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Focus on Grammar

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5. Translate into English.1. ºÃ» ¹áõ ³Ûëûñ Éí³Ý³ë ³åë»Ý»ñÁ, »ë í³ÕÁ ׳ßÁ Ï»÷»Ù:2. Ø»Ýù ÇÙ ë»ÝÛ³ÏÁ ÏÇñ³ÏÇ ûñÁ ÏÝ»ñÏ»Ýù, »Ã» ѳÛãÇÏë ³½³ï ÉÇÝÇ:3. ν³ñٳݳÙ, »Ã» ݳ ÇÝÓ û·ÝÇ:4. ºÃ» »Õ³Ý³ÏÁ ɳí ÉÇÝÇ í³ÕÁ Ù»Ýù Éáճà ϷݳÝù:5. Ø»Ýù ͳٳݳÏÇÝ ï»Õ ã»Ýù ѳëÝÇ, »Ã» ³íïûµáõë ãÝëï»Ýù:6. ¸áõ Ù»Í Ñ³×áõÛù Ïëï³Ý³ë, »Ã» ³Ûó»É»ë óáõó³Ñ³Ý¹»ëÁ:Read the text and answer the questi<strong>on</strong>s.COURAGE(an extract)by John GalsworthyAt that time I was very poor, I lived <strong>on</strong> bread and tobacco, going without breakfast,lunch and dinner. I lived in a lodging-house. There used to come to that house a littleFrenchman with a yellow wrinkled face; he was not old, about thirty, but his life hadbeen hard – no <strong>on</strong>e comes to these houses if life is soft. He came to shave us, charged apenny, most of us forgot to pay him, so that in all he shaved three men for a penny. Healso went to shave to the pris<strong>on</strong>. In this way he earned his living. “I work like a slave,”he used to say. He hoped to save m<strong>on</strong>ey and go back to France. We had a liking for eachother. He shaved me slowly and always talked while he was working. “Yes,” the littleman would say, “when I came here first, I thought I’d go back again, but now I’m not sosure. M<strong>on</strong>ey has wings, but it’s not to me it flies.”I got a job as a fireman <strong>on</strong> a ship and left the place. Six m<strong>on</strong>ths later I was backagain. The first m<strong>on</strong>th after my return I saw the Frenchman, even yellower and morewrinkled than before. I went to the kitchen and sat down by the fire.“You see,” he said, “I’m still here, but my comrade Pig<strong>on</strong> is dead. You rememberhim —the big man with black hair who had a shop not far from here. A nice fellow, agood friend to me, and married. He died suddenly of heart disease... and <strong>on</strong>e fine day inOctober I was sitting and drinking coffee at home when suddenly comes a knock, andthere is Madame Pig<strong>on</strong>! A good woman, of good family, well brought-up. She was verysad, lost I would say. She said there wasn’t a cent in the house. It appeared that Pig<strong>on</strong>was two days in the grave when the bailiffs 1 were already in the shop. “What am I todo?” said Mrs. Pig<strong>on</strong> sadly.I got my hat and went to the shop. What a scene! The bailiffs were in the shop andeverywhere, everywhere, up<strong>on</strong> my word, were children. All were crying. Seven, somequite small. The bailiffs behaved well. They gave him twenty-four hours to find them<strong>on</strong>ey. “We d<strong>on</strong>’t want to be hard <strong>on</strong> you,” they said. I turned to Mrs. Pig<strong>on</strong>. “Hopealways, Madam —trust in me,” I said.I went away. All day l<strong>on</strong>g I thought how calm she was. Something must be d<strong>on</strong>e, Isaid to myself, but nothing came to my mind that day. I worked as I have never 67workedbefore. It was as if the little <strong>on</strong>es had got hold of my legs and were dragging at me.And then an idea came to my mind. I finished and walked away, I was going to102

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