Шерлок Холмс и доктор Ватсон, часть первая "Собака Баскервилей" с Василием Ливановым и Виталием Соломиным. Уверен, что Вы знаете русский фильм, практически наизусть. Обычно, мы смотрим фильм на английском и пытаемся понять то, что слышим. То есть, усовершенствуем навыки "слышанья" (listening skills). Здесь, всё наоборот, слышите русский и думаете, как знакомую фразу сказать на английском. То есть, обратный перевод с русского на английский.
Dr Mortimer unfolded the manuscript, and read the following strange story:
"A hundred years ago the Hall of Baskerville was owned by Hugo Baskerville. He was a wild and cruel man. It happened that he fell in love with the daughter of a poor farmer who lived near Baskerville Hall. The girl always avoided the wicked man, for she feared and hated him. But one night, when her father and brothers were away from home, this Hugo rode to the farm with five or six of his evil companions and carried the young girl away. When they brought her to the Hall they locked her in a room upstairs.
Then they went downstairs and sat down to supper, drinking wine, shouting, singing and swearing. The poor girl was so frightened that she did something that might have frightened the bravest man. With the help of the ivy which covered (and still covers) the wall, she climbed out of the window and got down. Then she ran across the moor towards her father's home as fast as she could.
"Some time later Hugo found that the cage was empty and the bird had escaped. Then he became like a human devil. He ran down the stairs into the dining hall, jumped on to the great table and cried aloud to all his companions that he would give up his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he caught the girl. He ordered his men to saddle his horse and to loosen the hounds. He gave the hounds the girl's handkerchief to put them on the scent. Then he rode after them across the moor in the moonlight. At first Hugo's drunken friends were so frightened that they did not know what to do. But then they decided to follow him.
"When they had gone some distance they heard the sound of hoofs and soon they saw Hugo's black horse. The animal galloped past them. Its saddle was empty!. A little farther they saw the hounds. The animals were standing all together between two high rocks and whining. The moon was shining brightly and the men, who were now quite sober, saw the body of the poor girl on the ground. She had died of fear and exhaustion. Near her lay the dead body of Hugo Baskerville and over him stood a terrible thing biting at his throat – a great black hound, larger than any other hound. When the men went forward, the beast turned its blazing eyes and bloody jaws on them. They screamed with fear, and galloped back across the moor as fast as they could. "Such is the tale of the first coming of the hound, which has always troubled the family since that day. Therefore no member of the family must cross the moor in the dark hours of night, when the Powers of Evil are at their strongest.
Mr Sherlock Holmes, who usually got up very late, except on those quite frequent occasions when he did not go to bed all night, was sitting at the breakfast table. I was standing in front of the fire, examining a walking stick which a visitor had left behind the day before. "To Dr James Mortimer, from his friends," was engraved upon it, with the date "1884."
Sherlock Holmes suddenly turned to me and said: "The owner of that stick, Watson, has got a dog which is larger than a terrier and smaller than a mastiff". "How do you know?" I asked in surprise. "I examined that stick carefully and noticed the marks of a dog's teeth on it", answered Holmes. "They are too broad for a terrier and not broad enough for a mastiff.
Probably the dog often carries the stick behind its master. I think it must be a spaniel, in fact it is a spaniel." He had left the breakfast table and was standing near the window as he said this. I looked at him in surprise and asked: "How can you be so sure of that?" "For the simple reason that I see the dog at our door and I hear the bell which its master is ringing. I wonder why Dr Mortimer wishes to see Mr Sherlock Holmes. Well, we'll soon know. Come in," he added, for there was a knock at the door.
A gentleman entered the room followed by a brown spaniel. The visitor was a very tall, thin man, with a long nose like a beak, and grey eyes that sparkled brightly from behind a pair of glasses. Though he was still young, his long back was already bowed. As he entered, his eyes fell upon the stick in Holmes's hand, and he ran towards it with an exclamation of joy. "I am so glad," he said. "I didn't know where I had left it. Are you Mr Sherlock Holmes?" "Yes, Dr Mortimer, and this is my friend Dr Watson." "I am very glad to meet you, Mr Holmes. I have heard much about you and your friend. I called on you last night, but unfortunately didn't find you at home." Sherlock Holmes invited the visitor to sit down. When Dr Mortimer was comfortably seated in an armchair, Holmes asked him about the purpose of his visit. "I have come to you, Mr Holmes, because I have to solve an extraordinary problem, and I cannot do it without your help." "Then let us hear all about it," said Holmes. "Dr Watson is a professional brother of yours and his presence may be useful to us." Dr Mortimer drew a folded sheet of yellow paper from his pocket and said: "Here is an old manuscript belonging to the eighteenth century. The exact date is 1742. This family paper was given to me by Sir Charles Baskerville of whose sudden and tragic death a few months ago you must have heard. I was his friend as well as his doctor. He was a clever man, but he believed the story told in this document and his mind was always prepared for a tragic death."
Holmes looked attentively at the manuscript. "It's a legend of some sort, I think," he said. "Yes," answered Dr Mortimer, "It's an old legend which is well known in the Baskerville family." "But I thought that you wanted to consult me on a more modern and practical matter." "Oh yes! The matter is most modern and practical and must be decided in twenty four hours. The manuscript is short and it's important for the problem that I must solve. With your permission I'll read it to you." "We are ready to listen," answered Holmes, leaning back in his armchair. Далее>
Отзывы: Лика, Израиль; Очень хорошо придумано- и слышишь англ.речь, видишь текст- и ролик фильма на русском с субтитрами- 3 в 1))) Поддерживаю просьбу Levvn))), пожалуйста, сделайте части аудиокниги независимо от сайта- чтобы можно было слушать в дороге, или вне дома)))
Albert Kakhnovskiy; Лика, конечно текст в оригинале отличается. В аудиокниге текст адаптирован, то есть упрощён для понимания.
альбина: весьма очень занимательно учить язык по фильмам… я хотела узнать у вас а правильно ли я делаю что буквально мчусь на всех парах изучать язык????просто желание столь велико что я порой даже забываю поспать…вы настолько интересно преподносите тему изучения что я не могу даже оторваться от экрана..хочется разом взять и выучить=))))спс вам за ваше доброе и внимательное отношение к нам…
Victoria; Thank you for your Help!!! Виктория,Санкт-Петербург
Наталья, Тверь; Спасибо огромное, Альберт, вы не перестаёте меня удивлять и радовать. Вдыхаете в меня желание изучать язык с новой силой, т.к. порой разочаровываюсь в себе и желание работать остывает… столько всего, столько слов, столько оборотов.. порой голова кругом ))
luba56; Спасибо. Можно записать на диск и прослушивать в машине по дороге на работу. (Израиль)
Ольга; Спасибо большое .Это такая огромная помощь в изучении языка.Дай Вам Бог успехов во всем и крепкого здоровья.
Алёна; Огромное Сердечное Спасибо создателю этого сайта!!!!!!!
Столько всего интересного!!!!!! И вдруг еще мой самый любимый фильм о Шерлоке Хомсе на английском…нет слов, я просто счастлива!!!! Спасибо!! Спасибо!! Спасибо!!!
Карина; спасибо вам огромное!!!это лучший сайт для изучения английского языка!вы вселяете в людей веру в себя,в свои силы.ваши уроки и программы действительно дают результат)
Syuzanna: Большое спасибо Создателям сайта и тем кто работал над разработками !! Помогаете нереально всем ! )))
During our walk Stapleton spoke of the moor and showed me the dreadful Grimpen Mire covered with bright green spots. They looked pleasant, but were treacherous and dangerous.
"It's a terrible place, the great Grimpen Mire. A false step there means death to man or beast." As the path approached the mire we saw something brown rolling and tossing in the green grass. Then a long neck of a pony rose desperately and a dreadful cry came over the moor. In a moment the animal disappeared.
"It's an awful place," said Stapleton. "Yet I can penetrate into the very heart of it and return alive. I know two safe paths." "But why do you go into such a dreadful place?" I asked in surprise. "Because there are rare plants and butterflies beyond those hills," answered the naturalist. "But to reach them I must cross the mire." Suddenly a long, sad moan swept over the whole moor. It filled the air, yet it was impossible to say where it came from. "What is it?" I whispered.
"The peasants say it's the hound of the Baskervilles. I've heard it once or twice before, but never so loud," answered Stapleton in a low voice. "You are an educated man. You cannot believe such nonsense," I exclaimed. "What is the real cause of the sound?" "Well, there are so many strange things on the moor. Perhaps it was some bird. Oh, excuse me for a moment, Dr Watson." The naturalist had seen a small butterfly and ran quickly after it, jumping from tuft to tuft straight into the mire. I stood watching him with fear when suddenly I heard a step and, turning round, I saw a woman upon the path. She had come from the direction of Merripit House and I didn't doubt that this was Miss Stapleton, the naturalist's sister. She was very beautiful. There was a great contrast between the brother and the sister, for Stapleton was rather small, with light hair and grey eyes, while she was dark, elegant and tall. She came up to me and said quickly: "Go back! Go back to London at once!" I could only look at her in stupid surprise. "But why?" "I cannot explain. But for God's sake do what I ask you. Go back and never set foot upon the moor again." "But I have just come." "Go away from this place. Start tonight. Hush, my brother is coming. Not a word of what I have said."
Stapleton had not caught the butterfly and was coming back red and tired. "Hello, Beryl," he said. It seemed to me that the naturalist was displeased to see his sister there. His small light eyes glanced suspiciously from her to me. "You have introduced yourselves, I can see." "Yes, Jack," she answered. "I was telling Sir Henry about the beauties of the moor in spring." "I'm not Sir Henry Baskerville. I'm only his friend. My name's Dr Watson." She flushed. "I thought I was talking to Sir Henry. Excuse me. But come on, and see Merripit House, please".
Merripit House looked poor and sad. "It's a strange place, but still my sister and I are quite happy here," said Stapleton. "I had a school before I came to this part of the country," he continued. "It was in the North. A serious epidemic broke out and some of the boys died. It was a great blow to me and I couldn't continue my work at the school. So I decided to leave it and we came to Devonshire. I love botany and zoology and I find such an interesting field of work here that I'm quite satisfied with the place." "But aren't you dull here?" I asked turning to Miss Stapleton. "Oh no, I'm never dull," she said quickly. "We have our books, our studies and interesting neighbours." "Yes," said Stapleton, "Mortimer is a very good companion, and poor Sir Charles was such a wonderful friend. But come upstairs, Dr Watson, and inspect my collection of insects. Lunch will soon be ready."
I was in a hurry to return to Baskerville House. The sadness of the moor, the death of the unfortunate pony, the strange sound connected with the Baskervilles, all worried me. Then there was Miss Stapleton's warning. There must me some serious reason for it. I refused the invitation to lunch and, with my mind full of dark fears, made my way back to Baskerville Hall.
The morning was bright and sunny, and the room looked quite cheerful as Sir Henry and I sat down to breakfast.
"We were tired and cold after our journey last night," said Sir Henry, "so the place seemed gloomy. It looks much more cheerful today." "That is true," I answered, "but didn't you hear the sobbing of a woman in the night?" "It is strange," exclaimed Sir Henry, "for when I was half asleep I heard something of the sort. I thought it was in my dream." "I heard it clearly and I'm sure that it was really the sobbing of a woman," I said. "We'll ask Barrymore about it," said Sir Henry ringing the bell.
The butler became pale when he heard his master's question. "There are only two women in the house, sir," he said. "One of them lives in the other wing. The second woman is my wife and I can give my word that she didn't cry." And yet he lied, for after breakfast I met Mrs Barrymore in the corridor and noticed that her eyes were red and swollen.
Why had Barrymore lied and why had his wife sobbed so bitterly? There was an atmosphere of mystery and gloom round this pale, handsome black-bearded man. He had discovered the body of Sir Charles and only he knew all the circumstances which had led to the old man's death. Was it possible that it was Barrymore who had followed Sir Henry in the cab? I decided to go and see the Grimpen postmaster. I wanted to make sure that the telegram which Holmes had sent from London had really been delivered in Barrymore's hands.
Sir Henry was busy examining different papers after breakfast and I started for the village of Grimpen alone. I soon found the postmaster's house and learned from him that the telegram had been delivered into Mrs Barrymore's hands. Her husband was busy in the loft at that time. "Did you see Mr Barrymore?" I asked. "No, sir, I tell you he was in the loft." "If you didn't see him, how do you know he was in the loft?" "His wife told me," was the answer.
I was walking back to Baskerville Hall when suddenly I heard the sound of running feet. I turned round and saw a stranger running after me. He was a small, thin, clean-shaven man between thirty and forty, wearing a grey suit and a straw hat. A box was hanging over his shoulder and he carried a green butterfly net in one hand. "You will excuse me, Dr Watson," said the stranger, coming up to me. "Here on the moor we are simple people and we don't wait for formal introductions. Our mutual friend, Dr Mortimer, has possibly spoken to you about me. I am Stapleton, the naturalist." "But how did you know me?" I asked in surprise. "I was in Dr Mortimer's house and he pointed you out to me from his window. As I am going your way I wanted to introduce myself to you. How is Sir Henry after his journey?" "He is very well, thank you." "We were all afraid that after the tragic death of Sir Charles his nephew would refuse to live here. But Sir Henry, I suppose, has no superstitious fears?" "I don't think so." "Of course you know the legend of the Baskerville hound?" "I have heard it." "The story made a great impression on Sir Charles and I'm sure that it led to his tragic death." "But how?" "His nerves were so bad that the appearance of any hound might have frightened him, and his heart was very weak." "You think then that the hound pursued Sir Charles and he died of fright?" "Have you any better explanation?" "I haven't come to any conclusion." "And your friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes?" I was amazed. "How do you know I'm his friend?" "It's useless to pretend that we don't know you, Dr Watson. If you are here, then it follows that Mr Sherlock Holmes is interested in the matter, and naturally I would like to know his opinion about this matter."
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you anything definite about his opinion." "May I ask if he is going to visit us himself?" "Mr Sherlock Holmes cannot leave London at present. He isn't coming here." "What a pity! He might throw some light on what is so dark to us. But if you want my help in anything I'll be very pleased to do what I can." "Thank you, but I'm simply a guest of my friend Sir Henry and I need no help of any kind." "You must excuse me, I will not speak of the matter again," said Stapleton. While talking we had walked along the road and were now near a path which ran through the moor. "This path will soon bring us to Merripit House," said Stapleton. "Perhaps you will allow me to introduce you to my sister?" I did not want to leave Sir Henry, but I remembered that Holmes had told me to study the neighbours. So I accepted the naturalist's invitation and we turned together down the path which led through the moor.
On the appointed day Sir Henry Baskerville and Dr Mortimer were at the station. Sherlock Holmes and I soon joined them there.
"I do not ask you to make your own theories, Watson," said Holmes, taking me aside. "I only beg you to report all the possible facts to me." "What sort of facts?" I asked.
"Everything that has the smallest connection with this case – and especially the relations between Sir Henry and his neighbours. If you hear of any new details connected with the death of Sir Charles, let me know. And study the people who live on the moor near Baskerville Hall – the Barrymores, Dr Mortimer, the naturalist Stapleton and his sister, Mr Frankland and one or two other neighbours." "I will do my best." "You are armed, I suppose?" "Yes, I thought it necessary." "Certainly. Never be off your guard. Keep your revolver near you night and day." "I will, my dear friend. Don't worry." "By the way, Sir Henry," said Holmes, turning to young Baskerville who was talking to Dr Mortimer, "Have you found your black boot?" "No, Mr Holmes, it has disappeared." "That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the train began to move, "and remember, Sir Henry, don't walk on the moor alone when it's dark."
When we reached Devonshire Sir Henry, who was looking out of the window, seemed happy to see the land where he had spent his childhood. The train stopped at a small station and we got out. A carriage with a pair of horses was waiting for us. It was a quiet, pleasant spot and I was surprised to see two soldiers by the station gate. They looked keenly at the passers-by. The coachman greeted Sir Henry and soon the carriage was rolling swiftly along the road. On the top of a hill there stood another soldier. He was watching the road. The coachman turned in his seat. "A convict had escaped from the prison of Princetown and is hiding on the moor. The man is a dangerous murderer, and the soldiers watch every road and every station, but they have not yet found him." Somewhere there, on the bare and dark moor, this terrible man was hiding like a beast in a hole. This made the wild and sad place seem still wilder and sadder. Soon the road turned sharply and the wide, silent moor came in sight. A few minutes later the carriage stopped before a large dark house with two high narrow towers.
"Welcome to Baskerville Hall, Sir Henry," said a tall man with a black beard opening the door of the carriage. It was Barrymore, the butler. His wife approached and helped him to take down the luggage. Dr Mortimer refused to stay for dinner saying that his wife was expecting him. We entered the hall. It was a very fine hall, large, high, with a great old-fashioned fireplace. Barrymore and his wife had taken the luggage up to the bedrooms. The butler approached Sir Henry. "Will you have dinner now, sir?" he asked. "Is it ready?" "Yes, sir. I should like to tell you at once that my wife and I will be happy to serve you for some time, but then we should like to go." "But why?" Sir Henry asked in surprise. "You see, sir, the death of Sir Charles has made this house very unpleasant to us." "Well, we'll speak about this later. Now show us the dining-room. My friend and I are hungry after our journey."
A few minutes later we were seated at the dinner table. The room was a dark and gloomy place. There was a long line of old family portraits on the wall and their silent company was not pleasant. We talked little and when dinner was over we were happy to go to the modern billiard-room and smoke a cigarette. "It isn't a very cheerful place," said Sir Henry. "I'm not surprised that my poor uncle was nervous in such a gloomy house. But let's go to bed early tonight and perhaps in the morning we'll feel more cheerful."
Before going to bed I opened the window and looked out. In the cold light of the moon I could see the melancholy moor. Everything was silent around. I was very tired, yet I could not sleep. Far away a clock struck twelve. Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by an unexpected sound. It was the sobbing of a woman. I sat up in bed and listened. The woman was sobbing not far away, certainly in the house. The sound stopped as suddenly as it had begun. For half an hour I waited to hear the sound again, but all was still.