欧亨利中英文短篇小说集 求欧亨利的英文短篇小说，越全越好
\u6b27\u4ea8\u5229\u7684\u5c0f\u8bf4\u4e2d\u82f1\u6587\u5bf9\u7167\u6b27\u4ea8\u5229\u77ed\u7bc7\u5c0f\u8bf4\u5168\u96c6.txt\u4e0b\u8f7d: http://bn7fze.miaomiaoshuwu.com/file/22215238-410628117 \u70b9\u51fb\u666e\u901a\u4e0b\u8f7d\u5373\u53ef^_^
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 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 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 during 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 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. 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 dull 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 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.
http://www.readbookonline.net/stories/Henry/108/ \u6b27\u4ea8\u5229\u7684\u5168\u5728\u91cc\u9762\u4e86\uff0c\u53ea\u8981\u4f60\u80fd\u627e\u5230\u9898\u76ee\u5c31\u884c\uff0c\u7ed9\u5206\u5427\uff0c\u697c\u4e3b
《三叶草和棕榈树》Shamrock and the Palm
借主人公之口，回忆了克兰西从一位暴君的魔掌中逃脱的故事。
《失语漫游》A Ramble in Aphasia
如果有一天，你一觉醒来发现自己失忆了，你会怎么办？欧·亨利的《失语漫游》讲述的正是一个失忆者的故事。一位成天钻研法律的名律师，几乎与娱乐绝缘，他的生活可谓了无生趣。有一天他的生活突然有趣了起来：他带着巨款，在客车上失忆了！接下来他该何去何从？且看欧·亨利如何将一个成功男士失忆后的心理、生活状态写得惟妙惟肖！
《黄狗自传》Memoirs of a Yellow Dog
动物会写文章？动物会用语言表达自己？一只黄狗会有怎样的倾诉欲。欧·亨利短篇小说《黄狗自传》，以一只黄狗为第一人称，讲述一只狗的日常生活
《恭贺佳节》Compliments of the Season
流浪汉、布娃娃、百元大钞、百万富翁、圣诞佳节这看似风马牛不相及的一切到底有何关联？走进欧·亨利千回百转、光怪陆离、惊奇不断的奇妙小说世界，《恭贺佳节》即将向您揭晓满意的答案。
《巴格达之鸡》A Bird of Bagdad
一个谜语引发了一群人的思考，欧·亨利似的结尾总能在最后让读者恍然大悟，又或者哑然失笑。奎格在路上偶遇一个小伙，小伙子为了取得参加心上人生日宴会的资格，正在为一个谜语而困惑不已。
《没有结局的故事》An Unfinished Story
描写了一位每周只挣五美圆的贫穷女工达尔西在阔佬的诱惑下，虽一时动摇但最终拒绝。她复杂的内心世界被真实的表现出来。
《鞋》Shoes
《鞋》是由一个玩笑引发的故事，读来诙谐幽默又意味深长。小说的结尾是典型的“欧·亨利式
的结尾”，既在意料之外，又在情理之中。美国驻科拉里奥领事约翰收到了来自家乡的一封信，咨询关于来科拉里奥开鞋店是否可行。出于消遣，他回信说这里急需一家鞋店。实际情况则是，这个三千多人的小镇没有几个人愿受穿鞋之苦。没想到，真的有人变卖了家产，满怀希望载着鞋子来了，而这个人竟然还是约翰心上人的父亲……
《闪光的金子》The Gold That Glittered
自以为是的骗子自作聪明却弄巧成拙，有勇无谋的将军无心插柳却误打误撞狠狠地捉弄了骗子。世事难料，往往事与愿违，是造化弄人，还是万事皆有因？欧·亨利的短篇小说《闪光的金子》向我们讲述了这样一个荒谬的幽默讽喻故事。
绛旓細鍦ㄨ繖閲岋紝鎮ㄥ彲浠ユ帰绱腑璇戠粡鍏告枃搴撲腑鐨勪笘鐣屾枃瀛︽澃浣滐紝娆蜂酣鍒╃煭绡囧皬璇撮泦绮鹃夌洰褰曞涓嬶細1. "A Newspaper Story" - 鎻忕粯浜嗘柊闂昏儗鍚庣殑鐪熺浉涓庝汉鎬х殑寰浜掑姩銆2. "After Twenty Years" - 涓娈佃法瓒婁簩鍗佸勾鐨勭埍鎯呮晠浜嬶紝瑙佽瘉浜嗘椂闂村拰鍛借繍鐨勬垙鍓фц浆鎶樸3. "Buried Treasure" - 鎺╄棌鍦ㄥ钩鍑＄敓娲讳腑鐨勮储瀵岋紝鎻ず...
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