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The Tiredness of Rosabel

The Tiredness of Rosabel - раздел Связь, Предлагаемое пособие разработано для развития навыков опосредованного перевода и устной речи слушателей программы дополнительного профессионального образования «Переводчик в сфере профессиональной коммуникации» At The Corner Of Oxf...

At the corner of Oxford Circus Rosabel bought a bunch of violets, and that was practically the rea­son why she had so little tea—for a scone and a boiled egg and a cup of cocoa at Lyons are not ample sufficiency after a hard day's work in a millinery establishment. As she swung on to the step of the Atlas bus, grabbed her skirt with one hand and clung to the railing with the other, Rosabel thought she would have sacrificed her soul for a good dinner—roast duck and green peas, chestnut stuffing, pudding with brandy sauce— something hot and strong and filling. She sat down next to a girl very much her own age who was read­ing Anna Lombard in a cheap, paper-covered edi­tion, and the rain had tear-spattered the pages. Rosabel looked out of the windows; the street was blurred and misty, but light striking on the panes turned their dullness to opal and silver, and the jew­ellers' shops seen through this, were fairy palaces. Her feet were horribly wet, and she knew the bot­tom of her skirt and petticoat would be coated with black, greasy mud. There was a sickening smell of warm humanity—it seemed to be oozing out of everybody in the bus— and everybody had the same expression, sitting so still, staring in front of them. How many times had she read these adver­tisements—"Sapolio Saves Time, Saves La­bour"— "Heinz's Tomato Sauce"—and the inane, annoying dialogue between doctor and judge con­cerning the superlative merits of "Lamplough's Pyretic Saline." She glanced at the book which the girl read so earnestly, mouthing the words in a way that Rosabel detested, licking her first finger and thumb each time that she turned the page. She could not see very clearly; it was something about a hot, voluptuous night, a band playing and a girl with lovely, white shoulders. Oh, heavens! Rosabel stirred suddenly and unfastened the two top buttons of her coat... she felt almost stifled.

Through her half-closed eyes the whole row of people on the opposite seat seemed to resolve into one fatuous, staring face...

And this was her corner. She stumbled a little on her way out and lurched against the girl next her. "I beg your pardon," said Rosabel, but the girl did not even look up. Rosabel saw that she was smiling as she read.

Westbourne Grove looked as she had always imagined Venice to look at night, mysterious, dark, even the hansoms were like gondolas dodging up and down, and the lights trailing luridly—tongues of flame licking the wet street—magic fish swim­ming in the Grand Canal. She was more than glad to reach Richmond Road, but from the corner of the street until she came to No. 26 she thought of those four flights of stairs. Oh, why four flights! It was really criminal to expect people to live so high up. Every house ought to have a lift, something simple and inexpensive, or else an electric stair­case like the one at Earl's Court—but four flights! When she stood in the hall and saw the first flight ahead of her and the stuffed albatross head on the landing, glimmering ghost-like in the light of the little gas jet, she almost cried. Well, they had to be faced; it was very like bicycling up a steep hill, but there was not the satisfaction of flying down the other side...

Her own room at last! She closed the door, lit the gas, took off her hat and coat, skirt, blouse, unhooked her old flannel dressing-gown from behind the door, pulled it on, then unlaced her boots—on consideration her stockings were not wet enough to change. She went over to the wash-stand. The jug had not been filled again to-day. There was just enough water to soak the sponge, and the enamel was coming off the basin—that was the second time she had scratched her chin.

It was just seven o'clock. If she pulled the blind up and put out the gas it was much more restful— Rosabel did not want to read. So she knelt down on the floor, pillowing her arms on the window-sill... just one little sheet of glass between her and the great wet world outside!

She began to think of all that had happened dur­ing the day. Would she ever forget that awful woman in the grey mackintosh who had wanted a trimmed motor-cap—"something purple with something rosy each side"—or the girl who had tried on every hat in the shop and then said she would "call in to-morrow and decide definitely." Rosabel could not help smiling; the excuse was worn so thin...

But there had been one other—a girl with beau­tiful red hair and a white skin and eyes the colour of that green ribbon shot with gold they had got from Paris last week. Rosabel had seen her electric brougham at the door; a man had come in with her, quite a young man, and so well dressed.

"What is it exactly that I want, Harry?" she had said, as Rosabel took the pins out of her hat, untied her veil, and gave her a hand-mirror.

"You must have a black hat," he had answered, "a black hat with a feather that goes right round it and then round your neck and ties in a bow under your chin, and the ends tuck into your belt—a decent-sized feather."

The girl glanced at Rosabel laughingly. "Have you any hats like that?"

They had been very hard to please;* Harry would demand the impossible, and Rosabel was almost in despair. Then she remembered the big, untouched box upstairs.

"Oh, one moment, Madam," she had said. "I think perhaps I can show you something that will please you better." She had run up, breathlessly, cut the cords, scattered the tissue paper, and yes, there was the very hat—rather large, soft, with a great, curled feather, and a black velvet rose, nothing else. They had been charmed.

The girl had put it on and then handed it to Rosabel.

"Let me see how it looks on you," she said, frowning a little, very serious indeed.

Rosabel turned to the mirror and placed it on her brown hair, then faced them.

"Oh, Harry, isn't it adorable," the girl cried. "I must have that!" She smiled again at Rosabel. "It suits you beautifully."

A sudden, ridiculous feeling of anger had seized Rosabel. She longed to throw the lovely, perishable thing in the girl's face, and bent over the hat, flushing.

"It's exquisitely finished off inside, Madam," she said. The girl swept out to her brougham, and left Harry to pay and bring the box with him.

"I shall go straight home and put it on before I come out to lunch with you," Rosabel heard her say.

The man leant over her as she made out the bill, then, as he counted the money into her hand— "Ever been painted?" he said.

"No," said Rosabel shortly, realising the swift change in his voice, the slight tinge of insolence, of familiarity.

"Oh, well you ought to be," said Harry. "You've got such a damned pretty little figure."

Rosabel did not pay the slightest attention. How handsome he had been! She had thought of no one else all day; his face fascinated her; she could see clearly his fine, straight eyebrows, and his hair grew back from his forehead with just the slightest suspicion of crisp curl, his laughing, disdainful mouth. She saw again his slim hands counting the money into hers... Rosabel suddenly pushed the hair back from her face, her forehead was hot... if those slim hands could rest one moment... the luck of that girl!

Suppose they changed places. Rosabel would drive home with him, of course they were in love with each other, but not engaged, very nearly, and she would say—"I won't be one moment." He would wait in the brougham while her maid took the hat-box up the stairs, following Rosabel. Then the great, white and pink bedroom with roses everywhere in dull silver vases. She would sit down before the mirror and the little French maid would fasten her hat and find her a thin, fine veil and another pair of white suede gloves—a button had come off the gloves she had worn that morn­ing. She had scented her furs and gloves and hand­kerchief, taken a big muff and run downstairs. The butler opened the door, Harry was waiting, they drove away together... That was life, thought Rosabel! On the way to the Carlton* they stopped at Gerard's, Harry bought her great sprays of Parma violets, filled her hands with them.

"Oh, they are sweet!" she said, holding them against her face.

"It is as you always should be," siaid Harry, "with your hands full of violets."

(Rosabel realised that her knees were getting stiff; she sat down on the floor and leant her head against the wall.) Oh, that lunch! The table covered with flowers, a band hidden behind a grove of palms playing music that fired her blood like wine—the soup, and oysters, and pigeons, and creamed potatoes, and champagne, of course, and afterwards coffee and cigarettes. She would lean over the table fingering her glass with one hand, talking with that charming gaiety which Harry so appreciated.

Afterwards a matinee, something that gripped them both, and then tea at the "Cottage".

"Sugar? Milk? Cream?" The little homely ques­tions seemed to suggest a joyous intimacy. And then home again in the dusk, and the scent of the Parma violets seemed to drench the air with their sweetness.

"I'll call for you at nine," he said as he left her.

The fire had been lighted in her boudoir, the cur­tains drawn, there were a great pile of letters wait­ing her—invitations for the Opera, dinners, balls, a week-end on the river, a motor tour—she glanced through them listlessly as she went upstairs to dress. A fire in her bedroom, too, and her beautiful, shining dress spread on the bed—white tulle over silver, silver shoes, silver scarf, a little silver fan. Rosabel knew that she was the most famous woman at the ball that night; men paid her homage, a foreign Prince desired to be presented to this English wonder. Yes, it was a voluptuous night, a band playing, and her lovely white shoulders...

But she became very tired. Harry took her home, and came in with her for just one moment. The fire was out in the drawing-room, but the sleepy maid waited for her in her boudoir. She took off her cloak, dismissed the servant, and went over to the fire-place, and stood peeling off her gloves; the firelight shone on her hair, Harry came across the room and caught her in his arms—"Rosabel, Rosabel, Rosabel..." Oh, the haven of those arms, and she was very tired.

(The real Rosabel, the girl crouched on the floor in the dark, laughed aloud, and put her hand up to her hot mouth.)

Of course they rode in the park next morning, the engagement had been announced in the Court Circular, all the world knew, all the world was shaking hands with her...

They were married shortly afterwards at St. George's, Hanover Square, and motored down to Harry's old ancestral home for the honeymoon; the peasants in the village curtseyed to them as they passed; under the folds of the rug he pressed her hands convulsively. And that night she wore again her white and silver frock. She was tired after the journey and went upstairs to bed ... quite early...

The real Rosabel got up from the floor and undressed slowly, folding her clothes over the back of a chair. She slipped over her head her coarse, calico night-dress, and took the pins out of her hair—the soft, brown flood of it fell round her, warmly. Then she blew out the candle and groped her way into bed, pulling the blankets and grimy "honeycomb" quilt closely round her neck, cud­dling down in the darkness...

So she slept and dreamed, and smiled in her sleep, and once threw out her arm to feel for some­thing which was not there, dreaming still.

And the night passed. Presently the cold fingers of dawn closed over her uncovered hand; grey light flooded the dull room. Rosabel shivered, drew a lit­tle gasping breath, sat up. And because her heritage was that tragic optimism, which is all too often the only inheritance of youth, still half asleep, she smiled, with a little nervous tremor round her mouth.

 

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Предлагаемое пособие разработано для развития навыков опосредованного перевода и устной речи слушателей программы дополнительного профессионального образования «Переводчик в сфере профессиональной коммуникации»

От авторов.. Предлагаемое пособие разработано для развития навыков опосредованного перевода и устной речи слушателей программы дополнительного профессионального..

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Contents
ABOUT THE AUTHOR……………………………………………………….. BLISS…………………………………………………………………………... PICTURES…………………………

About the author
New Zealand's most famous writer was closely associated with D.H. Lawrence and something of a rival of Virginia Woolf. Mansfield's creative years were burdened with loneliness, illness, jealousy, a

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. open and sincere in expression; straightforward. bliss 2. to carry out or fulfill the command, order, or instruction.

Match one of the following adjectives to each description
frank passionate curious amused distressed dreadful collected mysterious absurd extravagant bored a) A …………… person has strong romantic or sexual feelings and expresses them in thei

Pictures
Eight o'clock in the morning. Miss Ada Moss lay in a black iron bedstead, staring up at the ceiling. Her room, a Bloomsbury top-floor back,

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. not having a clear shape. to take trouble 2. to smile widely at somebody. to give no sign

Sun and Moon
In the afternoon the chairs came, a whole big cart full of little gold ones with their legs in the air. And then the flowers came. When you

Find the English equivalents to the following words or phrases and use them in the sentences of your own
1.to behave in a particular way in order to make other people believe smth that is not true. at any rate 2.to be annoyed or quite angr

Life of Ma Parker
When the literary gentleman, whose flat old Ma* Parker cleaned every Tuesday, opened the door to her that morning, he asked after her grands

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. to be concerned or interested. to be a success 2. mental or emotional unhappiness or distress. to overcome

Marriage a la Mode
On his way to the station William remembered with a fresh pang of disappointment that he was taking nothing down to the kiddies. Poor little

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1.to take care of. to settle something 2. to lead or move, as to a course of action, by influence or persuasion. to fish

Miss Brill
Although it was so brilliantly fine—the blue sky powdered with gold and the great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins P

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1.futile; useless. to decide on smth 2.being familiar with smth so that it no longer seems new or strange to you.

Her First Ball
Exactly when the ball began Leila would have found it hard to say. Perhaps her first real partner was the cab. It did not matter that she shared the cab with the Sheridan girls and their brother. S

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. to like smth or like to do smth, to be willing to do smth weird 2.not happy or smiling; looking very serious

Match one of the following adjectives to each description
ashamed exciting surprising terrified shy gloomy

Speak on or write an essay about your assessment of the story and your impressions of it
The Lady's Maid Eleven o 'clock. A knock at the door. ...I hope I haven't disturbed you, madam. You weren't asleep—were you? But I've just given my lady her tea,

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. to do one’s hair to cheat smb 2.full of extreme anger, raging to feel inclined to do smth

The Fly
"Y'are very snug in here," piped old Mr. Woodifield, and he peered out of the great, green-leather arm-chair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was ov

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. to have a useful effect: to help smb. to be over 2. to meet or find something by chance. to make a nuisance

Comprehension Check
a) What did Rosabel do to earn her living? b) What was her mood when she was returning home? c) What means did the author use to describe Rosabel’s tiredness? d) What had

Speak on or write an essay about your assessment of the story and your impressions of it
  The Little Girl To the little girl he was a figure to be feared and avoided. Every morning befo

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1.an unusually large person properly 2.to search or examine thoroughly to give smth up

Put in the missing prepositions
I looked … the apartment where I had spent most … my life. The window was open and sounds … the street mixed … the talk show … the radio that my mother always kept … It seemed that she had even tur

Pension Seguin
The servant who opened the door was twin sis­ter to that efficient and hideous creature bearing a soup tureen into the First French Picture. Her round red face shone like freshly washed china. She

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column
1. very likely to be influenced, harmed or affected by smth. immense 2. to suggest that smth is true or that you feel or think

Late at Night
(Virginia is seated by the fire. Her outdoor things are thrown on a chair; her boots are faintly steaming in the fender). Virginia (laying the letter down): I don't like this letter at all

Comprehension Check
a) What kind of letter did Virginia receive? b) Why did she consider it offensive? c) Why did Sunday evenings have a special effect on the woman? d) What are Virginia’s t

Sixpence
Children are unaccountable little creatures. Why should a small boy like Dicky, good as gold as a rule, sensitive, affectionate, obedient, and, mar­vellously sensible for his age, have moods when,

Match the following definitions in the left column with the words in the right column. Find sentences with these words in the story
1. to make smb able to avoid doing smth difficult or unpleasant. to have moods 2. to deliberately try to forget an unpleasant m

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