Ћучшие истории о любви / Best love storiesскачать книгу бесплатно
јдаптаци€ текста, комментарии и словарь ». —. ћаевской
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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. 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 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 turning from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no finger could coax a ring. Also there was a card bearing the name УMr. James Dillingham Young.Ф
But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called УJimФ and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and powdered her cheeks. She stood by the window and looked out dully 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 doesnТt 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 happy hours she had spent planning for something nice for him, something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass1
††pier-glass Ц трюмо
[«акрыть] between the windows of the room. Suddenly Della stopped 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 JimТs gold watch that had been his fatherТs and his grandfatherТs and that King Solomon himself, with all his treasures, would have envied. The other was DellaТs hair, which could depreciate all the jewels and gifts that belonged to the Queen of Sheba.2
††the Queen of Sheba Ц царица —авска€
So now DellaТs beautiful hair fell about her.
Shining like a cascade of brown waters, it reached below her knee. 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 old red carpet.
She put on her old brown jacket and her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she ran out of the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: СMme Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds.Т One Eight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting.
УWill you buy my hair?Ф asked Della.
УI buy hair,Ф said Madame, large, too white, chilly. УTake your hat off and letТs have a sight at the looks of it.Ф
Down rippled the brown cascade.
УTwenty dollars,Ф said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
УGive it to me quick,Ф said Della.
The next two hours she was ransacking the stores for JimТs 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. It was a platinum fob chain3
††fob chain Ц цепочка дл€ карманных часов
[«акрыть] simple in design. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be JimТs. It was like him. Quietness and value Ц 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. Although the watch was grand, he sometimes looked at it on the sly4
††on the sly Ц украдкой
[«акрыть] because 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.5
††her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason Ц еЄ возбуждЄнность уступила место предусмотрительности и благоразумию
[«акрыть] She got out her curling irons6
††curling irons Ц щипцы дл€ завивки волос
[«акрыть] and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy.7
††truant schoolboy Ц школьник, прогуливающий уроки
[«акрыть] She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
УIf Jim doesnТt kill me,Ф she said to herself, Уbefore he takes a second look at me, heТll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl.8
††Coney Island chorus girl Ц хористка с они-јйленда
[«акрыть] But what could I do Ц oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?Ф
At 7 oТclock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.9
††chops Ц м€сные котлеты (куски м€са на кости)
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: УPlease, God, make him think I am still pretty.Ф
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two Ц and to be burdened with a family!10
††to be burdened with a family Ц быть обременЄнным семьЄй
[«акрыть] He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stepped inside the door. 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.
УJim, darling,Ф Della cried, УdonТt look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldnТt have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. ItТll grow out again Ц you wonТt mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say СMerry Christmas!Т, Jim, and letТs be happy. You donТt know what a beautiful, nice gift IТve got for you.Ф
УYouТve cut off your hair?Ф asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that obvious fact yet.
УCut it off and sold it,Ф said Della. УDonТt you like me just as well, anyhow? IТm me without my hair, ainТt I?Ф
Jim looked about the room curiously.
УYou say your hair is gone?Ф he said.
УYou neednТt look for it,Ф said Della. УItТs sold, I tell you Ц sold and gone, too. ItТs Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered,Ф she went on with a sudden serious sweetness, Уbut nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?Ф
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He embraced his Della. Then he drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
УDonТt make any mistake, Dell,Ф he said, Уabout me. I donТt think thereТs 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 unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.11
††why you had me going a while at first Ц почему € сначала так опешил
Della unwrapped the package. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas!12
††alas! Ц увы!
[«акрыть] a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails.
There lay The Combs Ц the set of combs that Della had admired for long in a Broadway window.13
††in a Broadway window Ц в витрине магазина на Ѕродвее
[«акрыть] Beautiful tortoise-shell14
††tortoise-shell Ц черепаховый
[«акрыть] combs, with jewelled rims15
††with jewelled rims Ц украшенные по кра€м драгоценными камн€ми
[«акрыть] Ц just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and she had never hoped to possess them. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the desired adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom,16
††she hugged them to her bosom Ц она прижала их к груди
[«акрыть] and finally she was able to look up with a smile and say: УMy hair grows so fast, Jim!Ф
And then Della leaped up and cried, УOh, oh!Ф
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm.
УIsnТt it a dandy,17
††IsnТt it a dandy? Ц –азве это не прелесть?
[«акрыть] Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. YouТll 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.Ф
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
УDell,Ф said he, УletТs put our Christmas presents away and keep them a while. TheyТre 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.Ф
The magi, as you know, were wise men Ц wonderfully wise men Ц 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. And here I have 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.
A service of love
When one loves oneТs Art no service seems too hard.
That is our premise. This story shall draw a conclusion from it, and show at the same time that the premise is incorrect. That will be a new thing in logic, and a feat in storytelling somewhat older than the great wall of China.
Joe Larrabee was born in the Middle West pulsing with a genius for pictorial art.18
††a genius for pictorial art Ц талант живописца
[«акрыть] At six he drew a picture of the town pump with a citizen passing it hastily. This effort was framed and hung in the drug store window. At twenty he left for New York with a flowing necktie and a capital tied up somewhat closer.
Delia Caruthers did things in six octaves so promisingly in a pine-tree village in the South that her relatives chipped in enough in her chip hat for her to go УNorthФ and Уfinish.Ф
Joe and Delia met in an atelier where a number of art and music students had gathered to discuss Wagner, music, RembrandtТs works, pictures, wall paper and Chopin.
Joe and Delia fell in love with each other and in a short time were married Ц for (see above19
††see above Ц смотри выше
[«акрыть]), when one loves oneТs Art no service seems too hard.
Mr. and Mrs. Larrabee began housekeeping in a flat. It was a lonesome flat Ц something like the A sharp20
††A sharp Ц л€ диез (нота)
[«акрыть] way down at the left-hand end of the keyboard. And they were happy; for they had their Art, and they had each other. Flat-dwellers shall confirm my dictum that theirs is the only true happiness. If a home is happy it cannot fit too close.21
††it cannot fit too close Ц он не может быть слишком тесным
Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister. His fees are high; his lessons are light Ц his high-lights have brought him fame. Delia was studying under Rosenstock Ц you know his reputation as a disturber of the piano keys.
They were very happy as long as their money lasted. So is every Ц but I will not be cynical. Their aims were very clear and defined. Joe was to become capable very soon of turning out pictures that old gentlemen with thin side-whiskers and thick wallets would fight in his studio for the privilege of buying. Delia was to become familiar and then contemptuous with Music, so that when she saw the orchestra seats and boxes unsold she could have sore throat and lobster in a private dining-room and refuse to go on the stage.
But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat Ц the ardent, voluble chats after the dayТs study; the cozy dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions; the mutual help and inspiration; and Ц overlook my artlessness Ц stuffed olives and cheese sandwiches at 11 p.m.
But after a while Art grew weak. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Herr Rosenstock their prices. When one loves oneТs Art no service seems too hard. So, Delia said she must give music lessons to keep the chafing dish bubbling.22
††to keep the chafing dish bubbling Ц чтобы удержатьс€ на плаву
For two or three days she went out looking for pupils. One evening she came home excited.
УJoe, dear,Ф she said, joyfully, УIТve a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General Ц General A. B. PinkneyТs daughter Ц on Seventy-first street. Such a splendid house, Joe Ц you should see the front door! And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.
УMy pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. SheТs a delicate thing Ц dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. IТm to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! $5 a lesson. I donТt mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can resume my lessons with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows, dear, and letТs have a nice supper.Ф
УThatТs all right for you, Dele,Ф said Joe, Уbut how about me? Do you think IТm going to let you hustle for wages while I wander in the regions of high art? By no means! I guess I can sell papers or lay cobblestones,23
††lay cobblestones Ц укладывать булыжник
[«акрыть] and bring in a dollar or two.Ф
Delia came and hung about his neck.
УJoe, dear, you are silly. You must keep on at your studies. It is not as if I had quit my music and gone to work at something else. While I teach I learn. I am always with my music. And we can live as happily as millionaires on $15 a week. You mustnТt think of leaving Mr. Magister.Ф
УAll right,Ф said Joe. УBut I hate for you to be giving lessons. It isnТt Art. But youТre a trump and a dear24
††youТre a trump and a dear Ц ты умница и прелесть
[«акрыть] to do it.Ф
УWhen one loves oneТs Art no service seems too hard,Ф said Delia.
УMagister praised the sky in that sketch I made in the park,Ф said Joe. УAnd Tinkle gave me permission to hang two of them in his window. I may sell one if the right kind of a wealthy idiot sees them.Ф
УIТm sure you will,Ф said Delia, sweetly. УAnd now letТs be thankful for Gen. Pinkney and this veal roast.Ф
* * *
During all of the next week the Larrabees had an early breakfast. Joe was enthusiastic about some morning-effect sketches he was doing in Central Park, and Delia packed him off breakfasted, praised and kissed at 7 oТclock. Art is an engaging mistress. It was most times 7 oТclock when he returned in the evening.
At the end of the week Delia, sweetly proud but weary, triumphantly tossed three five-dollar bills on the table.
УSometimes,Ф she said, УClementina exhausts me. IТm afraid she doesnТt practise enough, and I have to tell her the same things so often. And then she always dresses entirely in white, and that does get monotonous. But Gen. Pinkney is the dearest old man! I wish you could know him, Joe. He comes in sometimes when I am with Clementina at the piano Ц he is a widower, you know Ц and stands there pulling his white goatee. СAnd how are the semiquavers and the demisemiquavers25
††the semiquavers and the demisemiquavers Ц шестнадцатые и тридцать вторые (ноты)
[«акрыть] progressing?Т he always asks.
УClementina has such a funny little cough. I hope she is stronger than she looks. Oh, I really am getting attached to her, she is so gentle and highbred. Gen. PinkneyТs brother was once Minister to Bolivia.Ф
And then Joe, with the air of a Monte Cristo, drew forth a ten, a five, a two and a one, and laid them beside DeliaТs earnings.
УSold that watercolour of the obelisk to a man from Peoria,Ф he announced.
УDonТt joke with me,Ф said Delia, Уnot from Peoria!Ф
УAll the way. I wish you could see him, Dele. Fat man with a woollen scarf. He saw the sketch in TinkleТs window and thought it was a windmill at first. He bought it anyhow, though. He ordered another one to take back with him. Music lessons! Oh, I guess Art is still in it.Ф
УIТm so glad youТve kept on,Ф said Delia, heartily. УYouТre bound to win, dear. Thirty Ц three dollars! We never had so much to spend before. WeТll have oysters tonight.Ф
У And filet mignon with champignons,Ф said Joe. УWhere is the olive fork?Ф
On the next Saturday evening Joe reached home first. He spread his $18 on the parlour table and washed what seemed to be a great deal of dark paint from his hands.
Half an hour later Delia arrived, her right hand tied up in a shapeless bundle of wraps and bandages.
УHow is this?Ф asked Joe after the usual greetings. Delia laughed, but not very joyously.
УClementina,Ф she explained, Уinsisted upon a Welsh rabbit26
††Welsh rabbit Ц гренки по-валлийски (гренки с расплавленным сыром)
[«акрыть] after her lesson. She is such a queer girl. Welsh rabbits at 5 in the afternoon. I know Clementina isnТt in good health; she is so nervous. In serving the rabbit she spilled a great lot of it, boiling hot, over my hand and wrist. It hurt awfully, Joe. And the dear girl was so sorry! But Gen. Pinkney!†Ц Joe, that old man nearly went distracted.27
††nearly went distracted Ц чуть с ума не сошЄл
[«акрыть] He rushed downstairs and sent somebody Ц they said the furnaceman28
††furnaceman Ц истопник, оператор печи
[«акрыть] or somebody in the basement Ц out to a drug store for some oil and things to bind it up with. It doesnТt hurt so much now.Ф
УWhatТs this?Ф asked Joe, taking the hand tenderly and pulling at some white strands beneath the bandages.
УItТs something soft,Ф said Delia, Уthat had oil on it. Oh, Joe, did you sell another sketch?Ф She had seen the money on the table.
УDid I?Ф said Joe; Уjust ask the man from Peoria. He isnТt sure but he thinks he wants another landscape and a view on the Hudson. What time this afternoon did you burn your hand, Dele?Ф
УFive oТclock, I think,Ф said Dele, sadly. УThe iron Ц I mean the rabbit came off the fire about that time. You ought to have seen Gen. Pinkney, Joe, when Ц Ф
УSit down here a moment, Dele,Ф said Joe. He drew her to the couch, sat beside her and put his arm across her shoulders.
УWhat have you been doing for the last two weeks, Dele?Ф he asked.
She braved it for a moment or two with an eye full of love and stubbornness, and murmured a phrase or two vaguely of Gen. Pinkney; but finally down went her head and out came the truth and tears.
УI couldnТt get any pupils,Ф she confessed. УAnd I couldnТt bear to have you give up your lessons; and I got a place ironing shirts in that big Twenty-fourth street laundry. And I think I did very well to make up both General Pinkney and Clementina, donТt you, Joe? And when a girl in the laundry set down a hot iron on my hand this afternoon I was all the way home making up that story about the Welsh rabbit. YouТre not angry, are you, Joe? And if I hadnТt got the work you mightnТt have sold your sketches to that man from Peoria.Ф
УHe wasnТt from Peoria,Ф said Joe, slowly.
УWell, it doesnТt matter where he was from. How clever you are, Joe Ц and Ц kiss me, Joe Ц and what made you ever suspect that I wasnТt giving music lessons to Clementina?Ф
УI didnТt,Ф said Joe, Уuntil tonight. And I wouldnТt have then, only I sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine room29
††engine room Ц котельна€
[«акрыть] this afternoon for a girl upstairs who had her hand burned with a smoothing-iron.30
††smoothing-iron Ц утюг (нагреваемый на огне)
[«акрыть] IТve been firing the engine31
††IТve been firing the engine in that laundry Ц € топлю котЄл в этой прачечной
[«акрыть] in that laundry for the last two weeks.Ф
УAnd then you didnТt Ц У
УMy purchaser from Peoria,Ф said Joe, Уand Gen. Pinkney are both creations of the same art Ц but you wouldnТt call it either painting or music.Ф
And then they both laughed, and Joe began:
УWhen one loves oneТs Art no service seems Ц Ф
But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. УNo,Ф she said Ц Уjust СWhen one loves.ТФ
The last of the belles
F. Scott Fitzgerald
After AtlantaТs Southern charm, we all underestimated Tarleton. It was a little hotter there than anywhere weТd been Ц a dozen rookies collapsed the first day in that Georgia sun. I stayed out at camp and let Lieutenant Warren tell me about the girls. This was fifteen years ago, and IТve forgotten how I felt, except that the days went along, one after another, better than they do now, and I was empty-hearted, because up North she who I had loved for three years was getting married. I saw the clippings and newspaper photographs. It was Уa romantic wartime wedding,Ф all very rich and sad.
A day came when I went into Tarleton for a haircut and ran into a nice fellow named Bill Knowles, who was in my time at Harvard. HeТd been in the National Guard division that preceded us in camp; at the last moment he had transferred to aviation and been left behind.
УIТm glad I met you, Andy,Ф he said with undue seriousness. УIТll hand you on all my information before I start for Texas. You see, thereТre really only three girls here Ц Ф
I was interested; there was something mystical about there being three girls.
У Ц and hereТs one of them now.Ф
We were in front of a drug store and he marched me in and introduced me to a lady I promptly detested.
УThe other two are Ailie Calhoun and Sally Carrol Happer.Ф
I guessed from the way he pronounced her name, that he was interested in Ailie Calhoun Ц what a lovely name. It was on his mind what she would be doing while he was gone; he wanted her to have a quiet, uninteresting time.
At my age I donТt even hesitate to confess that images of Ailie Calhoun that rushed into my mind were not chivalrous at all. At twenty-three there is no such thing as a preempted beauty;32
††a preempted beauty Ц красавица, обещанна€ другому
[«акрыть] though, had Bill asked me, I would doubtless have sworn in all sincerity to care for her like a sister. He didnТt; he just worried about having to go. Three days later he telephoned me that he was leaving next morning and heТd take me to her house that night.
We met at the hotel and walked uptown through the flowery, hot twilight. The four white pillars of the Calhoun house faced the street, and behind them the veranda was dark as a cave with hanging, weaving, climbing vines.скачать книгу бесплатно