Ex 306/ Back to Victoria
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Message de here4u posté le 31-08-2025 à 22:37:40 (S | E | F)
Hello dears,

Une longue parenthèse d'un mois, et nous voici revenus fidèlement pour reprendre notre exercice de traduction
concernant la gare Victoria. Vous vous souvenez, cette version n'était pas facile... Je ne vais pas vous mentir,
cette partie ne sera pas plus facile... Réfléchissez bien, remettez-vous dans l'ambiance ! C'est reparti !

TRANSLATE INTO FRENCH:
Max is surrounded by his relations, I by mine.
My sister says tearfully that she has a feeling that she will never see me again. I am not
very much impressed, because she has felt this everytime I go to the East. And what, she asked,
is she to do if Rosalind gets appendicitis? There seems no reason why my fourteen-year-old
daughter should get appendicitis, and all I can think of to reply is: «Don’t operate on her
yourself!» For my sister has a great reputation for hasty actions with her scissors, attacking
impartially boils, haircutting and dressmaking – usually, I must admit, with great success.
Max and I exchange relations, and my dear mother-in-law urges me to take great care of myself,
implying that I am nobly going into great personal danger.
Whistles blow, and I have a last few frienzied words with my friend and secretary. Will she do
all the things I have left undone and upbraid suitably the Laundry and the Cleaners and give a
good reference to the cook and send off those books I couldn’t pack, and get back my umbrella
from Scotland Yard and write appropriately to the clergy-man who has discovered forty-three
Grammatical errors in my last book, and go through the seed-list for the garden and cross off
vegetable marrows and parnsnips? Yes, she will do all those things, and if any crisis occurs in
the Home or in the Literary world she will cable me. It doesn’t matter, I say. She has a power
of Attorney. She can do anything she likes. She looks rather alarmed and says she shall be most
careful. Another whistle! I say good-bye to my sister, and say wildly that I, too, feel I shall
never see her again, and perhaps Rosalind will get appendicitis. Nonsense, says my sister; why
should she? We climb into the Pullman, the train grunts and starts – we are OFF. For about
forty-five seconds I feel terrible, and then as Victoria Station is left behind, exultation springs
once more.
We have begun the lovely, exciting journey to Syria.
Agatha CHRISTIE, Come Tell Me How You Live.
Cet exercice est un
. Sa correction sera en ligne le dimanche 14 septembre 2025.
Bon travail. The FORCE is with You.

Message de here4u posté le 31-08-2025 à 22:37:40 (S | E | F)
Hello dears,


Une longue parenthèse d'un mois, et nous voici revenus fidèlement pour reprendre notre exercice de traduction
concernant la gare Victoria. Vous vous souvenez, cette version n'était pas facile... Je ne vais pas vous mentir,
cette partie ne sera pas plus facile... Réfléchissez bien, remettez-vous dans l'ambiance ! C'est reparti !


TRANSLATE INTO FRENCH:
Max is surrounded by his relations, I by mine.
My sister says tearfully that she has a feeling that she will never see me again. I am not
very much impressed, because she has felt this everytime I go to the East. And what, she asked,
is she to do if Rosalind gets appendicitis? There seems no reason why my fourteen-year-old
daughter should get appendicitis, and all I can think of to reply is: «Don’t operate on her
yourself!» For my sister has a great reputation for hasty actions with her scissors, attacking
impartially boils, haircutting and dressmaking – usually, I must admit, with great success.
Max and I exchange relations, and my dear mother-in-law urges me to take great care of myself,
implying that I am nobly going into great personal danger.
Whistles blow, and I have a last few frienzied words with my friend and secretary. Will she do
all the things I have left undone and upbraid suitably the Laundry and the Cleaners and give a
good reference to the cook and send off those books I couldn’t pack, and get back my umbrella
from Scotland Yard and write appropriately to the clergy-man who has discovered forty-three
Grammatical errors in my last book, and go through the seed-list for the garden and cross off
vegetable marrows and parnsnips? Yes, she will do all those things, and if any crisis occurs in
the Home or in the Literary world she will cable me. It doesn’t matter, I say. She has a power
of Attorney. She can do anything she likes. She looks rather alarmed and says she shall be most
careful. Another whistle! I say good-bye to my sister, and say wildly that I, too, feel I shall
never see her again, and perhaps Rosalind will get appendicitis. Nonsense, says my sister; why
should she? We climb into the Pullman, the train grunts and starts – we are OFF. For about
forty-five seconds I feel terrible, and then as Victoria Station is left behind, exultation springs
once more.
We have begun the lovely, exciting journey to Syria.
Agatha CHRISTIE, Come Tell Me How You Live.
Cet exercice est un



Bon travail. The FORCE is with You.




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