歐亨利短篇小說選中英對照
Ⅰ 歐亨利的小說中英文對照
歐亨利短篇小說全集.txt下載: http://bn7fze.miaomiaoshuwu.com/file/22215238-410628117 點擊普通下載即可^_^
Ⅱ 歐亨利 短篇小說
1、《麥琪的禮物》
《麥琪的禮物》是歐·亨利創作的短篇小說，講述的是一個聖誕節里發生在社會下層的小家庭中的故事。男主人公吉姆是一位薪金僅夠維持生活的小職員，女主人公德拉是一位賢惠善良的主婦。
他們的生活貧窮，但吉姆和德拉各自擁有一樣極珍貴的寶物。吉姆有祖傳的一塊金錶，德拉有一頭美麗的瀑布般的秀發。
為了能在聖誕節送給對方一件禮物，吉姆賣掉了他的金錶為德拉買了一套「純玳瑁做的，邊上鑲著珠寶」的梳子；
德拉賣掉了自己的長發為吉姆買了一條白金錶鏈。他們都為對方舍棄了自己最寶貴的東西，而換來的禮物卻因此變得毫無作用了。
2、《警察與贊美詩》
《警察與贊美詩》是美國作家歐·亨利的短篇小說。該短篇小說講述的是一個窮困潦倒，無家可歸的流浪漢蘇比，因為寒冬想去監獄熬過，所以故意犯罪，去飯店吃霸王餐，擾亂治安，偷他人的傘，調戲婦女等，然而這些都沒有讓他如願進監獄；
最後，當他在教堂里被贊美詩所感動，想要從新開始，改邪歸正的時候，警察卻將他送進了監獄。該小說展示了當時美國下層人民無以為生的悲慘命運。
「警察」和「贊美詩」在標題中雖然是形式上對等排列，但作為支配人類生存選擇的兩股力量是不對等的。在警察與贊美詩的二元對立中，以「警察」為代表的國家政權永遠支配著和控制著以「贊美詩為代表的精神力量。
3、《最後一片葉子》
《最後一片葉子》是美國作家歐·亨利的短篇小說作品。該作品描寫一位老畫家為患肺炎而奄奄一息的窮學生畫最後一片常春藤葉的故事。
瓊西在寒冷的十一月患上了嚴重的肺炎，並且其病情越來越重。作為畫家的她，將生命的希望寄託在窗外最後一片藤葉上，以為藤葉落下之時，就是她生命結束之時。
於是，她失去了活下去的勇氣和信念。作為她的朋友蘇很傷心，便將瓊西的想法告訴了老畫家貝爾曼，這個老畫家是個脾氣火爆，愛取笑人的酒鬼，終日與酒為伴。
畫了近四十年的畫，一事無成，每天都說要創作出一篇驚世之作，卻始終只是空談。但是他對這兩位年青的畫家卻是照顧有佳。他聽到了此事後，便罵了一通，但仍無計可施。
然而令人驚奇的事發生了：盡管屋外的風颳得那樣厲害，而鋸齒形的葉子邊緣已經枯萎發黃，但它仍然長在高高的藤枝上。
瓊西看到最後一片葉子仍然掛在樹上，葉子經過凜冽的寒風依然可以存留下來， 自己為什麼不能？於是又重拾生的信念，頑強地活了下來。
可是故事並不是到此就結束了，真相才剛剛打開：原來是年過六旬的貝爾曼，在一個風雨交加的夜晚，為了畫上最後一片藤葉，因著涼，染上了肺炎。在他生命的最後時刻，他終於完成了令人震撼的傑作。
4、《二十年後》
《二十年後》是美國作家歐·亨利的短篇小說作品。一對在紐約一起長大、情同兄弟的朋友鮑勃和吉米·威爾斯，他們在鮑勃即將啟程去西部冒險的時候，約定20年後在同樣的時間、地點再次見面。
20年來，他們誰也不曾忘記過這個約定。鮑勃從西部不遠萬里來赴約，支撐他的是只要對方還記得這次約定，那無論做什麼都是值得的。對於鮑勃來說，吉米永遠都是最忠實、最令他信任的朋友。
然而，20年後再見面時，等待他們的不是重逢的喜悅，命運卻把他們分別放在了法律天平的兩端，鮑勃是警方正在通緝的要犯，而吉米卻是接到命令努力追捕「狡猾的鮑勃」的警察。
對於吉米來說，究竟是繼續保持對摯友的忠誠，還是履行自己作為警察的職責，他最終選擇了後者。
該小說通過這兩個青年20年後重逢之際所發生的意外變化，反映了美國19世紀後半期到第一次世界大戰前美國社會生活各方面的深刻變遷。
5、《紅毛酋長的贖金》
《紅毛酋長的贖金》，歐亨利的短篇小說作品，文章講述了一個綁架的故事。
「我」與比爾在一個名叫頂峰鎮的地方，綁架了這個鎮上有名望的居民埃比尼澤多塞特的獨子，「我們」原想靠他去敲詐埃比尼澤；
然而「我們」萬萬沒想到，這個孩子捉弄人，一開始，「我們」三個扮印第安人玩，後來這個孩子越來越囂張，越來越捉弄人，還把其中一個人弄傷了，讓比爾差點成了精神崩潰者。
最後「我」把勒索信送到埃比尼澤的家，可後來「我們」卻被埃比尼澤給敲詐，實在是因為「我們」無法忍受著個孩子，最後的結果，「我們」把孩子送回去，並且給了他父親250元。
Ⅲ 歐亨利的小說「the furnished room"簡介
the furnished room講的是一個男子苦苦尋找自己所愛的人，五個月之後終於喪失希望，在一家旅館放開煤氣自殺，而一個星期以前，正是在那間房子里，他的愛人用同樣的方式自殺了。
體會：可以說，這是一篇以嗅覺為核心構築的小說，核心就在那片突然出現、百尋不見、又突然消失了的木樨香味。之所以選擇氣味作為線索，或許就因為氣味的這種特性：即便你如此真切地嗅到了它，但只要不是目之所見、手之所觸，它依然是一片飄渺的虛空，並沒有一個實體，因此也無法被證實曾經存在過。就好像一個人投入這座大城市（指紐約），一顆沙粒投入這片無底的流沙，這陣香味投入帶傢具出現的房間中，也找尋不見、終於消失了。
作家試圖用這個邋裡邋遢、亂七八糟、污穢難辨的房間來映射那個大城市，所有的人似乎都已淪於墮落，污穢不堪而又冷酷無情。他對這間房間、房間裡面的每一件物事、以及房間外面的環境，都作了攝像鏡頭式的詳盡描繪，但真正使我們——也使人物，那個找尋者——進入他所預想的氛圍，卻是房間里陳腐霉臭的混雜氣味。是的，其實氣味也可以具有如此鮮明的形象，有質感的氣味所描繪的形象，有時候比任何視覺、聽覺或者觸覺更加真切。（不由得我又要想起古龍小說《楚留香系列·血海飄香》裡面關於黑暗山洞裡不斷變化的氣味的神來之筆。）
沉重的、腐臭的氣味塑造了象徵著大城市的房間，與輕盈的、花香的氣味形成鮮明對照。既然那個女孩子已經在這個大城市的某個地方失蹤了，那麼這陣木樨香味最後也在這個房間的某個角落裡消失了。在找尋者從房東那裡聽到說，那個女孩子並沒有住過這個房間——因此說明他試圖在這個房間里找尋香味的來源，與他試圖在這個大城市找尋那個女孩子一樣，將會「一無所獲」——之後，這個房間本身就成為了他枉然徒勞的一種象徵。最後的希望破滅了，於是他自殺了。
當找尋者在小說開篇走進這個房間的時候，作者便已告訴我們，他已經徒勞無功地尋找了5個月。不僅在身體上疲憊不堪，而且在精神上萎靡頹唐。盡管如此，我們知道，他仍然抱有至少一線希望：他預付了一個星期的房錢，——他不是住進來尋死的；並且他仍然沒有放棄尋找，還是把那個「掛在唇邊曾一千次向人打聽過的問題問了出來」。支撐他繼續這漫長的、毫無希望的路途的，是他「曾深深愛過她」，因此到了後來，屢受失望的打擊之後疲憊不堪的身體和精神漸漸趨於麻木，找尋則幾乎變成了一種本能的慣性。因此，當他忽然之間在房間里嗅到了這陣木樨香味——她的味道時，他的內心才真正被激發出來。於是他發出那樣的呼喚；於是我那樣地熱淚盈眶——或許也是因為在慣性中漸漸麻木的心被忽然喚起？
木樨香味的來源是否是真實的、亦或只是出自找尋者的幻覺，很重要麼？其實並不。香味的來源可以被解釋為那個女孩子「曾經居住在那裡」——這是小說在出其不意的結尾中告訴我們的，當我們知道了這個事實以後，這種解釋就不難做出了，因為我們本來也就和找尋者一樣，都在疑心她的存在、希冀她的存在。但我們也知道她是死了，「用煤氣自殺」，——好吧，又是一種氣味，或許是死亡的氣味，它一定會掩蓋掉她的香味，這是毫無疑問的。那麼又如何解釋找尋者還能夠嗅到這陣香味，並且「那樣分明，那樣濃郁，那樣強烈，簡直就像是一個有血有肉的來客」呢？和我一樣充滿著感傷情調的讀者自會認為，對情人而言，這種微妙的溝通是完全可能的，況且他已經找尋了她那麼久，因此把自己的全部心神都貫注在了她的身上。
然而他在這屋子裡所要找尋的——也是我們在這篇小說里所要找尋的，實在並不是一個「來源」——一個原因、一個源頭，而是順著這條線索想要找到一點她的蹤跡——一個結果、一個去處。倘若找尋者已經知悉那個女孩子的死亡，或者對於她的失蹤死心塌地了，那麼他尋找她曾經生活過的蛛絲馬跡，以期能夠從中獲得一絲安慰，倒還是可能的；但很明顯，他尚未放棄找到她的希望。他相信，「她離家出走之後，一定流落在這個沿海大城市的某個地方」，正如他感覺這陣香氣是那麼明確地存在於這間房間里。因此，在這個房間里找尋香味來源的過程，其實是他在這個大城市裡找尋女孩子過程的一個重復、一個濃縮（最後，也正如現實中的找尋一樣，一無所獲）。
作者敘述了這樣一個故事，當然，他還可以用其他方式敘述的，比方說，一開始就告訴我們，女孩子曾經在同一個房間里住過、並且已經用煤氣自殺了，從而使我們由於早已預知了結局，從而對找尋者的命運抱有更為深切的反諷的同情。但作者選擇把這個消息暫且按下不表，直到小說結尾處才突然轉向，這個安排所造成的效果的確分外強烈。——有時候，與講述什麼樣的故事同樣重要的，是故事如何被講述出來。藉助這個安排，作者沒有作出任何額外的評論，而我們就順著他的講述幻想出了一個意味深長的結尾。小說在某種程度上可以被視作是作者的幻想與讀者的幻想的合謀，當作者藉助某些巧妙的安排調動起讀者的幻想、並由此獲致某些特殊的效果時，讀者也能在這種幻覺的合謀中獲得他們那一份享受。
只是這個意味深長的結尾，是要有足夠的人物——其性格、尤其是心理狀態，和情節——尤其是內在的心理變化作為鋪墊的，如果沒有這樣的鋪墊，結尾處的突轉容易變成一個缺乏內在邏輯統一性的巧合，一個作者的小技巧，造成一些特別的效果——但不容易打動我們這些世故累累的讀者的內心。現在，既然我已經在他兩處呼喚時被擊中落下眼淚，那麼於結尾處所看到的就不僅僅是對一個殘酷無情的大城市之揭示的最終完成了，而更是整個「找尋」過程的完成——在大城市中找到了女孩子的下落、在房間里找到了香味的來源（並以此證實找尋者對於她曾經存在的感覺）。如此，這難道不是一個真正的結尾么？
每當我把一篇小說再讀一遍，而依然忍不住淚盈滿眶的時候，我總在想：在我們當中，有多少人曾經幻想過自己心中的那陣木樨香味？有多少人曾經孜孜不倦地追尋過它？又有多少人曾經於某一瞬間被莫名地觸動，這種感覺是那樣強烈、不容置疑，——她就在那裡！於是那樣大聲地喚出心中的那個存在、對於這個存在的召喚作出過回應呢？
Ⅳ 求歐亨利得中英介紹
原名威廉·西德尼·波特（William Sydney Porter），是美國最著名的短篇小說家之一，曾被評論界譽 為曼哈頓桂冠散文作家和美國現代短篇小說之父。他出身於美國北卡羅來納州格林斯波羅鎮一個醫師家庭。 他的一生富於傳奇性，當過葯房學徒、牧牛人、會計員、土地局辦事員、新聞記者、銀行出納員。當銀行出 納員時，因銀行短缺了一筆現金，為避免審訊，離家流亡中美的宏都拉斯。後因回家探視病危的妻子被捕入 獄，並在監獄醫務室任葯劑師。他在銀行工作時，曾有過寫作的經歷，擔任監獄醫務室的葯劑師後開始認真 寫作。1901年提前獲釋後，遷居紐約，專門從事寫作。 歐·亨利善於描寫美國社會尤其是紐約百姓的生活。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，富於生活情趣，被譽為「美國生活的幽默網路全書」。代表作有小說集《白菜 與國王》、《四百萬》、《命運之路》等。其中一些名篇如《愛的犧牲》、《警察與贊美詩》、《帶傢具出 租的房間》、《麥琪的禮物》、《最後一片藤葉》等使他獲得了世界聲譽。
歐·亨利晚年開始酗酒，身體情況惡化。1907年他再次結婚，但和妻子不和，一年後即離婚。他的經濟情況也不好，為了緩解生活壓力，他不得不以很快速度創作小說來換取稿費，這也導致了他的作品的質量參差不齊。1910年歐·亨利因肝硬化去世。
O. Henry (1862-1910) - pseudonym of William Sydney Porter
Prolific American short-story writer, a master of surprise endings, who wrote about the life of ordinary people in New York City. Typical for O. Henry's stories is a twist of plot which turns on an ironic or coincidental circumstance. Although some critics were not so enthusiastic about his work, the public loved it.
O. Henry was born William Sydney Porter in Greenboro, North Carolina. His father, Algernon Sidney Porter, was a physician. When William was three, his mother died, and he was raised by his parental grandmother and paternal aunt. William was an avid reader, but at the age of fifteen he left school, and then worked in a drug store and on a Texas ranch. He continued to Houston, where he had a number of jobs, including that of bank clerk. After moving in 1882 to Texas, he worked on a ranch in LaSalle County for two years. In 1887 he married Athol Estes Roach; they had one daughter and one son.
In 1894 Porter started a humorous weekly The Rolling Stone. It was at this time that he began heavy drinking. When the weekly failed, he joined the Houston Post as a reporter and columnist. In 1894 cash was found to have gone missing from the First National Bank in Austin, where Porter had worked as a bank teller. When he was called back to Austin to stand trial, Porter fled to Honras to avoid trial. Little is known about Porter's stay in Central America. It is said, that he met one Al Jennings, and rambled in South America and Mexico on the proceeds of Jenning's robbery. After hearing news that his wife was dying, he returned in 1897 to Austin. In 1897 he was convicted of embezzling money, although there has been much debate over his actual guilt. Porter entered in 1898 a penitentiary at Columbus, Ohio.
In 1907 O. Henry married Sara Lindsay Coleman, also born in Greensboro. The marriage was not happy, and they separated a year later. O. Henry died of cirrhosis of the liver on June 5, 1910, in New York. Three more collections, SIXES AND SEVENS (1911), ROLLING STONES (1912) and WAIFS AND STRAYS (1917), appeared posthumously. In 1918 the O. Henry Memorial Awards were established to be given annually to the best magazine stories, the winners and leading contenders to be published in an annual volume
Ⅳ 書蟲系列二級的《歐亨利短篇小說集》所對應的中文是那幾篇
3是《失憶症患者》，講一個律師的故事
5是《紀念品》，講跳舞演員和她丈夫的事
4不知道
你為啥放著正經的不看，非得看換了名字改編的呢？
Ⅵ 歐亨利短篇小說txt
鏈接:
《歐·亨利短篇小說精選》精選了歐·亨利最優秀的二十九篇短篇小說。
Ⅶ 急求歐亨利的中英雙語介紹
原名威廉·西德尼·波特（William Sydney Porter），是美國最著名的短篇小說家之一，曾被評論界譽 為曼哈頓桂冠散文作家和美國現代短篇小說之父。他出身於美國北卡羅來納州格林斯波羅鎮一個醫師家庭。 他的一生富於傳奇性，當過葯房學徒、牧牛人、會計員、土地局辦事員、新聞記者、銀行出納員。當銀行出 納員時，因銀行短缺了一筆現金，為避免審訊，離家流亡中美的宏都拉斯。後因回家探視病危的妻子被捕入 獄，並在監獄醫務室任葯劑師。他在銀行工作時，曾有過寫作的經歷，擔任監獄醫務室的葯劑師後開始認真 寫作。1901年提前獲釋後，遷居紐約，專門從事寫作。 歐·亨利善於描寫美國社會尤其是紐約百姓的生活。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，富於生活情趣，被譽為「美國生活的幽默網路全書」。代表作有小說集《白菜 與國王》、《四百萬》、《命運之路》等。其中一些名篇如《愛的犧牲》、《警察與贊美詩》、《帶傢具出 租的房間》、《麥琪的禮物》、《最後一片藤葉》等使他獲得了世界聲譽。
歐·亨利晚年開始酗酒，身體情況惡化。1907年他再次結婚，但和妻子不和，一年後即離婚。他的經濟情況也不好，為了緩解生活壓力，他不得不以很快速度創作小說來換取稿費，這也導致了他的作品的質量參差不齊。1910年歐·亨利因肝硬化去世。
O. Henry (1862-1910) - pseudonym of William Sydney Porter
Prolific American short-story writer, a master of surprise endings, who wrote about the life of ordinary people in New York City. Typical for O. Henry's stories is a twist of plot which turns on an ironic or coincidental circumstance. Although some critics were not so enthusiastic about his work, the public loved it.
O. Henry was born William Sydney Porter in Greenboro, North Carolina. His father, Algernon Sidney Porter, was a physician. When William was three, his mother died, and he was raised by his parental grandmother and paternal aunt. William was an avid reader, but at the age of fifteen he left school, and then worked in a drug store and on a Texas ranch. He continued to Houston, where he had a number of jobs, including that of bank clerk. After moving in 1882 to Texas, he worked on a ranch in LaSalle County for two years. In 1887 he married Athol Estes Roach; they had one daughter and one son.
In 1894 Porter started a humorous weekly The Rolling Stone. It was at this time that he began heavy drinking. When the weekly failed, he joined the Houston Post as a reporter and columnist. In 1894 cash was found to have gone missing from the First National Bank in Austin, where Porter had worked as a bank teller. When he was called back to Austin to stand trial, Porter fled to Honras to avoid trial. Little is known about Porter's stay in Central America. It is said, that he met one Al Jennings, and rambled in South America and Mexico on the proceeds of Jenning's robbery. After hearing news that his wife was dying, he returned in 1897 to Austin. In 1897 he was convicted of embezzling money, although there has been much debate over his actual guilt. Porter entered in 1898 a penitentiary at Columbus, Ohio.
In 1907 O. Henry married Sara Lindsay Coleman, also born in Greensboro. The marriage was not happy, and they separated a year later. O. Henry died of cirrhosis of the liver on June 5, 1910, in New York. Three more collections, SIXES AND SEVENS (1911), ROLLING STONES (1912) and WAIFS AND STRAYS (1917), appeared posthumously. In 1918 the O. Henry Memorial Awards were established to be given annually to the best magazine stories, the winners and leading contenders to be published in an annual volume.
Ⅷ 歐亨利的短篇小說片名 用英文怎麼翻譯
盡力了 喬治亞的規定
藝術品與牧場烈馬
找不到……
《人生的波瀾》The Whirligig Of Life
《酒吧里的世界公民》A Cosmopolite in a Cafe
《歌聲與警察》The Cop and the Anthem
《浪子回頭》The Gentle Grafter
《公主與美洲獅》 The Princess and the Puma
《藝術品與牧場烈馬》Hygeia at the Solito
《人生道路的選擇》The Road We Take
《感恩節的兩位紳士》Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen
《喬治亞的規定》Babes In The Jungle
——————————
有中文翻譯的只有如下幾篇：
"Girl" 「姑娘」
「Next To Reading Matter」「醉翁之意」
After Twenty Years 二十年以後
The Atavism Of John Tom Little Bear 小熊約翰·湯姆的返祖現象
Babes In The Jungle 叢林中的孩子
Between Rounds 鬧劇
The Chair Of Philanthromathematics 慈善事業數學講座
Conscience In Art 藝術良心
The Cop and the Anthem 警察與贊美詩
A Cosmopolite in a Cafe 咖啡館里的世界公民
The Detective Detector 幾位偵探
A Double-dyed Deceiver 雙料騙子
The Furnished Room 帶傢具出租的房間
The Gift of the Magi 麥琪的禮物
The Green Door 綠色門
The Handbook of Hymen 婚姻手冊
Hearts and Hands 心與手
The Hiding of Black Bill 布萊克·比爾藏身記
Hygeia at the Solito 索利托牧場的衛生學
Jimmy Hayes And Muriel 吉米·海斯和繆里爾
Jeff Peters As A Personal Magnet 催眠術家傑甫·彼得斯
The Last Leaf 最後一片葉子
Lost on Dress Parade 華而不實
Mammon and the Archer 愛神與財神
The Man Higher Up 黃雀在後
The Marionettes 提線木偶
The Marry Month of May 五月是個結婚月
A Municipal Report 市政報告
The Pimienta Pancakes 比綿塔薄餅
The Princess and the Puma 公主與美洲獅
Psyche And The Pskyscraper 心理分析與摩天大樓
The Red Roses of Tonia 托尼婭的紅玫瑰
The Roads We Take 我們選擇的道路
The Romance of a Busy Broker 證券經紀人的浪漫故事
A Service of Love 愛的犧牲
Shearing The Wolf 虎口拔牙
Telemachus, Friend 刎頸之交
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen 兩位感恩節的紳士
An Unfinished Story 沒說完的故事
While The Auto Waits 汽車等待的時候
The Whirligig of Life 生活的波折
Withes' Loaves 女巫的麵包
以上就是有公開發表的翻譯版本的文章
schools and schools不在之列
歐亨利短篇小說集里也沒有。
就像《百年孤獨》一樣，也沒合法的翻譯版本，貌似馬爾克斯沒有賣給中國它所有作品的翻譯版權。
schools and schools可能也是這樣。
這個阿，很難找...可以看英文原版阿，讀起來可能會很麻煩。
寫論文，知道大意就可以了。
參考資料：http://ke..com/view/88041.htm
http://tieba..com/f?kz=69139525
這里都有，以後就方便了哦
Ⅸ 求歐亨利的英文短篇小說，越全越好
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young." The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling-- something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its colour within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade. "Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value-- the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice--what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
http://www.readbookonline.net/stories/Henry/108/ 歐亨利的全在裡面了，只要你能找到題目就行，給分吧，樓主