Английский язык с Грэмом Грином. Третий человек - [7]

), anywhere in the world at all (где-либо в мире вообще = кто бы мог предположить, что это случится именно здесь; in the world — в мире; среди неисчислимых возможностей). Of course it might have been a cook who had died (конечно это мог быть повар, который умер), a housekeeper (экономка), anybody but Harry Lime (кто угодно помимо Гарри Лайма), but he knew (но он знал = понял; to know — знать)—he felt he had known twenty stairs down (он чувствовал, что он знал еще за двадцать ступеней; to feel — чувствовать; stair — ступенька /лестницы/; лестница)—that Lime, the Lime he had hero-worshipped now for twenty years (что Лайм, тот Лайм, которого он боготворил теперь в течение двадцати лет), since the first meeting in a grim school corridor (с первой встречи в мрачном школьном коридоре) with a cracked bell ringing for prayers (с надтреснутым колоколом, звонящим к молитвам), was gone (умер: «был ушедший»; to go — идти). Martins wasn't wrong (Мартинс не был неправ), not entirely wrong (не полностью неправ). After he had rung the bell half a dozen times (после того как он позвонил в колокольчик половину дюжины раз; to ring — звонить) a small man with a sullen expression (маленький человек с угрюмым выражением /лица/) put his head out from another flat (высунул свою голову наружу из другой квартиры; to put — класть, помещать) and told him in a tone of vexation (и сказал ему в тоне оскорбленности = обиженным голосом), "It's no use ringing like that (бесполезно трезвонить: «нет никакой пользы так звонить»). There's nobody there (там никого нет). He's dead (он мертв = умер)."

"Herr Lime (герр Лайм /господин Лайм — нем./)?"

"Herr Lime of course (герр Лайм, конечно)."

Martins said to me later (Мартинс сказал мне позднее), "At first it didn't mean a thing (сперва это не значило ничего). It was just a bit of information (это был просто кусочек информации), like those paragraphs in The Times they call News in Brief (как те газетные заметки: «абзацы, параграфы» в Таймс, которые они называют = называются ‘Новости кратко’). I said to him (я сказал ему): When did it happen (когда это случилось)? How (как)?'"

"He was run over by a car (он был сбит машиной; to run — бежать; двигаться, ехать /о транспорте/; over — через; to run over — переехать, задавить /кого-л./)," the man said (сказал мужчина). "Last Thursday (в прошлый четверг: «последний четверг»)." He added sullenly (добавил он угрюмо), as if really this were none of his business (словно показывая, что это совершенно его не касалось: «как если действительно это не было /вовсе/ его делом). "They are burying him this afternoon (они хоронят его сегодня после полудня). You've only just missed them (вы только что пропустили их)."

"Them (их)?"

"Oh, a couple of friends and the coffin (о, пара друзей и гроб)."

"Wasn't he in hospital (он не был в больнице)?"

"There was no sense in taking him to hospital (не было никакого смысла везти его в больницу). He was killed here on his own doorstep (он был убит здесь, на своем собственном пороге)—instantaneously (мгновенно; instant — мгновение, миг, момент). The right-hand mudguard (правое: «праворукое» крыло; mudguard — крыло; щит от грязи; mud — грязь; guard — защита) struck him on his shoulder (ударило его в плечо; to strike) and bowled him over in front like a rabbit (и сбило его /покатив/ вперед как кролика; to bowl — катать /шар, колесо и т. п.; to bowl over — сбить)."

aware [q'weq], silence ['saIlqns], steadily ['stedIlI], [kqn'vIns], absence ['xbs(q)ns], hero ['hIqrqu], worship ['wq:SIp], corridor ['kOrIdO:], entirely [In'taIqlI], sullen ['sAlqn], expression [Ik'spreS(q)n], vexation [vek'seIS(q)n], bury ['berI], instantaneous ["Instqn'teInIqs]

How quickly one becomes aware of silence even in so silent a city as Vienna with the snow steadily settling. Martins hadn't reached the second floor before he was convinced that he would not find Lime there, but the silence was deeper than just absence—it was as if he would not find Harry Lime anywhere in Vienna, and as he reached the third floor and saw the big black bow over the door handle, anywhere in the world at all. Of course it might have been a cook who had died, a housekeeper, anybody but Harry Lime, but he knew—he felt he had known twenty stairs down—that Lime, the Lime he had hero-worshipped now for twenty years, since the first meeting in a grim school corridor with a cracked bell ringing for prayers, was gone. Martins wasn't wrong, not entirely wrong. After he had rung the bell half a dozen times a small man with a sullen expression put his head out from another flat and told him in a tone of vexation, "It's no use ringing like that. There's nobody there. He's dead."

"Herr Lime?"

"Herr Lime of course."

Martins said to me later, "At first it didn't mean a thing. It was just a bit of information, like those paragraphs in The Times they call News in Brief. I said to him: When did it happen? How?'"

"He was run over by a car," the man said. "Last Thursday." He added sullenly, as if really this were none of his business. "They are burying him this afternoon. You've only just missed them."