Αποσπάσματα από το «The Elusive Pimpernel»

Τι θέλει ένας άντρας όταν κουράζεται να είναι ξεχωριστός.

All that was most human in him, all that was weak in this strong and untamed nature, cried aloud for peace and luxury and idleness: for long summer afternoons spent in lazy content, for the companionship of horses and dogs and of flowers, with no thought or cares save those for the next evening’s gavotte, no graver occupation save that of sitting at her feet.

Δεν είναι η φυλακή που τη φοβίζει περισσότερο, αλλά η αναμονή.

The one real terror which she felt was that she would go mad. Nay! that she was in a measure mad already. For hours now—or was it days? … or years? … she had heard nothing save that rhythmic walk of the sentinel, and the kindly, tremulous voice of the Abbé whispering consolations, or murmuring prayers in her ears, she had seen nothing save that prison door, of rough deal, painted a dull grey, with great old-fashioned lock, and hinges rusty with the damp of ages.

Η γιορτή τελείωσε· κάποιος δένει βιαστικά ένα δέμα για να φύγει.

And when the crowd had passed noisily along, leaving behind it a trail of torn finery, of glittering tinsel and of scarlet berries, when the boom of the big drum and the grating noise of the brass trumpets had somewhat died away, wan faces, pale with anxiety, would peer from out the darkness, and nervous hands would grasp with trembling fingers the small bundles of poor belongings tied up hastily in view of flight.

Το καλοκαίρι αργεί να αποχαιρετήσει, σαν επισκέπτης.

So we needs must call it “fin d’été”: the ending of the summer; not the absolute end, nor yet the ultimate departure, but the tender lingering of a friend obliged to leave us anon, yet who fain would steal a day here and there, a week or so in which to stay with us: who would make that last pathetic farewell of his endure a little while longer still, and brings forth in gorgeous array for our final gaze all that he has which is most luxuriant, most desirable, most worthy of regret.

Ένα θέαμα που το πλήθος βλέπει για μια δεκάρα, πριν από τον κινηματογράφο.

And lo and behold! when you dropped a penny into a slot just below the wooden stage, the crowd of little figures started waving their arms up and down, and another little doll would ascend the elevated platform and lie down on the red board at the foot of the wooden posts. Then a figure dressed in brilliant scarlet put out an arm presumably to touch the pulley, and the tiny knife would rattle down on to the poor little reclining doll’s neck, and its head would roll off into the basket beyond.

Δυο άντρες στο τραπέζι με τα ζάρια: ο ένας στα λευκά, ο άλλος σε επιφυλακή.

And in the centre of the compact group, Sir Percy Blakeney in his gorgeous suit of shimmering white satin, one knee bent upon a chair, and leaning with easy grace—dice-box in hand—across the small gilt-legged table; beside him ex-Ambassador Chauvelin, standing with arms folded behind his back, watching every movement of his brilliant adversary like some dark-plumaged hawk hovering near a bird of paradise.

Ένα διάταγμα καρφωμένο στην πύλη της φυλακής, κάτω από το φως ενός φαναριού.

Against the heavy oaken gateway, leading to the courtyard of the prison, the proclamation written on stout parchment had been pinned up. Beside it hung a tiny lantern, the dim light of which flickered in the evening breeze, and brought at times into sudden relief the bold writing and heavy signature, which stood out, stern and grim, against the yellowish background of the paper, like black signs of approaching death.

Ο κύριος Κλάτερμπακ παραθέτει μεγάλους συγγραφείς χωρίς να τους κατονομάζει.

Mr. Clutterbuck was very fond of quoting from the works of certain writers whose names he never mentioned, but who went by the poetical generality of “the poets.” Whenever he made use of phrases which he was supposed to derive from these great and unnamed authors, he solemnly and mechanically raised his hat, as a tribute of respect to these giant minds.