose...
peculiarcases....
Butit’shardtosay....”
Hebegantopuffagainathispipewithoutgivingushistheory.
Myunclesawme
stirre
staring
andsaidtome:.
“Well,soyouroldfriendisgone,you’llbesorrytohear.”
“Who?”
saidI.
“FatherFlynn.”
“Ishedead?”
“MrCotterherehasjusttoldus.
Hewaspassingbythehouse.”
IknewthatIwasunder
observasjon
observation
soIcontinuedeatingasifthenewshadnotinterestedme.
MyuncleexplainedtooldCotter.
“Theyoungsterandheweregreatfriends.
Theoldchaptaughthimagreatdeal,mindyou;
andtheysayhehadagreatwishforhim.”
“Godhavemercyonhissoul,”saidmyauntpiously.
OldCotterlookedatmeforawhile.
Ifeltthathislittlebeadyblackeyeswere
undersøkte
examining
mebutIwouldnot
tilfredsstille
satisfy
himbylookingupfrommyplate.
Hereturnedtohispipeandfinallyspatrudelyintothegrate.
“Iwouldn’tlikechildrenofmine,”hesaid,“tohavetoomuchtosaytoamanlikethat.”
“Howdoyoumean,MrCotter?”
askedmyaunt.
“WhatImeanis,”saidoldCotter,“it’sbadforchildren.
Myideais:
letayoung
gutt
lad
runaboutandplaywithyoungladsofhisownageandnotbe....
AmIright,Jack?”
“That’smy
prinsipp
principle
,too,”saidmyuncle.
“Lethimlearntoboxhiscorner.
That’swhatI’malwayssayingtothatRosicrucianthere:
takeexercise.
Why,whenIwasanippereverymorningofmylifeIhadacoldbath,winterandsummer.
Andthat’swhatstandstomenow.
Educationisallveryfineandlarge....
MrCottermighttakeapickofthatlegmutton,”headdedtomyaunt.
“No,no,notforme,”saidoldCotter.
Myauntbroughtthedishfromthesafeandputitonthetable.
“Butwhydoyouthinkit’snotgoodforchildren,MrCotter?”
sheasked.
“It’sbadforchildren,”saidoldCotter,“becausetheirmindsaresoimpressionable.
Whenchildrenseethingslikethat,youknow,ithasaneffect....”
IcrammedmymouthwithstiraboutforfearImightgiveutterancetomyanger.
Tiresomeoldred-nosedimbecile!
ItwaslatewhenIfellasleep.
ThoughIwasangrywitholdCotterforalludingtomeasachild,Ipuzzledmyheadtoextractmeaningfromhisunfinishedsentences.
InthedarkofmyroomIimaginedthatIsawagaintheheavy
grå
grey
faceoftheparalytic.
IdrewtheblanketsovermyheadandtriedtothinkofChristmas.
Butthe
grå
grey
facestillfollowedme.
Itmurmured;
andIunderstoodthatitdesiredto
bekjenne
confess
something.
Ifeltmysoulrecedingintosome
behagelig
pleasant
andviciousregion;
andthereagainIfounditwaitingforme.
Itbeganto
bekjenne
confess
tomeinamurmuringvoiceandIwonderedwhyitsmiled
kontinuerlig
continually
andwhythelipswereso
fuktig
moist
withspittle.
ButthenIrememberedthatithaddiedof
lammelse
paralysis
andIfeltthatItoowassmilingfeeblyasiftoabsolvethesimoniacofhissin.
ThenextmorningafterbreakfastIwentdowntolookatthelittlehouseinGreatBritainStreet.
Itwasanunassumingshop,
registrert
registered
underthevaguenameofDrapery.
Thedraperyconsisted
hovedsakelig
mainly
ofchildren’sbooteesandumbrellas;
andonordinarydaysanoticeusedtohanginthewindow,saying:
UmbrellasRe-covered.
Nonoticewas
synlig
visible
nowfortheshutterswereup.
Acrape
bukett
bouquet
wastiedtothedoor-knockerwith
bånd
ribbon
.
Twopoorwomenanda
telegram
telegram
boywerereadingthecardpinnedonthecrape.
Ialsoapproachedandread:.
Juli
July
1st,1895TheRev.JamesFlynn(formerlyofS.Catherine’sChurch,MeathStreet),agedsixty-fiveyears.R.I.P.
Thereadingofthecard
overtalte
persuaded
methathewasdeadandIwas
forstyrret
disturbed
tofindmyselfatcheck.
HadhenotbeendeadIwouldhavegoneintothelittledarkroombehindtheshoptofindhimsittinginhisarm-chairbythefire,nearlysmotheredinhisgreat-coat.
Perhapsmyauntwouldhavegivenmea
pakke
packet
ofHighToastforhimandthispresentwouldhaverousedhimfromhisstupefieddoze.
ItwasalwaysIwhoemptiedthepacketintohisblacksnuff-boxforhishands
skjelvet
trembled
toomuchtoallowhimtodothiswithoutspillinghalfthe
snus
snuff
aboutthefloor.
Evenasheraisedhislargetremblinghandtohisnoselittlecloudsofsmokedribbledthroughhisfingersoverthefrontofhiscoat.
Itmayhavebeentheseconstantshowersof
snus
snuff
whichgavehisancientpriestlygarmentstheirgreenfadedlookforthered
lommetørkle
handkerchief
,blackened,asitalwayswas,withthesnuff-stainsofaweek,withwhichhetriedto
børste
brush
awaythefallengrains,wasquiteinefficacious.
IwishedtogoinandlookathimbutIhadnotthecouragetoknock.
Iwalkedawayslowlyalongthe
solfylte
sunny
sideofthestreet,readingallthe
teater
theatrical
advertisementsintheshop-windowsasIwent.
IfounditstrangethatneitherInorthedayseemedinamourningmoodandIfelteven
irritert
annoyed
atdiscoveringinmyselfa
følelse
sensation
offreedomasifIhadbeenfreedfromsomethingbyhisdeath.
Iwonderedatthisfor,asmyunclehadsaidthenightbefore,hehadtaughtmeagreatdeal.
HehadstudiedintheIrishcollegeinRomeandhehadtaughtmeto
uttale
pronounce
Latinproperly.
HehadtoldmestoriesaboutthecatacombsandaboutNapoleonBonaparte,andhehadexplainedtomethemeaningofthedifferentceremoniesoftheMassandofthedifferentvestmentswornbythepriest.
Sometimeshehad
underholdt
amused
himselfbyputtingdifficultquestionstome,askingmewhatoneshoulddoincertaincircumstancesorwhethersuchandsuchsinswere
dødelig
mortal
orvenialoronlyimperfections.
Hisquestionsshowedmehow
komplekse
complex
andmysteriouswerecertaininstitutionsoftheChurchwhichIhadalwaysregardedasthesimplestacts.
ThedutiesofthepriesttowardstheEucharistandtowardsthesecrecyoftheconfessionalseemedsogravetomethatIwonderedhowanybodyhadeverfoundinhimselfthecourageto
påta
undertake
them;
andIwasnotsurprisedwhenhetoldmethatthefathersoftheChurchhadwrittenbooksasthickasthePostOfficeDirectoryandas
nøye
closely
printedasthelawnoticesinthenewspaper,elucidatingalltheseintricatequestions.
OftenwhenIthoughtofthisIcouldmakenoansweroronlyavery
tåpelig
foolish
andhaltingoneuponwhichheusedtosmileand
nikke
nod
hisheadtwiceorthrice.
SometimesheusedtoputmethroughtheresponsesoftheMasswhichhehadmademelearnbyheart;
and,asIpattered,heusedtosmilepensivelyand
nikke
nod
hishead,nowandthenpushinghugepinchesof
snus
snuff
upeachnostrilalternately.
Whenhesmiledheusedto
avdekke
uncover
hisbigdiscolouredteethandlethistonguelieuponhislowerlip—a
vane
habit
whichhadmademefeeluneasyinthebeginningofour
bekjentskap
acquaintance
beforeIknewhimwell.
AsIwalkedalonginthesunIrememberedoldCotter’swordsandtriedtorememberwhathadhappenedafterwardsinthedream.
IrememberedthatIhadnoticedlong
fløyel
velvet
curtainsandaswinging
lampe
lamp
ofantiquefashion.
IfeltthatIhadbeenveryfaraway,insomelandwherethecustomswerestrange—inPersia,Ithought....
ButIcouldnotremembertheendofthedream.
Intheeveningmyaunttookmewithhertovisitthehouseofmourning.
Itwasafter
solnedgang
sunset
;
butthewindow-panesofthehousesthatlookedtothewest
reflektert
reflected
thetawnygoldofagreatbankofclouds.
Nanniereceivedusinthehall;
and,asitwouldhavebeenunseemlytohaveshoutedather,myauntshookhandswithherforall.
Theoldwomanpointedupwardsinterrogativelyand,onmyaunt’s
nikker
nodding
,proceededtotoilupthe
smale
narrow
staircasebeforeus,herbowedheadbeing
knapt
scarcely
abovethelevelofthebanister-rail.
Atthefirstlandingshestoppedandbeckonedusforwardencouraginglytowardstheopendoorofthedead-room.
Myauntwentinandtheoldwoman,seeingthatI
nølte
hesitated
toenter,begantobeckontomeagain
gjentatte ganger
repeatedly
withherhand.
Iwentinontiptoe.
Theroomthroughthelaceendoftheblindwassuffusedwithduskygoldenlight
midt
amid
whichthecandleslookedlike
blek
pale
thinflames.
Hehadbeencoffined.
Nanniegavetheleadandwethree
knelte
knelt
downatthefootofthebed.
IpretendedtopraybutIcouldnotgathermythoughtsbecausetheoldwoman’smutterings
distraherte
distracted
me.
Inoticedhowclumsilyher
skjørt
skirt
washookedatthebackandhowtheheelsofherclothbootsweretroddendownalltooneside.
Thefancycametomethattheoldpriestwassmilingashelaythereinhis
kisten
coffin
.
Butno.WhenweroseandwentuptotheheadofthebedIsawthathewasnotsmiling.
Therehelay,
høytidelig
solemn
andcopious,vestedasforthe
alteret
altar
,hislargehandsloosely
beholder
retaining
achalice.
Hisfacewasverytruculent,
grå
grey
andmassive,withblackcavernousnostrilsandcircledbyascantywhite
pels
fur
.
Therewasaheavyodourintheroom—theflowers.
Weblessedourselvesandcameaway.
InthelittleroomdownstairswefoundElizaseatedinhisarm-chairinstate.
IgropedmywaytowardsmyusualchairinthecornerwhileNanniewenttothesideboardandbroughtoutadecanterofsherryandsomewine-glasses.
Shesettheseonthetableandinvitedustotakealittleglassofwine.
Then,athersister’sbidding,shefilledoutthesherryintotheglassesandpassedthemtous.
ShepressedmetotakesomecreamcrackersalsobutIdeclinedbecauseIthoughtIwouldmaketoomuchnoiseeatingthem.
Sheseemedtobesomewhatdisappointedatmy
avslag
refusal
andwentoverquietlytothe
sofaen
sofa
whereshesatdownbehindhersister.
Noonespoke:
weall
stirret
gazed
attheemptyfireplace.
MyauntwaiteduntilElizasighedandthensaid:.
“Ah,well,he’sgonetoabetterworld.”
Elizasighedagainandbowedherheadinassent.
Myauntfingeredthe
stammen
stem
ofherwine-glassbeforesippingalittle.
“Didhe...
peacefully?”
sheasked.
“Oh,quite
fredelig
peacefully
,ma’am,”saidEliza.
“Youcouldn’ttellwhenthebreathwentoutofhim.
Hehadabeautifuldeath,Godbepraised.”
“Andeverything...?”
“FatherO’RourkewasinwithhimaTuesdayandanointedhimandpreparedhimandall.”
“Heknewthen?”
“Hewasquiteresigned.”
“Helooksquiteresigned,”saidmyaunt.
“That’swhatthewomanwehadintowashhimsaid.
Shesaidhejustlookedasifhewasasleep,helookedthat
fredelig
peaceful
andresigned.
Noonewouldthinkhe’dmakesuchabeautifulcorpse.”
“Yes,indeed,”saidmyaunt.
Shesippedalittlemorefromherglassandsaid:.
“Well,MissFlynn,atanyrateitmustbeagreat
trøst
comfort
foryoutoknowthatyoudidallyoucouldforhim.
Youwerebothverykindtohim,Imustsay.”
Elizasmoothedherdressoverherknees.
“Ah,poorJames!”
shesaid.
“Godknowswedoneallwecould,aspoorasweare—wewouldn’tseehimwantanythingwhilehewasinit.”
Nanniehadleanedherheadagainstthesofa-pillowandseemedabouttofallasleep.
“There’spoorNannie,”saidEliza,lookingather,“she’sworeout.
Alltheworkwehad,sheandme,gettinginthewomantowashhimandthenlayinghimoutandthenthe
kisten
coffin
andthenarrangingabouttheMassinthechapel.
OnlyforFatherO’RourkeIdon’tknowwhatwe’dhavedoneatall.
ItwashimbroughtusallthemflowersandthemtwocandlesticksoutofthechapelandwroteoutthenoticefortheFreeman’sGeneralandtookchargeofallthepapersforthe
kirkegården
cemetery
andpoorJames’sinsurance.”
“Wasn’tthatgoodofhim?”
saidmyaunt.
Elizaclosedhereyesandshookherheadslowly.
“Ah,there’snofriendsliketheoldfriends,”shesaid,“whenallissaidanddone,nofriendsthatabodycantrust.”
“Indeed,that’strue,”saidmyaunt.
“AndI’msurenowthathe’sgonetohiseternalrewardhewon’tforgetyouandallyour
vennlighet
kindness
tohim.”
“Ah,poorJames!”
saidEliza.
“Hewasnogreattroubletous.
Youwouldn’thearhiminthehouseanymorethannow.
Still,Iknowhe’sgoneandalltothat....”
“It’swhenit’salloverthatyou’llmisshim,”saidmyaunt.
“Iknowthat,”saidEliza.
“Iwon’tbebringinghiminhiscupofbeef-teaanymore,noryou,ma’am,sendinghimhissnuff.
Ah,poorJames!”
Shestopped,asifshewerecommuningwiththepastandthensaidshrewdly:.
“Mindyou,Inoticedtherewassomethingqueercomingoverhimlatterly.
WheneverI’dbringinhissouptohimthereI’dfindhimwithhisbreviaryfallentothefloor,lyingbackinthechairandhismouthopen.”
Shelaidafingeragainsthernoseand
rynket
frowned
:
thenshecontinued:.
“Butstillandallhekeptonsayingthatbeforethesummerwasoverhe’dgooutforadriveonefinedayjusttoseetheoldhouseagainwherewewereallborndowninIrishtownandtakemeandNanniewithhim.
Ifwecouldonlygetoneofthemnew-fangledcarriagesthatmakesnonoisethatFatherO’Rourketoldhimabout,themwiththerheumaticwheels,forthedaycheap—hesaid,atJohnnyRush’soverthewaythereanddriveoutthethreeofustogetherofaSundayevening.
Hehadhismindsetonthat....
PoorJames!”
“TheLordhavemercyonhissoul!”
saidmyaunt.
Elizatookouther
lommetørkle
handkerchief
andwipedhereyeswithit.
Thensheputitbackagaininherpocketand
stirret
gazed
intotheemptygrateforsometimewithoutspeaking.