1

МЕЛІТОПОЛЬСЬКИЙ ДЕРЖАВНИЙ ПЕДАГОГІЧНИЙ УНІВЕРСИТЕТ

ІМЕНІ БОГДАНА ХМЕЛЬНИЦЬКОГО

МЕТОДИЧНІ РЕКОМЕНДАЦІЇ
З ДОМАШНЬОГО ЧИТАННЯ
ДЛЯ СТУДЕНТІВ ФІЛОЛОГІЧНИХ ТА ПЕРЕКЛАДАЦЬКИХ
СПЕЦІАЛЬНОСТЕЙ

МЕЛІТОПОЛЬ, 2021
 2

Методичні рекомендації з домашнього читання для студентів філологічних

та перекладацьких спеціальностей // Укладачі: Т.В. Рябуха, Т.В. Тарасенко,
Л. А. Куликова. – Мелітополь: МДПУ імені Богдана Хмельницького, 2021. –
124 с.

Методичні рекомендації з домашнього читання для студентів

філологічних та перекладацьких спеціальностей спрямовані на формування у
студентів системи навичок читання англомовних текстів, удосконаленні
практики англомовного спілкування та перекладу.
Методичні рекомендації містять автентичні тексти та завдання на
перевірку їх розуміння, засвоєння лексичних одиниць і словосполучень.

Рецензенти:
Музя Є.М. – кандидат філологічних наук, доцент кафедри іноземних
мов Мелітопольського державного педагогічного університету імені Богдана
Хмельницького
Лемещенко-Лагода В.В. – викладач кафедри іноземних мов
Таврійського державного агротехнологічного університету імені Дмитра
Моторного

Рекомендовано до друку науково-методичною радою Мелітопольського

державного педагогічного університету імені Богдана Хмельницького,
протокол №3 від "03" березня 2021 р.
 3

ВСТУП

Методичні рекомендації призначені для студентів філологічних та

перекладацьких спеціальностей і можуть бути застосовані для ознайомлення
та аналізу англомовних текстів. Методичні рекомендації містять тексти для
читання, завдання для аудиторної чи самостійної роботи, спрямовані на
розвиток у студентів комунікативних навичок та інтерпретації художнього
тексту.
Матеріали збірника покликані ознайомити студентів з художніми
творами країни, мова якої вивчається, що сприятиме підвищенню інтересу як
до англійської мови, так і до самої англомовної країни. Крім того, матеріал
може бути використаний для розвитку у здобувачів вищої освіти навичок
аналітичного читання.
Основна мета Методичних рекомендацій реалізується шляхом
забезпечення комунікативної і перекладацької компетентностей у
нерозривному зв'язку з отриманням студентами знань з різних аспектів життя
країн, де англійська мова є державною; формування у студентів уміння
аналізувати англомовні художні твори і вживати культурно-специфічну
лексику як у письмових завданнях, так і в усному мовленні.
Тексти забезпечені вправами, призначеними для контролю розуміння
прочитаного, коментарями для пояснення важких для розуміння лексичних
одиниць і фраз.
 4

TEXT 1. CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM

by Art Buchwald
You don’t really feel the generation gap in this country until a son or daughter
comes home from college for Christmas. Then it strikes you how out of it you really
are.
This dialogue is probably taking place all over America this week.
“Nancy, you’ve been home from school for three days now. Why don’t you
clean up your room?”
“We don’t have to clean up our room at college, mother.”
“That’s very nice, and I’m happy you’re going to such a free-wheeling
institution. But while you are in the house, your father and I would like you to clean
up your room.”
“What difference does it make? It’s my room.”
“I know, dear, and it really doesn’t mean that much to me. But your father has
a great fear of the plague. He said this morning if it’s going to start anywhere in this
country, it’s going to start in your room.”
“Mother, you people aren’t interested in anything that’s relevant. Do you
realize how the major corporations are polluting our environment?”
“Your father and I are very worried about it. But right now we’re more
concerned with the pollution in your bedroom. You haven’t made your bed since
you came home.”
“I never make it up at the dorm.”
“Of course, you don’t, and I’m sure the time you save goes toward your
education. But we still have these old-fashioned ideas about making beds in the
morning and we can’t shake them. Since you’re home for such a short time, why
don’t you do it to humor us?”
“For heaven’s sake, mother, I’m grown up now. Why do you have to treat me
like a child?”
“We’re not treating you like a child. But it’s very hard for us to realize you’re
 5

an adult when you throw all your clothes on the floor.”

“I haven’t thrown all my clothes on the floor. Those are just the clothes I wore
yesterday.”
“Forgive me. I exaggerated. Well, how about the dirty dishes and empty soft-
drink cans on your desk? Are you collecting them for a science project?”
“Mother, you don’t understand us. You people were brought up to have clean
rooms. But our generation doesn’t care about things like that. It’s what you have in
your head that counts.”
“No one respects education more than your father and I do, particularly at the
prices they’re charging. But we can’t see how living in squalor can improve your
mind.”
“That’s because of your priorities. You would rather have me make up my
bed and pick up my clothes than become a free spirit who thinks for myself.”
“We are not trying to stifle your free spirit. It’s just that our Blue Cross has
run out, and we have no protection in case anybody catches typhoid.”
“All right I’ll clean up my room if it means that much to you. But I want you
to know you’ve ruined my vacation.”
“It was a calculated risk I had to take. Oh, by the way – I know this is a terrible
thing to ask of you, but would you mind helping me wash the dinner dishes?”
“Wash dishes? Nobody washes dishes at school.”
“Your father and I were afraid of that.”

Exercise 1. Find in the text English equivalents for the following.

Прибирати кімнату; застелити постіль; мити посуд; засмічення
навколишнього середовища; покоління; розрив між поколіннями; плата, яка
стягується за навчання; жити в бруді; самостійно мислити; придушувати;
заразитися тифом; зіпсувати канікули; свідомий ризик; йти на свідомий ризик;
до речі.

Exercise 2. Answer the questions.

 6

1. What is it that the parents don’t realize until the children come from college for
Christmas?
2. What question does the mother ask her daughter after a couple of days?
3. Why does the girl believe she doesn’t have to clean up her room? And why is she
not used to doing it?
4. What does her father fear?
5. What was he heard saying in the morning?
6. What shows that the girl looks down upon her parents and believes herself to have
a wider scope of mind?
7. What are the parents, concerned with under the circumstances?
8. How does the girl supposedly use the time saved from not doing things every
normal person does?
9. What makes the girl feel hurt?
10. Why is it hard for the mother to realize the girl is an adult?
11. In what way does the girl think her generation differs from the older one?
12. What would humoring her parents mean to the girl?
13. What terrible discovery does the mother make toward the end of the
conversation?

Exercise 3. Retell the story using the words and phrases.

Generation gap; home for Christmas; to strike one; probably; to clean up; a free-
wheeling institution; to make a difference; to mean that much; a great fear of; to start
in this country; to be interested in; relevant; major corporations; to pollute
environment; to be more concerned with; dorm (dormitory); to save time; old-
fashioned ideas; to humor; grown up; to treat (like); hard to realize; adult; to throw;
to exaggerate; empty cans; desk; science project; to be brought up; to care about; it
counts; to respect education; particularly; to charge prices; to live in squalor; to
improve one’s mind; priorities; would rather; to pick up; free spirit; to think for
oneself; to stifle; Blue Cross; to run out; in case; to catch typhoid; to ruin; to take a
calculated risk; to ask of smb.; would you mind; dinner dishes.
 7

Exercise 4. Make up your own sentences, using the words a) ruin, b) treat:
to ruin: a person, one’s life, clothes, holiday, plans, health, career, a new gown, a
car, one’s reputation;
to treat: to treat one cruelly (kindly); to treat one like a dog; to treat a person to
dinner; to treat a patient; to treat a matter seriously (lightly, thoroughly); to treat
smth. as a joke; to treat the information as relevant.

TEXT 2. THE LUNCHEON

by Somerset Maugham
I caught sight of her at the play and in answer to her beckoning I went over
during the interval and sat down beside her. It was long since I had last seen her and
if someone had not mentioned her name I do not think I would have recognized her.
She addressed me brightly.
"Well, it's many years since we first met. How time flies! We are not getting
any younger. Do you remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to luncheon."
Did I remember?
It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apartment in the
Latin Quarter and I was earning barely enough money to keep body and soul
together. She had read a book of mine and had written to me about it. I answered,
thanking her, and presently I received from her another letter saying that she was
passing through Paris and would like to have a chat with me; but her time was limited
and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday. She asked me if
I would give her a little luncheon at Foyot's. Foyot's is a restaurant at which the
French senators eat and it was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought
of going there. But I was flattered and I was too young to say no to a woman. I had
eighty francs to live on till the end of the month and a modest luncheon should not
cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next two weeks I could manage well
 8

enough.
I answered that I would meet her at Foyot's on Thursday at half past twelve.
She was not so young as I expected and in appearance imposing rather than
attractive. She was in fact a woman of forty, and she gave me the impression of
having more teeth, white and large and even, than were necessary for any practical
purpose. She was talkative, but since she seemed inclined to talk about me I was
prepared to be an attentive listener. I was startled when the menu was brought, for
the prices were a great deal higher than I had expected. But she reassured me.
“I never eat anything for luncheon," she said.
"Oh, don't say that!" I answered generously.
"I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat too much nowadays. A
little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have any salmon."
Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not on the menu, but I
asked the waiter if there was any. Yes, they had a beautiful salmon, it was the first
they had had. I ordered it for my guest. The waiter asked her if she would have
something while it was being cooked.
"No," she answered, "I never eat more than one thing. Unless you had a little
caviar.' I never mind caviar."
My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviar, but I could not tell her
that. I told the waiter by all means to bring caviar. For myself I chose the cheapest
dish on the menu and that was a mutton chop.
"I think you're unwise to eat meat," she said. "I don't know how you can expect
to work after eating heavy things like chops. I never overload my stomach."
Then came the question of drink.
"I never drink anything for luncheon," she said.
"Neither do I," I answered promptly.
"Except white wine," she went on as though I had not spoken. "These French
white wines are so light. They are wonderful for the digestion."
"What would you like?" I asked her.
"My doctor won't let me drink anything but champagne." I think I turned a
 9

little pale. I ordered half a bottle. I mentioned casually that my doctor had absolutely
forbidden me to drink champagne.
"What are you going to drink, then?"
"Water."
She ate the caviar and she ate the salmon. She talked gaily of art and literature
and music. But I wondered what the bill would come to. When my mutton chop
arrived she said:
"I see that you're in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. I'm sure it's a
mistake. Why don't you follow my example and just eat one thing? I'm sure you'd
feel much better then."
"I am only going to eat one thing," I said, as the waiter came again with the
menu. She waved him aside with a light gesture.
"No, no, I never eat anything for luncheon. Just a bite, I never want more than
that. I can't eat anything more unless they had some of those giant asparagus. I should
be sorry to leave Paris without having some of them."
My heart sank. I had seen them in the shops and I knew that they were horribly
expensive. My mouth had often watered at the sight of them. "Madame wants to
know if you have any of those giant asparagus," I asked the waiter.
I hoped he would say no. A happy smile spread over his broad face, and he
assured me that they had some so large, so splendid, so tender, that it was a marvel.
"I'm not in the least hungry," my guest sighed, "but if you insist I don't mind
having some asparagus.
I ordered them.
"Aren't you going to have any?"
"No, I never eat asparagus."
"I know there are people who don't like them."
We waited for the asparagus to be cooked. Panic seized me. It was not a
question now how much money I should have left for the rest of the month, but
whether I had enough to pay the bill. It would be terrible to find myself ten francs
short and be obliged to borrow from my guest. I could not bring myself to do that. I
 10

knew exactly how much money I had and if the bill came to more I made up my
mind that I would put my hand in my pocket and with a dramatic cry start up and
say my money had been stolen. If she had not money enough to pay the bill then the
only thing to do would be to leave my watch and say I would come back and pay
later.
The asparagus appeared. They were enormous and appetizing. The smell of
the melted butter tickled my nostrils. I watched the woman send them down her
throat and in my polite way I talked on the condition of the drama in the Balkans. At
last she finished.
"Coffee?" I said.
"Yes, just an ice-cream and coffee," she answered.
It was all the same to me now, so I ordered coffee for myself and an ice-cream
and coffee for her.
"You know, there's one thing I thoroughly believe in," she said, as she ate the
ice-cream. "One should always get up from a meal feeling one could eat a little
more."
"Are you still hungry?" I asked faintly.
"Oh, no, I'm not hungry; you see, I don't eat luncheon. I have a cup of coffee
in the morning and then dinner, but I never eat more than one thing for luncheon. I
was speaking for you."
"Oh, I see!"
Then a terrible thing happened. While we were waiting for the coffee, the head
waiter, with a smile on his false face, came up to us bearing a large basket full of
huge peaches. Peaches were not in season then. Lord knew what they cost. I knew
too — a little later, for my guest, going on with her conversation, absent-mindedly
took one. "You see, you've filled your stomach with a lot of meat and you can't eat
any more. But I've just had a snack and I shall enjoy a peach."
The bill came and when I paid it I found that I had only enough for a quite
inadequate tip. Her eyes rested for a moment on the three francs I left for the waiter
and I knew that she thought me mean. But when I walked out of the restaurant I had
 11

the whole month before me and not a penny in my pocket.

"Follow my example," she said as we shook hands, "and never eat more than
one thing for luncheon."
"I'll do better than that," I answered. "I'll eat nothing for dinner tonight."
"Humorist!" she cried gaily, jumping into a cab. "You're quite a humorist!"
But I have had my revenge at last. Today she weighs twenty-one stone.'

Exercise 1. Practice the pronunciation of the words from the story.

Latin Quarter, restaurant, senator, menu, reassure, salmon, caviar, digestion,
champagne, giant, asparagus, drama, Balkans, stomach, thoroughly, inadequate,
revenge, weigh.

Exercise 2. Find in the story the English for:

помітити кого-небудь, поруч з чим-небудь, як летить час !, зводити кінці з
кінцями, впоратися з чим-небудь, бути враженим, запевнювати, великодушно,
в меню, перевантажувати (шлунок), травлення, серце впало, нічого не мати
проти, у мене слинки текли, не можу дозволити собі, нітрохи, займати у кого-
небудь, мені було все одно, перекусити, рахунок, чайові, слідувати чиємусь
наприкладу, помститися, важити.

Exercise 3. Use the verbs in brackets in an appropriate tense (active or passive).

1. The prices were a great deal higher than I __________. (to expect)
2. The waiter asked if she would have something while it __________. (to cook)
3. I think I __________ a little pale. (to turn)
4. I mentioned casually that my doctors absolutely __________ me to drink
champagne. (to forbid)
5. While we __________ for the coffee, the head waiter came up to us with a basket
full of huge peaches. (to wait)
6. You see, you __________ your stomach with a lot of meat and you can’t eat any
more. (to fill)
 12

7. I __________ my revenge at last. Today she weighs twenty-one stone. (to have)
8. When I __________ out of the restaurant I had the whole month before me and
not a penny in my pocket. (to walk)

Exercise 4. Use the proper article.

1.You asked me to _____ luncheon.
2. She asked me if I would give her _____ little luncheon at Foyot’s.
3. If I cut out _____ coffee for the next two weeks I could manage well enough.
4. I knew I could not afford _____ caviar.
5. I see that you are in the habit of eating _____ heavy luncheon.
6. I never drink anything for _____ luncheon except _____ white wine.
7. I never eat _____ asparagus.
8. We waited for _____ asparagus to be cooked.

Exercise 5. Answer the following questions:

1. Where did the author catch sight of the woman? Why wouldn’t he have
recognized her if somebody hadn’t mentioned her name?
2. Did he remember where he had first met her? Where was he living at that time?
How much was he earning?
3. Why did she write to him? Where would she like him to give her a little luncheon?
Why had he never thought of going to Foyot’s?
4. Why did he agree to meet her at Foyot’s?
5. What did she look like? What was unusual about her appearance?
6. Why was the author prepared to be an attentive listener?
7. Why was he startled when the menu was brought? How did she reassure him?
8. What did she repeatedly say throughout the luncheon?
9. What did she order first? Why did his heart sink?
10. What did he order for himself? What did she say about his choice?
11. What was she going to drink?
12. What did she talk about while she ate the salmon and the caviar?
 13

13. Why did she say she wanted to have asparagus? Why did the author say he never
ate asparagus?
14. Why did panic seize him? What did he decide to do if he didn’t have enough
money to pay the bill?
15. What terrible thing happened while they were waiting for the coffee?
16. What did she say she believed in?
17. Could he pay the bill? Why did he know she thought him mean?
18. Why did she say he was a humorist? Was he?
19. Has he had his revenge at last? What sort of revenge is it?

Exercise 6. Act out the scene of the luncheon.

Exercise 7. Act out an inner monolog of the author during the luncheon.

Exercise 8. Discuss the following:

1. Make guesses about the woman’s background.
2. Why do you think she wrote to the author? Do you think many people send letters
to writers? Could you write to a writer? What writer could you send a letter to and
what would you write about?
3. Why do you think she asked him to give her a luncheon at Foyot’s? Why did she
order the most expensive things? Why did she repeatedly say she never ate anything
for luncheon? Did she really mean it or was it a trick?
4. ‘She gave me the impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than
there were necessary for any practical purpose’. Why do you think the author pays
special attention to the description of the woman’s teeth?
5. What do you think is the author’s attitude to the reading public: good-humored,
ruthless, ironical or skeptical?
6. Does S. Maugham, in your opinion, try to convey any message in the story or does
he only try to amuse the reader? How did you find the story?
 14

TEXT 3. THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT

by Washington Irving
My aunt was a big woman, very tall, with a strong mind and will. My uncle
was a thin, small man, very weak, with no will at all. She made him take all the
medicines prescribed by the doctors, but it didn't help him. My uncle grew worse
and worse, and one day she found him dead. Now she was sorry that she had made
him take so much medicine and felt, that he was the victim of her kindness. Anyhow,
she did all that a widow could do to honour his memory. She had a fulllength portrait
of him always hanging in her bedroom.
Some time passed, and my aunt decided to move to Derbyshire where she had
a big country-house. The house stood in a lonely, wild part that was why before she
went to bed, she herself examined the doors and windows and locked them with her
own hands. Then she carried the keys and a little box of money and jewels to her
own room.
One evening, after she had sent away her girl-servant she sat by her toilet-table,
arranging her hair. As she looked, she thought of her old friend, a rich gentleman of
the neighbourhood, who had visited her that day and whom she had known since her
girlhood.
Suddenly she thought she heard something move behind her. She looked round
quickly, but there was nothing to be seen. Suddenly it seemed to her that in the glass
she saw one of the eyes of the portrait move. It gave her a shock. "I must make sure,"
she moved the candle so that the light fell on the eye in the glass. Now she was sure
that it moved.
Now my aunt got really frightened. She hurried down the stairs and ordered the
servants to arm themselves with anything. "Pull down the picture," ordered my aunt.
A heavy sigh was heard from the portrait. The servants stepped back in fear. The
picture was pulled down and from behind it, they pulled out a big, black-bearded
fellow with a knife as long as my arm, but trembling with fear from head to foot. He
said that he had broken into my aunt's house, to get her box of money and jewels,
 15

when all the house was asleep. He had noticed the hiding-place when the portrait
had been put up. In order to see what was going on in the room he had made a hole
in one of the eyes of the portrait.
The aunt did not send for the police. She could do very well without them: she
liked to take the law into her own hands. She had her own ideas of cleanliness also.
She ordered the servants to pull the man through the horse-pond in order to wash
away his crimes, and then to dry him well with a wooden 'towel'.
But though my aunt was a very brave woman, this adventure was too much
even for her. She often used to say, "It is most unpleasant for a woman to live alone
in the country." Soon after she gave her hand to the rich gentleman of the
neighbourhood.

Exercise 1. Answer the questions:

1. Why was the author’s uncle no match for his wife?
2. In what way did the aunt take care of the uncle when he got ill?
3. W hat made her think that her husband was the victim of her kindness?
4. In what way was she trying to honour his memory?
5. ‘My aunt herself seemed to be struck with the lonely appearance of her house.’
Give reasons from the story to prove this statement.
6. Why didn’t she get frightened when she heard something move behind her and
when she thought th at her sign was re-echoed? What gave her an actual shock?
7. W hat did she do to make sure there was nobody in her bedroom?
8. Did the aunt overturn her work-box by chance or on purpose? Give your reasons.
9. Who did she and her servants see after they had pulled down the portrait? Describe
the man.
10. What for did the man steal into the aunt’s room?
11. Under what circumstances did a plan to rob the aunt coine to his mind?
12. Why didn’t the aunt send for the police?
13. How did she punish the thief?
Exercise 2. Talking points.
 16

1. Give as much background information about (a) the author’s aunt, (b) her husband
and (c) the thief as you can.
2. Pick out some facts to show that the author’s aunt was a woman with a strong
mind and will.
3. Give your reasons explaining why the aunt did so much to honour her husbands
memorv.
4. Pick out facts to prove that the author was ironical towards his aunt.
5. Describe all the aunt’s actions before she went to bed?
6. Prove that the aunt was not as much afraid of the house as her servants.
7. Say if, in your opinion, the aunt went on arranging her hair because (a) her fear
was really over; (b) she had a definite purpose on her mind. Give your reasons.
8. Try to reconstruct the logic of the aunt’s reasoning just before she overturned her
work-box.

TEXT 4. HE OVERDID IT
by O. Henry
Miss Posie Carrington had begun life in the small village of Cranberry
Corners. Then her name had been Posie Boggs. At the age of eighteen she had left
the place and become an actress at a small theatre in a large city, and here she took
the name of Carrington. Now Miss Carrington was at the height of her fame, the
critics praised her, and in the next season she was going to star in a new play about
country life. Many young actors were eager to partner Miss Posie Carrington in the
play, and among them was a clever young actor called Highsmith.
"My boy", said Mr. Goldstein, the manager of the theatre, when the young
man went to him for advice, "take the part if you can get it. The trouble is Miss
Carrington won't listen to any of my suggestions. As a matter of fact she has turned
down a lot of the best imitators of a country fellow already, and she says she won't
set foot on the stage unless her partner is the best that can be found. She was brought
up in a village, you know, she won't be deceived when a Broadway fellow goes on
 17

the stage with a straw in his hair and calls himself a village boy. So, young man, if
you want to play the part, you'll hate to convince Miss Carrington. Would you like
to try?" "I would with your permission," answered the young man. "But I would
prefer to keep my plans secret for a while."
Next day Highsmith took the train for Cranberry Corners. He stayed three
days in that small and distant village. Having found out all he could about the Boggs
and their neighbours, Highsmith returned to the city...
Miss Posie Carrington used to spend her evenings at a small restaurant where
actors gathered after performances.
One night when Miss Posie was enjoying a late supper in the company of her
fellow-actors, a shy, awkward young man entered the restaurant. It was clear that the
lights and the people made him uncomfortable. He upset one chair, sat in another
one, and turned red at the approach of a waiter.
"You may fetch me a glass of beer', he said, in answer to the waiter's question.
He looked around the place and then seeing Miss Carrington, rose and went to her
table with a shining smile.
"How're you, Miss Posie?" he said. "Don't you remember me — Bill Summers
— the Summerses that used to live next door to you? I've grown up since you left
Cranberry Corners. They still remember you there. Eliza Perry told me to see you in
the city while I was here. You know Eliza married Benny Stanfield, and she says —
"
"I say", interrupted Miss Carrington brightly, "Eliza Perry married. She used
to be so stout and plain." "Married in June," smiled the gossip. "Old Mrs. Blithers
sold her place to Captain Spooner; the youngest Waters girl ran away with a music
teacher."
"Oh!" Miss Carrington cried out. "Why, you people, excuse me a while —
this is an old friend of mine – Mr. - what was it? Yes, Mr. Summers – Mr. Goldstein,
Mr. Ricketts. Now, Bill, come over here and tell me some more."
She took him to a vacant table in a corner.
 18

"I don't seem to remember any Bill Summers," she said thoughtfully, looking
straight into the innocent blue eyes of the young man. "But 1 know the Summerses
all right, and your face seems familiar when I come to think of it. There aren't many
changes in the old village, are there? Have you seen any of my people?"
And then Highsmith decided to show Miss Posie his abilities as a tragic actor.
"Miss Posie," said Bill Summers, "I was at your people's house just two or
three days ago. No, there aren't many changes to speak of. And yet it doesn't look
the same place that it used to be."
"How's Ma?" asked Miss Carrington.
"She was sitting by the front door when I saw her last," said Bill. "She's older
than she was, Miss Posie. But everything in the house looked just the same. Your
Ma asked me to sit down.
"William," said she. "Posie went away down that road and something tells me
she'll come back that way again when she gets tired of the world and begins to think
about her old mother. She's always been a sensible girl."
Miss Carrington looked uncomfortable.
"Well," she said, "I am really very glad to have seen you, Bill. Come round
and see me at the hotel before you leave the city."
After she had left, Highsmith, still in his make-up, went up to Goldstein.
"An excellent idea,wasn't it?" said the smiling actor. "The part is mine, don't
you think? The little lady never once guessed."
"I didn't hear your conversation," said Goldstein, "but your make-up and
acting were perfect. Here's to your success. You'd better visit Miss Carrington early
tomorrow and see how she feels about you."
At 11.45 the next morning Highsmith, handsome and dressed in the latest
fashion, sent up his card to Miss Carrington at her hotel.
He was shown up and received by the actress's French maid.
"I am sorry," said the maid, "but I am to say this to everybody. Miss
Carrington has cancelled all engagements on the stage and has returned to live in
that - what do you call that pace? -Cranberry Corners!"
 19

Active Vocabulary
to have a trouble (with) - мати клопіт, труднощі
to be in trouble - мати неприємності
to get in (into) trouble - попасти у складне становище
to turn down - відмовлятися
to turn out - опинятися
to bring up - виховувати
to deceive - обманювати
to convince - переконати
shy - соромливий
awkward - незграбний
grownup- дорослий
stout - товстий
innocent - невинний
to make sense - мати сенс
handsome - вродливий (про чоловіка)
to cancel - скасувати
anengagement -домовленість

Exercise 1. Find English equivalents:

в зеніті слави; зіграти головну роль; на ім’я Хайсміт; звернутися до нього за
порадою; проблема в тому; чи хочете спробувати; Хайсміт сів в потяг; вогні та
публіка бентежили його; біля вашого будинку; пробачте мене; я відійду на
хвилинку; я щось не пам’ятаю ніякого Білла Самерса; коли я починаю
згадувати; все виглядало як і раніше; я рада що зустріла вас; приходьте до мене
в готель; за ваш успіх; його провели в номер; як називається це місце.

Exercise 2. Answer the questions.

 20

1. What is the text about?

2. What is the main idea of the text?
3.Why did critics praise Miss Carrington?
4.What was Miss Carrington going to do in the next season?
5.What trouble did the manager have with Miss Carrington?
6. Why was Goldstein afraid that Highsmith would be turned down?
7. Why did he prefer to keep his plans secret for a while?
8. Was Cranberry Corners a distant village?
9. Can you describe the fellow that came into the small restaurant one evening?
10. Why did the young man’s words seem particularly convincing?
11. When did Bill’s face begin to seem familiar to Miss Carrington?
12. Was Miss Carrington anxious to hear about her people?
13. Did Miss Posie’s mother look upon her as a sensible girl?
14. Why didn’t Miss Posie guess that she was being deceived?
15. How was the young actor dressed when he went to see Miss Carrington next
morning?
16. Why did Miss Posie cancel all her engagements on the stage?
17.What is the most interesting for you in the text?

Exercise 3. Fill in the gaps with the proper word-combinations.

Her place Cranberry Corners; in the small village of Cranberry Corners; she was
going to star; advice; convince Miss Carrington; at a small theatre at a large city;
turned down; entered the restaurant; for Cranberry Corners; hotel; Miss Posie in
the hotel; mother and nei ghbours; he was the best.

1.Miss Posie Carrington had begun life………… 2. At the age of eighteen she had
become an actress………. 3. The critics praised her and………. 4. Many young
actors were eager to partner Miss Posie Carrington in the play and among them
was……… 5. Highsmith went to the manager of the theatre for…….. 6. Goldstein
was afraid that Hithsmith would be……. 7. The young actor had to……. 8. Next day
 21

Highsmith took the train ……… 9. Having found out all he could about the Boggs,
Highsmith…… 10. One night when Miss Posie Carrington was enjoying a late
supper, a shy, awkward young man………. 11. The young man said that he was Bill
Summers and told the actress about her…… 12. The words of the young man
convinced Miss Posie……. 13. Miss Posie invited the young man to her…….
14. Highsmith decided that the part in that play was already his. 15. Next morning
Highsmith, handsome and dressed in the latest fashion went to see……. 16. Miss
Posie cancelled all engagements on the stage and returned to……

Exercise 4. Translate the sentences from Ukrainian into English.

1.У віці 18 років Поузі Богз покинула свій дім, та взяла ім’я Керингтон. 2. Вона
стала акторкою в маленькому театрі великого міста. 3.Міс Керрінгтон була у
зеніті слави. 4.У наступному сезоні Місс Керрінгтон збиралась зіграти головну
роль в п’єсі про сільське життя. 5.Молодий актор на ім’я Хайсміт хотів бути
партнером Місс Поузі в цій п’єсі. 6.Хайсміт поїхав потягом в Кренберрі
Корнез. 7.Молодий актор дізнався все про сімейство Богсів, та про їх сусідів.
8.Місс Поузі Керрінгтон проводила свої вечори в маленькому ресторані зі
своїми друзями-акторами. 9.Одного разу сором’язливий, незграбний молодий
чоловік увійшов до ресторану. 10.Він підійшов до акторки і сказав, що він -
Білл Самерс, її сусід у Кренберрі Корнез. 11.Молодий чоловік вирішив
показати свої навички трагічного актора. 12.Хайсміт розповів акторці про її
матір та сусідів. 13.Молодий актор переконав Місс Поузі, що він Білл Самерс.
14. Наступного ранку Хайсміт гарний, вдягнений по останній моді пішов в
готель. 15.Покоївка-француженка сказала, що Місс Керрінгтон відмінила усі
домовленості на сцені та поїхала у Кренберрі Корнез.

TEXT 5. UNCLE PODGER HANGS A PICTURE

by Jerome K. Jerome
There are many people who say they like to do a little piece of work
 22

themselves. They say: "Why call somebody into the house, or ask a lot of people to
help when you can do the job very well alone." My dear Uncle Podger is just that
sort of man. He likes pictures very much and often buys them. But let me tell you
what happens when he hangs a picture on the wall.
Well, a picture comes home from the shop. It is standing in the dining-room.
It is necessary to put it up; and Uncle Podger says:
"Oh, leave that to me. Don't trouble about it. I will do it myself." Then he takes
off his coat and begins. But he has no nails. He sends the girl to buy some nails.
Then he sends one of the boys to tell her what size to buy. Then he shouts:
"Now you go and get me my hammer, Will; and bring me the ruler, Tom; and
I shall want the ladder, Jim, and a kitchen-chair, too. And don't go away, Maria,
because I shall want somebody to hold the light; and when the girl comes back, she
must go out again for some cord; and Tom! — Where is Tom? — Tom, come here;
I shall want you to hand me up the picture."
When all is ready and Tom hands him the picture, he lifts it up and drops it,
and it comes out of the frame. He tries to save the glass, and cuts himself. Then he
runs round the room, looking for his handkerchief. Of course he can't find his
handkerchief, because it is in the pocket of his coat, and he does not know where his
coat is. All the house must start looking for his coat, while he is sitting and shouting:
"Doesn't anybody in the whole house know where my coat is? Six of you, and
you сапЧ find the coat that I put down five minutes ago!" Then he finds that he is
sitting on it, and shouts:
"Oh, I have found it myself now. You can never find anything, you fools."
Half an hour passes. At last we tie up his finger, bring him a new glass, all the
tools which he wants, and the ladder, the chair and the candle. The whole family
stands round him now ready to help.
Two of us hold the chair; a third helps him to get up on it and holds him there.
A fourth hands him a nail. A fifth hands him the hammer. He takes the nail, and
drops it.
"There!" he says, "now the nail has gone.
 23

"And we all must go down on our knees and look for it, while he stands on
the chair and grumbles:
"Will you keep me here all the evening?"
At last we find the nail, but this time he has lost the hammer.
"Where is the hammer?" he shouts. "What did I do with the hammer? Seven
of you and you don't know what I did with the hammer!"
At last we find the hammer for him, and then he has lost the mark which he
made on the wall for the nail, and each of us must get on the chair beside him, and
try to find it. We each discover it in a different place, and he calls us all fools again
one after the other, and tells us to get down.
At last, Uncle Podger finds his mark for the nail, and puts the point of the nail
on it with his left hand, and takes the hammer in his right hand. With the first blow
he smashes his thumb, and drops the hammer on somebody's foot. Then he comes
down and runs round the room asking for some cold water.
But this time Aunt Maria gets angry and says that next time Uncle Podger
undertakes to do a job she will go and spend a week with her mother.
"Oh, you women! You have no patience," Uncle Podger says. "Why, I like
doing a little job of this sort."
He tries again, and, at the second blow, the nail goes through the wall and the
hammer falls.
Then we must find the hammer again, and he makes a new hole. About
midnight, the picture is up at last, and everybody is very tired except, of course,
Uncle Podger.
"There you are!" he says, coming down from the chair at last. "Why, other
people call in a special man to do a little thing like that!"

Exercise 1. Answer the following questions:

1. From the hints given in the story, find out how many people lived in uncle
Podger’s house.
2. What are the names of children of Uncle Podger?
 24

3. What happened everytime Uncle Podger undertook to do a job? List the

accessories and tools that Uncle Podger needed for hanging the picture.
4. Describe how the whole family would help the injured Uncle Podger in
hanging the picture a second time.What was Aunt Maria’s reaction at Uncle
Podger’s hanging the picture?
5. Describe the after effects of Uncle Podger’s successful hanging of the picture.
6. How was Uncle Podger as a man?
7. What job did Uncle Podger undertake to do? Why could Uncle Podger not
find his handkerchief?
8. What would happen when the dropped nail had been found? How did Uncle
Podger cut himself?
9. What did Uncle Podger send the girl out for?
10. Name the original book from where ‘Uncle Podger Hangs a Picture’ has been
taken.

Exercise 2. Give the summary of the story “Uncle Podger Hangs a Picture”
Exercise 3. Retell the story as if you were: a) Uncle Podger; b) his wife; c) one of
his children.
Exercise 4. Dramatize the story.
Exercise 5. Tell how you yourself do a little job like that.

TEXT 6. THE SERENADE (Part 1)

by G. Bernard Shaw
I celebrated my fortieth birthday by putting on one of the amateur theatrical
performances for which my house at Beckenham is famous.
The play, written by myself, was in three acts, and an important feature was
the sound of a horn in the second act.
I had engaged a horn player to blow the horn. He was to place himself, not on
the stage, but downstrairs in the hall so as to make it sound distant.
 25

The best seat was occupied by the beautiful Linda Fitznightingale. The next
chair, which I had intended for myself, had been taken by Mr Porcharlester, a young
man of some musical talent.
As Linda loved music, Porsharlester's talent gave him in her eyes an advantage
over older and cleverer men. I decided to break up their conversation as soon as I
could.
After I had seen that everything was all right for the performance, I hurried to
Linda's side with an apology for my long absence. As I approached, Porcharlester
rose, saying, "I'm going behind the stage if you don't mind."
"Boys will be boys," I said when he had gone. "But how are your musical
studies progressing?"
"I'm full of Schubert now. Oh, Colonel Green, do you know Schubert's
serenade?"
"Oh, a lovely thing. It's something like this, I think..."
"Yes, it is little like that. Does Mr Porcharlester sing it?"
I hated to hear her mention the name, so I said, "He tries to sing it."
"But do you like it?" she asked.
"Hm, well the fact is..." I tried to avoid a straight answer. "Do you like it?"
"I love it. I dream of it. I've lived on it for the last three days."
"I hope to hear you sing it when the play's over."
"I sing it! Oh, I'd never dare. Ah, here is Mr Porcharlester, I'll make him
promise to sing it to us."
"Green," said Porcharlester, "I don't wish to bother you, but the man who is to
play the horn hasn't turned up."
"Dear me," I said, "I ordered him at exactly half-past seven. If he fails to come
in time, the play. will be spoilt."
I excused myself to Linda, and hurried to the hall. The horn was there, on the
table. But the man was nowhere to be seen.
At the moment I heard the signal for the horn. I waited for him, but he did not
come. Had he mixed up the time? I hurried to the dining-room. There at the table he
 26

sat, fast asleep. Before him were five bottles, empty. Where he had got them from
was beyond me. I shook him, but could not wake him up.
I ran back to the hall promising myself to have him shot for not obeying my
orders. The signal came again. They were waiting. I saw but one way to save the
play from failure.
I took up the instrument, put the smaller end into my mouth and blew. Not a
sound came from the thing.
The signal was given a third time.
Then I took the horn again, put it to my lips and blew as hard as I could.
The result was terrible. My ears were deafened, the windows shook, the hats
of my visitors rained from their pegs, and as I pressed my hands to my head, the horn
player came out, shaky on his feet, and looked at the guests, who began to appear on
the stairs...
For the next three months I studied horn-blowing. I did not like my teacher
and hated to hear him always saying that the horn was more like the human voice
than any other instrument. But he was clever, and I worked hard without a word
of complaint. At last I asked him if he thought I could play something in private to
a friend.
"Well, Colonel," he said, "I'll tell you the truth: it would be beyond your
ability. You haven't the lip for it. You blow too hard, and it spoils the impression.
What were you thinking of playing to your friend?"
"Something that you must teach me, Schubert's serenade."
+He stared at me, and shook his head. "It isn't written for the instrument, sir,"
he said, "you'll never play it." But I insisted. "The first time I play it through without
a mistake, I'll give you five pounds," I said. So the man gave in.

Active vocabulary.
to put down – 1) змусити замовчати; 2) записувати
to put up – 1) зводити (будівлю); 2) робити об’яву; 3) піднімати ціну;
4) змиритися з чимось.
 27

to put up (at a hotel) – оселитися (в готелі)

to put off - 1) відкладати (справу); 2) знімати (верхній одяг); 3) відмовляти
когось від чогось; 4) звільнитися від когось
to put smth. down to smb. - відносити щось за рахунок когось
аmateur - любитель
a feature - особливість
an advantage (over)- перевага (над)
to take advantage of the situation - скористатися перевагою ситуації|
to apologize (to smb. for smth.) - вибачатися (перед ким-небудь за що-небудь)
to hate - ненавидіти
to mention - згадувати
the above-mentioned - вищезазначений
to avoid (smth.) - уникати (чогось)
to turn up - з’являтися раптово
to fail - терпіти невдачу
failure – невдач, відмова|
to spoil (spoilt, spoilt) - псувати
beyond - за межами (розуміння, свідомості)
within - в межах
to press smb. to do smth. - примушувати когось зробити щось
to press the matter - 1) вимагати, 2) знаходитися під тиском обставин
urgent - терміновий
a complaint - скарга
to complain (of, about) - скаржитися
private – приватний, власний personal - особистий
to think (of, about) - думати
to think smth. оver – обдумувати
to stare (at) - пильно подивитися|поглянути| (на)
to insist (on)- наполягати(на)
 28

to give in - поступатися, здаватися to give up – 1) відмовитися; 2) поступитися,

3) змиритися з чимось
to give away – 1) дарувати, віддавати; 2) викривати когось

Exercise 1. Find English equivalents for the following.

він повинен був розташуватися внизу; досить здатна до музики молода
людина; я вирішив перервати їх розмову; якщо ви не заперечуєте; щось в
цьому роді; останні три дні я живу нею; я б ніколи не наважилася; я не хочу
вас турбувати; я вибачився перед Ліндою; сигнал пролунав знову; я бачив
тільки один спосіб; подув щосили; наступні три місяці; коли я вперше зіграю
її до кінця.

Exercise 2. Answer the following questions, using the active vocabulary of the
lesson.
1. What kind of performance did Colonel Green put on?
2. What was one of the important features of the play?
3. Why did Colonel Green mention the place where the horn player was to sit?
4. What made Colonel Green think that Mr Porcharlester had an advantage over
him in Linda's eyes?
5. Whom did Colonel Green mean by "older and cleverer men"?
6. What did Colonel Green do after making all the necessary arrangements?
7. Why did Colonel Green hate to hear Linda mention the young man's name?
8. Why did Colonel Green try to avoid a straight answer to Linda's question?
9. Why didn't the horn player turn up at the appointed time? Had he really mixed
anything up?
10. Why was Colonel Green so displeased at this? What would the horn player's
absence mean for the success of the play?

Exercise 3. Answer the following questions, using the active vocabulary of the
lesson.
 29

1. Was it clear to Colonel Green how the horn player had managed to get so
drunk, or was it beyond him?
2. What did Colonel Green think was the only way to save the play from failure?
3. Why did Colonel Green press his hands to his head after blowing the horn?
4. What did Colonel Green hate to hear his teacher say?
5. Did Colonel Green complain that horn-blowing was hard work? Why not?
6. What did the teacher say about Colonel Green's ability to play the horn? What
did he say particularly spoilt the impression?
7. What did Colonel Green wish to play in private to a friend?
8. Why did the teacher stare at the Colonel on hearing this?
9. Why did Colonel Green insist on being taught to play the serenade?
10. Why did the teacher finally give in?

Exercise 4. Complete the following sentences from the text.

1. The horn player was to place himself downstairs in the hall, ... 2. The next chair,
... had been taken by Mr Porcharlester, a young man... 3. I decided to... 4. "Boys will
be boys," I said when he had gone, "But..." 5. I love it. I dream of it. I've... 6. "Green,"
said Porcharlester, "I don't wish to bother you, but the man..." 7. I ran back to the
hall, promising myself... 8. Not a sound... 9. "Well, Colonel," he said, ...

Exercise 5. Translate the sentences from Ukrainian into English.

Я найняв гравця, щоб грав на горні. 2. Краще місце зайняла красива Лінда
Фіцнайтінгейл. 3. Але як - ваші музичні заняття? 4. Я ненавидів навіть згадку
цього імені. 5. Я спробував уникнути прямої відповіді. 6. Я працював старанно
без жодного слова скарги.

Exercise 6. Substitute words and word combinations from the text for the
italicized parts.
1.I celebrated my fortieth birthday by putting on a theatrical performance which was
to be played by some of my friends, who were not professional actors. 2. As Linda
 30

loved music, Porcharlester's talent, in her eyes, placed him above older and cleverer
men. 3. ...I hurried to Linda's side, saying I was sorry I had been away for such a
long time. 4. I disliked to hear her say the name, so I said... 5. I tried not to give a
straight answer. 6. "I don't wist to bother you, but the man who is to play the horn
hasn't come yet." 7. "I ordered him at exactly half past seven. If he doesn't do what
he is expected to do, the play will not be successful." 8. I could not understand at
all where he had got the bottles from. 9. I saw but one way to save the play
from being quite unsuccessful. 10. He was clever and I worked hard without saying
a word against it. 11. At last I asked him if he thought I could play it to a friend when
no one else was present. 12. "Well, Colonel," he said, "I'll tell you the truth: you'd
never be able to play it. You blow too hard and the impression
is unpleasant. What did you wish to play?" 13. He gave me a long, close look and
shook his head, but my decision was firm, so at last the man said he would teach me.

Exercise 7. Retell the text from the name of:

A) Colonel Green; B) Mr Porcharlester; C) Miss Linda Fitznightingale.

Exercise 8. Make up your own dialogue between Colonel Green and music
teacher as to the playing Schubert's serenade on the horn. The serenade

ТЕКСТ 7. THE SERENADE (Part 2)

by G. Bernard Shaw
I did succeed at last.
"I hate to discourage you, but if I were you, Colonel", my teacher said, as he
put the five pounds into his pocket, "I'd keep the tune to myself and play something
simpler to my friends."
I didn't take this advice, though I now see that he was right. But at that time
I intended to serenade Linda. Her house was situated at the northern end of Park
Lane, and I had already bribed a servant to let me into the small garden between the
 31

house and the street. Late in June I at last learned that she intended to stay at home
for an evening. "I'll make an attempt," I thought, and at nine o'clock I took up my
horn and drove to Marble Arch, where I got out and walked to her house. I was
stopped by the voice of Porcharlester calling, "Hello, Colonel!"
The meeting was most inconvenient. I did not want him to ask me where I was
going, so I thought it best to ask him first.
"I'm going to see Linda," he answered. "She told me last night that she would
be all alone this evening. You know how good she is. I love her. If I could be sure
that it is myself and not my voice that she likes, I should be the happiest man in
England."
"I'm quite sure it can't be your voice," I said.
"Thank you," he said. "It's very kind of you to say so. Do you know I've never
had the courage to sing that serenade since she told me she loved it?"
"Why? Doesn't she like the way you sing it?"
"I never dare sing it before her, but I'm going to surprise her with it tomorrow
at. Mrs Locksley Hall's. If you meet her, don't say a word of this. It's to be a surprise."
"I have no doubt it will be," I said, happy to know that he would be a day too
late.
We parted, and I saw him enter Linda's house. A few minutes later I was in
the garden, looking up at them from my place in the shadow of a big tree as they sat
near the open window.
I thought he would never go. I almost decided to go home. Had I not heard
her playing the piano, I should never have held out. At eleven o'clock they rose, and
I was now able to hear what they were saying.
"Yes," she said, "it's time for you to go. But you might have sung the serenade
for me. I've played it three times for you."
"I have a cold," he said. "Don't be angry with me. You'll hear me sing it sooner
than you think, perhaps."
"Sooner than I think? If you want to give me a surprise, I'll forgive you. I'll
see you at Mrs Locksley Hall's tomorrow, I hope."
 32

He said "yes", and hurried away.

When he was gone, she came to the window and looked out at the stars. I took
out the horn.
I began. At the first note I saw her stare and listen: she recognized the
serenade... The instrument was like ice, and my lips were stiff. But in spite of all
that, I succeeded fairly well.
When I had finished, I looked up at the window. She was writing now. A
minute later the door of the house opened, and the servant whom I had bribed came
towards me with a letter in his hand. My heart beat as I saw it.
"Are you there, sir?" I heard him say as I came out of the shadow. "Miss Linda
told me to give you this," he held out the letter. "But you are not to open it, if you
please, until you get home."
"Then she knew who I was," I said.
"I think so, sir."
I ran all the way to Hamilton Place, where I got into a taxi. Ten minutes later
I was in my study opening the letter:
714, Park Lane, Eriday. "Dear Mr. Porcharlester,"
I stopped. Did she think it was he who had serenaded her? The letter continued
thus:
"I am sorry that you respect my love for Schubert's serenade so little as to
make fun of it. I can tell you that I shall never be able to hear the serenade without a
strange mixture of laugh and pain. I did not know that a
human throat could produce such sounds. I have only one more word to say: Good-
bye. I shall not have the pleasure of meeting you at Mrs Locksley Hall's tomorrow.
I don't think I'll be able to receive you again this season.
I am, dear Mr. Porcharlester,
Yours truly, Linda Fitznightingale".
I felt that to send this letter to Porcharlester would only pain
him uselessly. I also felt that my teacher was right, and that I had not the lip for the
French horn. So I gave it up.
 33

Linda is now my wife. I sometimes ask her why she will not see Porcharlester,
who has done her no wrong. She always refuses to tell me.

Active vocabulary.
to succeed (in) - мати успіх (у)
to discourage (from) - відговорювати, перешкоджати (від)
to encourage - заохочувати
tointend - збиратися зробити щось
an attempt- спроба
to make an attempt - зробити спробу
convenient (inconvenient) - зручний, придатний (незручний)
shade - тінь, відтінок
a shadow - тінь
to forgive - вибачати, прощати
to respect - поважати
to have a sore throat - мати хворе (запалене) горло
production - виробництво
useless - даремний (некорисний)|
useful -корисний
to make use of smth. - використовувати щось
Іt's no use - Від цього немає ніякої користі
What's the use of it? - Яка з цього користь?
to refuse - відмовити(ся)

Exercise 1. Find English equivalents for the following (See Text).

я не прислухався до цієї поради; в кінці червня; не може бути, щоб це був ваш
голос; це дуже люб'язно з вашого боку; то хіба їй не подобається, як ви співаєте
її?; не кажіть ні слова про це; він на день запізниться; вам час йти; якщо ви
хочете зробити мені сюрприз; ми побачимося у місіс Локслі Хол; при першій
 34

ноті я побачив, як вона здригнулася і прислухалася; він простягнув мені листa;

я біг всю дорогу; я сів у таксі; він нічого поганого їй не зробив.

Exercise 2. Answer the following questions, using the active vocabulary of the
lesson.
1. Would the Colonel have succeeded in learning the serenade if he hadn't
worked hard?
2. Do you think the teacher's advice was discouraging? Why?
3. What did Colonel Green intend to attempt? Would he have thought of
serenading Linda if he hadn't known she was alone?
4. Where did the Colonel run into Porcharlester? Why was the meeting
inconvenient? Would Colonel Green have started the conversation himself if he
hadn't felt awkward?
5. What was Linda's reaction to the first note produced by the Colonel's horn?
6. Where did the servant find Colonel Green when he wanted to hand him the
letter?
7. Why did the Colonel only open the letter at home? Did he think it was
inconvenient to do so in front of the servant?
8. What made Linda think that Porcharlester did not respect her love for
Schubert's serenade?
9. Why did Linda think that the sounds had been produce by a human throat?
Would she have thought so if the instrument hadn't sounded like a man's voice?
10. Did the Colonel really think that to be frank with Porcharlester would be
useless? Would he have behaved in a different way if he hadn't thought so?
11. Why did Green give up horn-blowing? Do you think he would have continued
the lessons if he had had more ability?
12. Why did Linda refuse to see Porcharlester?

Exercise 3. Complete the following sentences from the text.

 35

1.If I were you, Colonel, I'd... 2. I had already bribed the servant... 3. The meeting
was most inconvenient. I... 4. If I could be sure that... 5. "Thank you," he said, "it's..."
6. "I never dare sing it before her, but..." 7. "I have no doubt it will be," I said, ... 8.
"Yes," she said, "It's..." 9. I saw her start and listen... 10. "..." I heard him say... 11.
I ran all the way to Hamilton Place, ... 12. I am sorry that you respect my love for
Schubert's serenade... 13. I felt that... 14. He has given his word...

Exercise 4. Translate the sentences from Ukrainian into English.

1.Я не прислухався до цієї поради, хоча зараз я бачу, що вона була правa|. 2. Я
вважав, що я зроблю спробу. 3. Зустріч була незручною. 4. Я не захотів, щоб
він спитав мене, куди я йшов. 5.Ми розійшлися, і я бачив, як він входить до
будинку Лінди. 6. Вона сказала, "Вам час ідти". 7. Але ви могли б проспівати
серенаду для мене". 8. Коли він пішов, вона підійшла до вікна і дивилася на
зірки. 9. Моє серце забилося сильніше, коли я побачив це. 10. Я відчував, що
відправити цей лист до Почелестеру – лише зробити йому боляче.

TEXT 8. IS HE LIVING OR IS HE DEAD

by Mark Twain
I was spending the month of March in 1892 on the Riviera in France. I was
staying at a spa, which was more private than most, especially those in Monte Carlo
a few miles away. The place was beautiful with bright sunshine, a gentle wind, and
a beautiful blue sea.
As a rule, the rich do not come there, however during my visit a rich man
who told many stories came for a visit.
One day, at breakfast, he exclaimed. “'Quick! Look at the man who is walking
out the door.”
“Why?'” I asked
“Do you know who he is?” he inquired
“Yes. He has been here for several days here before you came. He is old,
 36

retired, and very rich. They say he is form the Lyons, and I guess he is alone in the
world because he always looks sad and doesn't talk with anybody. His name is Ted
Magnan,” I answered curious as to why he would ask the question.
After thinking for a while and letting his breakfast become cold, he stated,
“'No, it's gone; I can't remember what I was thinking.”
In the evening, he invited me to his room and offered me a drink. I sat down
for a relaxing evening of conversation with him.
“I have a story to tell you that might surprise you, are you ready?” he asked.
“Sure, go on. I love a good story,” I was eager to hear his tale. He began to
tell his story:
“A long time ago, when I was a young artist looking to improve my talent, I
went to France, where I traveled from place to place making paintings and sketches.
“One day, I met two French artists who were doing the same thing. I joined
them and we traveled together. We were as happy as we were poor, or we were as
poor as were happy, I am not sure which says it better.
“Their names were Claude and Carl. We were always laughing and in good
spirits, even though we were very poor. We got money from selling our drawings
from time to time. When nobody would buy our pictures, we went hungry.
“Once, while I was in the north of France, we stopped in Breton Village. We
had a very difficult time selling our sketches and paintings there.
“We met another artist who was as poor as we were who lived in that village.
He took us into his house and saved us from starvation. The artist’s name was
François Millet.”
I interrupted, “The famous François Millet?!” “Yes, it was he.
“He wasn’t any better than we were. He wasn’t even famous in his own
village. “We were so poor we could only have cabbage for dinner and sometimes we
couldn’t
even get cabbage. We lived and worked together for over two years.
“One day, Claude said, ‘Boys, we’ve come to the end. Do you understand?
Everybody is against us. I’ve been all around the village and they do not want to
 37

give us food unless we pay them the money first.’

“There was a long silence.
“At last, Millet said, “What shall we do? I can’t think of anything. Can you
boys?” “No one answered.
“Then Carl began to pace back and forth across the room.
“Suddenly he stopped. He stood in front of a painting he had just finished,
and said, ‘It’s a shame! Look at these pictures. They are good, as good as any of
the well-known
artists. Many people we’ve sold our pictures to have said so, but they don’t
want to buy our paintings anymore.’
“Carl sat down and said, ‘I know how we can become rich.’ “ ‘Rich! Have
you lost your mind?’ François asked.
“ ‘No, I haven’t,’ responded Carl.
“ ‘ Yes, you have. You’ve definitely lost your mind. How will we become
rich?’ I
asked.
“ ‘A hundred thousand Francs per painting,’ Carl said matter-of-factly. “ ‘He
has lost his mind. Now I know it for sure,’ Claude said.
“ ‘I spoke up and said, ‘Yes, he has.’
“Then I looked over at Carl, ‘These troubles have been too much for you,
and….’ “Claude interrupted me, ‘Carl, you need to take some medicine and go to
bed!’
“ ‘Stop it!’ said François seriously. ‘And let the boy say what he wants to.’
“Then to Carl he said, ‘OK Carl, go ahead and tell us your plan. What is it?’
“ ‘Well then, to begin with, I will ask you to note this fact in human history.
Many
great artists died of starvation. Only after their death did people begin to buy
their paintings and pay large sums of money for them,’ Carl began to explain. ‘So,
the idea is quite clear. One of us must die. Let’s draw lots to see who it will be.’
“We all laughed very hard at this idea, but through it all he waited quietly
and then he continued his plan.
 38

“ ‘Yes, one of us must die to save us. We will draw lots. The one who dies
will become famous, and the rest of us will become rich.
“ ‘Here is my idea. During the next three months, the one who must die will
paint as many paintings as he can. He will create sketches and pictures with his
name on them and do something that is easy to recognize as his artwork. All these
things will be valuable and then can be sold or collected at high prices by the world’s
museums, but only after the artist is dead.
“ ‘In the meantime, the rest of us will inform people that the great artist Millet
is
dying and that he won’t live for more than three months,’ Carl explained his
plan to us. “We asked him, ‘What if he doesn’t die?’
Carl answered our question, “Oh, he won’t really die. He will only change his
name and disappear. We will bury a dummy and cry over it. The entire world will
help us. And…..”
“We didn’t allow him to finish. We applauded his idea, jumped up and down,
and hugged each other’s necks. We were happy and excited about making the plan
work. We talked for hours about this wonderful plan, forgetting that we were
hungry.
“After we calmed down, we drew lots. François was the one who drew the lot
to die. “We gathered what few things we had and took them to the pawnshop. This
would
allow us to travel and have food for at least a few days as we told people
about François and sell his paintings.
“The next morning Claude, Carl and I left the village. Each one of us had
several small paintings and sketches made by François. We went different
directions. Carl went to Paris, and Claude and I planned to travel throughout the
countryside.
“On the second day of my journey, I stopped to paint a wonderful villa. The
owner saw me painting and came down to look at my work. He liked what I had
done. I showed him the picture by François Millet. I pointed to his name in the
 39

corner of the artwork.

“ ‘Do you know who this is?’ I asked proudly. ‘He is the one who taught me
to paint.’
“The man looked confused.
“ ‘Don’t you know the name François Millet?’ I asked him. ‘He is dying and
only has three months to live.’
“He paused for a second, and then he said, ‘Of course, it’s a Millet, I
recognize it now.’
“He said this even though he had never heard of him before, but he pretended
to know the name.
‘May I buy that painting from you?’ he asked.
“At first, I said no, but he insisted, so I let him have it for eight hundred
Francs. “The picture I made of his house was very nice. At first, I was going to offer
it to
him for ten Francs, the price I used to sell my paintings for, but then I thought,
‘I’m a student of the master,’ so I sold it for one hundred Francs.
“I sent the eight hundred Francs to François and continued my journey. Along
the way I sold many more of Millet’s paintings, as well as my own. I always made
a point to say, ‘I’m a fool to sell a Millet at this price. He only has three months to
live. When he dies his pictures will most certainly sell for a much higher price.’
“I didn’t walk, I rode. I had enough money to buy a horse. I would only offer
to sell one Millet at a time.
“Our plan was far more successful than we had dreamed. Every town we
went to, we met with the owner of the town newspaper and told them the story of
how François Millet, our master, was near death.
“We would get copies of the newspapers and share the information with the
people we met along the way.
“Millet’s fame grew more and more. He was even becoming famous in
America. “At the end of six weeks we all met in Paris. We decided not to ask Millet
for more
art. We were now ready for him to die. We sent word to Millet to begin to
 40

prepare for his death. We told him to die in ten days. We counted our money and
found we had sold eighty- five small paintings and had earned sixty-nine thousand
Francs!
“Claude and I went back to the village to care for the dying Millet. We sent
messages to the newspapers about his condition and impending death. Actually, we
helped him produce more art. We made sure that no one came into the house.
“The sad day came, and Millet was no more. Carl returned to the village to help
carry the casket, which had a wax dummy inside, to the grave site. Millet disguised
himself as one of his cousins and helped carry his own casket.
“A large crowd from far and wide attended the funeral.
“After the funeral, we continued to sell Millet’s paintings. We made more
money
than we knew what to do with.
“He became so famous that one man in Paris purchased seventy of Millet’s
artwork and paid us two million Francs!” he finished his story.
I asked, “Whatever became of François Millet?'
Leaning forward and speaking in a soft voice he asked me, “'Can you keep a
secret?” “I can,” I responded.
“Do you remember the man I called your attention to in the dining room this
morning? That was François Millet,” he informed me.
“Great Scott! That was François Millet?” I replied.
“Yes, and for once an artist didn’t starve while others put money into their
pockets; the rewards he deserved for his work. We made sure of that!” he said a with
a smile on his face.

Exercise1. Match the word to its definition:

sketches unsure, baffled, puzzled
good spirits a fake person, doll
starvation in a good mood, happy
 41

draw lots place to get money for goods

dummy coming soon, about to happen
pawnshop choose by shortest straw
villa pencil drawings
confused dying of hunger
owner large home, country house
impending one who owns a business

Exercise 2. True / False:

1. The writer of the story was an artist.

2. There were five artists living together.

3. François Millet died of the smallpox.

4. Claude made a plan to make a lot of money.

5. The other artists laughed at the idea.

6. They sold many paintings.

7. The artists buried a dummy.

8. François Millet went to America.

9. The other artists could not sell their own artwork.

10. The artists almost starved to death.

Exercise 3. Write a complete sentence to answer the question.

1. What kind of food did the artist usually eat?
2. What kind of work did they do?
3. What did they sell to make money?
4. Where did Carl go to sell François Millet’s paintings?
5. With whom did they speak to in each of the towns they came to?
6. Who was chosen to die?
 42

7. Who helped carry his own casket while in disguise?

8. What did the man in Paris pay for seventy-five paintings?
9. Who made the plan to kill Millet?
10. Where did Claude and the writer go to sell paintings?

TEXT 9. A CUP OF TEA

by Katherine Mansfield
Rosemary Fell was not exactly beautiful. She was young, brilliant, extremely
modern, well dressed and amazingly well read in the newest of the new books.
Rosemary had been married two years, and her husband was very fond of her. They
were rich, really rich, not just comfortably well-off, so if Rosemary wanted to shop,
she would go to Paris as you and I would go to Bond Street.
One winter afternoon she went into a small shop to look at a little box which
the shopman had been keeping for her. He had shown it to nobody as yet so that she
might be the first to see it.
"Charming!" Rosemary admired the box. But how much would he charge her
for it? For a moment the shopman did not seem to hear. The lady could certainly
afford a high price. Then his words reached her, "Twenty-eight guineas, madam."
"Twenty-eight guineas." Rosemary gave no sign. Even if one is rich... Her
voice was dreamy as she answered: "Well, keep it for me, will you? I'll..." The
shopman bowed. He would be willing of course, to keep if lor her for ever.
Outside rain was falling, there was a cold, bitter taste in the air, and the newly
lighted lamps looked sad... At that very moment' a young girl, thin, dark, appeared
at Rosemary's elbow and a voice, like a sigh, breathed: "Madam, may I speak to you
a moment?"
"Speak to me?" Rosemary turned. She saw a little creature, no older than
herself who shivered as though she had just come out of the water.
"Madam," came the voice, "would you let me have the price of a cup of tea?"
 43

"A cup of tea?" There was something simple, sincere in that voice; it couldn't
be the voice of a beggar.
"Then have you no money at all?" asked Rosemary. "None, madam", came
the answer.
"How unusual!" Rosemary looked at the girl closer.
And suddenly it seemed to her such an adventure. Supposing she took the girl
home? Supposing she did one of those things she was always reading about or seeing
on the stage? What would happen? It would be thrilling. And she heard herself
saying afterwards to the amazement of her friends: "1 simply took her home with
me." And she stepped forward and said to the girl beside her: "Come home to tea
with me."
The girl gave a start. "You're – you're not taking me to the police station?"
There was pain in her voice.
"The police station!" Rosemary laughed out. "Why should I be so cruel? No,
I only want to make you warm and to hear – anything you care to tell me. Come
along."
Hungry people are easily led. The footman held the door of the car open, and
a moment later they were riding through the dusk.
"There!" cried Rosemary, as they reached her beautiful big bedroom. 'Come
and sit down", she said, pulling her big chair up to the fire. "Come and get warm.
You look so terribly cold."
"I daren't, madam," hesitated the girl.
"Oh, please," – Rosemary ran forward – "you mustn't be frightened, you
mustn't, really." And gently she half pushed the thin figure into the chair.
There was a whisper that sounded like "Very good, madam," and the worn hat
was taken off.
"'And let me help you off with your coat, too," said Rosemary.
The girl stood up. But she held on to the chair with one hand and let Rosemary
pull.
 44

Then she said quickly, but so lightly and strangely: "I'm very sorry, madam,
but I'm going to faint. I shall fall, madam, if I don't have something."
"Good heavens, how thoughtless 1 am!" Rosemary rushed to the bell.
"Tea! Tea at once! And some brandy immediately."
The maid was gone and the girl almost burst into tears. She forgot to be shy,
forgot everything except that they were both women, and cried out: "I can't go on
any longer like this. I can't stand it. I wish I were dead. I really can't stand it!"
"You won't have to. I'll look after you. I'll arrange something. Do stop crying.
Please."
The other did stop just in time for Rosemary to get up before the tea came.
And really the effect of that slight meal was amazing. When the tea-table was
carried away, a new girl, a light creature with dark lips and deep eyes lay back in the
big chair.
At that moment the door-handle turned.
"Rosemary, can I come in?" It was Philip, her husband.
"Of course."
He came in. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, as if apologizing, and stopped and
stared.
"It's quite all right," said Rosemary, smiling. "This is my friend. Miss –"
"Smith, madam," said the figure in the chair.
"Smith." said Rosemary. "We are going to have a little talk."
Philip smiled his charming smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I wanted you
to come into the library for a moment. Will Miss Smith excuse us?"
The big eyes were raised to him, but Rosemary answered for her: "Of course
she will", and they went out of the room together.
"1 say," said Philip, when they were alone. "Explain, who is she? What does
it all mean?"
Rosemary, laughing, leaned against the door and said: "I picked her up in the
street. Really. She asked me for the price of a cup of tea and I brought her home with
me.'
 45

"Congratulations!" Philip sounded as though he were joking. "But what on

earth2 are you going to do with her?"
"Be nice to her", said Rosemary quickly, "look after her. I don't know how.
We haven't talked yet. Just show her – treat her – make her feel –"
"But," said Philip slowly, and he cut the end of a cigar, "she's so extremely
pretty. She can't be more than twenty."
"Pretty?" Rosemary was so surprised that she blushed. "Do you think so? I –
I hadn't thought about it."
"Good Lord!" Philip took a match. "She's absolutely lovely. Look again, my
child. But let me know if Miss Smith is going to dine with us!"
"You absurd creature!" said Rosemary, and she went out of the library, but
not back to her bedroom. She went to her writing-room and sat down at her desk.
Pretty! Absolutely lovely! Her heart beat like a heavy bell. She opened a drawer,
took out five pound notes, looked at them, put two back, and holding the three in her
hand, went back to her bedroom.
Half an hour later Philip was still in the library, when Rosemary came in.
"I only wanted to tell you," said she, and she leaned against the door again,
"Miss Smith won't dine with us tonight."
Philip put down the paper. "Oh, what's happened? Previous engagement?"
Rosemary came over and sat down on his knee. "She insisted on going," she
said, "so I gave the poor little thing a present of money. I couldn't keep her against
her will, could I?" she added softly.
There was a pause.
Then Rosemary said dreamily: "I saw a wonderful little box today. It cost
twenty-eight guineas. Can I have it?"
"You can, little wasteful one," said he. "You know I can't deny you anything."
But that was not really what Rosemary wanted to say.
"Philip," she whispered, "am I pretty?"
 46

Exercise 1. Make up fifteen questions on the text, using the active vocabulary
of the lesson.

Exercise 2. Paraphrase the following passages from the text.

1.They were ... not just comfortably well-off. 2. Rosemary gave no sign. 3. At this
very moment a young girl ... appeared at Rosemary's elbow and a voice like a sigh
breathed ... 4. ... to hear anything you care to tell me. 5. Hungry people are easily
led. 6. They were riding through the dusk. 7. And let me help you off with your coat.
8.1 picked her up in the street. 9. Previous engagement?

Exercise 3. Substitute words and word combinations from the text for the
italicized parts.
1.Rosemary felt delighted at the sight of the box. 2. Rosemary did not show what she
thought. 3. She saw a little creature no older than herself, who trembled with
cold... 4.... and a moment later the car was taking them home through the dusk. "And
let me help you take off your coat, too," said Rosemary. Rosemary quickly ran to the
bell. 7. And really what that slight meal had done to her was amazing. 8. She's
so surprisingly good-looking. 9. Rosemary was so surprised that she turned
red. 10. You know I can't say "no" to anything you ask.

Exercise 4. Find English equivalents for the following.

дуже начитана; залиште її для мене, добре?; в цей самий момент; мадам, можна
з вами поговорити?; у вас такий вигляд, ніби ви дуже змерзли; дозвольте мені
допомогти вам роздягнутися; якщо я не з'їм що-небудь; я не можу більше так
жити; вам і не доведеться, я подбаю про вас; я що-небудь влаштую; ви вибачте
нас, міс Сміт?; їй не більше двадцяти; дай мені знати; що трапилося?; вона вже
запрошена?
 47

Exercise 5. Correct the following statements, using modal verbs wherever

possible.
1.Rosemary Fell was a middle-aged woman, plain in appearance and old-fashioned
in every way. She came from a poor family and had to choose the cheapest places
when she went shopping.
1. Seeing that Rosemary did not admire the box, the shopman tried to get her
interested in it, but the price frightened her away, and she said at once that she could
not afford it.
2. When Rosemary turned to answer the question, she saw an ugly creature of
about forty who spoke in a loud voice and looked like a beggar. So Rosemary had
no wish to help her out of her difficulties.
3. The girl felt quite at home in Rosemary's big bedroom, so she took a seat in
the big chair without being invited to do so, and took off her worn coat and hat.
4. When Philip entered the room, he did not apologize to his wife and her visitor,
but said that he would like to join in their conversation.
5. Philip found the girl extremely unattractive and thought she looked much
older than she really was, so he suggested that Rosemary should send her away as
soon as possible.
6. After the conversation with her husband, Rosemary realized that she was
really sorry for the girl, and she offered the poor creature all the money she had at
the moment.
7. When Rosemary saw her husband half an hour later, her heart was still full of
sorrow, and her only wish was to talk about the girl, though Philip did not mention
the subject at all.

Exercise 6. Discuss the following questions.

1. Why does the author mention Bond Street in describing Rosemary Fell's position
in society?
 48

2. Why didn't the shopman answer Rosemary's question at once? Would he have
charged so much for the box if he hadn't known that Mrs Fell was extremely rich?
Why not?
3. Why did Rosemary show no emotion on hearing the price?
4. Why did the girl stumbJe over her words when she spoke to Rosemary? Would
she have approached Rosemary if she hadn't felt terribly hungry?
5. Would Rosemary have taken the girl home if the girl had been a beggar? What
would she have done in that case?
6. Why did the girl forget to be shy when she was in Rosemary's bedroom? What
made her forget?
7. Why did Philip ask Rosemary to let him know whether the girl was going to dine
with them?
8. Why did Rosemary's heart beat like a heavy bell when she went to her writing-
room?
9. Why didn't Rosemary give her husband the true reason for sending the girl away?
10.Why did Rosemary ask her husband whether she was pretty?
11.What would have happened to the girl if she hadn't had a cup of tea?
12.What would Rosemary have done if her husband hadn't said that the girl she had
picked up was extremely pretty?

Exercise 7. Retell the text: a) without details in 2-3 minutes, b) as Mr. Fell (Mrs.
Pell, the shopman, Miss Smith, the footman).

Exercise 8. Dramatize the following episodes.

Rosemary speaking to the shopman.
Rosemary speaking to the girl in the street and at home.
Rosemary speaking to her husband in her bedroom and in the library.

Exercise 9. Describe (the appearance, character, clothes, way of life):

1. Rosemary Fell (well-off, to speak several languages, pretty, blue-eyed,
modern, slender, to do one's hair, in the latest fashion, to have nothing to do with,
 49

extremely, amazingly, to show good taste, to care for, to afford, to waste, (not) to
deny oneself).
2. Miss Smith (slim, pretty, regular features, dark-haired, dark-eyed, straight
little nose, shabby clothes, old-fashioned, to rush, to do without, to have an effect
on, to tell on, to deny oneself, to stand, to be unable to control oneself).
3. Philip (well-built, tall, handsome, to wear, fashionable, strong-willed, gay, a
sense of humour, intelligent, well-off, to ride in a car, to afford, to spend, to admire,
pretty, to be in charge of).

ТЕКСТ 10. THE OPEN WINDOW

by Saki (H.H. Munro)
"My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel," said a very self-possessed
young lady of fifteen; "in the meantime you must try and put up with me."
Framton Nuttel endeavored to say the correct something which should duly
flatter the niece of the moment without unduly discounting the aunt that was to come.
Privately he doubted more than ever whether these formal visits on a succession of
total strangers would do much towards helping the nerve cure which he was
supposed to be undergoing
"I know how it will be," his sister had said when he was preparing to migrate
to this rural retreat; "you will bury yourself down there and not speak to a living
soul, and your nerves will be worse than ever from moping. I shall just give you
letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as I can
remember, were quite nice."
Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was
presenting one of the letters of introduction came into the nice division.
"Do you know many of the people round here?" asked the niece, when she
judged that they had had sufficient silent communion.
"Hardly a soul," said Framton. "My sister was staying here, at the rectory, you
know, some four years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the
 50

people here."
He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.
"Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?" pursued the self-
possessed young lady.
"Only her name and address," admitted the caller. He was wondering whether
Mrs.Sappleton was in the married or widowed state. An undefinable something
about the room seemed to suggest masculine habitation.
"Her great tragedy happened just three years ago," said the child; "that would
be since your sister's time."
"Her tragedy?" asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies
seemed out of place.
"You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October
afternoon," said the niece, indicating a large French window that opened on to a
lawn.
"It is quite warm for the time of the year," said Framton; "but has that window
got anything to do with the tragedy?"
"Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her two
young brothers went off for their day's shooting. They never came back. In crossing
the moor to their favorite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a
treacherous piece of bog. It had been that dreadful wet summer, you know, and
places that were safe in other years gave way suddenly without warning. Their
bodies were never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it." Here the child's voice
lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. "Poor aunt always thinks
that they will come back someday, they and the little brown spaniel that was lost
with them, and walk in at that window just as they used to do. That is why the
window is kept open every evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often
told me how they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm,
and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing 'Bertie, why do you bound?' as he always
did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do you know, sometimes on
still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy feeling that they will all walk in
 51

through that window"

She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the aunt
bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in making her
appearance.
"I hope Vera has been amusing you?" she said. "She has been very
interesting," said Framton.
"I hope you don't mind the open window," said Mrs. Sappleton briskly; "my
husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they always come in
this way. They've been out for snipe in the marshes today, so they'll make a fine
mess over my poor carpets. So like you menfolk, isn't it?"
She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds, and the
prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a
desperate but only partially successful effort to turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic;
he was conscious that his hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention,
and her eyes were constantly straying past him to the open window and the lawn
beyond. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence that he should have paid his visit
on this tragic anniversary.
"The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, an absence of mental
excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical exercise,"
announced Framton, who labored under the tolerably widespread delusion that total
strangers and chance acquaintances are hungry for the least detail of one's ailments
and infirmities, their cause and cure. "On the matter of diet they are not so much in
agreement," he continued.
"No?" said Mrs. Sappleton, in a voice which only replaced a yawn at the last
moment.
Then she suddenly brightened into alert attention, but not to what Framton
was saying.
"Here they are at last!" she cried. "Just in time for tea, and don't they look as
if they were muddy up to the eyes!"
Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended
 52

to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open
window with a dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton
swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.
In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards
the window, they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally
burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close
at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice
chanted out of the dusk:
"I said, Bertie, why do you bound?"
Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall door, the gravel drive,
and the front gate were dimly noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming
along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid imminent collision.
"Here we are, my dear," said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming in
through the window, "fairly muddy, but most of it's dry. Who was that who bolted
out as we came up?"
"A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel," said Mrs. Sappleton; "could only
talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of goodbye or apology when
you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost."
"I expect it was the spaniel," said the niece calmly; "he told me he had a horror
of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges
by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the
creatures snarling and grinning and foaming just above him. Enough to make anyone
lose his nerve."
Romance at short notice was her specialty.

Exercise 1. Find words and phrases in the text:

a self­possessed young lady, to put up with smb., to endeavor, to flatter, a formal
visit, a rural retreat, a dreadful wet summer, to come back someday, to get a creepy
feeling, to shudder, be out for snipe in the marshes, to make a desperate effort to turn
the talk on to a less ghastly topic, conscious, an unfortunate coincidence, an absence
 53

of mental excitement, and avoidance of anything in the nature of violent physical

exercise, the least detail of one's ailments and infirmities, to be muddy up to the eyes,
to shiver slightly, to start with a dazed horror in her eyes, a deepening twilight, to
carry guns under smb’s arms, to keep close at one’s heels, a hoarse young voice
chanted out of the dusk, to grab wildly at smb’s stick and hat, to avoid imminent
collision, a ghost, by a pack of pariah dogs, a newly dug grave.

Exercise 2. Make up your own sentences with the given words and phrases.

Exercise 3. Answer the questions:

1. What does Framton think he has seen? What, in fact, has he seen?
2. When does the reader realize that the niece has been lying to Framton?
3. Why is Framton a particularly good candidate for believing the niece’s lies?
4. The author repeatedly refers to the niece as “self-possessed.” What does this
mean? Why is it important that the reader know this about the niece?
5. The niece is a good actress, as well as being a good liar. Give two examples
of her convincing acting.
6. A surprise ending is an unexpected twist at the end of a story. Such an ending
is said to be ironic because it is not what the reader expects. Find clues early in the
story that foreshadow the surprise ending.
7. Irony is the contrast between what is expected and what actually happens.
Dramatic irony results from the reader’s knowing something that a character does
not know. Mrs. Sappleton says that Mr. Nuttle dashed off so fast “one would think
he had seen a ghost.” Why is this statement an example of dramatic irony?

Exercise 4. Give the summary of the story.

 54

ТЕКСТ 11. A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

(by W. S. Maugham)
I left Bangkok on a shabby little ship. I had gone on board early in the morning
and soon discovered that I was thrown amid the oddest collection of persons I had
ever encountered. There were two French traders and a Belgian colonel, an Italian
tenor, the American proprietor of a circus with his wife, and a retired French official
with his.
The French official had been accompanied on board by the French minister at
Bangkok, one or two secretaries and a prince of a royal family. He was evidently a
person of consequence. I had heard the captain address him as Monsieur le
Gouverneur.
Monsieur le Gouverneur was a little man, well below the average height, and
smally made, with a very ugly little face; he had a bushy grey head, bushy grey
eyebrows, and a bushy grey moustache. He did look a little like a poodle2 and he had
the poodle's soft, intelligent and shining eyes.
The Governor's wife was a large woman, tall and of a robust build. She towered
over her diminutive husband like a skyscraper over a shack. He talked incessantly,
with vivacity and wit, and when he said anything amusing her heavy features relaxed
into a large fond smile.
In such a small ship having once made the acquaintance of my fellow
passengers, it would have been impossible, even had I wished it, not to pass with
them every moment of the day that I was not in my cabin.
Talking of one thing and another we watched the day decline, we dined, and
then we sat out again on deck under the stars. Soon, influenced perhaps by the night,
the Italian tenor, accompanying himself on his guitar began to sing. He had the real
Italian voice, and he sang the Neapolitan songs.
I saw that the little French Governor had been holding the hand of his large
wife and the sight was absurd and touching.
'Do you know that this is the anniversary of the day on which I first saw my
wife?' he said, suddenly breaking the silence. 'It is also the anniversary of the day on
 55

which she promised to be my wife. And, which will surprise you, they were one and
the same.'
'You see, ours was a marriage of convenience pure and simple.'
'C'est vrai,' said the lady. 'But sometimes love comes after marriage and not
before, and then it is better. It lasts longer.'
'You see, I had been in the navy, and when I retired I was forty-nine. I was
strong and active and I was very anxious to find an occupation. And presently I was
sent for by the minister to the Colonies and offered the post of Governor in a certain
colony. The minister told me that I must be ready to start in a month. I told him that
would be easy for an old bachelor.'
'You are a bachelor?'
'Certainly,' I answered.
'In that case I am afraid I must withdraw my offer. For this position it is essential
that you should be married.'
'It is too long a story to tell you, but the gist of it was that owing to the scandal
my predecessor had caused, it had been decided that the next Governor must be a
model of respectability. I expostulated. I argued. Nothing would serve. The minister
was adamant.'
'Well, think it over/ said the minister. 'If you can find a wife in a month you can
go, but no wife no job.'
I walked away from the ministry with death in my heart. 5 Suddenly I made up
my mind.6 I walked to the offices of the Figaro, composed an advertisement, and
handed it in for insertion. You will never believe it, but I had four thousand three
hundred and seventy-two replies. It was an avalanche. It was hopeless, I had less
than a month now and I could not see over four thousand aspirants to my hand in
that time. I gave it up as a bad job. I went out of my room hideous with all those
photographs and littered papers and to drive care away went on to the boulevard and
sat down at the Cafe de la Paix. After a time I saw a friend passing. My friend
stopped and coming up to me sat down.
'What is making you look so glum?' he asked me.
 56

I was glad to have someone in whom I could confide my troubles and told him
the whole story. He laughed. Controlling his mirth as best he could, he said to me:
'But, my dear fellow, do you really want to marry?' At this I entirely lost my temper.9
'You are completely idiotic,' I said. 'If I did not want to marry, do you imagine
that I should have spent three days reading love letters from women I have never set
eyes on?'
'Calm yourself and listen to me,' he replied. 'I have a cousin who lives in
Geneva. She is Swiss. Her morals are without reproach, she is of a suitable age, a
spinster, for she has spent the last fifteen years nursing an invalid mother who has
lately died, she is well educated and she is not ugly.'
'There is one thing you forget. What inducement would there be for her to give
up her accustomed life to accompany in exile a man of forty-nine who is by no means
a beauty?'
When I made this remark to my friend he replied: 'One can never tell with
women. There is something about marriage that wonderfully attracts them. There
would be no harm in asking her. '
'But I do not know your cousin and I don't see how I am to make her
acquaintance.'
'I will tell you what to do,' said my friend. 'Go to Geneva and take her a box of
chocolates from me. You can have a little talk and then if you do not like the look
of her you take your leave and no harm is done.'
That night I took the train to Geneva. No sooner had I arrived than I sent her a
letter to say that I was the bearer of a gift from her cousin. Within an hour I received
her reply to the effect that she would be pleased to receive me at four o'clock in the
afternoon. As the clock struck four I presented myself at the door other house. She
was waiting for me. Imagine my surprise to see a young woman with the dignity of
Juno, the features of Venus, and in her expression the intelligence of Minerva. I was
so taken aback that I nearly dropped the box of chocolates. We talked for a quarter
of an hour. And then I said to her.
 57

'Mademoiselle,1 must tell you that I did not come here merely to give you a
box of chocolates. I came to ask you to do me the honour of marrying me.'
She gave a start.
'But, monsieur, you are mad,' she said.
Then I repeated my offer.
'I will not deny that your offer has come as a surprise. I had not thought of
marrying, I have passed the age. I must consult my friends and my family.'
'What have they got to do with it? You are of full age. The matter is pressing. I
cannot wait.
'You are not asking me to say yes or no this very minute? That is outrageous.'
'That is exactly what I am asking.'
'You are quite evidently a lunatic.'
'Well, which is it to be? ' I said. 'Yes or no?'
She shrugged her shoulders. She waited a minute and I was on tenter hooks.
'Yes.'
And there she is. We were married in a fortnight and I became Governor of a
colony. 'I married a jewel, my dear sirs, one in a thousand.'
He turned to the Belgian colonel.
'Are you a bachelor? If so I strongly recommend you to go to Geneva. It is a
nest of the most adorable young women.'
It was she who summed up the story.
'The fact is that in a marriage of convenience you expect less and so you are
less likely to be disappointed. Passion is all very well, but it is not a proper
foundation for marriage. For two people to be happy in marriage they must be able
to respect one another, and their interests must be alike; then if they are decent people
and are willing to give and take, to live and let live, there is no reason why their
union should not be as happy as ours.' She paused. 'But, of course, my husband is a
very remarkable man.'
 58

Proper Names
William Somerset Maugham [ˈwɪljəm ˈsʌməsɛt ˈmɔːm] - Вільям Сомерсег Моем
Bangkok [bæŋˈkɒk] - Бангкок
Belgian [ˈbɛlʤən] - бельгієць
Monsieur le Gourvemeur [məˈsjɜː] (French) - мсьє губернатор
Neapolitan [nɪəˈpɒlɪtən] - неаполітанський
Figaro - Фігаро (назва популярної французької газети)
Cafe de la Paix [ˈkæfeɪ diː lɑː] - кафе де ля Пе
Geneva [ʤɪˈniːvə] - Женева
Juno [ˈʤuːnəʊ] (Latin) - Юнона (дружина Юпітера, богиня шлюбу)
Venus [ˈviːnəs] (Latin) - Венера (богиня любові і краси)
Minerva [mɪˈnɜːvə] (Latin) - Мінерва (богиня мудрості)

Vocabulary Notes
1. ... a person of consequence - ... важлива персона.
2. He did look a little like a poodle. - Дуже вже він був схожий на пуделя. (В
даному випадку має місце так звана емфатична, тобто підсилювальна
конструкція. В звичайну структуру ствердної пропозиції вводиться допоміжне
дієслово did. При перекладі подібних конструкції на українську вживаються
слова типу «саме», «вже», «дуже»).
3. Ours was a marriage of convenience pure and simple. - Наш шлюб був, без
сумніву, шлюбом за розрахунком.
4. C'est vrai [se: 'vre:] (French) - Вірно.
5. ... with death in my heart. - ... з важким серцем.
6. Suddenly I made up my mind. - Несподівано у мене визріло рішення.
7. I gave it up as a bad job. - Я кинув цю безнадійну справу.
8. ... to drive care away ... - ... щоб розвіятися ...
9. At this I entirely lost my temper. - І тут я зовсім втратив самовладання.
10. ... from women I have never set eyes on? - ... від жінок, яких я в очі не бачив?
11. One can never tell with women. - Хто їх розбере, жінок.
 59

12. mademoiselle [mædəm(w)əˈzɛl] - мадемуазель

13. She gave a start. - Вона здригнулася.
14. ... I was on tenterhooks. - ... я був як на голках.
15. Passion is all very well, but ... - Пристрасть - це прекрасно, але…

Exercise 1. Answer the questions.

1.What kind of people were there on board the ship?
2.How did the author guess that the Governor was a person of consequence?
3.What did the Governor and his wife look like?
4.How did it happen that the Governor started telling his story?
5.What impulse did the Governor have to marry?
6.Why was it essential for the next Governor to be married?
7.What did the Governor suddenly decide to do?
8.What kind of response did the Governor get after he had handed in the
advertisement?
9.Why did he give up reading letters?
10. Where did the Governor meet his friend?
11. What did his friend suggest?
12. Did the Governor agree to follow his advice? How?
13. What impression did the lady produce upon the Governor?
14. What reaction did the lady have to his proposal?
15. Was the Governor persistent? Support your opinion.
16. What happened in the end?
17. What piece of advice did the Governor give to the Belgian colonel?
18. How did the lady sum up the story?

Exercise 2. Find in the text the English equivalents for the following words and
phrases.
1) Шлюб за розрахунком; річниця; скласти оголошення; претендент(ка) на
чиюсь руку; поділитися з ким-небудь своїми проблемами; любовне послання;
 60

відповідного віку; незаміжня жінка; піднести коробку цукерок від чийогось

імені; надати честь вийти заміж; вийти з певного віку; бути повнолітнім; один
на тисячу; пристрасть – це прекрасно, але ...; хороша основа для шлюбу; бути
щасливим у шлюбі; поважати один одного; союз.
2) Супроводжувати; важлива персона; звертатися до кого-небудь; набагато
нижче середнього зросту; підніматися над ким-небудь; познайомитися;
говорити про те, про се; на палубі; порушити тишу; служити у флоті; нічого не
допомагало; вирішити; розвіятися; зі всіх сил; вийти з себе; в очі не бачити
кого-небудь; ні в якому разі; бути здивованим; впустити; здригнутися; справа
невідкладна; потиснути плечима; бути як на голках; дуже рекомендувати;
закінчити розповідь.

Exercise 3. Translate the sentences into English using the vocabulary of the text.
1. Хто зможе в сорок років відмовитися від звичного життя і виїхати куди-
небудь далеко, щоб почати все спочатку?
2. Я думаю, що не буде ніякої шкоди, якщо ми детально про все поговоримо.
3. Я прошу відповісти цієї ж секунди.
4. Хоча мені хотілося чимось зайнятися і мені запропонували хорошу роботу,
я все-таки не був готовий почати через день.
5. Кажуть, Наполеон був набагато нижче середнього зросту.
6. Рішення прийшло несподівано. Я відправився прогулятися, щоб розвіятися.
7.Союз двох людей не буде щасливим, якщо вони не поважають один одного.
8. У цій родині щороку святкують річницю весілля.
9.Дивитись на подружжя, яке прожило разом п'ятдесят років - це зворушливе
видовище.
10. У цьому будинку завжди з радістю приймають гостей.
11. Я дуже рекомендую Вам відправитися в подорож на кораблі.
12. Через якийсь час до мене підійшов старий приятель.
13. Подаючи шлюбні оголошення в газету, люди найчастіше шукають
партнерів відповідного віку.
 61

14. Хто їх розбере, жінок? Вони все роблять по-своєму.

15. З усіх сил намагаючись стримати сміх, дама у відповідь просто знизила
плечима.

TEXT 12. THE LAST LEAF

O. Henry
Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young
women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story
building. Johnsy’s real name was Joanna.
In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease,
pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked
through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her
building.
One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he
spoke with Sue in another room.
«She has one chance in – let us say ten», he said. «And that chance is for her
to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well.
Has she anything on her mind?»
«She – she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day», said Sue.
«Paint?» said the doctor. «Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking
twice – a man for example?»
«A man?» said Sue. «Is a man worth – but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the
kind».
«I will do all that science can do», said the doctor. «But whenever my patient
begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the
curative power of medicines».
After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she
went to Johnsy’s room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.
Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking
she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine.
 62

Young artists must work their way to «Art» by making pictures for magazine stories.
Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.
Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting
– counting backward. «Twelve», she said, and a little later «eleven»; and then «ten»
and «nine»; and then «eight» and «seven», almost together.
Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an
empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine,
going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had
stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks.
«What is it, dear?» asked Sue.
«Six,» said Johnsy, quietly. «They’re falling faster now. Three days ago there
were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it’s easy. There
goes another one. There are only five left now».
«Five what, dear?» asked Sue.
«Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I’ve known that
for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you?»
«Oh, I never heard of such a thing», said Sue. «What have old ivy leaves to
do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don’t be silly. Why, the
doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were – let’s
see exactly what he said – he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup
now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy
food and wine for us».
«You needn’t get any more wine», said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the
window. «There goes another one. No, I don’t want any soup. That leaves just four.
I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I’ll go, too».
Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment
building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always been planning to
paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving
as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce old
little man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.
 63

Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been
waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and
how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.
Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. «Are there people in the world with
the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly
business come in her brain?»
«She is very sick and weak», said Sue, «and the disease has left her mind full
of strange ideas».
«This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick»,
yelled Behrman. «Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away».
Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to
cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a
window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking.
A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner.
The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour’s sleep. She found Johnsy with
wide-open eyes staring at the covered window.
«Pull up the shade; I want to see», she ordered, quietly.
Sue obeyed.
After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet
stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark
green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from
the branch about seven meters above the ground.
«It is the last one», said Johnsy. «I thought it would surely fall during the
night. I heard the wind. It will fall today and I shall die at the same time».
«Dear, dear!» said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. «Think
of me, if you won’t think of yourself. What would I do?»
But Johnsy did not answer.
The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade
be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And
then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup.
 64

«I’ve been a bad girl», said Johnsy. «Something has made that last leaf stay
there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a
little soup now».
An hour later she said: «Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples».
Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway.
«Even chances», said the doctor. «With good care, you’ll win. And now I must
see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is – some kind of an
artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There
is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain».
The next day, the doctor said to Sue: «She’s out of danger. You won. Nutrition
and care now – that’s all».
Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around
her.
«I have something to tell you, white mouse», she said. «Mister Behrman died
of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the
morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and
clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had
been on such a terrible night.
And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had
been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and
yellow colors mixed on it.
And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn’t you
wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman’s
masterpiece – he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell».

Exercise 1. Find in the text the English equivalents for the following words and
phrases.
Ділити однокімнатну квартиру. У неї один шанс з, скажімо, десяти. Чи є їй про
що варто думати? Рахувати карети в своїй похоронній процесії. Який
повторювався кілька разів. Рахувати в зворотному порядку. Що там було
 65

рахувати? Старий плющ. Коли останній впаде, тоді я помру. Невдаха. Витвір
мистецтва. Злісний дідуган. Чисте полотно. Полетіти як лист. Опустити штору.
Підняти штору. Проливний дощ і сильний вітер. Тільки один лист плюща
хоробро висів на гілці. Не можна бажати собі смерті. Рівні шанси. Інший
хворий.

Exercise 2. Answer the questions.

1. What were Sue and Johnsy?
2. Where did they live?
3. Where were they from?
4. How did they become friends?
5. What happened to Johnsy?
6. And what happened after the doctor had gone?
7. What was Behrman?
8. How did Behrman concern Sue’s story?
9. What happened to Johnsy in the following morning?
10.What did Sue tell Johnsy about Behrman?
11.Who saved Johnsy’s life?

Exercise 3. Make the dialogue «The conversation between Sue and Johnsy».

Exercise 4. Retell the plot of the story, its characters and of your attitude to this
story.

TEXT 13. POISON

By Roald Dahl
IT must have been around midnight when I drove home, and as I approached
the gates of the bungalow I switched off the headlamps of the car so the beam
wouldn't swing in through the window of the side bedroom and wake Harry Pope.
But I needn't have bothered. Coming up the drive I noticed his light was still on, so
 66

he was awake anyway unless perhaps he'd dropped off while reading.
I parked the car and went up the five steps to the balcony, counting each step
carefully in the dark so I wouldn't take an extra one which wasn't there when I got
to the top. I crossed the balcony, pushed through the screen doors into the house
itself and switched on the light in the hall. I went across to the door of Harry's room,
opened it quietly, and looked in.
He was lying on the bed and I could see he was awake. But he didn't move. He
didn't even turn his head towards me, but I heard him say, "Timber, Timber, come
here."
He spoke slowly, whispering each word carefully, separately, and I pushed the
door right open and started to go quickly across the room.
"Stop, wait a moment, Timber." I could hardly hear what he was saying. He
seemed to be straining enormously to get the words out. "What's the matter, Harry?"
"Sshhh!" he whispered. "Sshhh! For God's sake don't make a noise. Take your
shoes off before you come nearer. Please do as I say, Timber."
The way he was speaking reminded me of George Barling after he got shot in
the stomach when he stood leaning against a crate containing a spare aeroplane
engine, holding both hands on his stomach and saying things about the German pilot
in just the same hoarse straining half whisper Harry was using now.
"Quickly, Timber, but take your shoes off first."
I couldn't understand about taking off the shoes but I figured that if he was as
ill as he sounded I'd better humour him, so I bent down and removed the shoes and
left them in the middle of the floor. Then I went over to his bed.
"Don't touch the bed! For God's sake don't touch the bed!" He was still speaking
like he'd been shot in the stomach and I could see him lying there on his back with
a single sheet covering three-quarters of his body. He was wearing a pair of pyjamas
with blue, brown, and white stripes, and he was sweating terribly. It was a hot night
and I was sweating a little myself, but not like Harry. His whole face was wet and
the pillow around his head was sodden with moisture. It looked like a bad go of
malaria to me.
 67

"What is it, Harry?"

"A krait," he said. "A krait! Oh, my God! Where'd it bite you? How long ago?"
"Shut up," he whispered.
"Listen, Harry," I said, and I leaned forward and touched his shoulder. "We've
got to be quick. Come on now, quickly, tell me where it bit you." He was lying there
very still and tense as though he was holding on to himself hard because of sharp
pain.
"I haven't been bitten," he whispered. "Not yet. It's on my stomach. Lying there
asleep."
I took a quick pace backwards, I couldn't help it, and I stared at his stomach or
rather at the sheet that covered it. The sheet was rumpled in several places and it was
impossible to tell if there was anything underneath.
"You don't really mean there's a krait lying on your stomach now?"
"I swear it."
"How did it get there?" I shouldn't have asked the question because it was easy
to see he wasn't fooling. I should have told him to keep quiet.
"I was reading," Harry said, and he spoke very slowly, taking each word in turn
and speaking it carefully so as not to move the muscles of his stomach. "Lying on
my back reading and I felt something on my chest, behind the book. Sort of tickling.
Then out of the corner of my eye saw this little krait sliding over my pyjamas. Small,
about ten inches. Knew I mustn't move. Couldn't have anyway. Lay there watching
it. Thought it would go over the top of the sheet." Harry paused and was silent for a
few moments. His eyes looked down along his body towards the place where the
sheet covered his stomach, and I could see he was watching to make sure his
whispering wasn't disturbing the thing that lay there.
"There was a fold in the sheet," he said, speaking more slowly than ever now
and so softly I had to lean close to hear him. "See it, it's still there. It went under that.
I could feel it through my pyjamas, moving on my stomach. Then it stopped moving
and now it's lying there in the warmth. Probably asleep. I've been waiting for you."
He raised his eyes and looked at me.
 68

"How long ago?"

"Hours," he whispered. "Hours and bloody hours and hours. I can't keep still
much longer. I've been wanting to cough."
There was not much doubt about the truth of Harry's story. As a matter of fact
it wasn't a surprising thing for a krait to do. They hang around people's houses and
they go for the warm places. The surprising thing was that Harry hadn't been bitten.
The bite is quite deadly except sometimes when you catch it at once and they kill a
fair number of people each year in Bengal , mostly in the villages.
"All right, Harry," I said, and now I was whispering too. "Don't move and don't
talk any more unless you have to. You know it won't bite unless it's frightened. We'll
fix it in no time."
I went softly out of the room in my stocking feet and fetched a small sharp knife
from the kitchen. I put it in my trouser pocket ready to use instantly in case
something went wrong while we were still thinking out a plan. If Harry coughed or
moved or did something to frighten the krait and got bitten, I was going to be ready
to cut the bitten place and try to suck the venom out. I came back to the bedroom
and Harry was still lying very quiet and sweating all over his face. His eyes followed
me as I moved across the room to his bed and I could see he was wondering what I'd
been up to. I stood beside him, trying to think of the best thing to do.
"Harry," I said, and now when I spoke I put my mouth almost on his ear so I
wouldn't have to raise my voice above the softest whisper, "I think the best thing to
do is for me to draw the sheet back very, very gently. Then we could have a look
first. I think I could do that without disturbing it."
"Don't be a damn fool." There was no expression in his voice. He spoke each
word too slowly, too carefully, and too softly for that. The expression was in the
eyes and around the corners of the mouth.
"Why not?"
"The light would frighten him. It's dark under there now."
"Then how about whipping the sheet back quick and brushing it off before it
had time to strike?"
 69

"Why don't you get a doctor?" Harry said. The way he looked at me told me I
should have thought of that myself in the first place.
"A doctor. Of course. That's it. I'll get Ganderbai."
I tiptoed out to the hail, looked up Ganderbai's number in the book, lifted the
phone and told the operator to hurry.
"Dr Ganderbai," I said. "This is Timber Woods."
"Hello, Mr Woods. You not in bed yet?"
"Look, could you come round at once? And bring serum – for a krait bite."
"Who's been bitten?" The question came so sharply it was like a small explosion
in my ear.
"No one. No one yet. But Harry Pope's in bed and he's got one lying on his
stomach asleep under the sheet lying on his stomach."
For about three seconds there was silence on the line. Then speaking slowly,
not like an explosion now but slowly, precisely, Ganderbai said, "Tell him to keep
quite still. He is not to move or to talk. Do you understand?"
"Of course."
"I'll come at once!" He rang off and I went back to the bedroom. Harry's eyes
watched me as I walked across to his bed.
"Ganderbai's coming. He said for you to lie still."
"What in God's name does he think I'm doing!"
"Look, Harry, he said no talking. Absolutely no talking. Either of us."
"Why don't you shut up then?" When he said this one side of his mouth started
twitching with rapid little downward movements that continued for a while after he
finished speaking. I took out my handkerchief and very gently I wiped the sweat off
his face and neck, and I could feel the slight twitching of the muscle – the one he
used for smiling – as my fingers passed over it with the handkerchief.
I slipped out to the kitchen, got some ice from the ice-box, rolled it up in a
napkin, and began to crush it small. That business of the mouth, I didn't like that. Or
the way he talked, either. I carried the ice pack to the bedroom and laid it across
Harry's forehead.
 70

"Keep you cool."

He screwed up his eyes and drew breath sharply through his teeth. "Take it
away," he whispered. "Make me cough." His smiling muscle began to twitch again.
The beam of a headlamp shone through the window as Ganderbai's car swung
around to the front of the bungalow. I went out to meet him, holding the ice pack
with both hands.
"How is it?" Ganderbai asked, but he didn't stop to talk; he walked on past me
across the balcony and through the screen doors into the hail. "Where is he? Which
room?"
He put his bag down on a chair in the hail and followed me into Harry's room.
He was wearing soft-soled bedroom slippers and he walked across the floor
noiselessly, delicately, like a careful cat. Harry watched him out of the sides of his
eyes. When Ganderbai reached the bed he looked down at Harry and smiled,
confident and reassuring, nodding his head to tell Harry it was a simple matter and
he was not to worry but just to leave it to Dr Ganderbai. Then he turned and went
back to the hail and I followed him.
"First thing is to try and get some of the serum into him," he said, and he opened
his bag and started to make preparations. "Intravenously. But I must do it neatly.
Don't want to make him flinch."
We went into the kitchen and he sterilized a needle. He had a hypodermic
syringe in one hand and a small bottle in the other and he stuck the needle through
the rubber top and began drawing a pale yellow liquid up into the syringe by pulling
out the plunger. Then he handed the syringe to me.
"Hold that till I ask for it."
He picked up the bag and together we returned to the room. Harry's eyes were
bright now and wide open. Ganderbai bent over Harry and very cautiously, like a
man handling sixteenth-century lace, he rolled up the pyjama sleeve to the elbow
without moving the arm. I noticed he stood well away from the bed.
He whispered, "I'm going to give you an injection. Serum. Just a prick but try
not to move. Don't tighten your stomach muscles. Let them go limp."
 71

Harry looked at the syringe.

Ganderbai took a piece of red rubber tubing from his bag and slid one end up
and around Harry's biceps; then he tied the tubing tight with a knot. He sponged a
small area of the bare forearm with alcohol, handed the swab to me and took the
syringe from my hand. He held it up to the light, squinting at the calibrations,
squirting out some of the yellow fluid. I stood beside him, watching. Harry was
watching too and sweating all over his face so it shone like it was smeared thick with
face cream melting on his skin and running down on to the pillow.
I could see the blue vein on the inside of Harry's forearm, swollen now because
of the tourniquet, and then I saw the needle above the vein, Ganderbai holding the
syringe almost flat against the arm, sliding the needle in sideways through the skin
into the blue vein, sliding it slowly but so firmly it went in smooth as into cheese.
Harry looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes and opened them again, but he didn't
move.
When it was finished Ganderbai leaned forward putting his mouth close to
Harry's ear. "Now you'll be all right even if you are bitten. But don't move. Please
don't move. I'll be back in a moment."
He picked up his bag and went out to the hail and I followed.
"Is he safe now?" I asked.
"How safe is he?"
The little Indian doctor stood there in the hall rubbing his lower lip.
"It must give him some protection, mustn't it?" I asked.
He turned away and walked to the screen doors that led on to the verandah. I
thought he was going through them, but he stopped this side of the doors and stood
looking out into the night.
"Isn't the serum very good?" I asked.
"Unfortunately not," he answered without turning round. "It might save him. It
might not. I am trying to think of something else to do."
"Shall we draw the sheet back and brush it off before it has any time to strike?"
"Never! We are not entitled to take a risk." He spoke sharply and his voice was
 72

pitched a little higher than usual.

"We can't very well leave him lying there," I said. "He's getting nervous."
"Please! Please!" he said, turning round, holding both hands up in the air. "Not
so fast, please. This is not a matter to rush into baldheaded." He wiped his forehead
with his handkerchief and stood there, frowning, nibbling his lip.
"You see," he said at last. "There is a way to do this. You know what we must
do – we must administer an anaesthetic to the creature where it lies."
It was a splendid idea.
"It is not safe," he continued, "because a snake is cold blooded and anaesthetic
does not work so well or so quick with such animals, but it is better than any other
thing to do. We could use ether… chloroform… " He was speaking slowly and trying
to think the thing out while he talked.
"Which shall we use?"
"Chloroform," he said suddenly. "Ordinary chloroform. That is best. Now
quick!" He took my arm and pulled me towards the balcony. "Drive to my house!
By the time you get there I will have waked up my boy on the telephone and he will
show you my poisons cupboard. Here is the key of the cupboard. Take a bottle of
chloroform. It has an orange label and the name is printed on it. I stay here in case
anything happens. Be quick now, hurry! No, no, you don't need your shoes!"
I drove fast and in about fifteen minutes I was back with the bottle of
chloroform. Ganderbai came out of Harry's room and met me in the hail. "You got
it?" he said. "Good, good. I've just been telling him what we are going to do. But
now we must hurry. It is not easy for him in there like that all this time. I am afraid
he might move."
He went back to the bedroom and I followed, carrying the bottle carefully with
both hands. Harry was lying on the bed in precisely the same position as before with
the sweat pouring down his cheeks. His face was white and wet. He turned his eyes
towards me and I smiled at him and nodded confidently. He continued to look at me.
I raised my thumb, giving him the okay signal. He closed his eyes. Ganderbai was
squatting down by the bed, and on the floor beside him was the hollow rubber tube
 73

that he had previously used as a tourniquet, and he'd got a small paper funnel fitted
into one end of the tube.
He began to pull a little piece of sheet out from under the mattress. He was
working directly in line with Harry's stomach, about eighteen inches from it, and I
watched his fingers as they tugged gently at the edge of the sheet. He worked so
slowly it was almost impossible to discern any movement either in his fingers or in
the sheet that was being pulled.
Finally he succeeded in making an opening under the sheet and he took the
rubber tube and inserted one end of it in the opening so that it would slide under the
sheet along the mattress towards Harry's body. I do not know how long it took him
to slide that tube in a few inches. It may have been twenty minutes, it may have been
forty. I never once saw the tube move. I knew it was going in because the visible
part of it grew shorter, but I doubted that the krait could have felt even the slightest
vibration. Ganderbai himself was sweating now, large pearls of sweat standing out
all over his forehead and along his upper lip. But his hands were steady and I noticed
that his eyes were watching, not the tube in his hands, but the area of crumpled sheet
above Harry's stomach.
Without looking up, he held out a hand to me for the chloroform. I twisted out
the ground-glass stopper and put the whole bottle right into his hand, not letting go
until I was sure he had a good hold on it. Then he jerked his head for me to come
closer and he whispered, "Tell him I'm going to soak the mattress and that it will be
very cold under his body. He must be ready for that and he must not move. Tell him
now."
I bent over Harry and passed on the message.
"Why doesn't he get on with it?" Harry said.
"He's going to now, Harry. But it'll feel very cold, so be ready for it."
"Oh, God Almighty, get on, get on!" For the first time he raised his voice, and
Ganderbai glanced up sharply, watched him for a few seconds, then went back to his
business.
Ganderbai poured a few drops of chloroform into the paper funnel and waited
 74

while it ran down the tube. Then he poured some more. Then he waited again, and
the heavy sickening smell of chloroform spread out all over the room bringing with
it faint unpleasant memories of white-coated nurses and white surgeons standing in
a white room around a long white table. Ganderbai was pouring steadily now and I
could see the heavy vapour of the chloroform swirling slowly like smoke above the
paper funnel. He paused, held the bottle up to the light, poured one more funnelful
and handed the bottle back to me. Slowly he drew out the rubber tube from under
the sheet; then he stood up.
The strain of inserting the tube and pouring the chloroform must have been
great, and I recollect that when Ganderbai turned and whispered to me, his voice was
small and tired. "We'll give it fifteen minutes. Just to be safe."
I leaned over to tell Harry, "We're going to give it fifteen minutes, just to be
safe. But it's probably done for already."
"Then why for God's sake don't you look and see!" Again he spoke loudly and
Ganderbai sprang round, his small brown face suddenly very angry. He had almost
pure black eyes and he stared at Harry and Harry's smiling-muscle started to twitch.
I took my handkerchief and wiped his wet face, trying to stroke his forehead a little
for comfort as I did so. Then we stood and waited beside the bed, Ganderbai
watching Harry's face all the time in a curious intense manner. The little Indian was
concentrating all his will power on keeping Harry quiet. He never once took his eyes
from the patient and although he made no sound, he seemed somehow to be shouting
at him all the time, saying: Now listen, you've got to listen, you're not going to go
spoiling this now, d'you hear me; and Harry lay there twitching his mouth, sweating,
closing his eyes, opening them, looking at me, at the sheet, at the ceiling, at me again,
but never at Ganderbai. Yet somehow Ganderbai was holding him. The smell of
chloroform was oppressive and it made me feel sick, but I couldn't leave the room
now. I had the feeling someone was blowing up a huge balloon and I could see it
was going to burst, but I couldn't look away.
At length Ganderbai turned and nodded and I knew he was ready to proceed.
"You go over to one side of the bed," he said. "We will each take one side of the
 75

sheet and draw it back together, but very slowly, please, and very quietly."
"Keep still now, Harry," I said and I went around to the other side of the bed
and took hold of the sheet. Ganderbai stood opposite me, and together we began to
draw back the sheet, lifting it up clear of Harry's body, taking it back very slowly,
both of us standing well away but at the same time bending forward, trying to peer
underneath it. The smell of chloroform was awful. I remember trying to hold my
breath and when I couldn't do that any longer I tried to breathe shallow so the stuff
wouldn't get into my lungs.
The whole of Harry's chest was visible now, or rather the striped pyjama top
which covered it, and then I saw the white cord of his pyjama trousers, neatly tied in
a bow. A little farther and I saw a button, a mother-of-pearl button, and that was
something I had never had on my pyjamas, a fly button, let alone a mother-of-pearl
one. This Harry, I thought, he is very refined. It is odd how one sometimes has
frivolous thoughts at exciting moments, and I distinctly remember thinking about
Harry being very refined when I saw that button.
Apart from the button there was nothing on his stomach.
We pulled the sheet back faster then, and when we had uncovered his legs and
feet we let the sheet drop over the end of the bed on to the floor.
"Don't move," Ganderbai said, "don't move, Mr Pope"; and he began to peer
around along the side of Harry's body and under his legs.
"We must be careful," he said. "It may be anywhere. It could be up the leg of
his pyjamas."
When Ganderbai said this, Harry quickly raised his head from the pillow and
looked down at his legs. It was the first time he had moved. Then suddenly he
jumped up, stood on his bed and shook his legs one after the other violently in the
air. At that moment we both thought he had been bitten and Ganderbai was already
reaching down into his bag for a scalpel and a tourniquet when Harry ceased his
caperings and stood still and looked down at the mattress he was standing on and
shouted, "It's not there!"
Ganderbai straightened up and for a moment he too looked at the mattress; then
 76

he looked up at Harry. Harry was all right. He hadn't been bitten and now he wasn't
going to get bitten and he wasn't going to be killed and everything was fine. But that
didn't seem to make anyone feel any better.
"Mr Pope, you are of course quite sure you saw it in the first place?" There was
a note of sarcasm in Ganderbai's voice that he would never have employed in
ordinary circumstances. "You don't think you might possibly have been dreaming,
do you, Mr Pope?" The way Ganderbai was looking at Harry, I realized that the
sarcasm was not seriously intended. He was only easing up a bit after the strain.
Harry stood on his bed in his striped pyjamas, glaring at Ganderbai, and the
colour began to spread out all over his cheeks.
"Are you telling me I'm a liar?" he shouted.
Ganderbai remained absolutely still, watching Harry. Harry took a pace
forward on the bed and there was a shining look in his eyes.
"Why, you dirty little Hindu sewer rat!"
"Shut up, Harry!" I said.
"You dirty black – "Harry!" I called. "Shut up, Harry!" It was terrible the things
he was saying.
Ganderbai went out of the room as though neither of us was there and I followed
him and put my arm around his shoulder as he walked across the hail and out on to
the balcony.
"Don't you listen to Harry," I said. "This thing's made him so he doesn't know
what he's saying."
We went down the steps from the balcony to the drive and across the drive in
the darkness to where his old Morris car was parked. He opened the door and got in.
"You did a wonderful job," I said. "Thank you very much for coming."
"All he needs is a good holiday," he said quietly, without looking at me, then
he started the engine and drove off.

Exercise 1. Answer the questions.

1.Where do the events described in the story take place? What makes you think so?
 77

2.Who are the personages described?

3. What happened to Harry Pope?
4 What did Timber Woods try to do to save him?
5. Why to your mind did Dr. Ganderbai give Harry Pope an injection of serum?
6. What did he do to save his life?
7. Was he really in danger?
8.What do you think actually happened to Harry Pope?
9 What is the development of the events based on?
10. Why is the story called “Poison”?
11. What poison is really meant by it?
12. How would you like to finish the story?

Exercise 2. Make the plan of the story and retell it.

Exercise 3. Give a full description of the state in which Timber Woods found
his friend.
Exercise 4. Disclose on possible explanations of what happened to Harry Pope.
Exercise 5. Retell the story as if you were: a) Harry Pope; b) Dr. Ganderbai.

TEXT 14. HOW TO AVOID TRAVELLING

by George Mikes
‘Travel’ is the name of a modern disease which became rampant in the mid-
fifties and is still spreading. The disease – its scientific name is travelitis furiosus –
is carried by a germ called prosperity. Its symptoms are easily recognizable. The
patient grows restless in the early spring and starts rushing about from one travel
agent to another collecting useless information about places he does not intend to
visit; then he, or usually she, will do a round of tailors, summer sales, sports shops
and spend three and a half times as much as he or she can afford; finally, in August,
the patient will board a plane, train, coach or car and proceed to foreign parts along
with thousands of fellow-sufferers not because he is interested in or attracted by the
 78

place he is bound for, nor because he can afford to go, but simply because he cannot
afford not to. The disease is highly infectious. Nowadays you catch foreign travel ra
the r as you caught influenza in the twenties, only more so.
The result is that in the summer months (and in the last few years also during
the winter season) everybody is on the move. In Positano you hear no Italian but
only German (for England is not the only victim of the disease); in some French
parts you cannot get along unless you speak American; and the official language of
the Costa Bravo is English.
What is the aim of all this travelling? Each nationality has its own different
one. The Americans want to take photographs of themselves in: (a) Trafalgar Square
with the pigeons, (b) in St Mark’s Square, Venice, with the pigeons and (c) in front
of the Arc de Triomphe, in Paris, without pigeons. The idea is simply to collect
documentary proof that they have been there. The German travels to check up on his
guide-books: when he sees that the Ponte di Rialto is really at its proper venue, that
the Leaning Tower is in its appointed place in Pisa and is leaning at the promised
angle – he ticks these things off in his guide-book and returns home with the
gratifying feeling that he has not been swindled. But why do the English travel?
First, because their neighbour does and they have caught the bug from him.
Secondly, they used to be taught that travel broadens the mind and although they
have by now discovered the sad truth that whatever travel may do to the mind, Swiss
or German food certainly broadens other parts of the body, the old notion still lingers
on. But lastly – and perhaps mainly – they travel to avoid foreigners. Here, in our
cosmopolitan England, one is always exposed to the danger of meeting all sorts of
peculiar aliens. Not so on one’s journeys in Europe, if one manages things
intelligently. I know many English people who travel in groups, stay in hotels where
even the staff is English, eat roast beef and Yorkshire pudding on Sundays and
Welsh rarebit and steak-and-kidney pudding on weekdays, all over Europe. The
main aim of the Englishman abroad is to meet people; I mean, of course, nice English
people from next door or from the next street. Normally one avoids one’s neighbor
(‘It is best to keep yourself to yourself’, ‘We leave others alone and want to be left
 79

alone’, etc., etc.). If you meet your next door neighbour in the High Street or at your
front door you pretend not to see him or, at best, nod coolly; but if you meet him in
Capri or Granada, you embrace him fondly and stand him a drink or two; and you
may even discover that he is quite a nice chap after all and both of you might just as
well have stayed at home in Chipping Norton.
All this, however, refers to travelling for the general public. If you want to
avoid giving the unfortunate impression
that you belong to the lower-middle class, you must learn the elementary snobbery
of travelling'.
1) Avoid any place frequented by others. Declare: all the hotels are full, one
cannot get in anywhere. (No one will ever remark: hotels are full of people who
actually managed to get in.)
2) Carry this a stage further and try to avoid all places interesting enough to
attract other people – or, as others prefer to put it – you must get off the beaten track.
In practice this means that in Italy you avoid Venice and Florence but visit a few
filthy and poverty-stricken fishing villages no one has ever heard of; and if your
misfortune does take you to Florence, you avoid the Uffizi Gallery and refuse to
look at Michelangelo’s David. You visit, instead, a dirty little pub on the outskirts
where Tuscan food is supposed to be divine and where you can listen to a drunken
and deaf accordion player.
3) The main problem is, of course, where to go? This is not an easy question.
The hoi polloi may go to Paris or Spain, but such an obvious choice will certainly
not do for anyone with a little self-respect. There is a small international set that
leads the fashion and you must watch them. Some years ago they discovered Capri,
but now Capri is teeming with rich German and English businessmen, so you can’t
go near the place. Majorca was next on the list, but Majorca has become quite
ridiculous in the last few years: it is now an odd mixture of Munich and Oxford
Street, and has nothing to offer (because, needless to say, beauty and sunshine do
not count). At the moment I may recommend Tangier; Rhodes is fairly safe too. The
year after that, who knows, Capri may be tried again.
 80

Remember: travel is supposed to make you sophisticated. When buying your

souvenirs and later when most casually – you really must practise how to be casual
– you refer to any foreign food, you should speak of these things in the vernacular.
Even fried chicken sounds rather romantic when you speak of Backhendl.
It is possible, however, that the mania for travelling is declining. I wonder if
a Roman friend of mine was simply an eccentric or the forerunner of a new era in
snobbery.
‘I no longer travel at all’, he told me. ‘I stay here because I want to meet my
friends from all over the world.’
‘What exactly do you mean?’ I asked.
‘It is simple,’ he explained. ‘Whenever I go to London, my friend Smith is
sure to be in Tokyo and Brown in Sicily. If I go to Paris, Dupont is sure to be in
London and Lebrun in Madagascar or Lyons. And so on. But if I stay in Rome, all
my friends are absolutely sure to turn up at one time or another. The world means
people for me. I stay here because I want to see the world.’
And he added after a short pause: ‘Besides, staying at home broadens the
mind.’

Exercise 1. Find in the text English equivalents.

Лютувати (приймати загрозливі розміри); вельми заразне захворювання; в
середині 50-х років; передаватися збудником; проявляти занепокоєння;
носитися (з одного місця в інше); може (не може) собі дозволити;
подорожувати (переїжджати з місця на місце); жертва захворювання; робити
фотознімки; збирати документальні докази; перевірити що-л .; поставити
галочку; почуття задоволення; розширити кругозір; уявлення про щось;
уникати; наражати на небезпеку; іноземець; сусід (2); краще ні з ким не
спілкуватися; холодно кивнути головою; ніжно обійняти; славний хлопець;
часто відвідувати; на цьому не зупиняйтеся; не користуватися заїждженими
маршрутами; брудний; жебрак (бідний); на околиці; божественний; то, що
явно напрошується; це не годиться; кишіти; дивна помісь; в рахунок не йде;
 81

витончений (витончений); недбало (без натиску); провісник нової ери;

з'явитися.

Exercise 2. Answer the questions.

1. What disease became rampant in the mid-fifties? What germ is it carried by?
2. What are its symptoms?
3. What' will the patient finally do?
4. Why will he proceed to foreign parts?
5. Why do Americans travel?
6. Why does the German travel?
7. What makes the English travel?
8. What is one always exposed to in England?
9. How do many English people manage to travel? What is their main aim abroad?
10. In what case must one learn the elementary snobbery of travelling?
11. What sort of places are you supposed to avoid?
12. Where is it advisable to go?
13. Who leads the fashion?
14. What is travel supposed to do to you?
15. What makes the author think that the mania for travelling may be declining?
16. What does he call a Roman friend of his?

Exercise 3. Retell the text using the following words and phrases:
modern disease; to become rampant; highly infectious; carried by a germ; prosperity;
to grow restless; to start rushing about; to collect information; to do a round of; three
times as much as; to board a plane (ship); foreign parts; to be bound for; afford; the
last few years; on the move; victim; to get along; to take photographs (of); pigeons;
the idea is. . .; to check up on; to tick smth. off; guide-book; gratifying feeling; to be
swindled; to catch the bug (from); to broaden the mind; sad truth; to linger on; to
avoid; cosmopolitan; to be exposed to the danger (of); peculiar aliens; to manage
things intelligently; in groups; staff; all over Europe; from next door; to nod coolly;
 82

to embrace fondly; to stand a drink; nice chap; might just as well; to refer (to);
general public; unfortunate impression; snobbery; frequented by; carry smth. a stage
further; to attract; to get off the beaten track; filthy; poverty stricken; on the outskirts;
divine; obvious choice; will not do; small international set; to lead the fashion; to
discover; to teem with; next on the list; odd mixture; to have nothing to offer;
needless to say; sophisticated; souvenirs; casually; mania; to decline; eccentric;
forerunner; new era; no longer;
whenever; is sure to; to turn up.

Exercise 4. Translate the following sentences into English, using a) whatever

(whenever, wherever), b) to be sure to, c) might just as well:
А) 1. Мені б хотілося поїхати в якесь тихе місце. 2. Де б ви не проводили
відпустку, ви обов'язково зустрінете своїх співвітчизників. 3.Що б ви не
говорили, він справжній сноб. 4. Коли б ми не зустрілися, він неодмінно, як би
мимохідь, згадає про ті екзотичні місця, де він побував. 5. Що б ви про нього
не думали, ви ж не будете заперечувати, що він людина обдарована і з
широким кругозором. 6. Що б там не говорили, подорожі розширюють
кругозір.
B) 1. Американець неодмінно привезе з собою з поїздки по Європі купу
фотографій. 2. Я не знаю його точну адресу, але він напевно живе в готелі, де
зупиняються англійці.
C) 1. Якщо найголовніше для вас – це йоркширський пудинг і пригостити
вином сусіда, то ви можете з таким же успіхом сидіти вдома. 2. Якщо ти
можеш собі дозволити поїздку в США, то можеш з таким же успіхом відвідати
Японію.

Exercise 5. Topics for discussion:

1. Speak on the advantages of travelling.
2. Speak on the mania for travelling.
3. Speak on historical landmarks in a) England, b) France, c) Italy, d) India.
 83

4. Describe a great explorer (Christopher Columbus, David Livingstone, Roald

Amundsen, etc.).

Exercise 6. Render the following extract in English:

Якщо Вам вдасться заглянути до Британського музею в Лондоні в його
етнографічні зали, то у Вас буде відчуття, що Ви опинилися як би серед океану.
В цьому немає нічого дивного. У англійців протягом століть були переважні
можливості (great advantages) створити унікальну етнографічну колекцію.
Недарма тепер, подорожуючи по залах Британського музею, єдиного за
багатством і масштабам в цілому світі, ми читаємо таблички (labels):
«Етнографія Бермудських (Bermuda) островов», «Етнографія Полінезії
(Polynesia)», «Етнографія Соломонових (Solomon) островів» , «Етнографія
папуасів (Papuans)», «Етнографія Австраліі», і т.п .: Гвінея, Канада, Аляска,
незліченні африканські племена ... Достеменні (genuine) пироги (canoes),
бумеранги (boomerangs), маски африканських вождів, зброя, наряди, предмети
домашнього вжитку (household utensils), мистецтво всіх племен (мається на
увазі не статуї Греції, не скульптури стародавньої Ассиріїі Єгипту – це там теж
є, але саме народне мистецтво (folk art): запаморочливі жіночі прикраси (breath
taking ornaments) з коралів (corals), раковин (shells) і ведмежих іклів (fangs),
дерев'яні боги (idols), глиняний посуд (earthenware) в найдавніших
орнаментах).
Побут (everyday life) американських індіанців один міг би зайняти
величезний музей. А тут це не більше, ніж штрих (detail), яскрава крапля в
розлитому морі Британського музею.
 84

TEXT 15. A SERVICE OF LOVE

by O. Henry
Joe Larrabee dreamed of becoming a great artist. Even when he was six,
people in the little western town where he lived used to say, "Joe has great talent, he
will become a famous artist." At twenty, he left his home town and went to New
York. He had his dreams – but very little money.
Delia had her dreams too. She played the piano so well in the little southern
village where she lived that her family said, "She must finish her musical training in
New York." With great difficulty they collected enough money to send her north "to
finish".
Joe and Delia got acquainted at a friend's house where some art and music
students had gathered to discuss art, music and the newest plays. They fell in love
with each other, and in a short time they married.
Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee began their married life in a little room. But they were
happy, for they had their Art, and they had each other. Joe was painting in, he class
of the great Magister. Mr. Magister got a lot of money for his pictures – and he took
a lot of money for his lessons. Delia was taking piano lessons from the great
Rosenstock, and he was taking a lot of money from Delia.
The two young dreamers were very, very happy while their money lasted. But
it didn't last very long. Soon, they didn't have enough to pay for their lessons and eat
three times a day. When one loves one's Art, no service seems too hard. So Delia
decided she must stop taking lessons and give lessons herself. She began to look for
pupils. One evening, she came home very excited, with shining eyes.
"Joe, dear," she announced happily, "I've got a pupil. General Pinkney – I
mean – his daughter, Clementina. He's very rich, and they have a wonderful house.
She's so beautiful – she dresses in white; and she's so nice and pleasant! I'm going
to give her three lessons a week; and just think, Joe! Five dollars a lesson. Now,
dear, don't look so worried, and let's have supper. I've bought some very nice fish."
But Joe refused to listen to her. "That's all right for you, Dellie, but all wrong
for me," he protested. "Do you suppose I'm going to let you work while I continue
 85

to study Art? No! Never! I can get a job as a mechanic or clean windows. I'll get
some kind of work."
Delia threw her arms around him. "Joe, dear, you mustn't think of leaving Mr.
Magister and your Art. I am not giving up music. The lessons won't interfere with
my music. While I teach, I learn, and I can go back to Rosenstock when I get a few
more pupils."
"All right," said Joe. "But giving lessons isn't Art."
"When one loves one's Art, no service seems too hard," said Delia.
During the next week, Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee had breakfast very early. Joe
was painting some pictures in Central Park, and he needed the morning light
especially, he said.
Time flies when you love Art, and it was usually seven o'clock in the evening
when Joe returned home. At the end of the week, Delia, very proud but a little tired,
put fifteen dollars on the table. "Sometimes," she said, "Clementina is a very difficult
pupil. And she always wears white. I'm tired of seeing the same colour."
And then Joe, with the manner of Monte Cristo, pulled eighteen dollars out of
his pocket and put it on the table too. "I sold one of my pictures to a man from
Washington," he said. "And now, he wants a picture of the East River to take with
him to Washington."
"I'm so glad you haven't given up your Art, dear," Delia said. "You are sure
to win! Thirty-three dollars! We have never had so much money to spend."
The next Saturday evening, Joe came home first. He put his money on the
table and then washed what seemed to look like a lot of paint from his hands. Half
an hour later, Delia arrived. There was a big bandage on her right hand. "Dellie, dear,
what has happened? What is the matter with your hand?" Joe asked.
Delia laughed, but not very happily. "Clementina," she explained, "asked me
to have lunch with her and the General after our lesson. She's not very strong, you
know, and when she was giving me some tea, her hand shook and she spilled a lot
of very hot water over my hand. But General Pinkney bandaged my hand himself.
They were both so sorry. Oh, Joe, did you sell another picture?" She had seen the
 86

money on the table.

"Yes," said Joe. "To the man from Washington. What time this afternoon did
you burn your hand, Dellie?"
"Five o'clock, I think," said Delia. "The iron – the water was very hot. And
Clementina cried, and General Pinkney..."
Joe put his arms round Delia. "Where are you working, Dellie? Tell me," he
asked in a serious voice.
Delia was about to say something, but-suddenly tears appeared in her eyes and
she began to cry. "I couldn't get any pupils," she said. "And I didn't want you to stop
taking lessons, so I got a job ironing shirts in the big laundry on Twenty-Fourth
Street. This afternoon, I burned my hand with a hot iron. Don't be angry with me,
Joe. I did it for your Art. And now, you have painted those pictures for the man from
Washington..."
"He isn't from Washington," said Joe slowly.
"It makes no difference where he is from," said Delia. "How clever you are,
Joe! How did you guess that I wasn't giving music lessons?"
“I guessed”, Joe said, "because about five o'clock this afternoon, I sent some
oil up to the ironing-room. They said a girl had burned her hand. You see, dear, I
work as a mechanic in that same laundry on Twenty-Fourth Street."
“And the man from Washington…?”
“Yes, dear”, Joe said. “The man from Washington and General Pinkney are
both creations of the same art, but you cannot call it painting or music”. And they
both began to laugh.
“You know, dear”, Joe said. “When one loves one’s Art, no service seems…”
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his mouth. “No”, she said, “just –
“when one loves”.”

Exercise 1. Find in the text English equivalents for the following words and
expressions:
мріяв стати художником; подейкували; музична освіта; останні п'єси; брала
 87

уроки гри на фортепіано; дуже схвильована; і слухати не хотів; кинути заняття

музикою; час біжить швидко; пролила окріп на руку; збиралася щось сказати;
прасувати сорочки; не має значення, звідки він; вигадані персонажі; пов'язка;
пральня.

Exercise 2. Say whether the following statements are true; if not, correct them.
Joe and Delia came to New York from the same town.
After they married, both of them stopped taking lessons.
Delia soon found a pupil, named Clementina.
Joe hadn’t enough courage to tell Delia the truth about his job.
The moment Joe saw Delia’s bandaged hand, he understood everything.
Delia got angry when she learned about Joe’s job.

Exercise 3. Answer the questions:

1.Why did Joe Larrabee and Delia come to New York?
2.Where did the young men get acquainted?
3.In what way did they continue their education after marriage?
4.What made Delia give up her music lessons?
5.Why was Joe disappointed when he learnt about Delia’s plan?
6.What was Joe’s plan? Did Delia know about it?
7.Every week Joe brought some money. How did he explain it to Delia?
8.What happened one day?
9.How did Joe guess the truth?

Exercise 4. Discuss the following:

1. Explain the meaning of the phrase “When one loves one’s Art, no service seems
too hard.” Do you agree with it? Give your grounds.
2.Why do you think Delia shortened this phrase and said, “just – when one loves”?
3.Why did the author name the story “A Service of Love”?
4.What kind of people, to your mind, can sacrifice something for the good of others?
 88

Exercise 5. Retell the story on the part of: 1) Joe; 2) Delia.

TEXT 16. LOST ON DRESS PARADE

by O'Henry
Mr. Towers Chandler was pressing his evening suit in his hall bedroom. One
iron was heating on a small gas stove; the other was being pushed vigorously back
and forth to make the desirable crease that would be seen later on extending in
straight lines from Mr. Chandler's patent leather shoes to the edge of his low-cut
vest. So much of the hero's toilet may be intrusted to our confidence. The remainder
may be guessed by those whom genteel poverty has driven to ignoble expedient. Our
next view of him shall be as he descends the steps of his lodging-house immaculately
and correctly clothed; calm, assured, handsome – in appearance the typical New
York young clubman setting out, slightly bored, to inaugurate the pleasures of the
evening. Chandler's honorarium was $18 per week. He was employed in the office
of an architect. He was twenty-two years old; he considered architecture to be truly
an art; and he honestly believed – though he would not have dared to admit it in New
York – that the Flatiron Building was inferior to design to the great cathedral in
Milan. Out of each week's earnings Chandler set aside $1. At the end of each ten
weeks with the extra capital thus accumulated, he purchased one gentleman's
evening from the bargain counter of stingy old Father Time. He arrayed himself in
the regalia of millionaires and presidents; he took himself to the quarter where life
is brightest and showiest, and there dined with taste and luxury. With ten dollars a
man may, for a few hours, play the wealthy idler to perfection. The sum is ample for
a well-considered meal, a bottle bearing a respectable label, commensurate tips, a
smoke, cab fare and the ordinary etceteras. This one delectable evening culled from
each dull seventy was to Chandler a source of renascent bliss. To the society bud
comes but one debut; it stands alone sweet in her memory when her hair has
whitened; but to Chandler each ten weeks brought a joy as keen, as thrilling, as new
 89

as the first had been. To sit among bon vivants under palms in the swirl of concealed
music, to look upon the habitues of such a paradise and to be looked upon by them
– what is a girl's first dance and short-sleeved tulle compared with this?
Up Broadway Chandler moved with the vespertine dress parade. For this
evening he was an exhibit as well as a gazer. For the next sixty-nine evenings he
would be dining in cheviot and worsted at dubious table d'hotes , at whirlwind lunch
counters, on sandwiches and beer in his hall-bedroom. He was willing to do that, for
he was a true son of the great city of razzle-dazzle, and to him one evening in the
limelight made up for many dark ones.
Chandler protracted his walk until the Forties began to intersect the great and
glittering primrose way, for the evening was yet young, and when one is of the beau
monde only one day in seventy, one loves to protract the pleasure. Eyes bright,
sinister, curious, admiring, provocative, alluring were bent upon him, for his garb
and air proclaimed him a devotee to the hour of solace and pleasure.
At a certain corner he came to a standstill, proposing to himself the question
of turning back toward the showy and fashionable restaurant in which he usually
dined on the evenings of his especial luxury. Just then a girl scuddled lightly around
the corner, slipped on a patch of icy snow and fell plump upon the sidewalk.
Chandler assisted her to her feet with instant and solicitous courtesy. The girl
hobbled to the wall of the building, leaned against it, and thanked him demurely.
"I think my ankle is strained," she said. "It twisted when I fell."
"Does it pain you much?" inquired Chandler.
"Only when I rest my weight upon it. I think I will be able to walk in a minute
or two."
"If I can be of any further service," suggested the young man, "I will call a
cab, or –"
"Thank you," said the girl, softly but heartily. "I am sure you need not trouble
yourself any further. It was so awkward of me. And my shoe heels are horridly
common-sense; I can't blame them at all."
 90

Chandler looked at the girl and found her swiftly drawing his interest. She was
pretty in a refined way; and her eye was both merry and kind. She was inexpensively
clothed in a plain black dress that suggested a sort of uniform such as shop girls
wear. Her glossy dark-brown hair showed its coils beneath a cheap hat of black straw
whose only ornament was a velvet ribbon and bow. She could have posed as a model
for the self-respecting working girl of the best type.
A sudden idea came into the head of the young architect. He would ask this
girl to dine with him. Here was the element that his splendid but solitary periodic
feasts had lacked. His brief season of elegant luxury would be doubly enjoyable if
he could add to it a lady's society. This girl was a lady, he was sure – her manner
and speech settled that. And in spite of her extremely plain attire he felt that he would
be pleased to sit at table with her.
These thoughts passed swiftly through his mind, and he decided to ask her. It
was a breach of etiquette, of course, but oftentimes wage- earning girls waived
formalities in matters of this kind. They were generally shrewd judges of men; and
thought better of their own judgment than they did of useless conventions. His ten
dollars, discreetly expended, would enable the two to dine very well indeed. The
dinner would no doubt be a wonderful experience thrown into the dull routine of the
girl's life; and her lively appreciation of it would add to his own triumph and
pleasure.
"I think," he said to her, with frank gravity, "that your foot needs a longer rest
than you suppose. Now, I am going to suggest a way in which you can give it that
and at the same time do me a favour. I was on my way to dine all by my lonely self
when you came tumbling around the corner. You come with me and we'll have a
cozy dinner and a pleasant talk together, and by that time your game ankle will carry
you home very nicely, I am sure."
The girl looked quickly up into Chandler's clear, pleasant countenance. Her
eyes twinkled once very brightly, and then she smiled ingenuously.
"But we don't know each other – it wouldn't be right, would it?" she said,
doubtfully. "There is nothing wrong about it," said the young man, candidly. "I'll
 91

introduce myself – permit me – Mr. Towers Chandler. After our dinner, which I will
try to make as pleasant as possible, I will bid you good-evening, or attend you safely
to your door, whichever you prefer." "But, dear me!" said the girl, with a glance at
Chandler's faultless attire. "In this old dress and hat!"
"Never mind that," said Chandler, cheerfully. "I'm sure you look more
charming in them than any one we shall see in the most elaborate dinner toilette."
"My ankle does hurt yet," admitted the girl, attempting a limping step. "I think
I will accept your invitation, Mr. Chandler. You may call me – Miss Marian." "Come
then, Miss Marian," said the young architect, gaily, but with perfect courtesy; "you
will not have far to walk.
There is a very respectable and good restaurant in the next block. You will
have to lean on my arm – so – and walk slowly. It is lonely dining all by one's self.
I'm just a little bit glad that you slipped on the ice.
" When the two were established at a well-appointed table, with a promising
waiter hovering in attendance, Chandler began to experience the real joy that his
regular outing always brought to him.
The restaurant was not so showy or pretentious as the one further down
Broadway, which he always preferred, but it was nearly so. The tables were well
filled with Prosperous-looking diners, there was a good orchestra, playing softly
enough to make conversation a possible pleasure, and the cuisine and service were
beyond criticism. His companion, even in her cheap hat and dress, held herself with
an air that added distinction to the natural beauty of her face and figure. And it is
certain that she looked at Chandler, with his animated but self-possessed manner and
his kindling and frank blue eyes, with something not far from admiration in her own
charming face.
Then it was that the Madness of Manhattan, the frenzy of Fuss and Feathers,
the Bacillus of Brag, the Provincial Plague of Pose seized upon Towers Chandler.
He was on Broadway, surrounded by pomp and style, and there were eyes to look at
him. On the stage of that comedy he had assumed to play the one-night part of a
 92

butterfly of fashion and an idler of means and taste. He was dressed for the part, and
all his good angels had not the power to prevent him from acting it.
So he began to prate to Miss Marian of clubs, of teas, of golf and riding and
kennels and cotillions and tours abroad and threw out hints of a yacht lying at
Larchmont. He could see that she was vastly impressed by this vague talk, so he
endorsed his pose by random insinuations concerning great wealth, and mentioned
familiarly a few names that are handled reverently by the proletariat. It was
Chandler's short little day, and he was wringing from it the best that could be had,
as he saw it. And yet once or twice he saw the pure gold of this girl shine through
the mist that his egotism had raised between him and all objects.
"This way of living that you speak of," she said, "sounds so futile and
purposeless. Haven't you any work to do in the world that might interest you more?"
"My dear Miss Marian," he exclaimed – "work! Think of dressing every day for
dinner, of making half a dozen calls in an afternoon – with a policeman at every
corner ready to jump into your auto and take you to the station, if you get up any
greater speed than a donkey cart's gait. We do-nothings are the hardest workers in
the land."
The dinner was concluded, the waiter generously fed, and the two walked out
to the corner where they had met. Miss Marian walked very well now; her limp was
scarcely noticeable.
"Thank you for a nice time," she said, frankly. "I must run home now. I liked
the dinner very much, Mr. Chandler."
He shook hands with her, smiling cordially, and said something about a game
of bridge at his club. He watched her for a moment, walking rather rapidly eastward,
and then he found a cab to drive him slowly homeward.
In his chilly bedroom Chandler laid away his evening clothes for a sixty-nine
days' rest. He went about it thoughtfully.
"That was a stunning girl," he said to himself. "She's all right, too, I'd be
sworn, even if she does have to work. Perhaps if I'd told her the truth instead of all
that razzle-dazzle we might – but, confound it!
 93

I had to play up to my clothes."

Thus spoke the brave who was born and reared in the wigwams of the tribe of
the Manhattans.
The girl, after leaving her entertainer, sped swiftly cross-town until she arrived
at a handsome and sedate mansion two squares to the east, facing on that avenue
which is the highway of Mammon and the auxiliary gods. Here she entered hurriedly
and ascended to a room where a handsome young lady in an elaborate house dress
was looking anxiously out the window.
"Oh, you madcap!" exclaimed the elder girl, when the other entered. "When
will you quit frightening us this way? It is two hours since you ran out in that rag of
an old dress and Marie's hat. Mamma has been so alarmed. She sent Louis in the
auto to try to find you. You are a bad, thoughtless Puss."
The elder girl touched a button, and a maid came in a moment.
"Marie, tell mamma that Miss Marian has returned."
"Don't scold, sister. I only ran down to Mme. Theo's to tell her to use mauve
insertion instead of pink. My costume and Marie's hat were just what I needed. Every
one thought I was a shopgirl, I am sure."
"I know. I slipped on the sidewalk and turned my ankle. I could not walk, so
I hobbled into a restaurant and sat there until I was better. That is why I was so long."
The two girls sat in the window seat, looking out at the lights and the stream
of hurrying vehicles in the avenue. The younger one cuddled down with her head in
her sister's lap.
"We will have to marry some day," she said dreamily—" both of us. We have
so much money that we will not be allowed to disappoint the public. Do you want
me to tell you the kind of a man I could love, Sis?"
"Go on, you scatterbrain," smiled the other.
"I could love a man with dark and kind blue eyes, who is gentle and respectful
to poor girls, who is handsome and good and does not try to flirt. But I could love
him only if he had an ambition, an object, some work to do in the world. I would not
care how poor he was if I could help him build his way up. But, sister dear, the kind
 94

of man we always meet – the man who lives an idle life between society and his
clubs – I could not love a man like that, even if his eyes were blue and he were ever
so kind to poor girls whom he met in the street."

Exercise 1. Answer the questions:

1. Where was Towers Chandler employ?
2. How much did Chandler set aside out of each week's earnings?
3. Why did he play the wealthy idler?
4. What was the reason that the girl was not be able to walk?
5. Where did the young man ask the girl to dine with him?
6. What happened at dinner?
6. What kind of man did Miss Marian want to love?

Exercise 2. Find the equivalent in the text:

Невдача через хизування, жилет з низьким вирізом, благородні злидні
штовхають на жалюгідні виверти, відкладати гроші з получки, розігрувати
багатого ледаря, син великого міста мішурного блиску, шанувальник години
веселощів і задоволень, посковзнутися на шматочку льоду, допомогти
піднятися з відмінною і невідкладної ввічливістю, розтягнути ногу, бути
одягненою в простеньке чорне платтячко, порушити правила пристойності,
костюм відповідав ролі, найпрацьовитіші люди на землі.

Exercise 3. Translate into English:

1. Молодий чоловік служив в конторі одного архітектора.
2.В кінці кожного десятого тижня він купував єдиний вечір, який міг провести,
як джентльмен.
3.Він відправлявся в ту частину міста, що найяскравіше сяє вогнями реклам і
вітрин, і обідав зі смаком і шиком.
4.У цей вечір він був не тільки глядачем, а й експонатом.
5.Він не сумнівався, що перед ним цілком порядна дівчина, - її мова і манери
 95

підтверджували це.
6. Якщо десять доларів витратити з толком, вони вдвох зможуть відмінно
пообідати.
7.За столиками сиділи заможного виду відвідувачі, оркестр грав добре і не
заважав приємній бесіді, а кухня і обслуговування були поза всякою критикою.
8.Его супутниця, незважаючи, на простеньку сукню і дешевий капелюшок,
трималася з гідністю, що надавало особливої краси природній вроді її обличчя
і фігури.
9.Он відчув себе на сцені і вирішив в комедії-одноденці зіграти роль багатого
світського гульвіси і гурмана.
10.Стиль життя, про який він говорив, здавався їй таким порожнім і
безцільним.
11. Коли ти перестанеш лякати нас своїми витівками?

TEXT 17. AFTER TWENTY YEARS

by O'Henry
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The
impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was
barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well
nigh de-peopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful
movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific
thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture
of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then
you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all–night lunch counter; but the majority
of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk.
In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in
his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.
 96

"It's all right, officer," he said, reassuringly. "I'm just waiting for a friend. It's an
appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn't it? Well, I'll
explain if you'd like to make certain it's all straight. About that long ago there used to
be a restaurant where this store stands – 'Big Joe' Brady's restaurant."
"Until five years ago," said the policeman. "It was torn down then."
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale,
square–jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His
scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.
"Twenty years ago to-night," said the man, "I dined here at 'Big Joe' Brady's with
Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here
in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty.
The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn't have
dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we
agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and
time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to
come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out
and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be."
"It sounds pretty interesting," said the policeman. "Rather a long time between
meets, though, it seems to me. Haven't you heard from your friend since you left?"
"Well, yes, for a time we corresponded," said the other. "But after a year or two
we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept
hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he's alive,
for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He'll never forget. I came
a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it's worth it if my old partner turns
up."
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small
diamonds.
"Three minutes to ten," he announced. "It was exactly ten o'clock when we parted
here at the restaurant door."
"Did pretty well out West, didn't you?" asked the policeman.
 97

"You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though,
good fellow as he was. I've had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get
my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor–edge on
him."
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
"I'll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time
on him sharp?"
"I should say not!" said the other. "I'll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is
alive on earth he'll be here by that time. So long, officer."
"Good-night, sir," said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as
he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its
uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried
dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in
the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an
appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his
cigar and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with
collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went
directly to the waiting man.
"Is that you, Bob?" he asked, doubtfully.
"Is that you, Jimmy Wells?" cried the man in the door.
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other's hands with
his own. "It's Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I'd find you here if you were still in
existence. Well, well, well! – twenty years is a long time. The old restaurant's gone,
Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West
treated you, old man?"
"Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You've changed lots, Jimmy. I
never thought you were so tall by two or three inches."
"Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty."
"Doing well in New York, Jimmy?"
 98

"Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob;
we'll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times."
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his
egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The
other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came
into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other's face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
"You're not Jimmy Wells," he snapped. "Twenty years is a long time, but not
long enough to change a man's nose from a Roman to a pug."
"It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one," said the tall man. "You've
been under arrest for ten minutes, 'Silky' Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped
over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you?
That's sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here's a note I was asked to hand
you. You may read it here at the window. It's from Patrolman Wells."
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand
was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished.
The note was rather short.
"Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light
your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn't do
it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job. JIMMY. "

Vocabulary:
on the beat - на чергуванні
a spectator - глядач
chilly gusts of wind - холодні пориви вітру
well-nigh depeopled the streets - практично безлюдні вулиці
to twirle the club with many intricate and artful movements - спритно і химерно
помахувати кийком
pacific thorough fare - мирні володіння
a stalwart form - міцна статура
 99

a slight swagger - злегка самовдоволена хода

a guardian of the peace - сторож громадського порядку
a vicinity - ближній район
to lean - спертися
reassuringly - заспокійливим тоном
an appointment - зустріч
to be torn down - бути знесеним
to struck a match - запалити сірник
to light the cigar - підпалити сигару
a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes - бліде обличчя з квадратним
підборіддям і гострим поглядом
a scar - шрам
a scarf pin - шпилька на шарфі
the best chum - кращий друг
a chap - хлопець
to make a fortune - розбагатіти
destiny - доля
to lose track of smb - втратити зв'язок
stanch - вірний
to turn up - прийти; з'явитися
a lid of the watch set with small diamonds - кришка годинника була усипана
дрібними діамантами
a plodder - роботяга
to get a pile - отримати своє, досягти свого
to get in a groove - застрявати в рутині
to put a razor-edge on smb - заточити кого-то
a collar - комір
if you were still in existence - якби ти існував
to snap - відрізати
egotism - самозакоханість
 100

a pug - кирпатий ніс

to drop over smb's way - відвідати наші краї; заглянути в наші краї
to be sensible - бути розумним
to hand - передати

Exercise 1. Find the equivalents in the text:

на чергуванні, глядач, холодні пориви вітру, практично безлюдні вулиці,
спритно і химерно помахувати кийком, міцна статура, злегка самовдоволена
хода, сторож громадського порядку, ближній район, спертися, незапалена
сигара, заспокійливим тоном, зустріч, запалити сірник, квадратне підборіддя,
гострий погляд, шрам, шпилька на шарфі, кращий друг, хлопець, розбагатіти,
доля, втратити зв'язок, вірний, з'явитися, кришка годинника, бути усипаним
дрібними діамантами, роботяга, отримати своє (досягти свого), застрявати в
рутині, заточити кого-то, комір, руки в кишенях, кирпатий ніс, заглянути в
наші краї, передати.

TEXT 18. WHILE THE AUTO WAITS

by O'Henry
Promptly at the beginning of twilight, came again to that quiet corner of that
quiet, small park the girl in gray. She sat upon a bench and read a book, for there
was yet to come a half hour in which print could be accomplished.
To repeat: Her dress was gray, and plain enough to mask its impeccancy of
style and fit. A large-meshed veil imprisoned her turban hat and a face that shone
through it with a calm and unconscious beauty. She had come there at the same hour
on the day previous, and on the day before that; and there was one who knew it.
The young man who knew it hovered near, relying upon burnt sacrifices to the
great joss, Luck. His piety was rewarded, for, in turning a page, her book slipped
from her fingers and bounded from the bench a full yard away.
 101

The young man pounced upon it with instant avidity, returning it to its owner
with that air that seems to flourish in parks and public places – a compound of
gallantry and hope, tempered with respect for the policeman on the beat. In a pleasant
voice, be risked an inconsequent remark upon the weather that introductory topic
responsible for so much of the world's unhappiness – and stood poised for a moment,
awaiting his fate.
The girl looked him over leisurely; at his ordinary, neat dress and his features
distinguished by nothing particular in the way of expression.
"You may sit down, if you like," she said, in a full, deliberate contralto.
"Really, I would like to have you do so. The light is too bad for reading. I would
prefer to talk."
The vassal of Luck slid upon the seat by her side with complaisance.
"Do you know," be said, speaking the formula with which park chairmen open
their meetings, "that you are quite the stunning gest girl I have seen in a long time?
I had my eye on you yesterday. Didn't know somebody was bowled over by those
pretty lamps of yours, did you, honeysuckle?"
"Whoever you are," said the girl, in icy tones, "you must remember that I am
a lady. I will excuse the remark you have just made because the mistake was,
doubtless, not an unnatural one – in your circle. I asked you to sit down; if the
invitation must constitute me your honeysuckle, consider it with- drawn."
"I earnestly beg your pardon," pleaded the young ran. His expression of
satisfaction had changed to one of penitence and humility. It was my fault, you know
– I mean, there are girls in parks, you know – that is, of course, you don't
know, but " "Abandon the subject, if you please. Of course, I know. Now, tell
me about these people passing and crowding, each way, along these paths. Where
are they going? Why do they hurry so? Are they happy?"
The young man had promptly abandoned his air of coquetry. His cue was now
for a waiting part; he could not guess the role be would be expected to play.
"It is interesting to watch them," he replied, postulating her mood. "It is the
wonderful drama of life. Some are going to supper and some to – er – other places.
 102

One wonders what their histories are."

"I do not," said the girl; "I am not so inquisitive. I come here to sit because
here, only, can I be tear the great, common, throbbing heart of humanity. My part in
life is cast where its beats are never felt. Can you surmise why I spoke to you, Mr.?"
"Parkenstacker," supplied the young man. Then be looked eager and hopeful.
"No," said the girl, holding up a slender finger, and smiling slightly. "You
would recognize it immediately. It is impossible to keep one's name out of print. Or
even one's portrait. This veil and this hat of my maid furnish me with an incog. You
should have seen the chauffeur stare at it when he thought I did not see. Candidly,
there are five or six names that belong in the holy of holies, and mine, by the accident
of birth, is one of them. I spoke to you, Mr. Stackenpot – "
"Parkenstacker," corrected the young man, modestly.
" – Mr. Parkenstacker, because I wanted to talk, for once, with a natural man
– one unspoiled by the despicable gloss of wealth and supposed social superiority.
Oh! you do not know how weary I am of it – money, money, money! And of the
men who surround me, dancing like little marionettes all cut by the same pattern. I
am sick of pleasure, of jewels, of travel, of society, of luxuries of all kinds."
"I always had an idea," ventured the young man, hesitatingly, "that money
must be a pretty good thing."
"A competence is to be desired. But when you leave so many millions that –
!" She concluded the sentence with a gesture of despair. "It is the monotony of it"
she continued, "that palls. Drives, dinners, theatres, balls, suppers, with the gilding
of superfluous wealth over it all. Sometimes the very tinkle of the ice in my
champagne glass nearly drives me mad."
Mr. Parkenstacker looked ingenuously interested.
"I have always liked," he said, "to read and hear about the ways of wealthy
and fashionable folks. I suppose I am a bit of a snob. But I like to have my
information accurate. Now, I had formed the opinion that champagne is cooled in
the bottle and not by placing ice in the glass."
The girl gave a musical laugh of genuine amusement.
 103

"You should know," she explained, in an indulgent tone, "that we of the non-
useful class depend for our amusement upon departure from precedent. Just now it
is a fad to put ice in champagne. The idea was originated by a visiting Prince of
Tartary while dining at the Waldorf. It will soon give way to some other whim. Just
as at a dinner party this week on Madison Avenue a green kid glove was laid by the
plate of each guest to be put on and used while eating olives."
"I see," admitted the young man, humbly.
"These special diversions of the inner circle do not become familiar to the
common public."
"Sometimes," continued the girl, acknowledging his confession of error by a
slight bow, "I have thought that if I ever should love a man it would be one of lowly
station. One who is a worker and not a drone. But, doubtless, the claims of caste and
wealth will prove stronger than my inclination. Just now I am besieged by two. One
is a Grand Duke of a German principality. I think he has, or has bad, a wife,
somewhere, driven mad by his intemperance and cruelty. The other is an English
Marquis, so cold and mercenary that I even prefer the diabolism of the Duke. What
is it that impels me to tell you these things, Mr. Packenstacker?
"Parkenstacker," breathed the young man. "In- deed, you cannot know how
much I appreciate your confidences."
The girl contemplated him with the calm, imper- sonal regard that befitted the
difference in their stations.
"What is your line of business, Mr. Parkenstacker?" she asked.
"A very humble one. But I hope to rise in the world. Were you really in earnest
when you said that you could love a man of lowly position?"
"Indeed, I was. But I said 'might.' There is the Grand Duke and the Marquis,
you know. Yes; no calling could be too humble were the man what I would wish him
to be."
"I work," declared Mr. Parkenstacker, "in a restaurant." The girl shrank
slightly.
"Not as a waiter?" she said, a little imploringly. "Labor is noble, but personal
 104

attendance, you know – valets and – "

"I am not a waiter. I am cashier in" – on the street they faced that bounded the
opposite side of the park was the brilliant electric sign "RESTAURANT" – "I am
cashier in that restaurant you am there."
The girl consulted a tiny watch set in a bracelet of rich design upon her left
wrist, and rose, hurriedly. She thrust her book into a glittering reticule suspended
from her waist, for which, however, the book was too large.
"Why are you not at work?" she asked.
"I am on the night turn," said the young man; it is yet an hour before my period
begins. May I not hope to see you again?"
"I do not know. Perhaps – but the whim may not seize me again. I must go
quickly now. There is a dinner, and a box at the play – and, oh! the same old round.
Perhaps you noticed an automobile at the upper corner of the park as you came. One
with a white body
"And red running gear?" asked the young man, knitting his brows reflectively.
"Yes. I always come in that. Pierre waits for me there. He supposes me to be
shopping in the department store across the square. Conceive of the bondage of the
life wherein we must deceive even our chauffeurs. Good-night."
"But it is dark now," said Mr. Parkenstacker, "and the park is full of rude men.
May I not walk – "
"If you have the slightest regard for my wishes," said the girl, firmly, "you will
remain at this bench for ten minutes after I have left. I do not mean to accuse you,
but you are probably aware that autos generally bear the monogram of their owner.
Again, good-night"
Swift and stately she moved away through the dusk. The young man watched
her graceful form as she reached the pavement at the park's edge, and turned up
along it toward the corner where stood the automobile. Then he treacherously and
unhesitatingly began to dodge and skim among the park trees and shrubbery in a
course parallel to her route, keeping her well in sight
When she reached the corner, she turned her head to glance at the motor car,
 105

and then passed it, continuing on across the street. Sheltered behind a convenient
standing cab, the young man followed her movements closely with his eyes. Passing
down the sidewalk of the street opposite the park, she entered the restaurant with the
blazing sign. The place was one of those frankly glaring establishments, all white,
paint and glass, where one may dine cheaply and conspicuously. The girl penetrated
the restaurant to some retreat at its rear, whence she quickly emerged without her bat
and veil.
The cashier's desk was well to the front. A red- head girl at the stool climbed
down, glancing pointedly at the clock as she did so. The girl in gray mounted in her
place.
The young man thrust his hands into his pockets and walked slowly back along
the sidewalk. At the corner his foot struck a small, paper-covered volume lying there,
sending it sliding to the edge of the turf. By its picturesque cover he recognized it as
the book the girl had been reading. He picked it up carelessly, and saw that its title
was "New Arabian Nights," the author being of the name of Stevenson. He dropped
it again upon the grass, and lounged, irresolute, for a minute. Then he stepped into
the automobile, reclined upon the cushions, and said two words to the chauffeur:
"Club, Henri."

Exercise 1. Answer the questions and complete the tasks:

1. Give the summary of the story.
2. Comment on the atmosphere of the story according to time and place of the action.
3. Why does the author repeat the words about the girl's gray dress?
4. Who is the girl? What does the author tell about her directly, and what is implied?
5. Comment on the details of her outfit and the book she is reading.
6. Who is the young man? What does the author tell about him directly, and what is
implied?
7. Comment on the young man's name. Do you think it is his real name?
8. What are the girl and the young man speaking about?
9. Comment on the following phrases: Prince of Tartar, Grand Duke of a German
 106

principality, an English Marquis. What do they mean, and why does the author
put them into the conversation?
10.Tell about the automobile and its role in the plot of the story.
11. What are the true stories of the characters? Why don't they confess to each other?
12. Comment on the irony in the story.
13. What is the message of the story?

Exercise 2. Find the equivalents to the following words and phrases in the text.
Remember the situations where they appear:
бездоганність стилю, перебувати в стані невизначеності, жаль (каяття),
залишити яку-небудь тему, перестати говорити про що-небудь, тремтяче
серце, соціальна перевага, поблажливим тоном.

Exercise 3. Translate into English using the words and phrases from above:
1. Дівчина відрізнялася бездоганним почуттям стилю.
2. Поблажливий тон не показує соціальної переваги, а є ознакою зарозумілості.
3. Краще залишимо тему політики і поговоримо про що-небудь інше.
4. Молодий чоловік бачив цю дівчину не в перший раз, але раніше він
соромився підійти до неї, а потім жалкував про це.
5. Стан невизначеності змушувало серце дівчини тремтіти.

TEXT 19. THE ROMANCE OF A BUSY BROKER

by O'Henry
Pitcher, confidential clerk in the office of Harvey Maxwell, broker, allowed
a look of mild interest and surprise to visit his usually expressionless countenance
when his employer briskly entered at half past nine in company with his young lady
stenographer. With a snappy "Good morning, Pitcher," Maxwell dashed at his desk
as though he were intending to leap over it, and then plunged into the great heap of
letters and telegrams waiting there for him.
 107

The young lady had been Maxwell's stenographer for a year. She was
beautiful in a way that was decidedly unstenographic. She forewent the pomp of
the alluring pompadour. She wore no chains, bracelets or lockets. She had not the
air of being about to accept an invitation to luncheon. Her dress was grey and plain,
but it fitted her figure with fidelity and discretion. In her neat black turban hat was
the gold– green wing of a macaw. On this morning she was softly and shyly radiant.
Her eyes were dreamily bright, her cheeks genuine peachblow, her expression a
happy one, tinged with reminiscence.
Pitcher, still mildly curious, noticed a difference in her ways this morning.
Instead of going straight into the adjoining room, where her desk was, she lingered,
slightly irresolute, in the outer office. Once she moved over by Maxwell's desk,
near enough for him to be aware of her presence.
The machine sitting at that desk was no longer a man; it was a busy New
York broker, moved by buzzing wheels and uncoiling springs.
"Well – what is it? Anything?" asked Maxwell sharply. His opened mail lay
like a bank of stage snow on his crowded desk. His keen grey eye, impersonal and
brusque, flashed upon her half impatiently.
"Nothing," answered the stenographer, moving away with a little smile.
"Mr. Pitcher," she said to the confidential clerk, did Mr. Maxwell say
anything yesterday about engaging another stenographer?"
"He did," answered Pitcher. "He told me to get another one. I notified the
agency yesterday afternoon to send over a few samples this morning. It's 9.45
o'clock, and not a single picture hat or piece of pineapple chewing gum has showed
up yet."
"I will do the work as usual, then," said the young lady, "until some one
comes to fill the place." And she went to her desk at once and hung the black turban
hat with the gold-green macaw wing in its accustomed place.
He who has been denied the spectacle of a busy Manhattan broker during a
rush of business is handicapped for the profession of anthropology. The poet sings
of the "crowded hour of glorious life." The broker's hour is not only crowded, but
 108

the minutes and seconds are hanging to all the straps and packing both front and
rear platforms.
And this day was Harvey Maxwell's busy day. The ticker began to reel out
jerkily its fitful coils of tape, the desk telephone had a chronic attack of buzzing.
Men began to throng into the office and call at him over the railing, jovially, sharply,
viciously, excitedly. Messenger boys ran in and out with messages and telegrams.
The clerks in the office jumped about like sailors during a storm. Even Pitcher's
face relaxed into something resembling animation.
On the Exchange there were hurricanes and landslides and snowstorms and
glaciers and volcanoes, and those elemental disturbances were reproduced in
miniature in the broker's offices. Maxwell shoved his chair against the wall and
transacted business after the manner of a toe dancer. He jumped from ticker to
'phone, from desk to door with the trained agility of a harlequin.
In the midst of this growing and important stress the broker became suddenly
aware of a high–rolled fringe of golden hair under a nodding canopy of velvet and
ostrich tips, an imitation sealskin sacque and a string of beads as large as hickory
nuts, ending near the floor with a silver heart. There was a self–possessed young
lady connected with these accessories; and Pitcher was there to construe her.
"Lady from the Stenographer's Agency to see about the position," said
Pitcher.
Maxwell turned half around, with his hands full of papers and ticker tape.
"What position?" he asked, with a frown.
"Position of stenographer," said Pitcher. "You told me yesterday to call them
up and have one sent over this morning."
"You are losing your mind, Pitcher," said Maxwell. "Why should I have
given you any such instructions? Miss Leslie has given perfect satisfaction during
the year she has been here. The place is hers as long as she chooses to retain it.
There's no place open here, madam. Countermand that order with the agency,
Pitcher, and don't bring any more of 'em in here."
The silver heart left the office, swinging and banging itself independently
 109

against the office furniture as it indignantly departed. Pitcher seized a moment to

remark to the bookkeeper that the "old man" seemed to get more absent–minded
and forgetful every day of the world.
The rush and pace of business grew fiercer and faster. On the floor they were
pounding half a dozen stocks in which Maxwell's customers were heavy investors.
Orders to buy and sell were coming and going as swift as the flight of swallows.
Some of his own holdings were imperilled, and the man was working like some
high-geared, delicate, strong machine – strung to full tension, going at full speed,
accurate, never hesitating, with the proper word and decision and act ready and
prompt as clockwork. Stocks and bonds, loans and mortgages, margins and
securities –here was a world of finance, and there was no room in it for the human
world or the world of nature.
When the luncheon hour drew near there came a slight lull in the uproar.
Maxwell stood by his desk with his hands full of telegrams and memoranda,
with a fountain pen over his right ear and his hair hanging in disorderly strings over
his forehead. His window was open, for the beloved janitress Spring had turned on
a little warmth through the waking registers of the earth.
And through the window came a wandering – perhaps a lost – odour – a
delicate, sweet odour of lilac that fixed the broker for a moment immovable. For
this odour belonged to Miss Leslie; it was her own, and hers only.
The odour brought her vividly, almost tangibly before him. The world of
finance dwindled suddenly to a speck. And she was in the next room – twenty steps
away.
"By George, I'll do it now," said Maxwell, half aloud. "I'll ask her now. I
wonder I didn't do it long ago."
He dashed into the inner office with the haste of a short trying to cover. He
charged upon the desk of the stenographer.
She looked up at him with a smile. A soft pink crept over her cheek, and her
eyes were kind and frank. Maxwell leaned one elbow on her desk. He still clutched
fluttering papers with both hands and the pen was above his ear.
 110

"Miss Leslie," he began hurriedly, "I have but a moment to spare. I want to
say something in that moment. Will you be my wife? I haven't had time to make
love to you in the ordinary way, but I really do love you. Talk quick, please – those
fellows are clubbing the stuffing out of Union Pacific."
"Oh, what are you talking about?" exclaimed the young lady. She rose to her
feet and gazed upon him, round-eyed.
"Don't you understand?" said Maxwell, restively. "I want you to marry me. I
love you, Miss Leslie. I wanted to tell you, and I snatched a minute when things
had slackened up a bit. They're calling me for the 'phone now. Tell 'em to wait a
minute, Pitcher. Won't you, Miss Leslie?"
The stenographer acted very queerly. At first she seemed overcome with
amazement; then tears flowed from her wondering eyes; and then she smiled
sunnily through them, and one of her arms slid tenderly about the broker's neck.
"I know now," she said, softly. "It's this old business that has driven
everything else out of your head for the time. I was frightened at first. Don't you
remember, Harvey? We were married last evening at 8 o'clock in the Little Church
Around the Corner."

Exercise 1. Answer the questions and complete the tasks:

1. Give the summary of the story.
2. Find the information about brokers, their duties and their role in the life of New
York.
3. What is the setting of the story?
4. Who is the main character? Characterize him as he appears at the beginning of the
story.
5. How does Maxwell change as the plot of the story is developing? Why do these
changes happen?
6. Tell about women characters of the story. Characterize each. Pay special attention
to the description of their appearance.
 111

7. Comment on the ways the author presents the characters of the story and the
artistic means he uses.
8. Comment on the theme of love in the story.
9. What is the message of the story?
10. Comment on the title of the story.

Exercise 2. Find the equivalents to the following words and phrases in the text.
Remember the situations where they appear:
роздратований, перестрибнути через що-небудь, пірнути, зануритися,
природний персиковий рум'янець, усвідомлювати чиюсь присутність, зі
спритністю арлекіна, скористатися моментом, уп'ястися здивованим
поглядом.

Exercise 3. Translate into English using the words and phrases from above:
1. Перескакуючи через каміння, Майк кинувся до моря і занурився в нього з
явним задоволенням.
2. У тебе гарний природний рум'янець, тобі не потрібна косметика.
3. Він грубо висловився на адресу начальника, не усвідомлюючи його
присутності в кабінеті.
4. Сьогодні гарна погода, скористайся моментом і сходи до лісу.
5. Не треба так роздратовано і здивовано дивитися на мене.

TEXT 20. A RETRIEVED REFORMATION

by O'Henry

In the prison shoe-shop, Jimmy Valentine was busily at work making shoes.
A prison officer came into the shop, and led Jimmy to the prison office. There Jimmy
was given an important paper. It said that he was free.
Jimmy took the paper without showing much pleasure or interest. He had been
 112

sent to prison to stay for four years. He had been there for ten months. But he had
expected to stay only three months. Jimmy Valentine had many friends outside the
prison. A man with so many friends does not expect to stay in prison long.
“Valentine,” said the chief prison officer, “you’ll go out tomorrow morning.
This is your chance. Make a man of yourself. You’re not a bad fellow at heart. Stop
breaking safes open, and live a better life.”
“Me?” said Jimmy in surprise. “I never broke open a safe in my life.”
“Oh, no,” the chief prison officer laughed. “Never. Let’s see. How did you
happen to get sent to prison for opening that safe in Springfield? Was it because you
didn’t want to tell where you really were? Perhaps because you were with some lady,
and you didn’t want to tell her name? Or was it because the judge didn’t like you?
You men always have a reason like that. You never go to prison because you broke
open a safe.”
“Me?” Jimmy said. His face still showed surprise. “I was never in Springfield
in my life.”
“Take him away,” said the chief prison officer. “Get him the clothes he needs
for going outside. Bring him here again at seven in the morning. And think about
what I said, Valentine.”
At a quarter past seven on the next morning, Jimmy stood again in the office.
He had on some new clothes that did not fit him, and a pair of new shoes that hurt
his feet. These are the usual clothes given to a prisoner when he leaves the prison.
Next, they gave him money to pay for his trip on a train to the city near the
prison. They gave him five dollars more. The five dollars were supposed to help him
become a better man.
Then the chief prison officer put out his hand for a handshake. That was the
end of Valentine, Prisoner 9762. Mr. James Valentine walked out into the sunshine.
He did not listen to the song of the birds or look at the green trees or smell the
flowers. He went straight to a restaurant. There he tasted the first sweet joys of being
free. He had a good dinner. After that he went to the train station. He gave some
money to a blind man who sat there, asking for money, and then he got on the train.
 113

Three hours later he got off the train in a small town. Here he went to the
restaurant of Mike Dolan.
Mike Dolan was alone there. After shaking hands he said, “I’m sorry we
couldn’t do it sooner, Jimmy my boy. But there was that safe in Springfield, too. It
wasn’t easy. Feeling all right?”
“Fine,” said Jimmy. “Is my room waiting for me?”
He went up and opened the door of a room at the back of the house. Everything
was as he had left it. It was here they had found Jimmy, when they took him to prison.
There on the floor was a small piece of cloth. It had been torn from the coat of the
cop, as Jimmy was fighting to escape.
There was a bed against the wall. Jimmy pulled the bed toward the middle of
the room. The wall behind it looked like any wall, but now Jimmy found and opened
a small door in it. From this opening he pulled out a dust-covered bag.
He opened this and looked lovingly at the tools for breaking open a safe. No
finer tools could be found any place. They were complete; everything needed was
here. They had been made of a special material, in the necessary sizes and shapes.
Jimmy had planned them himself, and he was very proud of them.
It had cost him over nine hundred dollars to have these tools made at a place
where they make such things for men who work at the job of safe-breaking.
In half an hour Jimmy went downstairs and through the restaurant. He was
now dressed in good clothes that fitted him well. He carried his dusted and cleaned
bag. “Do you have anything planned?” asked Mike Dolan.
“Me?” asked Jimmy as if surprised. “I don’t understand. I work for the New
York Famous Bread and Cake Makers Company. And I sell the best bread and cake
in the country.”
Mike enjoyed these words so much that Jimmy had to take a drink with him.
Jimmy had some milk. He never drank anything stronger.
A week after Valentine, 9762, left the prison, a safe was broken open in
Richmond, Indiana. No one knew who did it. Eight hundred dollars were taken.
Two weeks after that, a safe in Logansport was opened. It was a new kind of
 114

safe; it had been made, they said, so strong that no one could break it open. But
someone did, and took fifteen hundred dollars.
Then a safe in Jefferson City was opened. Five thousand dollars were taken.
This loss was a big one. Ben Price was a cop who worked on such important matters,
and now he began to work on this.
He went to Richmond, Indiana, and to Logansport, to see how the safe-
breaking had been done in those places. He was heard to say: “I can see that Jim
Valentine has been here. He is in business again. Look at the way he opened this
one. Everything easy, everything clean. He is the only man who has the tools to do
it. And he is the only man who knows how to use tools like this. Yes, I want Mr.
Valentine. Next time he goes to prison, he’s going to stay there until his time is
finished.”
Ben Price knew how Jimmy worked. Jimmy would go from one city to another
far away. He always worked alone. He always left quickly when he was finished. He
enjoyed being with nice people. For all these reasons, it was not easy to catch Mr.
Valentine.
People with safes full of money were glad to hear that Ben Price was at work
trying to catch Mr. Valentine.
One afternoon Jimmy Valentine and his bag arrived in a small town named
Elmore. Jimmy, looking as young as a college boy, walked down the street toward
the hotel.
A young lady walked across the street, passed him at the corner, and entered
a door. Over the door was the sign, “The Elmore Bank.” Jimmy Valentine looked
into her eyes, forgetting at once what he was. He became another man. She looked
away, and brighter color came into her face. Young men like Jimmy did not appear
often in Elmore.
Jimmy saw a boy near the bank door, and began to ask questions about the
town. After a time the young lady came out and went on her way. She seemed not
to see Jimmy as she passed him.
“Isn’t that young lady Polly Simpson?” asked Jimmy.
 115

“No,” said the boy. “She’s Annabel Adams. Her father owns this bank.”
Jimmy went to the hotel, where he said his name was Ralph D. Spencer. He
got a room there. He told the hotel man he had come to Elmore to go into business.
How was the shoe business? Was there already a good shoe-shop?
The man thought that Jimmy’s clothes and manners were fine. He was happy
to talk to him.
Yes, Elmore needed a good shoe-shop. There was no shop that sold just shoes.
Shoes were sold in the big shops that sold everything. All business in Elmore was
good. He hoped Mr. Spencer would decide to stay in Elmore. It was a pleasant town
to live in and the people were friendly.
Mr. Spencer said he would stay in the town a few days and learn something
about it. No, he said, he himself would carry his bag up to his room. He didn’t want
a boy to take it. It was very heavy.
Mr. Ralph Spencer remained in Elmore. He started a shoe-shop. Business was
good.
Also, he made many friends. And he was successful with the wish of his heart.
He met Annabel Adams. He liked her better every day.
At the end of a year everyone in Elmore liked Mr. Ralph Spencer. His shoe-
shop was doing very good business. And he and Annabel were going to be married
in two weeks. Mr. Adams, the small-town banker, liked Spencer. Annabel was very
proud of him. He seemed already to belong to the Adams family.
One day Jimmy sat down in his room to write this letter, which he sent to one
of his old friends:
Dear Old Friend:
I want you to meet me at Sullivan’s place next week, on the evening of the
10th. I want to give you my tools. I know you’ll be glad to have them. You couldn’t
buy them for a thousand dollars. I finished with the old business—a year ago. I have
a nice shop. I’m living a better life, and I’m going to marry the best girl on earth two
weeks from now. It’s the only life—I wouldn’t ever again touch another man’s
money. After I marry, I’m going to go further west, where I’ll never see anyone who
 116

knew me in my old life. I tell you, she’s a wonderful girl. She trusts me.
Your old friend, Jimmy.
On the Monday night after Jimmy sent this letter, Ben Price arrived quietly in
Elmore. He moved slowly about the town in his quiet way, and he learned all that he
wanted to know. Standing inside a shop, he watched Ralph D. Spencer walk by.
“You’re going to marry the banker’s daughter, are you, Jimmy?” said Ben to
himself. “I don’t feel sure about that!”
The next morning Jimmy was at the Adams home. He was going to a nearby
city that day to buy new clothes for the wedding. He was also going to buy a gift for
Annabel. It would be his first trip out of Elmore. It was more than a year now since
he had done any safe-breaking.
Most of the Adams family went to the bank together that morning. There were
Mr. Adams, Annabel, Jimmy, and Annabel’s married sister with her two little girls,
aged five and nine. They passed Jimmy’s hotel, and Jimmy ran up to his room and
brought along his bag. Then they went to the bank.
All went inside – Jimmy, too, for he was one of the family. Everyone in the
bank was glad to see the good-looking, nice young man who was going to marry
Annabel. Jimmy put down his bag.
Annabel, laughing, put Jimmy’s hat on her head and picked up the bag. “How
do I look?” she asked. “Ralph, how heavy this bag is! It feels full of gold.”
“It’s full of some things I don’t need in my shop,” Jimmy said. “I’m taking
them to the city, to the place where they came from. That saves me the cost of
sending them. I’m going to be a married man. I must learn to save money.”
The Elmore bank had a new safe. Mr. Adams was very proud of it, and he
wanted everyone to see it. It was as large as a small room, and it had a very special
door. The door was controlled by a clock. Using the clock, the banker planned the
time when the door should open. At other times no one, not even the banker himself,
could open it. He explained about it to Mr. Spencer. Mr. Spencer seemed interested
but he did not seem to understand very easily. The two children, May and Agatha,
enjoyed seeing the shining heavy door, with all its special parts.
 117

While they were busy like this, Ben Price entered the bank and looked around.
He told a young man who worked there that he had not come on business; he was
waiting for a man.
Suddenly there was a cry from the women. They had not been watching the
children. May, the nine-year-old girl, had playfully but firmly closed the door of the
safe. And Agatha was inside.
The old banker tried to open the door. He pulled at it for a moment. “The door
can’t be opened,” he cried. “And the clock – I hadn’t started it yet.”
Agatha’s mother cried out again.
“Quiet!” said Mr. Adams, raising a shaking hand. “All be quiet for a moment.
Agatha!” he called as loudly as he could. “Listen to me.” They could hear, but not
clearly, the sound of the child’s voice. In the darkness inside the safe, she was wild
with fear.
“My baby!” her mother cried. “She will die of fear! Open the door! Break it
open! Can’t you men do something?”
“There isn’t a man nearer than the city who can open that door,” said Mr.
Adams, in a shaking voice. “My God! Spencer, what shall we do? That child – she
can’t live long in there. There isn’t enough air. And the fear will kill her.”
Agatha’s mother, wild too now, beat on the door with her hands. Annabel
turned to Jimmy, her large eyes full of pain, but with some hope, too. A woman
thinks that the man she loves can somehow do anything.
“Can’t you do something, Ralph? Try, won’t you?”
He looked at her with a strange soft smile on his lips and in his eyes.
“Annabel,” he said, “give me that flower you are wearing, will you?”
She could not believe that she had really heard him. But she put the flower in
his hand. Jimmy took it and put it where he could not lose it. Then he pulled off his
coat. With that act, Ralph D. Spencer passed away and Jimmy Valentine took his
place.
“Stand away from the door, all of you,” he commanded.
He put his bag on the table, and opened it flat. From that time on, he seemed
 118

not to know that anyone else was near. Quickly he laid the shining strange tools on
the table. The others watched as if they had lost the power to move.
In a minute Jimmy was at work on the door. In ten minutes – faster than he
had ever done it before – he had the door open.
Agatha was taken into her mother’s arms.
Jimmy Valentine put on his coat, picked up the flower and walked toward the
front door. As he went, he thought he heard a voice call, “Ralph!” He did not stop.
At the door a big man stood in his way.
“Hello, Ben!” said Jimmy, still with his strange smile. “You’re here at last,
are you? Let’s go. I don’t care, now.”
And then Ben Price acted rather strangely.
“I guess you’re wrong about this, Mr. Spencer,” he said. “I don’t believe I
know you, do I?”
And Ben Price turned and walked slowly down the street.

Exercise 1. Find the equivalents to the following words and phrases in the text.
Retell the situations where they appeared:
повернутий до свого попереднього стану (відновлений, виправлений), зламати
сейф, не підходити (за розміром і т. п.), протягнути руку для рукостискання,
працювати над чим-небудь, почати справу ( відкрити бізнес), бути впевненим
в чомусь, дивитися за дітьми, рука, що трясеться, бути не в собі від страху,
застигнути на місці, стояти на шляху.

Exercise 2. Translate into English using the words and phrases from above:
1. Якщо дані будуть відновлені, можна буде зрозуміти причини
авіакатастрофи.
2. На знак примирення вони протягнули один одному руки.
3. Зараз вчений працює над дуже складною проблемою, однак він не
впевнений, що зможе впоратися зі своїм завданням.
 119

4. Якщо ти не будеш дивитися за дітьми, може статися біда.

5. Містер Адамс тремтячими руками відчинив двері. Він був у нестямі від
страху і застиг на місці.
6. Виламування сейфів – вид злочинної діяльності, що вимагає
холоднокровності і вміння.
7. Одяг, який отримав Джиммі, абсолютно не підходив йому.
8. Він збирається відкрити власну справу. Це складно, але він упертий і не
потерпить, якщо хтось встане на його шляху.
 120

CONTENT

TEXT 1. CLEAN UP YOUR ROOM……………………………………………4

TEXT 2. THE LUNCHEON……………………………………………………..7
TEXT 3. THE ADVENTURE OF MY AUNT…………………………………14
TEXT 4. HE OVERDID IT……………………………………………………..16
TEXT 5. UNCLE PODGER HANGS A PICTURE……………………………21
TEXT 6. THE SERENADE (Part 1)……………………………………………24
TEXT 7. THE SERENADE (Part 2)……………………………………………30
TEXT 8. IS HE LIVING OR IS HE DEAD……………………………………35
TEXT 9. A CUP OF TEA……………………………………………………….42
TEXT 10. THE OPEN WINDOW……………………………………………...49
TEXT 11. A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE……………………………...54
TEXT 12. THE LAST LEAF……………………………………………………61
TEXT 13. POISON………………………………………………………………65
TEXT 14. HOW TO AVOID TRAVELLING…………………………………77
TEXT 15. A SERVICE OF LOVE……………………………………………...84
TEXT 16. LOST ON DRESS PARADE………………………………………..88
TEXT 17. AFTER TWENTY YEARS…………………………………………95
TEXT 18. WHILE THE AUTO WAITS……………………………………...100
TEXT 19. THE ROMANCE OF A BUSY BROKER………………………...106
TEXT 20. A RETRIEVED REFORMATION………………………………..111
 121

ЛІТЕРАТУРА

Сборник адаптированных рассказов английских и американских писателей

https://topuch.ru/pervaya-chaste-sbornika-sostoit-iz-dvuh-
razdelov/index5.html#pages
https://etc.usf.edu/lit2go/131/the-four-million/2415/by-courier/
https://studfile.net/preview/2496467/page:2/
https://lingualeo.com/ru/jungle/clean-your-room-art-buchwald-304665
https://studfile.net/preview/3285177/
http://englishstory.ru/the-last-leaf.html
http://englishstory.ru/american-writers.html
https://www.lingvistov.ru/blog/reading-club/reading-club-pre-intermediate-the-
luncheon-by-s-maugham/
https://ouenglish.ru/english-story-audio/36
 122

ДЛЯ ПРИМІТОК
123
124