Mark

Twain

The £1,000,000 Bank‑Note

Die 1,000,000 Pfundnote

Synchronisation und Ergänzungen © Doppeltext 2012

TITELBLATT

THE £1,000,000 BANK‑NOTE

IMPRESSUM

When I was twenty-sev­en years old, I was a min­ing-broker’s clerk in San Fran­cisco,
and an ex­pert in all the de­tails of stock traffic.
I was alone in the world, and had noth­ing to de­pend upon but my wits and a clean repu­ta­tion;
but these were set­ting my feet in the road to even­tu­al for­tune, and I was con­tent with the pro­spect.
My time was my own after the af­ter­noon board, Sat­urdays,
and I was ac­cus­tomed to put it in on a little sail-boat on the bay.
One day I ven­tured too far, and was car­ried out to sea.
Just at night­fall, when hope was about gone, I was picked up by a small brig which was bound for Lon­don.
It was a long and stormy voy­age, and they made me work my pas­sage without pay, as a com­mon sail­or.
When I stepped ashore in Lon­don my clothes were ragged and shabby, and I had only a dol­lar in my pock­et.
This money fed and sheltered me twenty-four hours. Dur­ing the next twenty-four I went without food and shel­ter.
About ten o’clock on the fol­low­ing morn­ing, seedy and hungry, I was drag­ging my­self along Port­land Place,
when a child that was passing, towed by a nurse-maid, tossed a lus­cious big pear — minus one bite — into the gut­ter.
I stopped, of course, and fastened my de­sir­ing eye on that muddy treas­ure.
My mouth watered for it, my stom­ach craved it, my whole be­ing begged for it.
But every time I made a move to get it some passing eye de­tec­ted my pur­pose,
and of course I straightened up then, and looked in­dif­fer­ent, and pre­ten­ded that I hadn’t been think­ing about the pear at all.
This same thing kept hap­pen­ing and hap­pen­ing, and I couldn’t get the pear.
I was just get­ting des­per­ate enough to brave all the shame, and to seize it,
when a win­dow be­hind me was raised, and a gen­tle­man spoke out of it, say­ing:
“Step in here, please.”
I was ad­mit­ted by a gor­geous flun­key, and shown into a sump­tu­ous room where a couple of eld­erly gen­tle­men were sit­ting.
They sent away the ser­vant, and made me sit down.
They had just fin­ished their break­fast, and the sight of the re­mains of it al­most over­powered me.
I could hardly keep my wits to­geth­er in the pres­ence of
that food, but as I was not asked to sample it, I had to bear my trouble as best I could.
Now, something had been hap­pen­ing there a little be­fore,
which I did not know any­thing about un­til a good many days af­ter­wards, but I will tell you about it now.
Those two old broth­ers had been hav­ing a pretty hot ar­gu­ment a couple of days be­fore,
and had ended by agree­ing to de­cide it by a bet, which is the Eng­lish way of set­tling everything.
You will re­mem­ber that the Bank of Eng­land once is­sued two notes of a mil­lion pounds each,
to be used for a spe­cial pur­pose con­nec­ted with some pub­lic trans­ac­tion with a for­eign coun­try.
For some reas­on or oth­er only one of these had been used and can­celed; the oth­er still lay in the vaults of the Bank.
Well, the broth­ers, chat­ting along, happened to get to won­der­ing
what might be the fate of a per­fectly hon­est and in­tel­li­gent stranger who should be turned adrift in Lon­don without a friend,
and with no money but that mil­lion-pound bank-note, and no way to ac­count for his be­ing in pos­ses­sion of it.
Broth­er A said he would starve to death; Broth­er B said he wouldn’t.
Broth­er A said he couldn’t of­fer it at a bank or any­where else, be­cause he would be ar­res­ted on the spot.
So they went on dis­put­ing till Broth­er B said he would bet twenty thou­sand pounds
that the man would live thirty days, any­way, on that mil­lion, and keep out of jail, too.
Broth­er A took him up. Broth­er B went down to the Bank and bought that note.
Just like an Eng­lish­man, you see; pluck to the back­bone.
Then he dic­tated a let­ter, which one of his clerks wrote out in a beau­ti­ful round hand,
and then the two broth­ers sat at the win­dow a whole day watch­ing for the right man to give it to.

Mark Twain
The £1,000,000 Bank‑Note / Die 1,000,000 Pfundnote
Zweisprachige Ausgabe

Dies ist ein interaktives E-Book. Klicken Sie auf den Text, um die Übersetzung einzublenden.

Der Originaltext und die Übersetzung sind gemeinfrei. Die Rechte für die synchronisierte zweisprachige Ausgabe und für die von uns in der Übersetzung ergänzten Textpassagen liegen bei Doppeltext.

Unser Programm umfasst viele weitere zweisprachige Titel. Besuchen Sie www.doppeltext.com, um mehr zu erfahren.

Wir freuen uns auf Ihre Meinung und Kritik.

Doppeltext
Igor Kogan & Tatiana Zelenska
Karwendelstr. 25
D-81369 München
Tel. +49-89-76 75 55 34
www.doppeltext.com
info@doppeltext.com