text_original: It was Monsieur Auguste. He was not an imposing figure in his nightrail, and by the light of the carefully shaded candle he held in his hand I saw that he had hitherto deceived me in the matter of his calves. He stood peering at me as I lay under the mosquito bar.
text_transcription: IT WAS MONSIEUR AUGUSTE HE WAS NOT AN IMPOSING FIGURE IN HIS NIGHT AILE AND BY THE LIGHT OF THE CAREFULLY SHADED CANDLE HE HELD IN HIS HAND I SAW THAT HE HAD HITHERTO DECEIVED ME IN THE MATTER OF HIS CALVES HE STOOD PEERING AT ME AS I LAY UNDER THE MOSQUITO BAR
phonemes: ɪt wʌz məsjˈɜːɹ ˈɔːɡʌst. hiː wʌz nˌɑːt ɐn ɪmpˈoʊzɪŋ fˈɪɡjɚɹ ɪn hɪz nˈaɪtɹeɪl, ænd baɪ ðə lˈaɪt ʌvðə kˈɛɹfəli ʃˈeɪdᵻd kˈændəl hiː hˈɛld ɪn hɪz hˈænd aɪ sˈɔː ðæt hiː hæd hˈɪðɚtˌuː dᵻsˈiːvd mˌiː ɪnðə mˈæɾɚɹ ʌv hɪz kˈævz. hiː stˈʊd pˈɪɹɪŋ æt mˌiː æz aɪ lˈeɪ ˌʌndɚ ðə məskˈiːɾoʊ bˈɑːɹ.