A Room with a View | Progressive Spanish A2 Translation Books

A Room with a View | Progressive Spanish A2 Translation Books

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ChapterITheBertolini
“TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoit,”saidMissBartlett,“nobusinessatall.
Shepromisedus
sur
south
roomswithaviewclosetogether,
en vez
instead
ofwhichherearenorthrooms,lookingintoacourtyard,andalongwayapart.
Oh,Lucy!”
“AndaCockney,besides!”
saidLucy,whohadbeen
más
further
saddenedbytheSignora’sunexpectedaccent.
“ItmightbeLondon.”
ShelookedatthetworowsofEnglishpeoplewhoweresittingatthe
mesa
table
;
attherowofwhitebottlesofwaterandredbottlesof
vino
wine
thatranbetweentheEnglishpeople;
attheportraitsofthelate
Reina
Queen
andthelatePoetLaureatethathungbehindtheEnglishpeople,heavilyframed;
atthe
aviso
notice
oftheEnglishchurch(Rev.
CuthbertEager,M.A.
Oxon.),thatwastheonlyotherdecorationofthe
pared
wall
.
“Charlotte,don’tyoufeel,too,thatwemightbeinLondon?
Icanhardlybelievethatallkindsofotherthingsarejustoutside.
I
supongo
suppose
itisone’sbeingsotired.”
“This
carne
meat
hassurelybeenusedforsoup,”saidMissBartlett,layingdownherfork.
“IwantsotoseetheArno.
TheroomstheSignorapromisedusinher
carta
letter
wouldhavelookedovertheArno.
TheSignorahadnobusinesstodoitatall.
Oh,itisashame!”
“Anynookdoesforme,”MissBartlett
continuó
continued
;
“butitdoesseemhardthatyoushouldn’thaveaview.”
Lucyfeltthatshehadbeenselfish.
“Charlotte,youmustn’tspoilme:
ofcourse,youmustlookovertheArno,too.
Imeantthat.
Thefirstvacantroominthefront—”
“Youmusthaveit,”saidMissBartlett,partof
cuyos
whose
travellingexpenseswerepaidbyLucy’smother—apieceofgenerositytowhichshemademanyatactfulallusion.
“No,no.Youmusthaveit.”
“Iinsistonit.
Yourmotherwouldnever
perdonaría
forgive
me,Lucy.”
“Shewouldnever
perdonaría
forgive
me.”
Theladies’voicesgrewanimated,and—ifthe
triste
sad
truthbeowned—alittlepeevish.
Theyweretired,andundertheguiseofunselfishnesstheywrangled.
Someoftheirneighboursinterchangedglances,andoneofthem—oneoftheill-bredpeoplewhomonedoesmeetabroad—leant
adelante
forward
overthetableandactuallyintrudedintotheirargument.
Hesaid:.
“Ihaveaview,Ihaveaview.”
MissBartlettwasstartled.
Generallyatapensionpeoplelookedthemoverforadayortwobeforespeaking,andoftendidnotfindoutthattheywould“do”tilltheyhadgone.
Sheknewthattheintruderwasill-bred,evenbeforesheglancedathim.
Hewasanoldman,ofheavybuild,withafair,shavenfaceandlargeeyes.
Therewassomethingchildishinthoseeyes,thoughitwasnotthechildishnessofsenility.
WhatexactlyitwasMissBartlettdidnotstoptoconsider,forherglance
pasó
passed
ontohisclothes.
Thesedidnotattracther.
Hewasprobablytryingtobecomeacquaintedwiththembeforetheygotintotheswim.
Sosheassumedadazedexpressionwhenhespoketoher,andthensaid:
“Aview?
Oh,aview!
Howdelightfulaviewis!”
“Thisismyson,”saidtheoldman;
“hisname’sGeorge.
Hehasaviewtoo.”
“Ah,”saidMissBartlett,repressingLucy,whowasabouttospeak.
“WhatImean,”he
continuó
continued
,“isthatyoucanhaveourrooms,andwe’llhaveyours.
We’llchange.”
Thebetterclassoftouristwasshockedatthis,andsympathizedwiththenew-comers.
MissBartlett,inreply,openedher
boca
mouth
aslittleaspossible,andsaid“Thankyouverymuchindeed;
thatisoutofthequestion.”
“Why?”
saidtheoldman,withbothfistsonthe
mesa
table
.
“Becauseitisquiteoutofthequestion,thankyou.”
“Yousee,wedon’tliketotake—”
comenzó
began
Lucy.
Hercousinagainrepressedher.
“Butwhy?”
hepersisted.
“Womenlikelookingataview;
mendon’t.”
Andhethumpedwithhisfistslikeanaughtychild,andturnedtohisson,saying,“George,persuadethem!”
“It’ssoobvioustheyshouldhavetherooms,”saidtheson.
“There’snothingelsetosay.”
Hedidnotlookattheladiesashespoke,buthis
voz
voice
wasperplexedandsorrowful.
Lucy,too,wasperplexed;
butshesawthattheywereinforwhatisknownas“quiteascene,”andshehadanoddfeelingthatwhenevertheseill-bredtouristsspokethecontestwidenedanddeepenedtillitdealt,notwithroomsandviews,butwith—well,withsomethingquitedifferent,
cuya
whose
existenceshehadnotrealizedbefore.
Nowtheoldman
atacó
attacked
MissBartlettalmostviolently:
Whyshouldshenotchange?
Whatpossibleobjectionhadshe?
Theywouldclearoutinhalfanhour.
MissBartlett,thoughskilledinthedelicaciesofconversation,waspowerlessinthepresenceofbrutality.
Itwas
imposible
impossible
tosnubanyonesogross.
Herfacereddenedwithdispleasure.
Shelookedaroundasmuchastosay,“Areyoualllikethis?”
Andtwolittleoldladies,whoweresitting
más
further
upthetable,withshawlshangingoverthebacksofthechairs,lookedback,clearlyindicating“Wearenot;
wearegenteel.”
“Eatyourdinner,dear,”shesaidtoLucy,and
comenzó
began
totoyagainwiththe
carne
meat
thatshehadoncecensured.
Lucymumbledthatthose
parecían
seemed
veryoddpeopleopposite.
“Eatyourdinner,dear.
Thispensionisafailure.
To-morrowwewillmakeachange.”
Hardlyhadsheannouncedthisfell
decisión
decision
whenshereversedit.
Thecurtainsattheendoftheroomparted,andrevealedaclergyman,stoutbutattractive,whohurriedforwardtotakehisplaceatthe
mesa
table
,cheerfullyapologizingforhislateness.
Lucy,whohadnotyetacquireddecency,atoncerosetoherfeet,exclaiming:
“Oh,oh!
Why,it’sMr.Beebe!
Oh,howperfectly
encantador
lovely
!
Oh,Charlotte,wemuststopnow,howeverbadtheroomsare.
Oh!”
MissBartlettsaid,withmorerestraint:.
“Howdoyoudo,Mr.Beebe?
I
espero
expect
thatyouhaveforgottenus:
MissBartlettandMissHoneychurch,whowereatTunbridgeWellswhenyouhelpedtheVicarofSt.Peter’sthatverycoldEaster.”
Theclergyman,whohadtheairofoneonaholiday,didnotremembertheladiesquiteasclearlyastheyrememberedhim.
Buthecameforwardpleasantlyenoughand
aceptó
accepted
thechairintowhichhewasbeckonedbyLucy.
“Iamsogladtoseeyou,”saidthegirl,whowasina
estado
state
ofspiritualstarvation,andwouldhavebeengladtoseethewaiterifher
prima
cousin
hadpermittedit.
“Justfancyhowsmalltheworldis.
SummerStreet,too,makesitsospeciallyfunny.”
“MissHoneychurchlivesintheparishofSummerStreet,”saidMissBartlett,fillingupthegap,“andshehappenedtotellmeinthecourseofconversationthatyouhavejust
aceptar
accepted
theliving—”.
“Yes,Iheardfrommothersolastweek.
Shedidn’tknowthatIknewyouatTunbridgeWells;
butIwrotebackatonce,andIsaid:
‘Mr.
Beebeis—’”.
“Quiteright,”saidtheclergyman.
“ImoveintotheRectoryatSummerStreetnextJune.
Iamluckytobeappointedtosuchacharmingneighbourhood.”
“Oh,how
feliz
glad
Iam!
ThenameofourhouseisWindyCorner.”
Mr.Beebebowed.
“Thereismotherandmegenerally,andmybrother,thoughit’snotoftenwegethimtoch——
The
iglesia
church
isratherfaroff,Imean.”
“Lucy,dearest,letMr.Beebeeathisdinner.”
“Iameatingit,thankyou,and
disfrutando
enjoying
it.”
HepreferredtotalktoLucy,
cuya
whose
playingheremembered,ratherthantoMissBartlett,whoprobablyrememberedhissermons.
Heaskedthegirl
si
whether
sheknewFlorencewell,andwasinformedatsomelengththatshehadneverbeentherebefore.
Itisdelightfultoadviseanewcomer,andhewasfirstinthe
campo
field
.
“Don’tneglectthecountryround,”hisadviceconcluded.
“Thefirstfine
tarde
afternoon
driveuptoFiesole,androundbySettignano,orsomethingofthatsort.”
“No!”
crieda
voz
voice
fromthetopofthe
mesa
table
.
“Mr.
Beebe,youarewrong.
Thefirstfine
tarde
afternoon
yourladiesmustgotoPrato.”
“Thatladylookssoclever,”whisperedMissBartletttoher
prima
cousin
.
“Weareinluck.”
And,indeed,aperfecttorrentof
información
information
burstonthem.
Peopletoldthemwhattosee,whentoseeit,howtostoptheelectrictrams,howtogetridofthebeggars,howmuchtogiveforavellumblotter,howmuchtheplacewould
crecería
grow
uponthem.
ThePensionBertolinihad
decidido
decided
,almostenthusiastically,thattheywoulddo.
Whicheverwaytheylooked,kindladies
sonreían
smiled
andshoutedatthem.
And
encima
above
allrosethevoiceofthecleverlady,
llorando
crying
:
“Prato!
TheymustgotoPrato.
Thatplaceistoosweetlysqualidforwords.
Iloveit;
Irevelinshakingoffthetrammelsofrespectability,asyouknow.”
TheyoungmannamedGeorgeglancedatthecleverlady,andthenreturnedmoodilytohisplate.
Obviamente
Obviously
heandhisfatherdidnotdo.
Lucy,inthemidstofhersuccess,foundtimetowishtheydid.
Itgavehernoextra
placer
pleasure
thatanyoneshouldbeleftinthecold;
andwhensherosetogo,sheturnedbackandgavethetwooutsidersanervouslittlebow.
Thefatherdidnotseeit;
thesonacknowledgedit,notbyanotherbow,butby
levantando
raising
hiseyebrowsandsmiling;
he
parecía
seemed
tobesmilingacrosssomething.
Shehastenedafterher
primo
cousin
,whohadalreadydisappearedthroughthecurtains—curtainswhichsmoteoneintheface,and
parecía
seemed
heavywithmorethancloth.
BeyondthemstoodtheunreliableSignora,bowinggood-eveningtoherguests,andsupportedby’Enery,herlittleboy,andVictorier,herdaughter.
Itmadeacuriouslittle
escena
scene
,thisattemptoftheCockneytoconveythegraceandgenialityofthe
Sur
South
.
Andevenmorecuriouswasthedrawing-room,whichattemptedtorivalthesolidcomfortofaBloomsburyboarding-house.
WasthisreallyItaly?
MissBartlettwasalreadyseatedonatightlystuffedarm-chair,whichhadthecolourandthecontoursofatomato.
ShewastalkingtoMr.Beebe,andasshespoke,herlongnarrowheaddrovebackwardsandforwards,slowly,regularly,asthoughsheweredemolishingsomeinvisibleobstacle.
“Wearemostgratefultoyou,”shewassaying.
“Thefirsteveningmeanssomuch.
Whenyouarrivedwewereinforapeculiarlymauvaisquartd’heure.”
Heexpressedhisregret.
“Doyou,byanychance,knowthenameofanoldmanwhosatoppositeusatdinner?”
“Emerson.”
“Isheafriendofyours?”
“Wearefriendly—asoneisinpensions.”
“ThenIwillsaynomore.”
Hepressedherveryslightly,andshesaidmore.
“Iam,asitwere,”sheconcluded,“thechaperonofmyyoung
prima
cousin
,Lucy,anditwouldbeaseriousthingifIputherunderanobligationtopeopleofwhomweknownothing.
Hismannerwassomewhatunfortunate.
IhopeI
actuado
acted
forthebest.”
“Youactedverynaturally,”saidhe.
He
parecía
seemed
thoughtful,andafterafewmomentsadded:
“Allthesame,Idon’tthinkmuchharmwouldhavecomeofaccepting.”
“Noharm,ofcourse.
Butwecouldnotbeunderanobligation.”
“Heis
bastante
rather
apeculiarman.”
Againhehesitated,andthensaidgently:
“Ithinkhewouldnottakeadvantageofyouracceptance,
ni
nor
expectyoutoshowgratitude.
Hehasthemerit—ifitisone—ofsayingexactlywhathemeans.
Hehasroomshedoesnotvalue,andhethinksyouwouldvaluethem.
Henomorethoughtofputtingyouunderanobligationthanhethoughtofbeingpolite.
Itissodifficult—atleast,Ifinditdifficult—tounderstandpeoplewhospeakthetruth.”
Lucywaspleased,andsaid:
“Iwashopingthathewasnice;
Idosoalwayshopethatpeoplewillbenice.”
“Ithinkheis;
niceandtiresome.
Idifferfromhimonalmosteverypointofanyimportance,andso,Iexpect—ImaysayIhope—youwilldiffer.
Buthisisa
tipo
type
onedisagreeswithratherthandeplores.
Whenhefirstcameherehenotunnaturallyputpeople’sbacksup.
Hehasnotactandnomanners—Idon’tmeanbythatthathehasbadmanners—andhewillnotkeephisopinionstohimself.
WenearlycomplainedabouthimtoourdepressingSignora,butIamgladtosaywethoughtbetterofit.”
“AmItoconclude,”saidMissBartlett,“thatheisaSocialist?”
Mr.
Beebe
aceptó
accepted
theconvenientword,notwithoutaslighttwitchingofthelips.
“AndpresumablyhehasbroughtuphissontobeaSocialist,too?”
“IhardlyknowGeorge,forhehasn’tlearnttotalkyet.