自己编一个英文短篇小说

1. 求篇英文短篇小说，任何体裁都可以，用做上英语课的演讲用，600——1000字的左右

It was the day before Easter and Peter Cottontail was very busy.As the Chief Easter Bunny,it was his job to hide all the eggs for all the Easter egg hunts around the world.
时间是复活节之前，皮特很忙。作为主要的复活节兔子，他的工作是将所有的为全世界复活节狩猎所需要的蛋藏起来。
Peter wanted to be sure that he had enough of the beautifully colored eggs for everyone.So he was counting them all.But he kept getting distracted and losing count.
皮特想确定他有充足的为复活节而准备的美丽的彩蛋。所以他正在把它们都数一数。但是他一直分神而忘了数的数字。
First,Peter thought he heard the meow of one little kitten.But he didn't see a kitten.Next he thought he heard two meows from two kittens,but he still didn't see anything.
Then Peter thought he heard three meows from three little kittens.
"Maybe they're outside,"thought Peter.So,he opened the door and sure engough...
开始，皮特想他听到了一只小猫的叫声。但是他看不见一只小猫。接着他想他听到了两只小猫的声音，但是他依然什么都看不见。
然后皮特想他看见了三只小猫的声音。
“也许他们在外面，”皮特想。所以他打开门来看个清楚...
There sat three unhappy,little kittens.Peter asked them what was wrong.
"We were playing hide-and-seek with our mitten*,"**plained the kittens."We are very good at hiding,but we are not very good at seeking.And now our mittens are lost."
"If you help me count my eggs,then I can help you find your mittens,"Peter told them.
The three little kittens were so happy that they began to dance and sing.
那里坐着三只不愉快的小猫。皮特问他们有什么麻烦。
“我们用我们的拳击手套玩了‘藏了找’的游戏，”小猫们解释。“我们擅长藏，但是我们不擅长找。现在我们的拳击手套找不到了。”
“假如你们帮助我数我的蛋，然后我就能够帮助你们找到你们的拳击手套，”皮特告诉他们。
那三只小猫如此地高兴以致他们又跳舞又唱歌。
Everyone went into the house and,one-two-three,they counted all the eggs.There were enough eggs for everyone and even three too many.
"Great!"said Peter."It's good to have extra eggs,just in case any break.Now let's find your mittens."
Off went Peter Cottontail and the three little kittens,with Peter Cottontail hopping big-bunny hops and the kittens racing along to keep up.
每个人都进入屋子，一、二、三，他们数了所有的蛋。为每个人准备的蛋是充足的，甚至还多出了三个。
“太好了！”皮特说。“有多余的蛋很好，恰好预防破蛋的情况。现在让我们来找你的拳击手套。”
皮特和三只小猫走出去，皮特跳着大兔步，而三只小猫则跑在后面跟着他。
First,they passed a house made of straw-but no one was there.
Next they passed a house made of sticks.No one was home there either.
Finally,they came to a very nice house made of bricks.
Peter and the three kittens knocked on the door of the pretty brick brick.Soon,three little pigs came out to meet them.
"Welcome!Welcome!"said the three little pigs."We are so glad to have visitors.The Big Bad Wolf chased all our friends away and no one visit us anymore.Won't you come in for a while?"
首先，他们经过了一个由稻草制成的房子，但是每人在家。
接着他们来到一个有树枝做成的房子，也没人在家。
最后他们来到一个由砖头制成的房子。
皮特和三只小猫敲打那个精美的小屋的门。不久，三只小猪出来迎接他们。
“欢迎！欢迎！”三只小猪说。“我们很高兴有人来拜访我们。大坏狼赶走了我们的所有的朋友，再也没人来拜访我们了。你们不进来呆一会吗？”
Peter and the kitten* **plained that they were looking for the kittens' lost mittens.This made the kittens so sad that they began to cry.
"Don't cry,little kittens,"said the three pigs."We haven't see any mittens,but you are welcome to look around."
So everyone looked,but they didn't find the kitten's mittens.
皮特和三个小猫解释他们在寻找小猫丢失的拳击手套。这件事让小猫们哭了起来。
“不要哭，小猫，”三只小猪说，“我们没有看见什么拳击手套。但是欢迎你们在附近找找。”
所以每个人一起看了看，但是他们没有发现小猫的拳击手套。
"You should ask Humpty Dumpty,"suggested the three little pigs."He sits so high up on his wall that he sees everything.Maybe he has seen your mittens."
Peter and the three kittens thanked the pigs and said good-bye.Then off they went.
“你们应该问问汉仆.达谱，”三只小猪建议。“他坐在他家的很高的墙上让他能看见每件事情。也许他看见了你们的拳击手套。”
Before long,they came to a very high wall with a strange,little man sitting on top.
"Excuse me,"said Peter Cottontail,"Are you Humpty Dumpty?"
"Yes,I am,"said the man,"How can I help you?"
不久，他们来到一堵非常高的墙面前，一个陌生的，很小的人坐在墙上。
“对不起，”皮特说，“你是汉仆.达谱吗？”
“是的，”那个人说，“我能帮助你们吗？”
Once again,the three little kitten* **plained how they lost their mittens.And they became so sad that again they began to cry.
"Do not cry,little kittens,"said Humpty Dumpty."This morning I saw three little kittens hide their mittens in the tall grass next to the Babbling Brook."
The three litten kittens began to dance and sing.
"Now we remember!Thank you,thank you!"they cheered.
三只小猫把怎么丢失拳击手套的事又解释了一遍。他们如此地伤心以致他们哭了。
“不要哭，小猫，”汉仆.达谱说，“今天早上我看见三只小猫在胡说河边的高草中藏他们的拳击手套。”
三只小猫开始又跳又唱。
“现在我们记得了！谢谢你，谢谢你！”他们欢呼。

Peter was very happy to have helped the kittens.But suddenly he remembered about Easter.
"Oh no!"he cried."It is almost Easter and I haven't hidden any eggs yet!What will I do?"
皮特很高兴帮助了小猫。但是突然他记得了复活节。
“哦，不！”他喊，“几乎到了复活节了，我还没有将蛋藏好呢！我该怎么办呢？”
"Don't worry."said the three little kittens."You have seen that we are good at hiding things.We will help you hide the eggs."
Peter accepted their help and off everyone rushed,with Peter hopping big-bunny hops and the kittens racing along to keep up.
“不要害怕。”三只小猫说。“你看见了我们擅长藏东西。我们将帮助你来藏蛋。”
皮特接受了他们的帮助，每个人跑起来，皮特跳着大兔步，小猫们在后面奔跑着追赶。
By Easter morning,everything was finished.Best of all,none of the eggs had broken.So Peter gave the three extra eggs to the three little kittens as thanks for all their help.
到了复活节早上，每件事都完成了。最好的是，没有一个蛋被弄破。所以皮特将三个多余的蛋送给了三只小猫作为对他们的帮助的感谢。
--Henry David Thoreau/享利.大卫.梭罗

However mean your life is,meet it and live it ;do not shun it and call it hard names.It is not so bad as you are.It looks poorest when you are richest.The fault-finder will find faults in paradise.Love your life,poor as it is.You may perhaps have some pleasant,thrilling,glorious hourss,even in a poor-house.The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man's abode;the snow melts before its door as early in the spring.I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there,and have as cheering thoughts,as in a palace.The town's poor seem to me often to live the most independent lives of any.May be they are simply great enough to receive without misgiving.Most think that they are above being supported by the town;but it often happens that they are not above supporting themselves by dishonest means.which should be more disreputable.Cultivate poverty like a garden herb,like sage.Do not trouble yourself much to get new things,whether clothes or friends,Turn the old,return to them.Things do not change;we change.Sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.

不论你的生活如何卑贱，你要面对它生活，不要躲避它，更别用恶言咒骂它。它不像你那样坏。你最富有的时候，倒是看似最穷。爱找缺点的人就是到天堂里也能找到缺点。你要爱你的生活，尽管它贫穷。甚至在一个济贫院里，你也还有愉快、高兴、光荣的时候。夕阳反射在济贫院的窗上，像身在富户人家窗上一样光亮；在那门前，积雪同在早春融化。我只看到，一个从容的人，在哪里也像在皇宫中一样，生活得心满意足而富有愉快的思想。城镇中的穷人，我看，倒往往是过着最独立不羁的生活。也许因为他们很伟大，所以受之无愧。大多数人以为他们是超然的，不靠城镇来支援他们；可是事实上他们是往往利用了不正当的手段来对付生活，他们是毫不超脱的，毋宁是不体面的。视贫穷如园中之花而像圣人一样耕植它吧！不要找新的花样，无论是新的朋友或新的衣服，来麻烦你自己。找旧的，回到那里去。万物不变，是我们在变。你的衣服可以卖掉，但要保留你的思想。

2. 加西亚·马尔克斯在何时发表了第一个短篇小说

18岁时，加西亚·马尔克斯进入了哥伦比亚国立大学攻读法律，他虽然只在大学学习了一年，但是这一年对他来说是难以忘怀的，因为正是这一年他的名字第一次和哥伦比亚文学发生了联系：《观察家报》文学版主编、小说家爱德华多·萨拉梅亚·博尔达(1907—1963)在报刊上发表了他的第一个短篇小说《第三次无奈》。

3. 用英文写一篇短篇爱情小说

In the autumn of my last year at college，I got into the habit of studying at the Radcliffe library ．I didn't do it just to admire the girls，though I agree I liked that too．The place was quiet，nobody knew me，and there was less demand for the books I needed for my studies．The day before one of my midterm history exams，I still hadn't found time to read the first book on the reading list．（That，of course，is a very common disease at Harvard．） I walked over to the reservations desk to get one of the books which would save me from failing me exam the next day．There were two girls working there．One was a tall，sporty type．The other was the quiet kind，in glasses．I choseher-Middle Four Eyes．

‘Do you have English Society in the Middle Ages？’

She looked at me．It was a sharp，unfriendly look．‘Don't you have your own library at Harvard？’she asked．

‘Listen，Harvard students are allowed to use the Radcliffe library．’

‘I'm not talking about what you're allowed to do，Preppie．I'm talking about what's right and fair．You fellows have five million books．We only have a few thousand．’

My god，I thought．I wish I'd spoken to the sporty one！This girl's the type that thinks that，because there are five times as many men at Harvard as there are girls at Radcliffe，the girls gave to be five times as smart．Ican usually make those types feel pretty．But just then I badly needed that damn book．

‘Listen，I need that damn book．’

‘Would you please watch your language，Preppie．’

‘What makes you so sure I went to prep school？’

‘You look stupid and rich，’she said，removing her glasses．

‘You're wrong，’I said．‘I'm smart and poor．’

‘Oh，no，Preppie，’she said．‘I'm smart and poor．’

She was looking straight at me．Her eyes were brown．All right，maybe I look rich，but I wouldn't let a Radcliffe girl-even one with pretty eyes-call me stupid．

‘What makes you so smart？’I asked．

‘I wouldn't go for coffee with you，’she replied．

‘Listen-I wouldn't ask you．’

‘That，’she replied，‘is what makes you stupid．’

Let me explain why I took her for coffee．By al－lowing her to think I wanted to，I got that book．And， because she couldn't leave the library until closing time，I had plenty of time to study it．I learned some useful facts about the church and the law in the eleventh century．As a result，I got an A in my history exam．That，bythe way，was the mark I gave to Jenny's legswhen she first walked out from behind that desk．I can't say I gave her high marks for her clothes，however．They were rather strange，to say the least．I specially hated that In-dian thing that she used for a handbag．Fortunately I didn't mention this，as I later discovered that she had made that herself．

We went to a coffee shop near by．I ordered coffee for both of us，and a chocolate ice-cream for her．

‘I'm Jennifer Cavilleri，’she said．‘I'm American，but my family came from Italy．’I had guessed that al－ready．‘And I'm studying music，’she added．
sorry~太长了!!!

4. 求英文短篇小说,谢谢各位.

Black Horse 黑骏马

Jed got to the top of the mountain and sat down to rest. The July sun had made him hot.
杰德到了山顶，就坐下来休息。7月底太阳使他热汗淋淋。

It had been a long walk to the top and he was tired. He knew the horse he was trying to capture could not be too far away. He looked at the mountain and the valleys below, searching footmarks left by the horse.
他走了很长一段路才到山顶的，所以感到浑身乏力。他知道他想方设法要逮住的那匹马离此不会太远。他察看折山上及下面的山谷，寻找着那匹马留下的蹄印。

Then he saw the marks going down the other side of the mountain. He must capture the horse. He knew better men than he had tried. Tom Raglan, the best rancher in the state, had tried with the help of his cowboys.
这时，他看到在山的另一侧，顺坡而下有一行马蹄印。他一定要逮住这匹马。他知道曾有比他更有能耐的人尝试过。州内最好的牧场主汤姆·拉格伦就曾经在他那帮牛仔的帮助下做过尝试.

But they had not been able to capture it. It had gotten away from others, too. They all said it was too wild. It could not be captured.
但他们并没有能逮住它,其他试图去逮它的人也都失败了，都让它逃脱了。他们都说他太野，是不可能被逮住的。

After a slow, painful walk down the mountain, Jed came to a cool-looking river. He drank the clear water.顺着山路向下，慢慢地、艰难地走了一段之后，杰德到达一条水看上去十分清澈的河边，喝了几口河水。

Further down the valley he saw the black horse. It stood under a tree out of the sun. Jed moved closer, then hid behind a tree to watch. It was the biggest and blackest and blackest he had ever seen.
接着又沿山谷向前走了一段，这是他看到了那匹黑马，他站在一棵树下遮太阳。杰德又走进了些，然后躲在一棵树后观察。这是他有生以来见过的最大、最黑的马。

Jed knew all about horse. He had grown into a man caring for them. He had never earned more than '10 but he had dreams: If he could get a male and female house and 10 hectares of land, he could sell horses. That would be all the happiness Jed wanted.
杰德对马了如指掌。他是一个从小与马厮混、在马背上长大的人。尽管他挣的钱从来没有超过10美元，但他有自己的梦想：如果他能够得到一匹公马、一匹母马和10公顷土地，他就可以养马并以卖马为生了。那就是杰德想要得到的全部幸福了。

Night came. The big black house moved from under the tree and began to eat grass near the river. Jed watched again. A few hours later, he found a soft place in the ground. He placed his head against an old fallen tree and slept.
夜幕降临。那匹大黑马从树下走了出来，走到河边开始吃草。杰德继续观察着。几小时后，他在地上找了一块柔软的地方，将头靠在一棵倒着的老树上睡着了。

The next day he woke with the sun. His eyes searched for the horse, and there it was, grazing. Jed saw how it ate, then lifted its head and looked all around. It was the mark of the wild, always looking for hidden danger.
第二天日出时他醒了过来，马上就用目光寻找那匹马，还好，它就站在那里，正吃着草呢。杰德看着它吃草，随后又见它抬起头，朝四周看看。这就是野马的特征：它们总是十分小心，不时地看看四周是否有什么暗藏的危险。

Jed started to walk toward the horse. The horse stopped eating and looking at Jed. Jed's heart began to beat heavily. Men had said the horse was a killer. Still, he walked closer.
杰德开始慢慢向它走近。它停止吃草，看着杰德。杰德的心开始“咚咚”直跳。人们都说这马是一个杀手，但他还是继续向它靠近。

Fifteen meters away from the horse Jed stopped. The horse had lifted its front feet high in the air, then placed them heavily back on the ground. Jed moved closer. He talked to the horse in a soft voice.
在离它15米远的地方，杰德停了下来。只见它高高的抬起前蹄，然后又重重的落回原地。杰德又走近了些。他开始柔声跟它说话。

Then, with a loud scream, the horse turned and ran down the valley. Jed sank to the ground wet with excitement. He had done what no man had done.
接着，随着一声响亮的嘶鸣，这匹马转身顺着山谷跑了下去。杰德却因兴奋而浑身大汗淋漓，倒在地上。他已经做了别人没有做到的事儿.

He had almost touched the wild horse. The animal was not a killer. If it had been, Jed would be dead now.
他几乎快要挨到这匹野马了。它并不是一个杀手，如果它是的话，杰德现在已经没命了。

For six days he followed the horse. He rested when the horse rested. Jed did not like the land they were in now. The sides of the valley were high and filled with big rocks. Few trees were around. And the bottom of the valley was soft and wet.
他一连跟踪了这匹马6天。只有马歇的时候，他才歇。杰德不喜欢他现在所呆的地方。这山谷的两侧都很高，到处是大岩石，周围没有多少树，而且谷底又软又湿。

Jed watched the horse a while, and then lay down to sleep.
杰德又看了一会儿马，随后躺下来睡觉。

In the middle of the night, he was awakened by thunder and rain. He walked up the rocks until he found a dry hole, safe from the rain, and he slept again.
半夜十分，他被雷雨声惊醒。他立刻沿着岩石向上走，直到找了一个可以蔽雨的干燥的山洞，他再接着睡。

The next day was cold and wet. Heavy rains had softened the bottom of the valley. He followed the house most of the day. The wet valley was the only place it could walk now.
第二天又冷又湿。大雨已经泡软了谷底的土壤。这一天他大部分时间都在跟着马走。湿湿的山谷是现在它唯一可以行走的地方了。

The sides of the valley had gotten higher. Toward evening he saw it again. But this time there was fear in its face. He stopped and watched. The horse's nose was smelling the air. It smelled danger. It smelled danger.
越走，山谷两侧就显得越高。临近黄昏时分，他才又见到了它，但这次它的脸上出现了一种恐惧的神情。他停下来仔细观察，只见马鼻子在嗅着空气，他闻到了危险的气息。

Jed thought of wild animals, a wildcat(链接至同目录下wildcat）or bear maybe. He pulled his knife from his pants. He looked among the rocks but saw nothing.
杰德想到是不是有什么野兽，一只豹猫，也可能是一只熊。他从裤子里抽出刀，在岩石间四处看看，但什么也没有看见。

He began walking toward the horse. The wildcat could have been on either side of the valley. He walked slowly, trying to watch both sides at the same time.
他便向马走过去。豹猫可能在山谷的某一侧。他走得很慢，尽力同时看着两侧。

Slowly he came to the horse's side. Jed kept watching the rocks. If the cat was going to attack, it would do it now. He felt the excitement of danger.
慢慢地，他来到了马身边。杰德一直盯着那些岩石。豹猫如果要袭击，它现在就会跳出来的。他感到既危险又兴奋。

Suddenly the silence was broken. The black horse screamed loudly, a cry of fear. It began running down the wet valley.
突然，寂静被打破了。黑骏马大声嘶叫起来，那是一种充满恐惧的叫喊。随后，它顺着湿漉漉的山谷奔跑起来。

At the same time there was a heavy, deep noise from the rocks. Then it happened. Tons of wet earth and big rocks began moving down the sides of the mountain. The land itself was the enemy.
与此同时，岩石中传出了一种沉重的、深沉的响声。紧接着，事情就发生了。成吨成吨的湿土和大岩石开始从山坡两侧滚落下来。原来山地本身就是马的敌人。

When the air became clear, Jed looked for the horse. In front of him were tons of the fallen earth. He could not see down the valley and could not see the horse.

当空气恢复清新的时候，杰德立刻开始找马。在他面前是滚落下来的成吨的泥土，他无法看到山谷的前方，也看不到马。

He slowly climbed over the fallen rocks. On the other side was the horse, more frightened than ever. Its legs were stuck in the soft earth and it could not move. The more it struggled, the deeper it sank in the mud.

他慢慢地爬过那些落下来的岩石。马在这个石土堆的另一边，看上去比先前更加恐惧。它的腿陷入了软土里，动弹不得。 而它越挣扎，就在泥中陷的越深。

Jed walked toward the animal. Each step he took, the soft mud tried to suck him down, too. He walked on the grassy places harder than the mud.

杰德向它走过去。他每走一步都感到软泥也在将他向下吸，而且在长草的地方走比在泥里走还要艰难。

When he got to the horse, it was in the mud up to his stomach. Now it could move only its head. Jed felt wildly happy when he touched the horse. “Don't struggle and do not worry, Horse! I'll get you out!”

当他赶到马身边的时候，泥已经验到了马肚上，现在它只剩下头部还能动弹。摸到马，杰德感到欣喜若狂。“别挣扎，别担心，马儿！我会把你弄出来的！”

Suddenly he felt the horses teeth on his arm. He bit his lip to stop it from crying aloud. His free hand gently calmed the horse and slowly it let go. It pressed its nose against Jed's face. At last they were friends.

突然，他赶到马的牙齿咬住了他的手臂。他咬住嘴唇，以防自己疼得叫出声来。他用那只没被咬着的手轻抚马身，使它平静下来，慢慢地让它松开了嘴。随后，马将鼻子贴在了杰德的脸上。最后，他们成了朋友。

Now Jed could go to work. He studied the problem carefully. He had no way to lift the big horse from the mud. Certainly his rope was not strong enough.

现在杰德可以开始忙活了。他仔细研究了这个问题。他没有办法将这么大的一匹马从泥里拽出来，它的绳子显然不够结实。

He began to pull the mud away with his hands. But more mud fell into the hole he g. He ran to the rocks that had fallen down the mountain. He took off his shirt and filled it with rocks. He g again.

他开始用手将泥刨开，但这样以后，更多的泥又落进了他刚挖开的窟窿里。他就跑到那些山上落下的岩石边，脱下衬衣将岩石裹住，又挖了起来。

Only this time, he placed rocks in the holes he g. The rocks stayed still and slowly a wall began to form. He did this through the day and when night came, his hands were bloody, torn by the sharp rocks.

这一次，他将岩石放进他挖开的窟窿里，岩石稳稳地呆在里面，慢慢地形成了一面挡土石壁。他整整挖了一天。夜幕降临时，他的两手已经被尖锐的岩石划得血淋淋的。

He knew night would be a bad time for the horse. He did not want it to become frightened and struggle against the wall of rock he was building in the mud.

他知道，夜晚对马来说是很难熬的。他不想让马害怕，以至于挣扎起来踢坏他在泥里建好的石壁。

He cut some small trees, laid them on the ground next to the horse and all through the night, he spoke soft, kind words to it to calm its fears.

他砍了一些小树，将它们放在马旁边的地上。另外，整整一夜，他都跟马说一些温柔友善的话来解除它的恐惧。

The next morning, he brought grass for it to eat and began his work again. It was slow, hard work. When night came, he lay next to the horse again. He did not want it to struggle yet. The time had not come for the test.

第二天早上，他抱来些草让它吃，然后又开始忙活起来。这是一项好时而又艰苦的工作。夜幕降临时，他又在马旁边躺了下来。现在他还不想让马从泥中挣脱出来，考验的时机还没有到。

By the middle of the next day, he had enough rocks in the mud on one side of the horse. Now he began to dig near the houses front legs. His rocks began to make the mud harder. The horse was able to move a little.

到第三天中午的时候，他在马一边的泥里放进了足够的岩石。现在他开始挖马前腿附近的土了。他放的岩石使泥地坚硬了起来，马开始能动一点儿了。

And when the pressure became less, it raised one of its front legs on to the rocks. It pushed against the rocks on its side and lifted its body a little out of the mud.

而感到压力变小了的时候，马便将它的一条前腿拔了出来，翘到了岩石的上面，然后朝身边的岩石猛蹬，使它的身体从泥里稍微抬起了点儿。

Jed got his rope and tied it around the horses neck. He began to pull on the rope.

杰德拿出绳子，将它系到马的脖子上，开始拉绳。

The horse felt the pull and struggled with all its power against the mud. It raised its other front leg on the rocks and with a mighty push with its back legs and with Jed pulling on its neck, it moved forward toward hard land.

马感到了拉力，就用尽全力在泥里向外挣扎。他将另一条前腿也拔出来，搭在了岩石上，靠着后腿的巨大蹬力和杰德对它脖子施加的拉力，他向前面的硬地移动着。

Jed fell on the earth, happy but tired. He had not eaten for three days. He had slept little. Half sleep, he felt the horses nose push against his face. He jumped to his feet and when he brought grass for the horse it made friendly noises and playfully pushed him.

杰德倒在地上，高兴而又疲惫。他已经三天没吃东西了，睡的觉也不多。正有点迷迷糊糊的，他感到马的鼻子拱到了他的脸上，他赶快一跃而起。当他为马抱来草料时，马发出了友好的叫声，顽皮地拱拱他，和他戏耍。

A week later, a big black horse rode on the land owned by Tom Raglan. It stopped near the ranch house. A little man got off the horses back. Tom Raglan looked at the horse with eyes that did not believe. Finally he said: "You got him."

一周之后，有人骑了一匹大黑马来到牧场主汤姆·拉格伦的领地上。他在牧场房边停下来，一名小个子男人从马背上跳了下来。汤姆·拉格伦用吃惊的眼光看着这匹马，眼前的情景简直令他难以置信。最后，他说：“你得到了他。”

"I got him, Tom, and I brought him back as I said I would."

“我的得到了他，汤姆，而且正像我说过的那样，我把他骑回来了。”

Raglan looked at the horse. Above all, he was a horseman and there was no need for Jed to tell him how he captured it. Jed's tired face, his torn hands, dirty clothes and thin body told the story.

拉格伦看着马。他毕竟是一个马主，没有必要让杰德告诉他是怎么逮住马的。杰德疲惫的脸、划烂的手、肮脏的衣服和瘦弱的身体就已说明了一切。

“Jed,” Raglan said. “that horse will kill anyone except you. I do not want it. But I have not forgotten my promise."

“杰德，”拉格伦说，“那匹马会弄死除你之外的任何人，我不想要它。但我没忘记自己的诺言。

"I will give you some land and the old house in back of the ranch if you will keep the horse there. I pay you '30 a month, if you will let me send my female horses to the black horse."

如果你让这匹马一直呆在这儿，我就把一些土地和牧场后边的那坐老房子送给你。如果你让我把我的母马送到你的黑骏马那里去交配的话，我会每个月付给你三十美元。

"I want the black horse's blood in my horses. And you can keep every seventh horse for yourself.”

我想要我的马的身体力都有黑骏马的血统。而且，你可以留下交配后产下的小马中的七分之一。”

Jed put his arm around the black horse. The black horse was his. His dream had come true. It was too much all at once.

杰德伸出手臂，抱住大黑马。黑骏马成他的了。他的梦想已经变为现实了。突然之间，他得到的真是太多了。

5. 关于“友谊”的短篇英文小说

Friendship is indispensable to people's life. A man without friends is an angel without wings, whose life will suffer in the long tolerance of loneliness and depression. Friendship is the mother of our psyche, who'll warm her kid when hurt occurs. We have much to share with our friends in life, perplexity, excitement, bitterness etc. Alas, it's magnificent to maintain a genuine friendship.

It takes many special qualities to make a friend. Understanding should come first. Only when we get a better understanding of each other can we gain an authentic and meaningful friendship. We may find our hobbies of common interests. This feeling of affinity gets us closer and closer.

It also takes a special kind of love that seems to know no end. Never hesitate to show your heartfelt care and kindness to your friend when he/she is in trouble. Love is not selfish. Love is endowed by God that we should treasure all our life.

Tolerance is the third essential part in friendship. We are absolutely different persons. This indivial distinction may cause conflict between us in every aspect of our life. Don't immerse ourself in this infliction too long. Try to tolerant his/her in an introspective mood. Saints are not perfect, let alone those ordinary people like us. Afterwards, we should get a good communication. Never shy to confess.

Understanding, love and tolerance are the first three essences that comes to an authentic friendship. Other qualities are also concerned such as thoughtfulness, trust and patience. Remember, friendship is your psyche's guard, treasure it
友谊是不可缺少的人们的生活。没有朋友的人没有翅膀的天使,他的生活将会受到在长期的宽容的孤独和抑郁。友谊是我们的母亲心理,谁来温暖自己孩子什么时候伤害的发生。我们有很多一起分享我们的朋友在生活中,困惑,兴奋,苦等。唉,它却是很伟大的维持一个真正的友谊。

要用许多特殊性质为了结交新朋友。理解能先来。只有当我们更好的了解对方就会给我们带来一个真正的和有意义的友谊。我们可能会发现共同利益的业余爱好。这种感觉的亲和力让我们越来越近。

它也需要一种特别的爱似乎知道没有终点的。不要犹豫,尽管显示你并给你的朋友的关心和体贴。当他/她有麻烦了。爱不是自私。爱是赋予上帝,我们应该珍惜一生。

宽容是第三中最重要的组成部分的友谊。我们完全不同的人。这个人的区别可能会引起冲突,在各方面我们生命中的一个大境界了。不要让自己在这所施加的时间太长了。试着宽容他/她的在一个发人深省的心情。圣徒并不完美,更不用说那些一个像我们这样的普通人。后来,我们应该好好沟通。不害羞的承认。

理解、爱和宽容三个基本要素是第一个是一个真正的友谊。其他的品质也对此表示关注,如体贴、信任和耐心。记住,友谊是心灵的后卫,珍惜它

6. 求一篇短篇小说（英文的，字数500-1000词）

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna. In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building. One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room. "She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" "She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue. "Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?" "A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind." "I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines." After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She 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 a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together. Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks. "What is it, dear?" asked Sue. "Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now." "Five what, dear?" asked Sue. "Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?" "Oh, I never heard of such a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were -- let's see exactly what he said ¨C he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too." "Johnsy, dear," said Sue, "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 tomorrow." "Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "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 call Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back." Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always been planning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him. Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf. Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?" "She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas." "This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away." Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner. The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window. "Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly. Sue obeyed. After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters above the ground. "It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall ring the night. I heard the wind. It will fall today and I shall die at the same time." "Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?" But Johnsy did not answer. The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup. "I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now." An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples." Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway. "Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain." The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all." Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her. "I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it. And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."

7. 急需一个英文短篇小说 500〜800字！求快！要原创型的！

El Sordo was making his fight on a hilltop. He did not like this hill and when he saw it he thought it had the shape of a chancre. But he had had no choice except this hill and he had picked it as far away as he could see it and galloped for it, the automatic rifle heavy on his back, the horse laboring, barrel heaving between his thighs, the sack of grenades swinging against one side, the sack of automatic rifle pans banging against the other, and Joaqu璯 and Ignacio halting and firing, halting and firing to give him time to get the gun in place.
There had still been snow then, the snow that had ruined them, and when his horse was hit so that he wheezed in a slow, jerking, climbing stagger up the last part of the crest, splattering the snow with a bright, pulsing jet, Sordo had hauled him along by the bridle, the reins over his shoulder as he climbed. He climbed as hard as he could with the bullets spatting on the rocks, with the two sacks heavy on his shoulders, and then, holding the horse by the mane, had shot him quickly, expertly, and tenderly just where he had needed him, so that the horse pitched, head forward down to plug a gap between two rocks. He had gotten the gun to firing over the horse's back and he fired two pans, the gun clattering, the empty shells pitching into the snow, the smell of burnt hair from the burnt hide where the hot muzzle rested, him firing at what came up to the hill, forcing them to scatter for cover, while all the time there was a chill in his back from not knowing what was behind him. Once the last of the five men had reached the hilltop the chill went out of his back and he had saved the pans he had left until he would need them.
There were two more horses dead along the slope and three more were dead here on the hilltop. He had only succeeded in stealing three horses last night and one had bolted when they tried to mount him bareback in the corral at the camp when the first shooting had started.
Of the five men who had reached the hilltop three were wounded. Sordo was wounded in the calf of his leg and in two places in his left arm. He was very thirsty, his wounds had stiffened, and one of the wounds in his left arm was very painful. He also had a bad headache and as he lay waiting for the planes to come he thought of a joke in Spanish. It was, "_Hay que tomar la muerte como si fuera aspirina_," which means, "You will have to take death as an aspirin." But he did not make the joke aloud. He grinned somewhere inside the pain in his head and inside the nausea that came whenever he moved his arm and looked around at what there was left of his band.
The five men were spread out like the points of a five-pointed star. They had g with their knees and hands and made mounds in front of their heads and shoulders with the dirt and piles of stones. Using this cover, they were linking the indivial mounds up with stones and dirt. Joaqu璯, who was eighteen years old, had a steel helmet that he g with and he passed dirt in it.
He had gotten this helmet at the blowing up of the train. It had a bullet hole through it and every one had always joked at him for keeping it. But he had hammered the jagged edges of the bullet hole smooth and driven a wooden plug into it and then cut the plug off and smoothed it even with the metal inside the helmet.
When the shooting started he had clapped this helmet on his head so hard it banged his head as though he had been hit with a casserole and, in the last lung-aching, leg-dead, mouth-dry, bulletspatting, bullet-cracking, bullet-singing run up the final slope of the hill after his horse was killed, the helmet had seemed to weigh a great amount and to ring his bursting forehead with an iron band. But he had kept it. Now he g with it in a steady, almost machinelike desperation. He had not yet been hit.
"It serves for something finally," Sordo said to him in his deep, throaty voice.
"_Resistir y fortificar es vencer_," Joaqu璯 said, his mouth stiff with the dryness of fear which surpassed the normal thirst of battle. It was one of the slogans of the Communist party and it meant, "Hold out and fortify, and you will win."
Sordo looked away and down the slope at where a cavalryman was sniping from behind a boulder. He was very fond of this boy and he was in no mood for slogans.
"What did you say?"
One of the men turned from the building that he was doing. This man was lying flat on his face, reaching carefully up with his hands to put a rock in place while keeping his chin flat against the ground.
Joaqu璯 repeated the slogan in his dried-up boy's voice without checking his digging for a moment.
"What was the last word?" the man with his chin on the ground asked.
"_Vencer_," the boy said. "Win."
"_Mierda_," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"There is another that applies to here," Joaqu璯 said, bringing them out as though they were talismans, "Pasionaria says it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees."
"_Mierda_ again," the man said and another man said, over his shoulder, "We're on our bellies, not our knees."
"Thou. Communist. Do you know your Pasionaria has a son thy age in Russia since the start of the movement?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said.
"_Qu?va_, it's a lie," the other said. "The dynamiter with the rare name told me. He was of thy party, too. Why should he lie?"
"It's a lie," Joaqu璯 said. "She would not do such a thing as keep a son hidden in Russia out of the war."
"I wish I were in Russia," another of Sordo's men said. "Will not thy Pasionaria send me now from here to Russia, Communist?"
"If thou believest so much in thy Pasionaria, get her to get us off this hill," one of the men who had a bandaged thigh said.
"The fascists will do that," the man with his chin in the dirt said.
"Do not speak thus," Joaqu璯 said to him.
"Wipe the pap of your mother's breasts off thy lips and give me a hatful of that dirt," the man with his chin on the ground said. "No one of us will see the sun go down this night."
El Sordo was thinking: It is shaped like a chancre. Or the breast of a young girl with no nipple. Or the top cone of a volcano. You have never seen a volcano, he thought. Nor will you ever see one. And this hill is like a chancre. Let the volcanos alone. It's late now for the volcanos.
He looked very carefully around the withers of the dead horse and there was a quick hammering of firing from behind a boulder well down the slope and he heard the bullets from the submachine gun thud into the horse. He crawled along behind the horse and looked out of the angle between the horse's hindquarters and the rock. There were three bodies on the slope just below him where they had fallen when the fascists had rushed the crest under cover of the automatic rifle and submachine gunfire and he and the others had broken down the attack by throwing and rolling down hand grenades. There were other bodies that he could not see on the other sides of the hill crest. There was no dead ground by which attackers could approach the summit and Sordo knew that as long as his ammunition and grenades held out and he had as many as four men they could not get him out of there unless they brought up a trench mortar. He did not know whether they had sent to La Granja for a trench mortar. Perhaps they had not, because surely, soon, the planes would come. It had been four hours since the observation plane had flown over them.
This hill is truly like a chancre, Sordo thought, and we are the very pus of it. But we killed many when they made that stupidness. How could they think that they would take us thus? They have such modern armament that they lose all their sense with overconfidence. He had killed the young officer who had led the assault with a grenade that had gone bouncing and rolling down the slope as they came up it, running, bent half over. In the yellow flash and gray roar of smoke he had seen the officer dive forward to where he lay now like a heavy, broken bundle of old clothing marking the farthest point that the assault had reached. Sordo looked at this body and then, down the hill, at the others.
They are brave but stupid people, he thought. But they have sense enough now not to attack us again until the planes come. Unless, of course, they have a mortar coming. It would be easy with a mortar. The mortar was the normal thing and he knew that they would die as soon as a mortar came up, but when he thought of the planes coming up he felt as naked on that hilltop as though all of his clothing and even his skin had been removed. There is no nakeder thing than I feel, he thought. A flayed rabbit is as well covered as a bear in comparison. But why should they bring planes? They could get us out of here with a trench mortar easily. They are proud of their planes, though, and they will probably bring them. Just as they were so proud of their automatic weapons that they made that stupidness. But undoubtedly they must have sent for a mortar too.
One of the men fired. Then jerked the bolt and fired again, quickly.
"Save thy cartridges," Sordo said.
"One of the sons of the great whore tried to reach that boulder," the man pointed.
"Did you hit him?" Sordo asked, turning his head with difficulty.
"Nay," the man said. "The fornicator cked back."
"Who is a whore of whores is Pilar," the man with his chin in the dirt said. "That whore knows we are dying here."
"She could do no good," Sordo said. The man had spoken on the side of his good ear and he had heard him without turning his head. "What could she do?"
"Take these sluts from the rear."
"_Qu?va_," Sordo said. "They are spread around a hillside. How would she come on them? There are a hundred and fifty of them. Maybe more now."
"But if we hold out until dark," Joaqu璯 said.
"And if Christmas comes on Easter," the man with his chin on the ground said.
"And if thy aunt had _cojones_ she would be thy uncle," another said to him. "Send for thy Pasionaria. She alone can help us."
"I do not believe that about the son," Joaqu璯 said. "Or if he is there he is training to be an aviator or something of that sort."
"He is hidden there for safety," the man told him.
"He is studying dialectics. Thy Pasionaria has been there. So have Lister and Modesto and others. The one with the rare name told me."
"That they should go to study and return to aid us," Joaqu璯 said.
"That they should aid us now," another man said. "That all the cruts of Russian sucking swindlers should aid us now." He fired and said, "_Me cago en tal_; I missed him again."
"Save thy cartridges and do not talk so much or thou wilt be very thirsty," Sordo said. "There is no water on this hill."
"Take this," the man said and rolling on his side he pulled a wineskin that he wore slung from his shoulder over his head and handed it to Sordo. "Wash thy mouth out, old one. Thou must have much thirst with thy wounds."
"Let all take it," Sordo said.
"Then I will have some first," the owner said and squirted a long stream into his mouth before he handed the leather bottle around.
"Sordo, when thinkest thou the planes will come?" the man with his chin in the dirt asked.
"Any time," said Sordo. "They should have come before."
"Do you think these sons of the great whore will attack again?"
"Only if the planes do not come."
He did not think there was any need to speak about the mortar. They would know it soon enough when the mortar came.
"God knows they've enough planes with what we saw yesterday."
"Too many," Sordo said.
His head hurt very much and his arm was stiffening so that the pain of moving it was almost unbearable. He looked up at the bright, high, blue early summer sky as he raised the leather wine bottle with his good arm. He was fifty-two years old and he was sure this was the last time he would see that sky.
He was not at all afraid of dying but he was angry at being trapped on this hill which was only utilizable as a place to die. If we could have gotten clear, he thought. If we could have made them come up the long valley or if we could have broken loose across the road it would have been all right. But this chancre of a hill. We must use it as well as we can and we have used it very well so far.
If he had known how many men in history have had to use a hill to die on it would not have cheered him any for, in the moment he was passing through, men are not impressed by what has happened to other men in similar circumstances any more than a widow of one day is helped by the knowledge that other loved husbands have died. Whether one has fear of it or not, one's death is difficult to accept. Sordo had accepted it but there was no sweetness in its acceptance even at fifty-two, with three wounds and him surrounded on a hill.
He joked about it to himself but he looked at the sky and at the far mountains and he swallowed the wine and he did not want it. If one must die, he thought, and clearly one must, I can die. But I hate it.
Dying was nothing and he had no picture of it nor fear of it in his mind. But living was a field of grain blowing in the wind on the side of a hill. Living was a hawk in the sky. Living was an earthen jar of water in the st of the threshing with the grain flailed out and the chaff blowing. Living was a horse between your legs and a carbine under one leg and a hill and a valley and a stream with trees along it and the far side of the valley and the hills beyond.

8. 求1000字以内英语短篇小说！

《蒙娜丽莎》风波

On Tuesday August 11th, 1911, a young artist, Louis Beraud, arrived at the Louvre（卢浮宫） in Paris to complete a painting of the Salon Carre（卡雷沙龙，卢浮宫的画廊名）. This was the room where the world 's most famous painting, the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci（列奥那多·达·芬奇）, was on display. To his surprise there was an empty space where the painting should have been. At 11 o'clock the museum authorities realized that the painting had been stolen. The next day headlines all over the world announced the theft.

这一天是1911年8月11日，星期二，一位年轻的艺术家路易斯·贝劳德来到了巴黎卢浮宫的卡雷沙龙画廊完成一幅油画，在这条画廊里陈列着世界上最著名的油画——列奥纳多·达·芬奇创作的《蒙娜丽莎》。令路易斯感到吃惊的是，本该挂着油画的地方却是空空荡荡的。中午11时博物馆馆方意识到这幅名画已经被盗了。第二天全球各大报刊的头条新闻都报道了《蒙娜丽莎》被盗的消息。

Actually the Leonardo had been gone for more than twenty-four hours before anyone noticed it was missing. The museum was always closed on Mondays for maintenance（维修）. Just before closing time on Sunday three men had entered the museum, where they had hidden themselves in a storeroom. The actual theft was quick and simple. Early the next morning Perrugia removed the painting from the wall while the others kept watch. Then they went out a back exit.

实际上，直到达·芬奇的这幅画被盗24小时后才有人发现此事。每逢星期一卢浮宫都要闭馆例行保养文物。就在星期天，有三个人进入了博物馆并藏在贮藏室里。他们的盗窃行动迅速而简单，第二天一大早，三个盗贼之一佩鲁吉亚从墙上取下《蒙娜丽莎》，其余两个为他望风，然后他们从后门溜走逃得无影无踪了。

Nothing was seen or heard of the painting for two years when Perrugia tried to sell it to a dealer for half a million lire（里拉）. Perrugia was arrested on December 13th. Perrugia claimed he had stolen it as an act of patriotism（爱国主义）, because, he said, the painting had been looted from the Italian nation by Napoleon（拿破仑）. Perrugia was imprisoned for seven months. It seemed that the crime of the century had been solved.

《蒙娜丽莎》在被盗后的两年间一直杳无音迅，直到有一天佩鲁吉亚想以50万里拉卖给一个文物贩子时，人们才重新见到它。佩鲁吉亚于1913年12月13日被捕，他宣称偷《蒙娜丽莎》之举完全是出于爱国心。他说，卢浮宫的这幅画是被拿破仑从意大利抢劫来的。佩鲁吉亚为此被判了7个月的监禁，看来这个世纪奇案好像是解决了。

But had it? Perrugia was keen to claim all responsibility for the theft, and it was twenty years before the whole story came out. In fact Perrugia had been working for two master criminals, Valfierno and Chaudron, who went unpunished for their crime. They would offer to steal a famous painting from a gallery for a crooked（不诚实的） dealer or an unscrupulous（肆无忌惮的） private collector. They would then make a of the picture and, with the help of bribed gallery attendants（服务员）, would then tape the to the back of the original（原始的） painting. The dealer would then be taken to the gallery and would be invited to make a secret mark on the back of the painting. Of course the dealer would actually be marking the . Valfierno would later proce forged（伪造） newspaper cuttings announcing the theft of the original, and then proce the , complete with secret marking. If the dealer were to see the painting still in the gallery, he would be persuaded that it was a , and that he possessed the genuine（真正的） one.

果真如此吗?佩鲁吉亚试图把这次盗窃案的全部责任都揽到自己身上。直到二十年后，整个事件的真相才大白于天下。事实上，佩鲁吉亚一直在为两个犯罪头目瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙工作。在这个案件中，另两个家伙一直逍遥法外。瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙经常从陈列馆偷窃名画提供给奸诈的商人或肆无忌惮的私人收藏家。他们先制作名画的赝品，然后向博物馆的工作人员行贿，以便在博物馆工作人员的协助下将伪造品粘在原作的背后，尔后他们再将文物贩子带到陈列室，并要他在要买的那幅画的背面做上秘密的记号。当然，事实上文物贩子只是在赝品的背面作记号。在此之后，瓦尔菲尔诺就伪造一些剪报宣称原作被盗，然后拿出带有秘密记号的赝品。如果买画的贩子看见画仍然在展出，偷盗者将说服他相信展出的画是赝品，而卖给他的才是真正的原作。

Chaudron then painted not one, but six copies of the Mona Lisa, using 400-year-old wood panels from antique Italian furniture. The forgeries（赝品） were carefully aged, so that the varnish（光泽） was cracked and dirty. Valfierno commissioned Perrugia to steal the original, and told him to hide it until Valfierno contacted him. Perrugia waited in vain in a tiny room in Paris with the painting, but heard nothing from his partners in crime. They had gone to New York, where the six copies were already in store. They had sent them there before the original was stolen. At that time it was quite common for artists to old masters, which would be sold quite honestly（合法的） as imitations（仿造品）, so there had been no problems with US Customs. Valfierno went on to sell all six copies for '300,OOO each. Valfierno told the story to a journalist in 1914, on condition that it would not be published until his death.

肖德龙不仅伪造了一幅，而是六幅《蒙娜丽莎》。他用400年前古意大利老家具做油画板，所有赝品均经过了细心的老化处理，以使油画表面产生裂缝显得不干净。瓦尔菲尔诺指派佩鲁吉亚盗走《蒙娜丽莎》的真品并叫他躲藏起来直到与他取得联系。佩鲁吉亚一直带者那幅画首在巴黎的一间小屋里，可是他却一直未见同伙们的踪迹。原来瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙早已跑到了纽约，那里储存着六幅《蒙娜丽莎》的赝品。他们在原作被盗前就已将赝品运到了美国。在那个时代，艺术家们复制已故大师的作品是司空见惯的事情，而且复制品还能够合法地在市场上进行交易，因此复制品可以毫不费力地通过美国海关。在美国瓦尔菲尔诺以每幅300，000美元的价格陆续将这六幅《蒙娜丽莎》赝品出售。1914年瓦尔菲尔诺将事件真相透露给了一位记者，条件是只有等到他死后才能将此事公之于众。

Does the story end there? Collectors have claimed that Perrugia returned a . It is also possible that Leonardo may have painted several versions of the Mona Lisa, or they might be copies made by Leonardo's pupils. There has been a lot of controversy and argument about a 450-year-old painting, but after all, maybe that's what she's smiling about.

事情就此了解了吗?收藏专家们宣称佩鲁吉亚还回的《蒙娜丽莎》或许是赝品。或许当初达·芬奇创作了几个不同版本的《蒙娜丽莎》；或许这些《蒙娜丽莎》皆为达·芬奇的学生们制作的复制品。因此迄今为止人们对于这幅有着450年左右历史的名画，仍有着诸多的争议。也许，这就是蒙娜丽莎微笑的原因吧！