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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
Now, the VOA Special English program American Stories.
Today, we tell a story by Patricia Collinge. Collinge was an American writer and actor. She was famous for her work in plays, movies and television. In the following story, Collinge writes about an American husband and wife enjoying a visit to Rome. The husband also learned1 something about his wife. Here is Shirley Griffith with the story Ciao.
Soon after they left the shop on the Vatican Garden in Rome, Mrs. Angle2 opened the box and showed her husband the costly3 stone she had bought.
"I love them, I just love them!" She said. She dropped the stones back into the box as she and her husband began walking across the street. Halfway4 across, her husband pulled her out of the way of a passing automobile5.
"What is wrong with you?" He asked.
"I just thought of the words I said to the shop owner. I told him I loved him. I wanted to say I love the stones, but I used the wrong word. I should have said it pleases me. Do you think he understood?"
To Mr. Angle it was not important if the shop man understood or not. What was important was his own wish that she would stop trying to speak Italian when it wasn't necessary. On their last trip into the hills, her use of Italian had helped. But they were in Rome now. Almost everyone here talked English, or at least understood it.
They sat in front of the hotel and rested their tired feet. Mrs. Angle looked around at the flowers changing their color with the light of the setting6 sun.
''Bello, molto bello! (Beautiful,very beautiful)'', she said.
Mr. Angle breathed deeply7 and asked the waiter to bring them each a drink. ''Check, please!'' He shouted.
Mrs. Angle, still in sort of a dream at the beauty around them, said, ''You should have said 'Il conto'. In England, it's bill; la addition, in France; il conto, in Rome.''
''Check, please!'' Mr. Angle said again and almost at once it was in his hand. ''It's just as easy to say conto as check. Conto is what you say, not what I say.''
The elevator boy opened the door for them and she said, "Settimo piano, per favore.''(Seventh storey8, please.) And the boy answered, "Seventh floor, OK?'' And no one said another word.
Not until Mr. Angle opened the door of their room, he let his wife enter first, and then said, "Do you want to eat in the hotel or go out? ''
"Whatever you want to do. " His wife answered.
"Well, I would like to go back to the place that has the fountain9 and serves ravioli. ''
"There are many fountains10 in Rome", she said, "and there are places near them that serve ravioli. You see, you won't even say an Italian name, you could mean anywhere. No one would know where you meant. ''
"Well, you know, "He answered, "Do you want to go there?''
"Yes.'' She held one of her black dresses up to the light, and placed a pink flower on one shoulder of the dress. "Italian is so easy, conto, that's all you have to say.''
Mr. Angle took his shirt off and reached for a clean one. He looked at her: "What do you want me to do? Go around, telling shop owners that I love them? ''
"That is not fair, just because I made a mistake and told you. Now you think everything I say is wrong. ''
"No," he answered, "but I do not think it is always right like this ciao thing that you say. "
"What ciao thing? ''
"You say it all the time. Every time you see a child you rush up to it and say 'Ciao'. "
"Oh, you mean ciao, that's what I said ciao. I asked the waiter what it means11 and he told me it's something Italian people say to greet other Italians. I know it is, it's like Hi or Hello there. "
Mr. Angle shook his hand, "It's more than that. It's something Italian say to other Italians when they know them very well. But you say it to people you don't know. Only to children.But why to them? You do not rush up to strange children at home and say Hi to them. "
The telephone rang and Mrs. Engle answered, saying " Pronto (hello)''. The person on the other end thought she could speak Italian and began talking in Italian. The talk ended with both sides talking English.
"That's what I mean." he said, "It's making them believe you can talk Italian."
"I really think they know I can't speak too much Italian."
"Then, why do you do it?'' he asked.
Mrs. Angle touched the pink flower which she had placed on her dress. ''I like to communicate. I like to reach out my hand and my mind. When I talk to children, I do it for their mothers and fathers. They are so proud of their children. So even if I say the wrong things, they know I'm trying to understand them and perhaps they will try to understand me. It's being friendly and it's fun."
"I'm not criticizing12 you. But can't you be friendly in English?"
Mrs. Angle stepped into her dress. "Do you mean I sound foolish?"
"Not you especially. Anyone."
"I see what you mean."
"Well, really?"
They entered the elevator. He saw that the pink flower was gone from her dress. And she just smiled at the elevator boy when he said "Good Evening". And even when they got down to the street, she was silent13. Usually she told the car driver where to take them in Italian. But now she waited for her husband to tell him.
At the eating place it was the same. She smiled at the waiter but said nothing. And when Mr. Angle showed her the menu, she just said, "I'll have a casserole added14 sparrowgrass. The ravioli first, of course.'' The waiter left after smiling and talking in Italian to her, but she just smiled at him. She looked around the room, not saying anything.
"Was she angry?" Mr. Angle wondered. Was she treating him with one of her silent periods? No, he knew all her silences. This one was different.
When their drinks came, her eyes met his calmly. There was no bitterness15 in them, no anger. Perhaps she was tired, but she didn't look tired. The waiter understood English, so she talked English and that was that. Or was it? No, something was wrong, and he had to find out what. He began talking to test her feelings.
"This is a good place. I'm happy we came back to Rome."
"Yes, it is very nice." she answered.
Um, something was wrong. Nice was a word she never used in Rome. It wasn't the word for Rome anyway. You might say Rome is noisy, perhaps colorful, even romantic16, but never just nice.
As they ate, Mrs. Angle agreed with everything he said, but she was too quiet. Something had left her. It was as if someone had turned some of the lights off in the room. You could still see everything, but not so clearly.
He looked out of the window onto the street. Rome, rich in history, the warm night, the happy voices, the shouting voices, voices of mothers and fathers, of children, and even of visitors such as he and his wife, visitors who never really saw or understood all there is to see and understand. Then he knew what Mrs. Angle had been trying to do. She had been trying to understand, trying to get a little closer to the city and its people. She had been reaching her hand and her mind out to them. Now she sat across from him as she minded anywhere. New York City, Boston or Podunk. But this was Rome. He had closed the door to her happiness--her ideas of Rome. He had crushed17 her. That was the right word, crushed. And this was the last thing in the world he wanted to do to Mrs. Angle.
He breathed deeply and said in a voice louder than he wanted to. "Conto, il conto!'' He felt Mrs. Angle's eyes look at him as he paid the waiter for the food and gave him extra money for himself.
Out on the street, they walked near a mother holding a little girl. Mrs. Angle moved closer to the mother and said, "Bella, bellissima(Beautiful, very beautiful)!" The woman lifted the little girl higher for Mrs. Angle to see. Mrs. Angle laughed and made a special wave, "Ciao, ciao!" She looked at her husband and he saw her eyes were filled with happiness again.
Mr. Angle felt a strange lump18 in his throat and then he waved to the child in his own way. "Ciao!" He said. And he felt his wife's arm as she moved closer to him and slipped19 it through his.
You have just heard the story "Ciao" by Patricia Collinge. It was adapted by the Special English staff. Your storyteller was Shirley Griffith. This is Bob Doughty20. Please listen next week for another program of American stories in VOA Special English.
Today, we tell a story by Patricia Collinge. Collinge was an American writer and actor. She was famous for her work in plays, movies and television. In the following story, Collinge writes about an American husband and wife enjoying a visit to Rome. The husband also learned1 something about his wife. Here is Shirley Griffith with the story Ciao.
Soon after they left the shop on the Vatican Garden in Rome, Mrs. Angle2 opened the box and showed her husband the costly3 stone she had bought.
"I love them, I just love them!" She said. She dropped the stones back into the box as she and her husband began walking across the street. Halfway4 across, her husband pulled her out of the way of a passing automobile5.
"What is wrong with you?" He asked.
"I just thought of the words I said to the shop owner. I told him I loved him. I wanted to say I love the stones, but I used the wrong word. I should have said it pleases me. Do you think he understood?"
To Mr. Angle it was not important if the shop man understood or not. What was important was his own wish that she would stop trying to speak Italian when it wasn't necessary. On their last trip into the hills, her use of Italian had helped. But they were in Rome now. Almost everyone here talked English, or at least understood it.
They sat in front of the hotel and rested their tired feet. Mrs. Angle looked around at the flowers changing their color with the light of the setting6 sun.
''Bello, molto bello! (Beautiful,very beautiful)'', she said.
Mr. Angle breathed deeply7 and asked the waiter to bring them each a drink. ''Check, please!'' He shouted.
Mrs. Angle, still in sort of a dream at the beauty around them, said, ''You should have said 'Il conto'. In England, it's bill; la addition, in France; il conto, in Rome.''
''Check, please!'' Mr. Angle said again and almost at once it was in his hand. ''It's just as easy to say conto as check. Conto is what you say, not what I say.''
The elevator boy opened the door for them and she said, "Settimo piano, per favore.''(Seventh storey8, please.) And the boy answered, "Seventh floor, OK?'' And no one said another word.
Not until Mr. Angle opened the door of their room, he let his wife enter first, and then said, "Do you want to eat in the hotel or go out? ''
"Whatever you want to do. " His wife answered.
"Well, I would like to go back to the place that has the fountain9 and serves ravioli. ''
"There are many fountains10 in Rome", she said, "and there are places near them that serve ravioli. You see, you won't even say an Italian name, you could mean anywhere. No one would know where you meant. ''
"Well, you know, "He answered, "Do you want to go there?''
"Yes.'' She held one of her black dresses up to the light, and placed a pink flower on one shoulder of the dress. "Italian is so easy, conto, that's all you have to say.''
Mr. Angle took his shirt off and reached for a clean one. He looked at her: "What do you want me to do? Go around, telling shop owners that I love them? ''
"That is not fair, just because I made a mistake and told you. Now you think everything I say is wrong. ''
"No," he answered, "but I do not think it is always right like this ciao thing that you say. "
"What ciao thing? ''
"You say it all the time. Every time you see a child you rush up to it and say 'Ciao'. "
"Oh, you mean ciao, that's what I said ciao. I asked the waiter what it means11 and he told me it's something Italian people say to greet other Italians. I know it is, it's like Hi or Hello there. "
Mr. Angle shook his hand, "It's more than that. It's something Italian say to other Italians when they know them very well. But you say it to people you don't know. Only to children.But why to them? You do not rush up to strange children at home and say Hi to them. "
The telephone rang and Mrs. Engle answered, saying " Pronto (hello)''. The person on the other end thought she could speak Italian and began talking in Italian. The talk ended with both sides talking English.
"That's what I mean." he said, "It's making them believe you can talk Italian."
"I really think they know I can't speak too much Italian."
"Then, why do you do it?'' he asked.
Mrs. Angle touched the pink flower which she had placed on her dress. ''I like to communicate. I like to reach out my hand and my mind. When I talk to children, I do it for their mothers and fathers. They are so proud of their children. So even if I say the wrong things, they know I'm trying to understand them and perhaps they will try to understand me. It's being friendly and it's fun."
"I'm not criticizing12 you. But can't you be friendly in English?"
Mrs. Angle stepped into her dress. "Do you mean I sound foolish?"
"Not you especially. Anyone."
"I see what you mean."
"Well, really?"
They entered the elevator. He saw that the pink flower was gone from her dress. And she just smiled at the elevator boy when he said "Good Evening". And even when they got down to the street, she was silent13. Usually she told the car driver where to take them in Italian. But now she waited for her husband to tell him.
At the eating place it was the same. She smiled at the waiter but said nothing. And when Mr. Angle showed her the menu, she just said, "I'll have a casserole added14 sparrowgrass. The ravioli first, of course.'' The waiter left after smiling and talking in Italian to her, but she just smiled at him. She looked around the room, not saying anything.
"Was she angry?" Mr. Angle wondered. Was she treating him with one of her silent periods? No, he knew all her silences. This one was different.
When their drinks came, her eyes met his calmly. There was no bitterness15 in them, no anger. Perhaps she was tired, but she didn't look tired. The waiter understood English, so she talked English and that was that. Or was it? No, something was wrong, and he had to find out what. He began talking to test her feelings.
"This is a good place. I'm happy we came back to Rome."
"Yes, it is very nice." she answered.
Um, something was wrong. Nice was a word she never used in Rome. It wasn't the word for Rome anyway. You might say Rome is noisy, perhaps colorful, even romantic16, but never just nice.
As they ate, Mrs. Angle agreed with everything he said, but she was too quiet. Something had left her. It was as if someone had turned some of the lights off in the room. You could still see everything, but not so clearly.
He looked out of the window onto the street. Rome, rich in history, the warm night, the happy voices, the shouting voices, voices of mothers and fathers, of children, and even of visitors such as he and his wife, visitors who never really saw or understood all there is to see and understand. Then he knew what Mrs. Angle had been trying to do. She had been trying to understand, trying to get a little closer to the city and its people. She had been reaching her hand and her mind out to them. Now she sat across from him as she minded anywhere. New York City, Boston or Podunk. But this was Rome. He had closed the door to her happiness--her ideas of Rome. He had crushed17 her. That was the right word, crushed. And this was the last thing in the world he wanted to do to Mrs. Angle.
He breathed deeply and said in a voice louder than he wanted to. "Conto, il conto!'' He felt Mrs. Angle's eyes look at him as he paid the waiter for the food and gave him extra money for himself.
Out on the street, they walked near a mother holding a little girl. Mrs. Angle moved closer to the mother and said, "Bella, bellissima(Beautiful, very beautiful)!" The woman lifted the little girl higher for Mrs. Angle to see. Mrs. Angle laughed and made a special wave, "Ciao, ciao!" She looked at her husband and he saw her eyes were filled with happiness again.
Mr. Angle felt a strange lump18 in his throat and then he waved to the child in his own way. "Ciao!" He said. And he felt his wife's arm as she moved closer to him and slipped19 it through his.
You have just heard the story "Ciao" by Patricia Collinge. It was adapted by the Special English staff. Your storyteller was Shirley Griffith. This is Bob Doughty20. Please listen next week for another program of American stories in VOA Special English.
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收听单词发音 |
1
learned
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| adj.有学问的，博学的；learn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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2
angle
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| n.角，角度，立场，观点 | |
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3
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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4
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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5
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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6
setting
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| n.背景 | |
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7
deeply
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| adv.深刻地，在深处，深沉地 | |
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8
storey
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| n.楼层；楼的一层 | |
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9
fountain
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| n.喷泉，源泉，储水容器，泉水；v.使像喷泉一样流 | |
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10
fountains
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| n.喷水( fountain的名词复数 )；喷泉；来源；人工喷泉 | |
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11
means
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| n.方法，手段，折中点，物质财富 | |
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12
criticizing
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| v.评论，批评( criticize的现在分词 ) | |
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13
silent
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| adj.安静的，不吵闹的，沉默的，无言的；n.(复数)默剧 | |
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14
added
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| adj.更多的，附加的，额外的 | |
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15
bitterness
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| n.苦味；痛苦；悲痛；酷烈 | |
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16
romantic
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| adj.浪漫的，风流的，传奇性的，夸大的，想象的，浪漫派的 | |
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17
crushed
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| a.压碎的，倒碎的 | |
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18
lump
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| n.块状，瘤，很多；v.使...成块状，混在一起，忍耐 | |
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19
slipped
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| adj.打滑，打滑的v.滑( slip的过去式和过去分词 )；滑脱；下降；（健康状况等）变差 | |
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20
doughty
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| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
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