最后一片葉子中英對照

1、最后一片葉子（歐亨利小說）編輯最后一片葉子，一譯最后的常春藤葉，主人公是瓊西、蘇艾、貝爾曼。文中作者 著力挖掘和贊美小人物的偉大人格和高尚品德，展示他們向往人性世界的美好愿望。最后一片葉子”的故事，著實讓我們?yōu)榄偽鞯拿\緊張了一番，為蘇艾的友誼感嘆了一回，為貝爾曼的博愛震撼了一次。作者通過對窮苦朋友間友誼的描寫，刻畫出一個舍己為人的以自己生命為代價創(chuàng)造真正杰作的畫家形象，謳歌了以貝爾曼為代表的普通人的高尚。書名最后一片葉子又名最后的常春藤葉作者歐亨利原版名稱The Last Leaf裝幀平裝開本16目錄1作者簡介性平存法2作品內容3作品原文沖文原文4作品賞析1作者簡介編輯生平1862年9月11

2、日，美國最著名的 短篇小說家之一一歐亨利(O.Henry )出生于美國 北 卡羅來納州有個名叫格林斯波羅的小鎮(zhèn)。曾被評論界譽為曼哈頓桂冠散文作家和美國現(xiàn)代短 篇小說之父。1862年他出身于美國北卡羅來納州格林斯波羅鎮(zhèn)一個醫(yī)師家庭。父親是醫(yī)生。 他原名威廉西德尼波特 (William Sydney Porter)。他所受教育不多，15歲便開始在藥房 當學徒，20歲時由于健康原因去德克薩斯州的一個牧場當了兩年牧牛人，積累了對西部生 活的親身經(jīng)驗。1884年以后做過會計員、土地局辦事員、新聞記者。此后，他在德克薩斯 做過不同的工作，包括在奧斯汀銀行當出納員。他還辦過一份名為滾石的幽默周刊，并 在休斯

3、敦一家日報上發(fā)表幽默小說和趣聞逸事。1887年，亨利結婚并生了一個女兒。正當他的生活頗為安定之時，卻發(fā)生了一件改變他命運的事情。1896年，奧斯汀銀行指控他在任職期間盜用資金。他為了躲避受審，逃往洪都拉斯。1897年，后因回家探視病危的妻子被捕入獄，判處5年徒刑。在獄中曾擔任 藥劑師，他創(chuàng)作第一部作品的起因是為了給女兒買 圣誕禮物，但基于犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法國藥典的編者的名字作為筆名，在麥克呂爾雜志發(fā)表。1901年，因“行為良好”提前獲釋，來到紐約專事寫作。正當他的創(chuàng)作力最旺盛的時候，健康狀況卻開始惡化，于 1910年病逝。歐亨利在大概十年的時間內創(chuàng)作了短篇小說共有300多篇，收

4、入白菜與國王(1904)其唯一一部長篇，作者通過四五條并行的線索，試圖描繪出一幅廣闊的畫面，在寫 法上有它的別致之處。不過從另一方面看， 小說章與章之間的內在聯(lián)系不夠緊密，各有獨立的內容卜四百萬(1906)、西部之心(1907)、市聲(1908)、滾石(1913)等集子， 其中以描寫紐約曼哈頓市民生活的作品為最著名。他把那兒的街道、小飯館、破舊的公寓的 氣氛渲染得十分逼真，故有“曼哈頓的桂冠詩人”之稱。他曾以騙子的生活為題材，寫了不少短篇小說。作者企圖表明道貌岸然的上流社會里，有不少人就是高級的騙子，成功的騙子。歐亨利對社會與人生的觀察和分析并不深刻，有些作品比較淺薄， 但他一生困頓，常與失意

5、落魄的小人物同甘共苦，又能以別出心裁的藝術手法表現(xiàn)他們復雜的感情。他的作品構思新穎，語言詼諧，結局常常出人意外；又因描寫了眾多的人物，富于生活情趣，被譽為“美 國生活的幽默百科全書”。因此，他最出色的短篇小說如 愛的犧牲(A Service of Love)、 警察與贊美詩(The Cop and the Anthem)、帶家具出租的房間(The Furnished Room)、 麥琪的禮物(The Gift of the Magi)、最后的常春藤葉(The Last Leaf )等都可列入世 界優(yōu)秀短篇小說之中。他的文字生動活潑，善于利用雙關語、訛音、諧音和舊典新意，妙趣橫生，被喻為含淚的微

6、笑。他還以準確的細節(jié)描寫，制造與再現(xiàn)氣氛，特別是大都會夜生活的氣氛。手法歐亨利還以擅長結尾聞名遐邇，美國文學界稱之為“歐亨利式的結尾”他善于戲劇性地設計情節(jié)，埋下伏筆，作好鋪墊，勾勒矛盾，最后在結尾處突然讓人物的心理情境發(fā)生 出人意料的變化，或使主人公命運陡然逆轉，使讀者感到豁然開朗，柳暗花明，既在意料之外，又在情理之中，不禁拍案稱奇，從而造成獨特的藝術魅力。 有一種被稱為“含淚的微笑” 的獨特藝術風格。歐亨利把小說的靈魂全都凝聚在結尾部分，讓讀者在前的似乎是平淡無奇的而又是詼諧風趣的娓娓動聽的描述中，不知不覺地進入作者精心設置的迷宮，直到最后,忽如電光一閃，才照亮了先前隱藏著的一切，仿佛在和

7、讀者捉迷藏，或者在玩弄障眼法，給讀者最后一個驚喜。在歐亨利之前，其他短篇小說家也已經(jīng)這樣嘗試過這種出乎意料的結 局。但是歐亨利對此運用得更為經(jīng)常，更為自然，也更為純熟老到。2作品內容 編輯窮畫家瓊珊得了重病，在病房里看著窗外對面樹上的常春藤葉子不斷被風吹落，她認為最后一片葉子的凋謝代表自己的死亡，于是她失去了生存的意志。醫(yī)生認為再這樣下去瓊珊會死去。貝爾曼，一個偉大的畫家，在聽完蘇艾講述室友瓊珊的事情后，夜里冒著暴雨，用心靈的畫筆畫出了一片“永不凋落”的常春藤葉，讓瓊珊重拾對生命的希望，而自己卻因此患上肺炎，去世了。3作品原文 編輯中文原文在華盛頓廣場西面的一個小區(qū)里，街道仿佛發(fā)了狂似的分成了

8、許多叫做“巷子”的小胡同。這些“巷子”形成許多奇特的角度和曲線。一條街有時自己本身就交叉了不止一次。有一回一個畫家發(fā)現(xiàn)這條街有他的可貴之處。如果一個商人去收顏料、紙張和畫布的賬款，在這條街上轉彎抹角、 大兜圈子的時候，突然碰到一毛錢也沒收到、空手而歸的自己，那才有意思呢！所以，不久之后不少畫家就摸索到這個古色古香的老格林尼治村來了。他們逛來逛去， 尋求朝北的窗戶、18世紀的三角墻、荷蘭式的閣樓，以及低廉的房租。然后，他們又從第 六街買來一些錫蠟杯子和一兩只烘鍋，組成了一個“藝術區(qū)”。蘇艾和瓊珊在一座矮墩墩的的三層樓磚屋的頂樓設立了她們的畫室?！碍偵骸笔黔偽鞯?昵稱。她倆一個來自緬因州， 一個是

9、加利福尼亞州人。 她們是在德爾蒙戈飯館吃客飯時碰到 的，彼此一談，發(fā)現(xiàn)她們對藝術、飲食、衣著的口味十分相投， 結果便聯(lián)合租下了那間畫室。那是5月里的事。到了 11月，一個冷酷的、肉眼看不見的、醫(yī)生們叫做“肺炎”的不速 之客，在藝術區(qū)里悄悄地游蕩，用他冰冷的手指頭這里碰一下那里碰一下。在廣場東頭，這個破壞者明目張膽地踏著大步，一下子就擊倒幾十個受害者，可是在迷宮一樣、 狹窄而鋪滿青的“胡同”里，他的步伐就慢了下來。肺炎先生不是一個你們心目中行俠仗義的老紳士。一個身子單薄，被加利福尼亞州的西風刮得沒有血色的弱女子，本來不應該是這個有著紅拳頭的、呼吸急促的老家伙打擊的對象。 然而，瓊西卻遭到了打擊；

10、她躺在一張油漆過的鐵床上，一動也不動，凝望著小小的荷蘭式玻璃窗外對面磚房的空墻。一天早晨，那個忙碌的醫(yī)生揚了揚他那毛茸茸的灰白色眉毛，把蘇叫到外邊的走廊上。“我看，她的病只有一成希望，”他說，一面把體溫表里的水銀甩下去，“這一成希望 在于她自己要不要活下去。人們不想活，情愿照顧殯儀館的生意， 這種精神狀態(tài)使醫(yī)藥一籌莫展。你的這位小姐滿肚子以為自己不會好了。她有什么心事嗎？”“她一一她希望有一天能夠去畫那不勒斯海灣?！碧K艾說?！袄L畫？一一別瞎扯了！她心里有沒有值得想兩次的事情。比如說，1男人？”“男人？”蘇艾像吹口琴似的扯著嗓子說，“男人難道值得.不，醫(yī)生，沒有這樣的事?！薄澳苓_到的全部力量去治

11、療她。可要是我的病人開始算計會有多少輛馬車送她出喪，我就得把治療的效果減掉百分之五十。只要你能想法讓她對冬季大衣袖子的時新式樣感到興趣 而提出一兩個問題，那我可以向你保證把醫(yī)好她的機會從十分之一提高到五分之一?！贬t(yī)生走后，蘇艾走進工作室里，把一條日本餐巾哭成一團濕。后來她手里拿著畫板，裝做精神抖擻的樣子走進瓊西的屋子，嘴里吹著爵士音樂調子。瓊西躺著，臉朝著窗口，被子底下的身體紋絲不動。 蘇以為她睡著了，趕忙停止吹口哨。她架好畫板，開始給雜志里的故事畫一張鋼筆插圖。年輕的畫家為了鋪平通向藝術的道路，不得不給雜志里的故事畫插圖，而這些故事又是年輕的作家為了鋪平通向文學的道路而不得不寫的。蘇艾正在給

12、故事主人公，一個愛達荷州牧人的身上，畫上一條馬匹展覽會穿的時髦馬褲 和一片單眼鏡時，忽然聽到一個重復了幾次的低微的聲音。她快步走到床邊。瓊珊的眼睛睜得很大。她望著窗外，數(shù)著倒過來數(shù)。“12, ”她數(shù)道，歇了一會又說，“11”，然后是“ 10”，和“ 9”，接著幾乎同時數(shù)著 “ 8” 和“ 7”。蘇艾關切地看了看窗外。那兒有什么可數(shù)的呢？只見一個空蕩陰暗的院子，20英尺以外還有一所磚房的空墻。 一棵老極了的常春藤， 枯萎的根糾結在一塊， 枝干攀在磚墻的半腰 上。秋天的寒風把藤上的葉子差不多全都吹掉了，幾乎只有光禿的枝條還纏附在剝落的磚塊上?！笆裁矗H愛的？”蘇問道?！?, ”瓊西幾乎用耳語低聲說

13、道，“它們現(xiàn)在越落越快了。 三天前還有差不多一百片。我數(shù)得頭都疼了。但是現(xiàn)在好數(shù)了。又掉了一片。只剩下五片了。”“五片什么，親愛的。告訴你的蘇艾?！薄叭~子。常春藤上的。等到最后一片葉子掉下來，我也就該去了。這件事我三天前就知道了。難道醫(yī)生沒有告訴你？”“喲，我從來沒聽過這么荒唐的話，”蘇艾滿不在乎地說，“那些破常春藤葉子同你的病有什么相干？你以前不是很喜歡這棵樹嗎？得啦，你這個淘氣的姑娘。不要說傻話了。瞧,醫(yī)生今天早晨還告訴我，說你迅速痊愈的機會是，讓我想想他是怎么說的-他說你好的幾率 有十比一！噢，那簡直和我們在紐約坐電車或者走過一座新樓房的把握一樣大。喝點湯吧， 讓蘇艾去畫她的畫， 好把它

14、賣給編輯先生， 換了錢來給她的病孩子買點紅葡萄酒，再買些豬排給自己解解饞?！薄澳悴挥觅I酒了，”瓊珊的眼睛直盯著窗外說道，“又落了一片。不，我不想喝湯。只 剩下四片了。我想在天黑以前等著看那最后一片葉子掉下去。然后我也要去了?！薄碍偵?，親愛的，”蘇艾俯著身子對她說，“等我畫完行嗎？明天我一定得交出這些插圖。我需要光線，否則我就拉下窗簾了。”“你就不能到另一間屋子里去畫嗎？"瓊西冷冷地問道?！拔乙谶@兒陪你，和你在一起，”蘇艾說，“再說，我不喜歡你老是盯著那些葉子看?！薄澳阋划嬐昃徒形?，”瓊珊說著，便閉上了眼睛。她臉色蒼白，一動不動地躺在床上， 就像是座橫倒在地上的雕像?！耙驗槲蚁肟茨亲?/p>

15、后一片葉子掉下來，我等得不耐煩了，也想得不耐煩了。我想擺脫一切，飄下去，飄下去，像一片可憐的疲倦了的葉子那樣?！薄澳銧幦∷粫?，”蘇艾說道，“我得下樓把貝爾曼叫上來，給我當那個隱居的老礦 工的模特兒。我一會兒就會回來的。你不要動，等我回來?！崩县悹柭亲≡谒齻冞@座樓房底層的一個畫家。他年過60,有一把像米開朗琪羅的摩西雕像那樣的大胡子，這胡子長在一個像半人半獸的森林之神的頭顱上，又髯曲地飄拂在小鬼似的身軀上。貝爾曼是個失敗的畫家。 他操了四十年的畫筆， 還遠沒有摸著藝術女神的衣 裙。他老是說就要畫他的那幅杰作了，可是直到現(xiàn)在他還沒有動筆。幾年來，他除了偶爾畫 點商業(yè)廣告之類的玩意兒以外，什么

16、也沒有畫過。他給藝術區(qū)里窮得雇不起職業(yè)模特兒的年輕畫家們當模特兒，掙一點錢。他喝酒毫無節(jié)制，還時常提起他要畫的那幅杰作。除此以外, 他是一個火氣十足的小老頭子，十分瞧不起別人的溫情，卻認為自己是專門保護樓上畫室里那兩個年輕女畫家的一只看家犬。蘇艾在樓下他那間光線黯淡的斗室里找到了貝爾曼，滿嘴酒氣撲鼻。一幅空白的畫布繃在個畫架上，擺在屋角里，等待那幅杰作已經(jīng)25年了，可是連一根線條都還沒等著。蘇艾把瓊珊的胡思亂想告訴了他，還說她害怕瓊珊自個兒瘦小柔弱得像一片葉子一樣，對這個世界的留戀越來越微弱，恐怕真會離世飄走了。老貝爾曼兩只發(fā)紅的眼睛顯然在迎風流淚，他十分輕蔑地嗤笑這種傻呆的胡思亂想。“什么，

17、”他喊道，“世界上竟會有人蠢到因為那些該死的常春藤葉子落掉就想死？我 從來沒有聽說過這種怪事。不，我才沒功夫給你那隱居的礦工糊涂蟲當模特兒呢。你怎么可以讓她胡思亂想？唉，可憐的瓊珊小姐。”“她病得很厲害很虛弱，”蘇艾說，“發(fā)高燒發(fā)得她神經(jīng)昏亂，滿腦子都是古怪想法。好吧，貝爾曼先生，你不愿意給我當模特兒就算了，我看你是個討厭的老.老啰唆鬼?！薄澳愫喼碧牌艐寢屃?！ ”貝爾曼喊道，“誰說我不愿意當模特兒？走， 我和你一塊去。我不是講了半天愿意給你當模特兒嗎？老天爺，像瓊珊小姐這么好的姑娘真不應該躺在這種地方生病?？傆幸惶煳乙嬕环茏?，那時我們就可以都搬出去了?！耙欢ǖ模　彼麄兩蠘且院?，瓊珊正睡著

18、覺。蘇艾把窗簾拉下， 一直遮住窗臺，做手勢叫貝爾曼到隔 壁屋子里去。他們在那里提心吊膽地瞅著窗外那棵常春藤。后來他們默默無言，彼此對望了一會。寒冷的雨夾雜著雪花不停地下著。貝爾曼穿著他的舊藍襯衣，坐在一把翻過來充當巖石的鐵壺上，扮作隱居的礦工。第二天早晨，蘇艾只睡了一個小時的覺，醒來了，她看見瓊珊無神的眼睛睜得大大地注 視拉下的綠窗簾?！鞍汛昂熇饋恚乙纯?。”她低聲地命令道。蘇艾疲倦地照辦了。然而，看呀！經(jīng)過了漫長一夜的風吹雨打，在磚墻上還掛著一片藤葉。它是常春藤上最后的一片葉子了?？拷o部仍然是深綠色， 可是鋸齒形的葉子邊緣已經(jīng)枯萎發(fā)黃，它傲然掛 在一根離地二十多英尺的藤枝上?！斑@是最后

19、一片葉子?！杯偵赫f道，“我以為它昨晚一定會落掉的。我聽見風聲了。今天它一定會落掉，我也會死的?！薄鞍パ?，哎呀，”蘇艾把疲乏的臉龐挨近枕頭邊上對她說，“你不肯為自己著想，也得為我想想啊。我可怎么辦呢？”可是瓊珊不回答。當一個靈魂正在準備走上那神秘的、 遙遠的死亡之途時，她是世界上 最寂寞的人了。那些把她和友誼極大地聯(lián)結起來的關系逐漸消失以后，她那個狂想越來越強烈了。白天總算過去了，甚至在暮色中她們還能看見那片孤零零的藤葉仍緊緊地依附在靠墻的 枝上。后來，夜的來臨帶來呼嘯的北風，雨點不停地拍打著窗子，雨水從低垂的荷蘭式屋檐上流瀉下來。天剛蒙蒙亮，瓊珊就毫不留情地吩咐拉起窗簾來。那片枯藤葉仍然在那里

20、。瓊珊躺著對它看了許久。然后她招呼正在煤氣爐上給她煮雞湯的蘇?！拔沂且粋€壞女孩兒，蘇艾，”瓊珊說，“天意讓那片最后的藤葉留在那里，證明我曾經(jīng)有多么壞。想死是有罪的。你現(xiàn)在就給我拿點雞湯來，再拿點摻葡萄酒的牛奶來，再-不，先給我一面小鏡子，再把枕頭墊墊高，我要坐起來看你做飯?！边^了一個鐘頭，她說道：“蘇艾，我希望有一天能去畫那不勒斯的海灣。”下午醫(yī)生來了，他走的時候，蘇艾找了個借口跑到走廊上?！坝形宄上Ｍ！贬t(yī)生一面說，一面把蘇艾細瘦的顫抖的手握在自己的手里，“好好護理，你會成功的。現(xiàn)在我得去看樓下另一個病人。他的名字叫貝爾曼.聽說也是個畫家，也是肺炎。他年紀太大，身體又弱，病勢很重。他是治不好

21、的了，今天要把他送到醫(yī)院里， 讓他更舒服一點?！钡诙欤t(yī)生對蘇艾說：“她已經(jīng)脫離危險，你成功了。現(xiàn)在只剩下營養(yǎng)和護理了?！毕挛缣K艾跑到瓊珊的床前， 瓊珊正躺著，安詳?shù)鼐幙椫粭l毫無用處的深藍色毛線披肩。 蘇艾用一只胳臂連枕頭帶人一把抱住了她?！拔矣屑乱嬖V你，小家伙，”她說，“貝爾曼先生今天在醫(yī)院里患肺炎去世了。他 只病了兩天。頭一天早晨，門房發(fā)現(xiàn)他在樓下自己那間房里痛得動彈不了。他的鞋子和衣服全都濕透了，冰涼冰涼的。他們搞不清楚在那個凄風苦雨的夜晚，他究竟到哪里去了。 后來他們發(fā)現(xiàn)了一盞沒有熄滅的燈籠，一把挪動過地方的梯子， 幾支扔得滿地的畫筆， 還有一塊調色板，上面涂抹著綠色和黃色的顏

22、料，還有，親愛的，瞧瞧窗子外面，瞧瞧墻上那最后一片藤葉。難道你沒有想過，為什么風刮得那樣厲害，它卻從來不搖一搖、動一動呢？唉，親 愛的，這片葉子才是貝爾曼的杰作。就是在最后一片葉子掉下來的晚上，他把它畫在那里 的?！庇⑽脑腎n a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles an

23、d curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quai

24、nt old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story br

25、ick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial

26、 that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowl

27、y through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she l

28、ay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook dow

29、n the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people haveof lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her m

30、ind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there

31、is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the cura

32、tive power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered in

33、to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artis

34、ts must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. Sh

35、e went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward."Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven" and then "ten," and "nine" and then "eight" and "seven", almost to

36、gether.Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had st

37、ricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to

38、 count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.""Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I neve

39、r heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - le

40、t's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it

41、, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.""You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before

42、it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.""Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down."

43、"Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly."I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want youto keep looking atthose silly ivy leaves.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying w

44、hite and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.""Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must

45、 call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermitminer. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a

46、satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing excep

47、t now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man,

48、who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been

49、waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streamin

50、g, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in the world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead

51、. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.""She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn'

52、t. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet.""You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohn

53、sy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then t

54、hey looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blueshirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-

55、open eyes staring at the drawn green shade."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.Wearily Sue obeyed.But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the las

56、t one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground."It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard th

57、e wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when

58、 it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall

59、. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.The ivy leaf was still there.Johnsy lay for a long tim

60、e looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove."I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack s