最后一片叶子英文原文.docx

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最后一片叶子英文原文

最后一片叶子英文原文

　　InalittledistrictwestofWashingtonSquarethestreetshaveruncrazyandbrokenthemselvesintosmallstripscalled"places."These"places"makestrangeanglesandcurves.OneStreetcrossesitselfatimeortwo.Anartistoncediscoveredavaluablepossibilityinthisstreet.Supposeacollectorwithabillforpaints,paperandcanvasshould,intraversingthisroute,suddenlymeethimselfcomingback,withoutacenthavingbeenpaidonaccount!

　　So,toquaintoldGreenwichVillagetheartpeoplesooncameprowling,huntingfornorthwindowsandeighteenth-centurygablesandDutchatticsandlowrents.ThentheyimportedsomepewtermugsandachafingdishortwofromSixthAvenue,andbecamea"colony."

　　Atthetopofasquatty,three-storybrickSueandJohnsyhadtheirstudio."Johnsy"wasfamiliarforJoanna.OnewasfromMaine;theotherfromCalifornia.Theyhadmetatthetabled'hôteofanEighthStreet"Delmonico's,"andfoundtheirtastesinart,chicorysaladandbishopsleevessocongenialthatthejointstudioresulted.

　　ThatwasinMay.InNovemberacold,unseenstranger,whomthedoctorscalledPneumonia,stalkedaboutthecolony,touchingonehereandtherewithhisicyfingers.Overontheeastsidethisravagerstrodeboldly,smitinghisvictimsbyscores,buthisfeettrodslowlythroughthemazeofthenarrowandmoss-grown"places."

　　Mr.Pneumoniawasnotwhatyouwouldcallachivalricoldgentleman.AmiteofalittlewomanwithbloodthinnedbyCaliforniazephyrswashardlyfairgameforthered-fisted,short-breathedoldduffer.ButJohnsyhesmote;andshelay,scarcelymoving,onherpaintedironbedstead,lookingthroughthesmallDutchwindow-panesattheblanksideofthenextbrickhouse.

　　OnemorningthebusydoctorinvitedSueintothehallwaywithashaggy,greyeyebrow.

　　"Shehasonechancein-letussay,ten,"hesaid,asheshookdownthemercuryinhisclinicalthermometer."Andthatchanceisforhertowanttolive.Thiswaypeoplehaveoflining-uonthesideoftheundertakermakestheentirepharmacopoeialooksilly.Yourlittleladyhasmadeuphermindthatshe'snotgoingtogetwell.Hassheanythingonhermind?

"

　　"She-shewantedtopainttheBayofNaplessomeday."saidSue.

　　"Paint?

-bosh!

Hassheanythingonhermindworththinkingtwice-amanforinstance?

"

　　"Aman?

"saidSue,withajew's-harptwanginhervoice."Isamanworth-but,no,doctor;thereisnothingofthekind."

　　"Well,itistheweakness,then,"saidthedoctor."Iwilldoallthatscience,sofarasitmayfilterthroughmyefforts,canaccomplish.ButwhenevermypatientbeginstocountthecarriagesinherfuneralprocessionIsubtract50percentfromthecurativepowerofmedicines.IfyouwillgethertoaskonequestionaboutthenewwinterstylesincloaksleevesIwillpromiseyouaone-in-fivechanceforher,insteadofoneinten."

　　AfterthedoctorhadgoneSuewentintotheworkroomandcriedaJapanesenapkintoapulp.ThensheswaggeredintoJohnsy'sroomwithherdrawingboard,whistlingragtime.

　　Johnsylay,scarcelymakingarippleunderthebedclothes,withherfacetowardthewindow.Suestoppedwhistling,thinkingshewasasleep.

　　Shearrangedherboardandbeganapen-and-inkdrawingtoillustrateamagazinestory.YoungartistsmustpavetheirwaytoArtbydrawingpicturesformagazinestoriesthatyoungauthorswritetopavetheirwaytoLiterature.

　　AsSuewassketchingapairofeleganthorseshowridingtrousersandamonocleofthefigureofthehero,anIdahocowboy,sheheardalowsound,severaltimesrepeated.Shewentquicklytothebedside.

　　Johnsy'seyeswereopenwide.Shewaslookingoutthewindowandcounting-countingbackward.

　　"Twelve,"shesaid,andlittlelater"eleven";andthen"ten,"and"nine";andthen"eight"and"seven",almosttogether.

　　Suelooksolicitouslyoutofthewindow.Whatwastheretocount?

Therewasonlyabare,drearyyardtobeseen,andtheblanksideofthebrickhousetwentyfeetaway.Anold,oldivyvine,gnarledanddecayedattheroots,climbedhalfwayupthebrickwall.Thecoldbreathofautumnhadstrickenitsleavesfromthevineuntilitsskeletonbranchesclung,almostbare,tothecrumblingbricks.

　　"Whatisit,dear?

"askedSue.

　　"Six,"saidJohnsy,inalmostawhisper."They'refallingfasternow.Threedaysagotherewerealmostahundred.Itmademyheadachetocountthem.Butnowit'seasy.Theregoesanotherone.Thereareonlyfiveleftnow."

　　"Fivewhat,dear?

TellyourSudie."

　　"Leaves.Ontheivyvine.WhenthelastonefallsImustgo,too.I'veknownthatforthreedays.Didn'tthedoctortellyou?

"

　　"Oh,Ineverheardofsuchnonsense,"complainedSue,withmagnificentscorn."Whathaveoldivyleavestodowithyourgettingwell?

Andyouusedtolovethatvineso,younaughtygirl.Don'tbeagoosey.Why,thedoctortoldmethismorningthatyourchancesforgettingwellrealsoonwere-let'sseeexactlywhathesaid-hesaidthechancesweretentoone!

Why,that'salmostasgoodachanceaswehaveinNewYorkwhenwerideonthestreetcarsorwalkpastanewbuilding.Trytotakesomebrothnow,andletSudiegobacktoherdrawing,soshecanselltheeditormanwithit,andbuyportwineforhersickchild,andporkchopsforhergreedyself."

　　"Youneedn'tgetanymorewine,"saidJohnsy,keepinghereyesfixedoutthewindow."Theregoesanother.No,Idon'twantanybroth.Thatleavesjustfour.Iwanttoseethelastonefallbeforeitgetsdark.ThenI'llgo,too."

　　"Johnsy,dear,"saidSue,bendingoverher,"willyoupromisemetokeepyoureyesclosed,andnotlookoutthewindowuntilIamdoneworking?

Imusthandthosedrawingsinbyto-morrow.Ineedthelight,orIwoulddrawtheshadedown."

　　"Couldn'tyoudrawintheotherroom?

"askedJohnsy,coldly.

　　"I'dratherbeherebyyou,"saidSue."Beside,Idon'twantyoutokeeplookingatthosesillyivyleaves."

　　"Tellmeassoonasyouhavefinished,"saidJohnsy,closinghereyes,andlyingwhiteandstillasfallenstatue,"becauseIwanttoseethelastonefall.I'mtiredofwaiting.I'mtiredofthinking.Iwanttoturnloosemyholdoneverything,andgosailingdown,down,justlikeoneofthosepoor,tiredleaves."

　　"Trytosleep,"saidSue."ImustcallBehrmanuptobemymodelfortheoldhermitminer.I'llnotbegoneaminute.Don'ttrytomove'tilIcomeback."

　　OldBehrmanwasapainterwholivedonthegroundfloorbeneaththem.HewaspastsixtyandhadaMichaelAngelo'sMosesbeardcurlingdownfromtheheadofasatyralongwiththebodyofanimp.Behrmanwasafailureinart.FortyyearshehadwieldedthebrushwithoutgettingnearenoughtotouchthehemofhisMistress'srobe.Hehadbeenalwaysabouttopaintamasterpiece,buthadneveryetbegunit.Forseveralyearshehadpaintednothingexceptnowandthenadaubinthelineofcommerceoradvertising.Heearnedalittlebyservingasamodeltothoseyoungartistsinthecolonywhocouldnotpaythepriceofaprofessional.Hedrankgintoexcess,andstilltalkedofhiscomingmasterpiece.Fortheresthewasafiercelittleoldman,whoscoffedterriblyatsoftnessinanyone,andwhoregardedhimselfasespecialmastiff-in-waitingtoprotectthetwoyoungartistsinthestudioabove.

　　SuefoundBehrmansmellingstronglyofjuniperberriesinhisdimlylighteddenbelow.Inonecornerwasablankcanvasonaneaselthathadbeenwaitingtherefortwenty-fiveyearstoreceivethefirstlineofthemasterpiece.ShetoldhimofJohnsy'sfancy,andhowshefearedshewould,indeed,lightandfragileasaleafherself,floataway,whenherslightholdupontheworldgrewweaker.

　　OldBehrman,withhisredeyesplainlystreaming,shoutedhiscontemptandderisionforsuchidioticimaginings.

　　"Vass!

"hecried."Isderepeopleindeworldmitderfoolishnesstodiebecauseleafsdeydropofffromaconfoundedvine?

Ihafnotheardofsuchathing.No,Iwillnotboseasamodelforyourfoolhermit-dunderhead.Vydoyouallowdotsillypusinesstocomeinderbrainofher?

Ach,dotpoorleetleMissYohnsy."

　　"Sheisveryillandweak,"saidSue,"andthefeverhaslefthermindmorbidandfullofstrangefancies.Verywell,Mr.Behrman,ifyoudonotcaretoposeforme,youneedn't.ButIthinkyouareahorridold-oldflibbertigibbet."

　　"Youarejustlikeawoman!

"yelledBehrman."WhosaidIwillnotbose?

Goon.Icomemityou.ForhalfanhourIhafpeentryingtosaydotIamreadytobose.Gott!

disisnotanyblaceinwhichonesogootasMissYohnsyshallliesick.SomedayIvillbaintamasterpiece,andveshallallgoaway.Gott!

yes."

　　Johnsywassleepingwhentheywentupstairs.Suepulledtheshadedowntothewindow-sill,andmotionedBehrmanintotheotherroom.Intheretheypeeredoutthewindowfearfullyattheivyvine.Thentheylookedateachotherforamomentwithoutspeaking.Apersistent,coldrainwasfalling,mingledwithsnow.Behrman,inhisoldblueshirt,tookhisseatasthehermitmineronanupturnedkettleforarock.

　　WhenSueawokefromanhour'ssleepthenextmorningshefoundJohnsywithdull,wide-openeyesstaringatthedrawngreenshade.

　　"Pullitup;Iwanttosee,"sheordered,inawhisper.

　　WearilySueobeyed.

　　But,lo!

afterthebeatingrainandfiercegustsofwindthathadenduredthroughthelivelongnight,thereyetstoodoutagainstthebrickwalloneivyleaf.Itwasthelastoneonthevine.Stilldarkgreennearitsstem,withitsserratededgestintedwiththeyellowofdissolutionanddecay,ithungbravelyfromthebranchsometwentyfeetabovetheground.

　　"Itisthelastone,"saidJohnsy."Ithoughtitwouldsu