Лексические, грамматические и стилистические проблемы перевода. Калинкина С.К. - 28 стр.

who-asks-very-many-questions"; but we … will call her Teshumai, for short.                    35. Her ears listened unconsciously for the chink of china, but there was
And his little girl-daughter's name was Taffimai Metalumai, and that means,             no chink of china. (A.Ch.)
"Small-person-without-any-manners-who-ought-to-be-spanked"; but I'm going                     36. Peter Morton woke with a start to face the first light. Through the
to call her Taffy. (R.K.)                                                               window he could see a bare bough dropping across a frame of silver. Rain
       27. "Look! There they are! Wave your hat! Oh! You haven't got one.               tapped against the glass. (G.G.)
Well, I'll cooee!" (J.G.)                                                                     37. He had not heard her coming. Girls were like that. Their shoes never
       28. Fleur, leaning out of the window, heard the hall clock's muffled chime       squeaked. No board whined under their tread. (G.G.)
of twelve, the tiny splash of a fish, the sudden shaking of an aspen's leaves in              38. "Where's Francis?" he wondered. "If I join him he'll be less frightened
the puffs of breeze that rose along the river, the distant rumble of a night train,     of all these sounds." "These sounds" were the casing of silence. The squeak of a
and time and again the sounds which none can put a name to in the darkness,             loose board, the cautious closing of a cupboard door, the whine of a finger
soft obscure expressions of uncatalogued emotions from man and beast, bird              drawn along polished wood. (G.G.)
and machine … (J.G.)                                                                          39. He stopped what he was doing and watched them with furtive dislike.
       29. In the field beyond the bank where her skiff lay up, a machine drawn         He was afraid that the rattle of the shutters would attract their attention. (G.G.)
by a grey horse was turning an early field of hay. She watched the grass cas-                 40. He was listening to voices and footsteps in the other room. These
cading over and behind the light wheels with fascination – it looked so cool and        were voices he did not recognize. Then a car drove up and presently drove
fresh. The click and swish blended with the rustle of the willows and the pop-          away again. Somebody rattled the handle of the door. (G.G.)
lars, and the cooing of a wood-pigeon, in a true river song. (J.G.)                           41. "Did you say that he was your brother? It's impossible," and he frowned
       30. Bees, sheltering out of the wind, hummed softly, and over the grass          incredulously at the proprietor and rattled the coins in his pockets. (G.G.)
fell the thick shade from those fruit-trees planted by her father five-and-twenty             42. … suddenly, high up in the air, there was a sizzling explosion tailing
years ago. Birds were almost silent, the cuckoos had ceased to sing, but wood-          away into a murmur. I looked up. The fireworks had started. As the first
pigeons were cooing. (J.G.)                                                             constellation floated slowly down and faded away a delighted "aaah" rose from
       31. On arriving home he heard the click of billiard balls, and through the       thousands of throats and everyone stood still. (I.M.)
window saw young Mont sprawling over the table. Fleur, with her cue akimbo,                   43. I leapt to the store-room door and pushed Hugo through it. "Through
was watching with a smile. (J.G.)                                                       the window!" I called after him. I could hear him blundering ahead of me, and I
       32. The orderly's mouth had gone dry, and his tongue rubbed in it as on          could hear Stitch's feet scrabbling on the floor of the corridor. I slammed the
dry brown-paper. He worked his throat … "Some poetry, sir," came the                    door of the store-room behind me … (I.M.)
crackling, unrecognizable sound of his voice. "Poetry, what poetry?" asked the                44. At that moment I heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up, with a
Captain, with a sickly smile. Again there was the working in the throat …"For           great screeching of brakes, in the street outside. (I.M.)
my girl, sir" he heard the dry, inhuman sound. "Oh!" said he, turning away.                   45. "… I doubt very much if you opened your textbook even once the
"Clear the table." "Click!" went the soldier's throat; then again, "click!" and         whole term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy." "Well, I sort of glanced through it a
then the half-articulate: "Yes, sir." (D.H.L.)                                          couple of times," I told him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was mad
       33. Somewhere in her inner consciousness was an awareness of the usual           about history. "You glanced through it, eh?" he said – very sarcastic. "Your, ah,
early-morning noises of the household. The rattle of the curtain rings on the           exam paper is over there on top of my chiffonier. On top of the pile. Bring it
stairs as the housemaid drew them, the noises of the second housemaid's                 here, please." (J.D.S.)
dustpan and brush in the passage outside. In the distance the heavy noise of the              46. Through spaces of the unfinished house, shirt-sleeved figures worked
front-door bolt being drawn back. (A.Ch.)                                               slowly, and sounds arose – spasmodic knockings, the scraping of metal, the
       34. For quite half an hour longer the usual household noises would go on,        sawing of wood, with the rumble of wheelbarrows along boards; now and again
discreet, subdued, not disturbing because they were so familiar. They would             the foreman's dog, tethered by a string to an oaken beam, whimpered feebly,
culminate in a swift, controlled sound of footsteps along the passage, the rustle of    with a sound like the singing of a kettle. (J.G.)
a print dress, the subdued chink of tea things as the tray was deposited on the table         47. In the drowsy, almost empty room the only sounds were the rustle of
outside, then the soft knock and the entry of Mary to draw the curtains. (A.Ch.)        newspapers, the scraping of matches being struck. (J.G.)

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