Книга - 10 short stories O. Henry. Книга для чтения на английском языке. Неадаптированный текст
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10 short stories O. Henry. .
O. Henry
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The Gift of the Magi
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 ones 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 left to do but flop down | but . | 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 gradually 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 look-out 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 during a former period of prosperity | to fling , , , . , , | 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 introduced 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 dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. To-morrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving | Had been -ing , - | every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesnt 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 |to whirl , | 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 |to pull down | her hair and let it fall | . | to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs | s, , | in which they both took a mighty pride | |. One was Jims gold watch that had been his fathers and his grandfathers. The other was Dellas hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived | | in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out of the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majestys jewels and gifts |, |. Had King Solomon been the janitor | a janitor . , , , . . , , , , , -, , , |, with all his treasures piled up |to pile up , | in the basement, Jim would have pulled out |. Would have, , | his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Dellas 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 |. to doubt| for a minute and stood still |to stand still | while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat |. , . On went her old brown jacket . her old brown jacket went on | With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she cluttered out || of the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read | |: M-me 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 lets 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 Jims 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 knew that it must be Jims. 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 78 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 doesnt kill me, she said to herself, before he takes a second look at me, hell 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 oclock 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 of 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 stepped 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 |, 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, dont look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldnt have lived through | | Christmas without giving you a present. Itll grow out again you wont mind | |, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say Merry Christmas! Jim, and lets be happy. You dont know what a nice what a beautiful, nice gift Ive got for you.
Youve cut off your hair? asked Jim, laboriously | |, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet | |, even after the hardest mental labour.
Cut it off and sold it, said Della. Dont you like me just as well, anyhow? Im me without my hair, aint I |aint to be, : He aint good, they aint here|?
Jim looked about the room curiously.
You say your hair is gone? he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
You neednt look for it, said Della. Its sold, I tell you sold and gone, too. Its Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you | |. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered, she went on with a 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.
Dont make any mistake, Dell, he said, about me. I dont think theres anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less | .., |. But if youll |-, , will if , . . , , , | 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! aquick 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 || for 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 then 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 dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit | |.
Isnt it a dandy ||, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. Youll 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, lets put our Christmas presents away and keep em |them. | a while. Theyre 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 duplication | , |. 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.
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen
There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits |saleratus | and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to |, , . used to , - , . I used to smoke , |. Bless the day. President Roosevelt gives it to us. We hear some talk of the Puritans | . , , |, but dont just remember who they were. Bet we can lick em | , . to lick |, anyhow, if they try to land again. Plymouth Rocks | |? Well, that sounds more familiar. Lots of us have had to come down to hens since the Turkey Trust got its work in | , . To come down , , . Since -, 慔|. But somebody in Washington is leaking || out advance information to em about these Thanksgiving proclamations.
The big city | -| east of the cranberry bogs | | has made Thanksgiving Day an institution | . |. The last Thursday in November is the only day in the year on which it recognizes the part of America lying across the ferries | , . - (???? ), , , . , , Model T, |. It is the one day that is purely American. Yes, a day of celebration, exclusively American.
And now for the story which is to prove to you | | that we have traditions on this side of the ocean that are becoming older at a much rapider | , , | rate than those of England are thanks to our git-up and enterprise | |.
Stuffy Pete | stuffy , , , , . , stuffy . , . |, took his seat on the third bench to the right as you enter Union Square from the east at the walk opposite the fountain. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had taken his seat there promptly at 1 oclock. For every time he had done so things had happened to him Charles Dickensy things | | that swelled || his waistcoat above his heart, and equally || on the other side.
But to-day Stuffy Petes appearance at the annual trysting place | | seemed to have been rather |, | the result of habit than of the yearly hunger which, as the philanthropists seem to think, afflicts the poor at such extended intervals | . , ( . , )|.
Certainly Pete was not hungry. He had just come from a feast that had left him of his powers barely those of respiration and locomotion | |. His eyes were like two pale gooseberries | | firmly imbedded in a swollen and gravy-smeared mask of putty |, |. His breath came in short wheezes; a senatorial roll of adipose tissue denied a fashionable set to his upturned coat collar | |. Buttons that had been sewed | | upon his clothes by kind Salvation fingers |. , , ..| a week before flew like popcorn, strewing the earth around him | |. Ragged |, | he was, with a split shirt front open to the wishbone ||; but the November breeze, carrying fine snowflakes, brought him only a grateful coolness. For Stuffy Pete was overcharged with the caloric || produced by a super-bountiful dinner, beginning with oysters and ending with plum pudding, and including (it seemed to him) all the roast turkey and baked potatoes and chicken salad and squash pie and ice cream in the world. Wherefore || he sat, gorged, and gazed upon the world with after-dinner contempt ||.
The meal had been an unexpected one | |. He was passing a red brick mansion near the beginning of Fifth avenue, in which lived two old ladies of ancient family and a reverence | | for traditions. They even denied the existence of New York, and believed that Thanksgiving Day was declared solely for Washington Square | -, |. One of their traditional habits was to station || a servant at the postern gate | | with orders to admit || the first hungry wayfarer || that came along after the hour of noon had struck, and banquet him to a finish | |. Stuffy Pete happened | , | to pass by on his way to the park, and the seneschals |, | gathered him in and upheld the custom of the castle.
After Stuffy Pete had gazed straight before him for ten minutes he was conscious of a desire for a more varied field of vision | |. With a tremendous effort he moved his head slowly to the left. And then his eyes bulged out fearfully | |, and his breath ceased, and the rough-shod ends of his short legs wriggled and rustled on the gravel | , , |.
For the Old Gentleman |For | was coming across Fourth avenue toward his bench.
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there, and had led him | | to a restaurant and watched him eat a big dinner. They do those things in England unconsciously. But this is a young country, and nine years is not so bad. The Old Gentleman was a staunch || American patriot, and considered himself a pioneer | | in American tradition. In order to become picturesque we must keep on doing one thing for a long time without ever letting it get away from us. Something like collecting the weekly dimes in industrial insurance | |. Or cleaning the streets.
The Old Gentleman moved | |, straight and stately, toward the Institution that he was rearing | |. Truly, the annual feeding of Stuffy Pete was nothing national in its character, such as the Magna Charta | | or jam for breakfast was in England. But it was a step. It was almost feudal ||. It showed, at least | |, that a Custom was not impossible to New Y ahem! America | -.., , |.
The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black, and wore the old-fashioned kind of glasses that wont stay on your nose. His hair was whiter and thinner than it had been last year, and he seemed to make more use of his big, knobby cane | | with the crooked handle.
As his established benefactor came up || Stuffy wheezed and shuddered like some womans over-fat pug when a street dog bristles up at him | |. He would have flown | would have , -, : |, but all the skill of Santos-Dumont could not have separated him || from his bench. Well had the myrmidons || of the two old ladies done their work.
Good morning, said the Old Gentleman. I am glad to perceive | . | that the vicissitudes of another year have spared | | you to move in health about the beautiful world | |.For that blessing alone | | this day of thanksgiving is well proclaimed to each of us. If you will | will , . | come with me, my man, I will provide you with a dinner that should make your physical being accord | | with the mental.
That is what the old Gentleman said every time. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years. The words themselves almost formed an Institution ||. Nothing could be compared with them except the Declaration of Independence. Always before | | they had been music in Stuffys ears. But now he looked up at the Old Gentlemans face with tearful agony in his own. The fine snow almost sizzled || when it fell upon his perspiring brow | . |. But the Old Gentleman shivered || a little and turned his back to the wind.
Stuffy had always wondered why the Old Gentleman spoke his speech rather sadly. He did not know that it was because he was wishing every time that he had a son to succeed him | , , |. A son who would come there after he was gone a son who would stand proud and strong before some subsequent Stuffy |- |, and say: In memory of my father. Then it would be an Institution.
But the Old Gentleman had no relatives. He lived in rented rooms in one of the decayed || old family brownstone mansions in one of the quiet streets east of the park. In the winter he raised fuchsias || in a little conservatory || the size of a steamer trunk | . A steamer |. In the spring he walked in the Easter parade | |. In the summer he lived at a farmhouse in the New Jersey hills, and sat in a wicker || armchair, speaking of a butterfly, the ornithoptera amphrisius, that he hoped to find some day. In the autumn he fed Stuffy a dinner. These were the Old Gentlemans occupations.
Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute, stewing || and helpless in his own self-pity | |. The Old Gentlemans eyes were bright with the giving-pleasure | |. His face was getting more lined | | each year, but his little black necktie was in as jaunty a bow as ever | |, and the linen | , | was beautiful and white, and his gray mustache was curled carefully at the ends. And then Stuffy made a noise that sounded like peas bubbling in a pot. Speech was intended; and as the Old Gentleman had heard the sounds nine times before, he rightly construed || them into Stuffys old formula of acceptance.
Thankee, sir. Ill go with ye, and much obliged. Im very hungry, sir.
The coma of repletion had not prevented from entering Stuffys mind the conviction that he was the basis of an Institution | , |. His Thanksgiving appetite was not his own | |; it belonged by all the sacred rights of established custom, if not, by the actual Statute of Limitations | |, to this | | kind old gentleman who bad preempted it | |. True, America is free; but in order to establish tradition some one must be a repetend a repeating decimal ||. The heroes are not all heroes of steel and gold. See one here that wielded || only weapons of iron, badly silvered, and tin ||.
The Old Gentleman led || his annual protege southward to the restaurant, and to the table where the feast had always occurred. They were recognized | |.
Here comes de | the| old guy, said a waiter, dat |that| blows dat same bum || to a meal every Thanksgiving.
The Old Gentleman sat across the table glowing like a smoked pearl at his corner-stone of future ancient Tradition | |. The waiters heaped || the table with holiday food and Stuffy, with a sigh that was mistaken | , | for hungers expression, raised knife and fork and carved for himself a crown of imperishable bay |. |.
No more valiant hero ever fought his way through the ranks | | of an enemy. Turkey, chops, soups, vegetables, pies, disappeared before him as fast as they could be served. Gorged nearly to the uttermost | | when he entered the restaurant, the smell of food had almost caused him to lose his honor as a gentleman, but he rallied | | like a true knight. He saw the look of beneficent happiness on the Old Gentlemans face a happier look than even the fuchsias and the ornithoptera amphrisius had ever brought to it and he had not the heart | | to see it wane ||.
In an hour Stuffy leaned back || with a battle won. Thankee kindly, sir, he puffed like a leaky steam pipe | |; thankee kindly for a hearty meal. Then he arose heavily with glazed eyes and started toward the kitchen. A waiter turned him about like a top | |, and pointed him toward the door. The Old Gentleman carefully counted out $1.30 in silver change, leaving three nickels |a nickel 5 | for the waiter.
They parted || as they did each year at the door, the Old Gentleman going south, Stuffy north.
Around the first corner Stuffy turned, and stood for one minute. Then he seemed to puff out his rags as an owl puffs out his feathers |, , |, and fell to the sidewalk like a sunstricken horse.
When the ambulance came the young surgeon || and the driver cursed softly at his weight | |. There was no smell of whiskey to justify a transfer to the patrol wagon | |, so Stuffy and his two dinners went to the hospital. There they stretched him on a bed and began to test him for strange diseases, with the hope of getting a chance at some problem with the bare steel | |.
And lo! | , !| an hour later another ambulance brought the Old Gentleman. And they laid him on another bed and spoke of appendicitis, for he looked good for the bill | |.
But pretty soon one of the young doctors met one of the young nurses whose eyes he liked, and stopped to chat with her about the cases.
That nice old gentleman over there, now, he said, you wouldnt think that was a case of almost starvation | |. Proud old family, I guess. He told me he hadnt eaten a thing | | for three days.
The Last Leaf
In 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 and 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 quaint || 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 brick | | 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 dh?te || of an Eighth Street Delmonicos, and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial || 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 slowly | | 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 lay, 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 down the mercury || in his clinical thermometer. And that chance is for her to want to live | |. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly | , . undertaker : |. Your little lady has made up her mind |to make up ones mind | that shes not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind | |?
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 jews-harp twang in her voice | , |. Is a man worth |, | but, no, doctor; there 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 curative 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 | | into Johnsys room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime | , 20 . |.
Johnsy lay, scarcely
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- Теги: адаптированный английский, адаптований текст, английский для начинающих, книги для чтения на английском языке
- Язык: Книги на русском языке
- Объём: 110 стр.
- Дата написания: 2020
- Возрастные ограничения: 12+
- Дата выхода книги: 26 мая 2020
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В этой книге мы собрали самые интересные рассказы О. Генри для чтения на английском языке. Суть наших книг – частичный перевод текста на русский язык и его комментарии от преподавателя английского языка Романа Зинзера. Рассказы не адаптированы, рекомендуемый уровень знания английского языка – не ниже Intermediate.
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Для чтения на компьютере подходят форматы:
- TXT - можно открыть на любом компьютере в текстовом редакторе
- RTF - также можно открыть на любом ПК
- A4 PDF - открывается в программе Adobe Reader
Другие форматы:
- Сохраните файл на свой компьютер или телефоне.
Видео по теме - ЧТЕНИЕ НА АНГЛИЙСКОМ | О.Генри - Cosmopolite in a Cafe (Рассказ О.Генри На Английском) + РОЗЫГРЫШ
