page_44 - vigji/cainjb GitHub Wiki

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Annotated text: I sometimes wish, and I wished then, that I had the gift of telling, or at least of following, a story vividly. Hodge, in the luxury of his first St. Bruno, kept on exacerbating the corner of my eye by fingering his sebaceous arrangement. And this made it difficult to adequately appreciate Henrys problem. Smells meant a lot to me ; I was back in a twinkling at the old fonda in Vera Cruz, and almost saw the young fruit merchant laying down his guitar and wiping the blood off the strings with a kenspeckle handkerchief. But I must, I felt, at all costs get back to Henry. The position was this : the second wifes brother had begun to suspect. He had found a half-burned marriage certificate in the incinerator ; that was charred lines on Henry. What would he do? We couldnt stop at this point, surely, I thought. But I was wrong.

Original page: page_44.pdf

Original text:

I sometimes wish, and I wished then, that I had 
the gift of telling, or at least of following, a 
story vividly. Hodge, in the luxury of his first 
St. Bruno, kept on exacerbating the corner of 
my eye by fingering his sebaceous arrangement. 
And this made it difficult to adequately 
appreciate Henrys problem. Smells meant a lot 
to me ; I was back in a twinkling at the old 
fonda in Vera Cruz, and almost saw the young 
fruit merchant laying down his guitar and 
wiping the blood off the strings with a 
kenspeckle handkerchief. But I must, I felt, at 
all costs get back to Henry. The position was 
this : the second wifes brother had begun to 
suspect. He had found a half-burned marriage 
certificate in the incinerator ; that was charred 
lines on Henry. What would he do? We couldnt 
stop at this point, surely, I thought. But I was 
wrong. 

Italian text:

A volte desidero, e lo desideravo anche allora, avere il dono di saper raccontare, o almeno di saper seguire vividamente una storia. Lo Zotico, nel lusso del suo primo St. Bruno, non smetteva di esasperare l'angolo del mio campo visivo tormentandosi quel bitorzolo. E questo rendeva difficile considerare in maniera adeguata il problema di Henry. Gli odori avevano un grande significato per me ; in un batter d'occhio mi ritrovai al vecchio ancoraggio di Vera Cruz, e mi sembrò di vedere il giovane venditore di frutta appoggiare la chitarra e ripulire dal sangue le corde con un vistoso fazzoletto. Ma, lo sentivo, dovevo tornare da Henry a ogni costo. La situazione era questa : il fratello della seconda moglie aveva cominciato a sospettare. Lui aveva trovato nell'inceneritore un certificato di matrimonio mezzo bruciato ; e quello era un marchio di infamia su Henry. Cosa avrebbe fatto? Certo, a quel punto non ci potevamo fermare, pensavo. Ma mi sbagliavo.

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