Duinnín agus an Cat (tuilleadh)

• ‘Tá an gloine briste i ndoras uimhir a 33,’ arsa Eleanór, ‘díreach mar a bheadh i ndoras Mharia murach gur imir tú cleas ar an nglas.’
  ‘Féach an sneachta os comhair an dorais [g],’ ar sise. ‘B’é go raibh cruinniú poiblí ar an táirseach?’
  ‘Dráma, seachas cruinniú, déarfainn,’ arsa an Duinníneach. ‘An rian is tábhachtaí ná an ceann sin ar clé ar fad.’
  ‘Is geall le rian coise eilifint é.’

  ‘The glass is broken in door number 33,’ Eleanor said , ‘just like it would be in Maria’s door if you hadn’t played a trick on the lock.’
  ‘Look at the snow in front of the door,’ she said. Was there a public meeting on the threshhold?’
  ‘Drama, rather than a meeting, I would say,’ said Dineen. ‘The most important track is that one on the far left. It is like an elephant’s footprint.’
  

  cruinniú	Gathering, Meeting	m
  poiblí	publie
  táirseach	threshhold
  rian	Course, path; Mark, trace, track; Power of movement, vigor	m
  geall	Pledge, security; Wager, bet; promise	m
  Is geall le	It is like

  
  

• ‘Cuimhnigh go raibh bróga tí á gcaitheamh ag Maria. Faoin am seo, bheidís báite fliuch agus éadach na n-uachtar ag sliobarnaíl thar na boinn. Tá na coiscéimeanna eile anuas ar na cinn aici siúd.’
  ‘An méid atá iontu!’ arsa Eleanor go himníoch. ‘Fiú agus méadú le linn leá a chur san áireamh! . . . Feicim fathaigh, abominable snowmen, dosaen garraíodóir ar thóir Mharia.’
  ‘Siúil anseo i lár an chosáin mar a bhfuil an sneachta leáite.’
  ‘Fuil!’ arsa Eleanór agus uafás uirthi.
  ‘Braonta ar fud na háite,’ a d’aontaigh an Duinníneach.
  Chuir sé lámh trín bpoll agus d’oscail sé an doras.

  Remember Maria was wearing house shoes. By this time, they would be drenched wet and the cloth on top drooping over the soles. The other footsteps are on top of hers.
  ‘The size of them!’ said Eleanor anxiously. ‘Even considering the increase during melting! . . . I see giants, abominable snowmen, a dozen gardeners in search of Maria.’
  ‘Walk here in the middle of the path where the snow has melted.’
  ‘Blood!’ said Eleanor in horror.
  ‘Drops all over the place,’ agreed Dineen.
  He put his hand through the hole and opened the door.

  báite	drowned
  éadach	cloth	m
  uachtar	top, upper part; cream	m
  ag sliobarna = ag liobarna	hanging loose, drooping
  bonn	sole	m
  méadú	increase	m
  leá	melting, dissolution	m
  áireamh	counting, reckonning
  fathach	giant	m
  ar thóir	in search of
  cosán	Path; Footway, track; Way, passage; direction	m
  fuil	blood	f
  uafás	Horror, terror	m
  aontaigh	unite; agree

  
  
Léigh tuilleadh

Duinnín agus an Cat

Féirín . . . a reward, a present, a keepsake . . . in a bad sense, a lasting complaint, an affliction ; f. Nodlag, a Christmas box.

Deireadh an scéil
End of the story

Oíche Lae Nollag atá ann. Tá an tAthair Pádraig Ó Duinnín ar an traein dheireanach ó Shráid Amiens ar a shlí abhaile go dtí an bungaló beag cois farraige i bPort Mearnóg mar a bhfuil cónaí air. Tá a hata ard dubh síoda leagtha béal in airde ar a ghlúine mar a mbíonn lámhscríbhinn éigin de ghnáth. Tá sé ag cáitheadh sneachta. Ó am go chéile ardaíonn an Duinníneach an nuachtán atá leagtha ar an hata aige agus féachann sé arís ar an bpiscín cait atá ina chodladh istigh. Agus é ag druidim le stáisiún Phort Mearnóg, crochann sé an ruidín beag dubh san aer le súil go mbeadh cat ó dhuine éigin. Ní fhéachann ceachtar den bheirt eile sa charráiste air féin ná ar an bpiscín. Ligeann sé osna agus cuireann sé síos ina phóca é. Póca doimhin é a shíneann go bun a chóta – maintín, a bhfuil sé cairdiúil léi, a réitigh an póca seo, in aisce, dó – le gur féidir leis rudaí ilghnéitheacha a iompar thart go discréideach. Sháigh an piscín ingne ina láimh agus é á stiúrú isteach go cneasta. ‘Féirín!’ arsa an Duinníneach go grod.

It is Christmas Eve. Pádraig Ó Duinnín on the last train from Amiens Street on his way home to the small seaside bungalow in Portmarnock where he lives. His tall black silk hat is set mouth-high on his knees where some manuscript is usually. It is snowing [lit. “throwing snow”]. Occasionally Dineen raises the newspaper set on his hat and he looks again at the kitten who is sleeping inside. Approaching Portmarnock station, he lifts the little black thing in the air with the hope it be someone’s cat. Neither of the other two in the carriage looks at him or the kitten. He lets out a sigh and puts it down in his pocket. It is a deep pocket that stretches to the bottom of his coat, – a seamstress, with whom he is a friend, made this pocket, for nothing, for him – so that he can carry various things around discreetly. The kitten pushed a claw into his hand while while he was politely steering it in. ‘Gift!’ Said Dineen abruptly.

Tus an scéil
Beginning of the story