Рассказы

                У. (. MOJM





РАССКАЗЫ

W. S. MAUGHAM

   STORIES







READING WITH EXERCISES

   Адаптация, комментарии, словарь, упражнения Ю. Б. Голицынского







                   ИЗДАТЕЛЬСТВО

                   Санкт-Петербург

УДК 373
ББК 81.2 Англ-922
     М 47















    Моэм, Уильям Сомерсет.
М 47 Рассказы : книга для чтения на английском языке / У. С. Моэм ; [Адаптация, комментарии, словарь, упражнения Ю. Б. Голицынского]. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2015. — 160 с. : ил. — (Серия «Reading with exercises»).

    ISBN 978-5-9925-0235-0.

        В книгу вошли рассказы знаменитого английского писателя У. С. Моэма.
        Разнообразные упражнения к рассказам направлены на расширение словарного запаса учащихся, приобретение навыков перевода и умение выражать свою точку зрения на английском языке. Все рассказы и фонетические упражнения записаны на компакт-диск, что позволит школьникам и студентам совершенствовать свое произношение, привыкать к звучанию живой английской речи и воспринимать содержание текста на слух.
         Книга предназначена для старших классов школ с углубленным изучением английского языка, студентов и широкого круга людей, самостоятельно изучающих английский язык.
УДК 373
ББК 81.2 Англ-922




ISBN 978-5-9925-0235-0


© КАРО, 2000

            THE LUNCHEON


  I caught sight of her¹ at the theatre and in answer to her sign 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 don’t think I would have recognized her. She spoke to me brightly.
  “Well, it’s many years since we first met. How time does fly! 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 overlooking a cemetery and I was earning just 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 soon I received from her another letter saying that she was passing through Paris and would like to have a talk with me; but her time was limited and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday; she was asking me if I would give her a little luncheon at Foyot’s? Foyot’s is a restaurant

¹ I caught sight of her — Я заметил ее

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at which the French senators eat and it was so expensive that I had never even thought of going there. But I was flattered and I was too young to have learned to say no to a woman. I had eighty francs until the end of the month and I hoped that a modest luncheon should not cost more than fifteen. So I thought that if I cut out coffee for the next two weeks I could manage well enough.
   I answered that I was glad and that I would meet my friend - by correspondence - at Foyot’s on Thursday at half-past twelve.
   When we met I saw that she was not so young as I expected and her appearance was imposing rather than attractive. She was in fact a woman of forty ( a charming age, but not an age that excites a sudden and devastating passion at first sight), 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 ready to be an attentive listener.
   I was startled when the menu was brought, for the prices were much 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, he said, a beautiful salmon had just been brought, it was the first they had

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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 caviare.”
   My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviare, but I could not tell her that. I told the waiter to bring caviare. For myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a mutton chop.
   “I think you are unwise to eat meat,” she said. “I don’t know how you can work after eating heavy things like chops. I don’t believe in overloading 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 digestion.”
   “What would you like?” I asked, hospitable still, but not exactly enthusiastic.
   She gave me a bright and amicable flash of her white teeth.
   My doctor doesn’t let me drink anything but champagne.”
   I think I turned a little pale. I ordered half a bottle. I said that my doctor had absolutely forbidden me to drink champagne.
   “What are you going to drink then?”
   “Water.”
   She ate the caviare and she ate the salmon. She talked gaily of art and literature and music. But I

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wondered what the bill would come to. When my mutton chop arrived she spoke quite seriously to me.
   “I see that you are in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. I am sure it is a mistake. Why don’t you follow my example and just eat one thing? I am sure you would feel so much better for it.”
   “I am only going to eat one thing,” I said as the waiter came again with the menu.
   She waved him aside.
   “No, no, I never eat anything for luncheon. Just a little, just one thing, and even that simply for the sake of keeping up a conversation. I couldn’t eat anything more - unless they had some of those giant asparagus. I should be sorry to leave Paris without eating some of them.”
   My heart sank. I had seen giant asparagus in the shops and I knew that they were horribly expensive. My mouth had often watered¹ at the sight of them.
   “Madame wants to know if you have any of those giant asparagus,” I asked the waiter.
   I tried with all my might to will him to say no². But my efforts were in vain. A happy smile spread over his broad, priest-like face, and he assured me that they had some so large, so splendid, so tender, that it was a marvel.
   “I am not in the least hungry,” my guest sighed, “but if you insist I don’t mind eating some asparagus.”

¹ My mouth had often watered — У меня часто текли слюнки

² to will him to say no — внушить ему сказать нет

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   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. The fact is that you spoil your taste by all the meat you eat.”
   We waited for the asparagus to be cooked. Panic seized me. It was not a question how much money I should have left over for the rest of the month, but whether I had enough to pay the bill. It would be terrible to find myself ten francs¹ short and be obliged to borrow from my guest. I could not bring myself to do that. I knew exactly how much 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 that my money had been stolen. Of course it would be awkward if she had not money enough either to pay the bill. Then the only thing would be to leave my watch and say I would come back and pay later.
   The asparagus appeared. They were enormous, succulent and appetizing. The smell of the melted butter tickled my nostrils. I watched the abandoned woman² thrust them down her throat in large mouthfuls and politely continued discussing the condition of the drama in the Balkans. At last she finished.
   “Coffee?” I said.
   “Yes, just an ice-cream and coffee,” she answered.

¹ to find myself ten francs short — обнаружить, что у меня не хватает десяти франков

² the abandoned woman — зд. безнадежная женщина

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   I was past caring now¹, 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 was eating 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 am 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 about you.”
   “Oh, I see.”
   Then a terrible thing happened. While we were waiting for the coffee, the waiter, with a broad smile on his false face, came up to us carrying a large basket full of huge peaches. They had the blush of an innocent girl, they had the rich colour of an Italian landscape. But surely 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, absentmindedly took one.
   “You see, you have filled your stomach with a lot of meat” - my one miserable chop - “ 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 an instant 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 the whole month before me and not a penny in my pocket.

¹ I was past caring now — Мне уже было все равно

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  “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 retorted. “I’ll eat nothing for dinner tonight.”
  “Humorist!” she cried gaily, jumping into a cab. “You are quite a humorist!”
  But I have had my revenge at last. I do not believe that I am a vindictive man, but when the immortal gods take a hand in the matter¹ it is pardonable to observe the result with complacency. Today she weighs one hundred and thirty kilos.



EXERCISES



            1. Practice the pronunciation of the following words.



sign [sam] sigh [sai] luncheon ['kntjsn] cemetery ['semitri] restaurant ['restsrop] modest ['modist] appearance [s'pisrsns] imposing [im'pouzip] excites [ik'saits] devastating ['devssteitip] reassured [ris'jusd] generously ['dsensrssli] salmon ['ssirai] caviare ['ksvia:]

asparagus [ss'psrsgss] spread [spred] priest-like ['pri:stlaik] appetite ['spitait] seized [si:zd] obliged [sb'laid3d] awkward ['o:kwsd] enormous [i'no:mss] succulent ['sAkjulsnt] appetizing ['spitaizip] abandoned [s'b»ndsnd] caring ['kesrip] thoroughly ['0агэ1г] false [fo:ls]

heart [ha:t]
absentmindedly ['»bssnt'mamdidli]
afford [s'fo:d]                   inadequate [in'sdikwit]

¹ take a hand in the matter — берутся за дело

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