It was the view which finally made

It was the view which finally made us take the place. Our nearest neighbours lived very near. We had two sets of them,1 as a matter of fact, almost in the same house with us. One was the peasant family. Our other neighbours were the owners of the villa.

They were a curious people, our proprietors. An old husband, grey, listless, tottering, seventy at least; and a signora of about forty, short, very plump, with tiny fat hands and feet and a pair of very large, very dark eyes, which she used with all the skill of a born co¬median.

But we had found other reasons, after a few days’ residence,2 for liking the house. Of these the most cogent was that, in the peasant’s youngest child, we had discovered the perfect play-fellow for our own small boy.3 Between little Guido — for that was his name — and the youngest of his brothers and sisters there was a gap of se¬ven years. He was between six and seven years old and as preco¬cious, self-assured, and responsible as the children of the poor ge¬nerally are.

Though fully two and a half years older than little Robin — and at that age thirty months are crammed with half a lifetime’s experi¬ence4 — Guido took no undue advantage of his superior intelligence and strength. I have never seen a child more patient, tolerant, and untyrannical. He never laughed at Robin; he did not tease or bully, but helped his small companion when he was in difficulties and ex¬plained when he could not understand. In return, Robin adored him, regarded him as the model and perfect Big Boy,5 and slavishly imitated him in every way he could.

Guido was a thoughtful child, given to brooding.6 One would find him sitting in a corner by himself, chin in hand, elbow on knee, plunged in the profoundest meditation. And sometimes, even in the midst of the play, he would suddenly break off, to stand, his hands behind his back,7 frowning and staring at the ground. And his eyes, if one looked into them, were beautiful in their grave and pensive calm.

They were large eyes, set far apart and, what was strange in a dark-haired Italian child, of a luminous pale blue-grey colour. They were not always grave and calm, as in these pensive moments. When he was playing, when he talked or laughed, they lit up. Above those eyes was a beautiful forehead, high and steep and domed in a curve that was like the subtle curve of a rose petal.8 The nose was straight, the chin small and rather pointed, the mouth drooped a lit¬tle sadly at the corners.

My gramophone and two or three boxes of records arrived from England. Guido was immensely interested.

Результаты (английский) 1:

It was the view which finally made us take the place. Our nearest neighbours lived very near. We had two sets of them, 1 as a matter of fact, almost in the same house with us. One was the peasant family. Our other neighbours were the owners of the villa

. They were a curious people, our proprietors. An old husband, grey, listless, tottering, seventy at least; and a signora of about forty, short, very plump, with tiny fat hands and feet and a pair of very large, very dark eyes, which she used with all the skill of a born co ¬ median.

But we had found other reasons, after a few days ' residence, 2 for liking the house. Of these the most cogent was that, in the youngest child's peasant 's, we had discovered the perfect play-fellow for our own small boy.3 Between little Guido — for that was his name-and the youngest of his brothers and sisters there was a gap of se-ven years. He was between six and seven years old and as preco ¬ cious, self-assured, and responsible as the children of the poor ge-nerally are

.Though fully two and a half years older than little Robin — and at that age thirty months are crammed with half a lifetime's experi ¬ ence4-Guido took no undue advantage of his superior intelligence and strength. I have never seen a child more patient, tolerant, and untyrannical. He never laughed at Robin; he did not tease or bully, but helped his small companion when he was in difficulties and ex-plained when he could not understand. In return, Robin adored him, regarded him as the perfect model and Big Boy, 5 and slavishly imitated him in every way he could.

Guido was a realism nude painting thoughtful child, given to brooding. 6 One would find him sitting in a corner by himself, chin in hand, elbow on knee, plunged in the profoundest meditation. And sometimes, even in the midst of the play, he would suddenly broke off, to stand, his hands behind his back, frowning and 7 staring at the ground. And his eyes, if one looked into them, were beautiful in their grave and pensive calm.

They were large eyes set far apart, and, what was strange in a dark-haired Italian child, of a luminous pale blue-grey colour. They were not always grave and calm, as in these pensive moments. When he was playing, when he talked or laughed, they lit up. Above those eyes was under a beautiful, high and steep and domed in a curve that was like the subtle curve of a rose petal. 8 The nose was straight, the chin small and rather pointed, the mouth drooped a lit-tle sadly at the corners. My gramophone and

two or three boxes of records arrived from England. Guido was immensely interested.

Результаты (английский) 2:

It was the view which finally made ​​us take the place. Our nearest neighbours lived very near. We had two sets of them, one as a matter of fact, almost in the same house with us. One was the peasant family. Our Neighbours Other Were the Owners of the villa. They Were A Curious people , our proprietors. An old husband, grey, listless, tottering, seventy at least; and A About Forty of Signora, Short, very Plump, fat with Tiny hands and feet and A Pair of very large, very Dark eyes, Which she USED with All the skill of co ¬ A Born Median. But we HAD found Other Reasons, after a few days' residence, 2 for liking the house. Of these the most cogent was that, in the peasant's youngest child, we had discovered the perfect play-fellow for our own small boy.3 Between little Guido - for that was his name - and the youngest of his brothers and sisters there was a gap of se ¬ ven years. He WAS Between six and seven years old and as Preco ¬ cious, Self-Assured, Responsible and as the Children of the Poor GE ¬ nerally are. Though Fully two years and A Half Older than little Robin - and at That Age Thirty months are crammed with half a lifetime's experi ¬ ence4 - Guido took no undue advantage of his superior intelligence and strength. I have never seen a child more patient, tolerant, and untyrannical. He never laughed at Robin; he did not tease or bully, but helped his small companion when he was in difficulties and ex ¬ plained when he could not understand. In return, Robin adored him, regarded him as the model and perfect Big Boy, 5 and slavishly imitated HIM in every Way Could he. Guido WAS A thoughtful Child, Given to brooding.6 One Would Find HIM Sitting in A corner by Himself, chin in hand, elbow on knee, plunged in the profoundest meditation. And sometimes, even in the midst of the play, he would suddenly break off, to stand, his hands behind his back, 7 frowning and staring at the ground. And His eyes, if one Looked into Them, Were in Their beautiful grave and pensive calm. They Were large eyes, and set Far Apart, What WAS strange in A Dark-haired Italian Child, of A luminous pale blue-Grey Colour. They were not always grave and calm, as in these pensive moments. When he was playing, when he talked or laughed, they lit up. Above those eyes was a beautiful forehead, high and steep and domed in a curve that was like the subtle curve of a rose petal.8 The nose was straight, the chin small and rather pointed, the mouth drooped a lit ¬ tle sadly at the corners. My gramophone and two or Three boxes of Records arrived from England. Guido was immensely interested.

Результаты (английский) 3:

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