La fenetra abrida (“The open window”) es un nara corta par Saki (H. H. Munro). Esta tradui es par Randy Hudson en 2012.
“Mea tia va veni de supra pronto, sr Nuttel;” – el dise, un fem joven e multe autoposeseda de des-sinco anios – “entretempo, tu debe atenta tolera me.”
“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 atenta dise la cosa coreta cual ta adula conveninte la sobrina de la momento, sin desconta nonconveninte la tia ci va veni. Privata, el duta plu ca sempre esce esta visitas formal a un segue de nonconosedas asoluta va fa multe per aida la sani de nervo de cual el debe es en sua curso.
Framton Nuttel endeavoured 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.
“Me sabe como lo va es:” – sua sore ia dise en cuando el ia prepara migra a esta retira campanial – “tu va entera tu ala e no va parla a un spirito vivente, e tua nervos va deveni plu mal ca sempre par la depresa. Mera me va dona a tu leteras de presenta a tota la persones ci me conose ala. Alga de los, cuanto me pote recorda, ia es multe amable.”
“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 vole sabe esce sra Sappleton, la dama a ci el presenta aora un de la leteras, es de la amables.
Framton wondered whether Mrs. Sappleton, the lady to whom he was presenting one of the letters of introduction, came into the nice division.
“Esce tu conose multe de la persones sirca asi?” – la sobrina demanda, cuando el judi ce los ia ave un comunia sufisinte de silente.
“Do you know many of the people round here?” asked the niece, when she judged that they had had sufficient silent communion.
“Apena un spirito.” – Framton dise. “Mea sore ia resta asi, a la casa de parocior, tu sabe, ante sirca cuatro anios, e el ia dona a me leteras de presenta a alga persones asi.”
“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 people here.”
El fa la declara ultima con un tono de regrete distinguida.
He made the last statement in a tone of distinct regret.
“Donce tu conose cuasi no cosa sur mea tia?” – la fem joven e autoposeseda segue.
“Then you know practically nothing about my aunt?” pursued the self-possessed young lady.
“Sola sua nom e adirije.” – la visitor confesa. El vole sabe esce sra Sappleton es en la state sposida o viduida. Alga cosa nondefinable sur la sala sujesta parente un abita masin.
“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.
“Sua trajedia grande ia aveni ante esata tre anios.” – la enfante dise. “Acel ta es pos la tempo de tua sore.”
“Her great tragedy happened just three years ago,” said the child; “that would be since your sister’s time.”
“Sua trajedia?” – Framton demanda; a esta loca repososa de campania, trajedias pare en alga modo nonconveninte.
“Her tragedy?” asked Framton; somehow in this restful country spot tragedies seemed out of place.
“Cisa tu vole sabe perce nos manteni tota abrida acel fenetra a un posmedia de octobre.” – la sobrina dise, indicante un porte-fenetra grande cual abri a un erba.
“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.
“Lo es multe calda per esta tempo de la anio,” – Framton dise – “ma esce acel fenetra ave alga lia con la trajedia?”
“It is quite warm for the time of the year,” said Framton; “but has that window got anything to do with the tragedy?”
“A estra tra acel fenetra, ante esata tre anios de oji, sua sposo e sua du frates joven ia sorti per un dia de xuta. Los ia reveni nunca. En traversa la stepe a sua tera favoreda per fusili galinagos, tota la tre ia es engolida en un peso perilosa de pantan. Lo ia es acel estate mal moiada, tu sabe, e locas cual ia es nonosiva en otra anios ia disolve subita sin preindica. Sua corpos es nunca reganiada. Acel ia es la parte asustante de lo.” Asi la vose de la enfante perde sua nota autoposeseda e deveni lutante umana. “Povre tia pensa sempre ce los va reveni a alga dia, los e la spaniel brun e peti cual ia es perdeda con los, e los va entra tra acel fenetra en la esata mesma modo como ante. Acel es perce la fenetra permane abrida a cada sera asta lus tota final. Povre tia cara, el dise frecuente a me lo como los ia sorti, sua sposo con sua jaca nonpermeable e blanca sur braso, e Ronnie, sua frate plu joven, cantante ‘Bertie, perce tu salta?’ como sempre el ia fa per broma a el, car tia ia dise ja ce la canta irita el. Tu sabe, a veses en seras calma e silente como esta, cuasi me ave un senti turbante ce tota de los va entra tra acel fenetra –”
“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 favourite 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 some day, 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 through that window—”
El descontinua con un trema peti. Lo es un lejeri per Framton cuando la tia entra ativiosa la sala con un vortis de escusas per la tardia de sua apare.
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.
“Me espera ce Vera diverti tu?” – el dise.
“I hope Vera has been amusing you?” she said.
“El es ja multe interesante.” – Framton dise.
“She has been very interesting,” said Framton.
“Me espera ce la fenetra abrida no disturba tu.” – sra Sappleton dise rapida. “Mea sposo e frates va reveni pronto de xuta, e sempre los veni en esta via. Los es a estra per galinagos en la pantanes oji, donce los va fa un mugre grande sur mea tapetos povre. Tan como tu omes, no?”
“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 to-day, so they’ll make a fine mess over my poor carpets. So like you men-folk, isn’t it?”
El continua parleta felis sur la xuta e la pocia de avias, e la espeta de patos en inverno. A Framton tota de lo es pur turbante. El fa un atenta desperante ma sola partal susedosa de verje la conversa a un tema min macabre. El es consensa ce sua ospitor dona a el sola un frato de sua atende, e ce sua oios devia constante ultra el a la fenetra abrida e la erba a estra. Lo es serta un coaveni nonfortunosa ce el fa sua visita a esta aniversario trajedial.
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.
“La dotores acorda sur comanda a me un reposa intera, un asentia de stimula mental, e un evita de alga modo de eserse violente de corpo.” – Framton proclama, ci sufri la ilude alga pandemica ce stranjeres perfeta e conosedas casual es fame per la detalias la plu peti de la maladias e debilias de on, de sua causas e remedias. “Sur la sujeto de dieta los no es tan multe en acorda.” – el continua.
“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 laboured 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?” – sra Sappleton dise, con un vose cual recambia apena un balia a la momento final. Alora el brilia subita a un atende vijila – ma no a cual Framton dise.
“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.
“Asi los es final!” – la tia esclama. “Esata a la ora per te, e los aspeta fangosa asta los oios!”
“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 trema pico e turna a la sobrina con un aspeta intendeda per espresa un comprende compatiosa. La enfante regarda intensa a estra tra la fenetra abrida con teror aturdida en sua oios. En un xoca fria de teme sin nom, Framton jira se en sua seja e regarda a la mesma dirije.
Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out through the open window with dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same direction.
En la oscuria profondinte, tre figures traversa la erba a la fenetra; tota de los porta fusiles su braso, e un de los ave la carga ajuntada de un jaca blanca sur sua spalas. Un spaniel brun e fatigada resta prosima a la talones de los. Sin ruido los prosimi a la casa, e alora de la oscuria un vose joven e roncin canta – “Me ia dise, Bertie, perce tu salta?”
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 saisi ajitada a sua basto e xapo; la porte de casa, la stradeta de entra, e la porton fronte es la grados apena notada de sua retira panicada. Un sicliste veninte longo la rua debe gida se a en la sepe per evita un xoca direta.
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 an imminent collision.
“Asi nos es, mea cara,” – la om dise ci porta la jaca blanca, entrante tra la fenetra – “alga fangosa, ma la plu es seca. Ci es acel ci ia sorti flax cuando nos ia ariva?”
“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?”
“Un om la plu estracomun, un sr Nuttel.” – sra Sappleton dise. “El ia pote parla sola sur sua maladias, e el ia fuji sin un parola de adio o escusa cuando tu ia ariva. On ta pensa ce el ta vide un fantasma.”
“A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel,” said Mrs. Sappleton; “could only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of good-bye or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost.”
“Me crede ce lo ia es la spaniel.” – la sobrina dise calma. “El ia dise a me ce el ave un teror de canes. A un ves el ia es xasada a en un semetero a alga parte de la rivas de la Ganga par un manada de canes savaje, e el ia debe pasa la note en un tomba fresca escavada, con la bestias roncante e suriente e spumante apena supra el. Basta per fa ce cualcun ta perde sua nervo.”
“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 their nerve.”
Inventa sin prepara es sua spesiali.
Romance at short notice was her speciality.