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Certainly Pete was not hungry. He had just come from a feast that had left him of his powers barely those of respiration and locomotion |он едва мог двигаться и дышать|. His eyes were like two pale gooseberries |ягоды крыжовника| firmly imbedded in a swollen and gravy-smeared mask of putty |опухший, намазанный соусом пластилин|. His breath came in short wheezes; a senatorial roll of adipose tissue denied a fashionable set to his upturned coat collar |складки депутатского жира на шее портили линию поднятого воротника пальто|. Buttons that had been sewed |были пришиты| upon his clothes by kind Salvation fingers |добрыми пальцами служителя Армии Спасения. Армия Спасения – одна из старейших христианских организаций, целью которой является помощь бедным, бездомным и т.д.| a week before flew like popcorn, strewing the earth around him |отлетали… усеивая|. Ragged |истрепанный, в лохмотьях| he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone |разорвана на груди|; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought him only a grateful coolness. For Stuffy Pete was overcharged with the caloric |перенасыщен калориями| produced by a super-bountiful di
The meal had been an unexpected one |Еда получилась неожиданной|. He was passing a red brick mansion near the begi
After Stuffy Pete had gazed straight before him for ten minutes he was conscious of a desire for a more varied field of vision |к нему пришло желание расширить кругозор|. With a tremendous effort he moved his head slowly to the left. And then his eyes bulged out fearfully |его глаза выкатились от страха|, and his breath ceased, and the rough-shod ends of his short legs wriggled and rustled on the gravel |и его ступни, обутые в грубую обувь, задергались по гравию|.
For the Old Gentleman |For здесь никак не переводится| was coming across Fourth avenue toward his bench.
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there, and had led him |отводил его| to a restaurant and watched him eat a big di
The Old Gentleman moved |двигался или приближался|, straight and stately, toward the Institution that he was rearing |он пестовал|. Truly, the a
The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black, and wore the old-fashioned kind of glasses that won’t stay on your nose. His hair was whiter and thi
As his established benefactor came up |приблизился| Stuffy wheezed and shuddered like some woman’s over-fat pug when a street dog bristles up at him |начал дрожать и скулить как перекормленная болонка некой женщины при приближении уличного пса|. He would have flown |конструкция would have и третья форма глагола значит, что он бы что-то сделал, но не смог: он бы спасся бегством…|, but all the skill of Santos-Dumont could not have separated him |даже святая сила не оторвала бы его| from his bench. Well had the myrmidons |приспешники| of the two old ladies done their work.
“Good morning,” said the Old Gentleman. “I am glad to perceive |буквально – воспринять. Лучше – узнать| that the vicissitudes of another year have spared |превратности… пощадили| you to move in health about the beautiful world |и вы в здравии бродите по…|. For that blessing alone |так благослови…| this day of thanksgiving is well proclaimed to each of us. If you will |по правилам will здесь стоять не должно, но плевали персонажи О. Генри на правила| come with me, my man, I will provide you with a di
That is what the old Gentleman said every time. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years. The words themselves almost formed an Institution |Традицию|. Nothing could be compared with them except the Declaration of Independence. Always before |Всегда ранее| they had been music in Stuffy’s ears. But now he looked up at the Old Gentleman’s face with tearful agony in his own. The fine snow almost sizzled |вскипал| when it fell upon his perspiring brow |буквально – взмокшую бровь. Лучше – разгоряченный лоб|. But the Old Gentleman shivered |поеживался| a little and turned his back to the wind.
Stuffy had always wondered why the Old Gentleman spoke his speech rather sadly. He did not know that it was because he was wishing every time that he had a son to succeed him |хотел бы, чтобы у него был сын, чтобы продолжить Традицию|. A son who would come there after he was gone – a son who would stand proud and strong before some subsequent Stuffy |какому-нибудь следующему Стаффи|, and say: “In memory of my father.” Then it would be an Institution.