юличеноккалина

16.06.2023 00:26

Английский язык

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Translate the text, please! thanks) (грамотный перевод) "i've never heard of the warbeck titian," said deborah, "you shall judge for yourself," – said aubrey. "i'll send you a ticket for the opening of the exhibition." then he went off to dance with rosamund clegg, his assistant at the museum, who was said to be his fiance'e. i did not care much' for aubrey, or for his young woman, but i had to admit that they knew, their job when i came to the opening of the exhibition a few months later. they had gathered in treasures of every sort from all over the county and arranged them admirably. the jewel of the show was, of course, the great titian. it had a wall to itself at the end of the room and i was looking at it when deborah came in. the likeness was fantastic. lord warbeck had never had his paintings cleaned, so that titian's flesh tints were golden and carmine, in vivid contrast to deborah's pink and white. but the face behind the glass might have been hev mirror image. by a happy chance she had chosen to wear a very plain black dress, which matched up well to the portrait's dark clothes. she stood there still and silent, staring at her centuries-old likeness. i wondered what she felt. a pressman's camera flashed and clicked. first one visitor and then another noticed the resemblance and presently the rest of the gallery was deserted. everyone was crowding round the titian to stare from the painted face to the real one and back again. the only clear space was round deborah herself. people were moving to get a good view of her profile, without losing sight of the titian, which fortunately was in profile also. it must have been horribly embarrassing for deborah, but she never seemed to notice them. she went on peering into the picture, for a very long time. then she turned round and walked quickly out of the building. as she passed me i saw that she was crying – a surprising display of emotion in one so calm. about ten minutes later aubrey discovered that a pair of degas' statuettes was missing from a stand opposite the titian. they were small objects and very valuable. the police were sent for and there was a considerable fuss, but nothing was found. i left as soon as i could and went to the franklins. deborah was in. "have you got the statuettes? " i asked. she took them out of her handbag. "how did you guess? " "it seemed to me that your reception in front of the titian was a performance," i explained. "it distracted attention from everything else in the room while the theft took place." "yes," said deborah, "aubrey arranged it very cleverly, didn't he? he thought of everything. he even helped me choose this dress to go with the one in the picture, you know." "and the press photographer? had he been laid on too? " "oh, yes. aubrey arranged for someone to be there to photograph me. he thought it would help to collect a crowd." her coolness was astonishing. even with the evidence of the statuettes in front of me i found it hard to believe that i was talking to a thief. "it was a very clever scheme altogether," i said. "you and aubrey must have put a lot of work into it. ihad no idea that you were such friends." there was a flush on her cheeks as she replied: "oh yes, i've been seeing a good deal of him lately. ever since the hunt ball, in fact."