Английский с Г. К. Честертоном. Рассказы об отце Брауне

 The harlequin, already clad in silver paper out of cigar boxes, was, with difficulty, prevented from smashing the old Victorian lustre chandeliers, that he might cover himself with resplendent crystals. In fact he would certainly have done so, had not Ruby unearthed some old pantomime paste jewels she had worn at a fancy dress party as the Queen of Diamonds. Indeed, her uncle, James Blount, was getting almost out of hand in his excitement; he was like a schoolboy. He put a paper donkey’s head unexpectedly on Father Brown, who bore it patiently, and even found some private manner of moving his ears. He even essayed to put the paper donkey’s tail to the coat-tails of Sir Leopold Fischer. This, however, was frowned down. “Uncle is too absurd,” cried Ruby to Crook, round whose shoulders she had seriously placed a string of sausages. “Why is he so wild?”

“He is harlequin to your columbine (он Арлекин для вашей Колумбины),” said Crook. “I am only the clown who makes the old jokes (а я только клоун, который повторяет: «делает» старые шутки).”

“I wish you were the harlequin (жаль, что вы не Арлекин),” she said, and left the string of sausages swinging (сказала она и оставила связку сосисок висеть /у него на шее/; to leave).

 “He is harlequin to your columbine,” said Crook. “I am only the clown who makes the old jokes.”

“I wish you were the harlequin,” she said, and left the string of sausages swinging.