There was the huge Italian cassone, with its fantastically painted panels and its tarnished gilt mouldings, in which he had so often hidden himself as a boy.

那是一个巨大的意大利黑砂锅，镶板涂得奇异，镀金线条已经失去光泽，他小时候经常把自己藏在里面。

A faded Flemish tapestry, a curtained picture, an old Italian cassone, and an almost empty book-case—that was all that it seemed to contain, besides a chair and a table.

一张褪色的佛兰芒挂毯，一幅挂着窗帘的画，一个古老的意大利卡松，一个几乎空空如也的书柜——除了一张椅子和一张桌子之外，似乎只有这些了。