艺术的故事英语作文

原文

TheLastLeafbyOHenry

InalittledistrictwestofWashingtonSquarethestreetshaveruncrazyandbrokenthemselvesintosmallstripscalledplaces.Theseplacesmakestrangeanglesandcurves.OneStreetcrossesitselfatimeortwo.Anartistoncediscoveredavaluablepossibilityinthisstreet.Supposeacollectorwithabillforpaints,paperandcanvasshould,intraversingthisroute,suddenlymeethimselfcomingback,withoutacenthavingbeenpaidonaccount!

So,toquaintoldGreenwichVillagetheartpeoplesooncameprowling,huntingfornorthwindowsandeighteenth-centurygablesandDutchatticsandlowrents.ThentheyimportedsomepewtermugsandachafingdishortwofromSixthAvenue,andbecameacolony.

Atthetopofasquatty,three-storybrickSueandJohnsyhadtheirstudio.JohnsywasfamiliarforJoanna.OnewasfromMaine;theotherfromCalifornia.Theyhadmetatthetabled'hôteofanEighthStreetDelmonico's,andfoundtheirtastesinart,chicorysaladandbishopsleevessocongenialthatthejointstudioresulted.

ThatwasinMay.InNovemberacold,unseenstranger,whomthedoctorscalledPneumonia,stalkedaboutthecolony,touchingonehereandtherewithhisicyfingers.Overontheeastsidethisravagerstrodeboldly,smitinghisvictimsbyscores,buthisfeettrodslowlythroughthemazeofthenarrowandmoss-grownplaces.

Mr.Pneumoniawasnotwhatyouwouldcallachivalricoldgentleman.AmiteofalittlewomanwithbloodthinnedbyCaliforniazephyrswashardlyfairgameforthered-fisted,short-breathedoldduffer.ButJohnsyhesmote;andshelay,scarcelymoving,onherpaintedironbedstead,lookingthroughthesmallDutchwindow-panesattheblanksideofthenextbrickhouse.

OnemorningthebusydoctorinvitedSueintothehallwaywithashaggy,grayeyebrow.

Shehasonechancein-letussay,ten,hesaid,asheshookdownthemercuryinhisclinicalthermometer.Andthatchanceisforhertowanttolive.Thiswaypeoplehaveoflining-uonthesideoftheundertakermakestheentirepharmacopoeialooksilly.Yourlittleladyhasmadeuphermindthatshe'snotgoingtogetwell.Hassheanythingonhermind?

She-shewantedtopainttheBayofNaplessomeday.saidSue.

Paint?-bosh!Hassheanythingonhermindworththinkingtwice-amanforinstance?

Aman?saidSue,withajew's-harptwanginhervoice.Isamanworth-but,no,doctor;thereisnothingofthekind.

Well,itistheweakness,then,saidthedoctor.Iwilldoallthatscience,sofarasitmayfilterthroughmyefforts,canaccomplish.ButwhenevermypatientbeginstocountthecarriagesinherfuneralprocessionIsubtract50percentfromthecurativepowerofmedicines.IfyouwillgethertoaskonequestionaboutthenewwinterstylesincloaksleevesIwillpromiseyouaone-in-fivechanceforher,insteadofoneinten.

AfterthedoctorhadgoneSuewentintotheworkroomandcriedaJapanesenapkintoapulp.ThensheswaggeredintoJohnsy'sroomwithherdrawingboard,whistlingragtime.

Johnsylay,scarcelymakingarippleunderthebedclothes,withherfacetowardthewindow.Suestoppedwhistling,thinkingshewasasleep.

Shearrangedherboardandbeganapen-and-inkdrawingtoillustrateamagazinestory.YoungartistsmustpavetheirwaytoArtbydrawingpicturesformagazinestoriesthatyoungauthorswritetopavetheirwaytoLiterature.

AsSuewassketchingapairofeleganthorseshowridingtrousersandamonocleofthefigureofthehero,anIdahocowboy,sheheardalowsound,severaltimesrepeated.Shewentquicklytothebedside.

Johnsy'seyeswereopenwide.Shewaslookingoutthewindowandcounting-countingbackward.

Twelve,shesaid,andlittlelatereleven;andthenten,andnine;andtheneightandseven,almosttogether.

Suelooksolicitouslyoutofthewindow.Whatwastheretocount?Therewasonlyabare,drearyyardtobeseen,andtheblanksideofthebrickhousetwentyfeetaway.Anold,oldivyvine,gnarledanddecayedattheroots,climbedhalfwayupthebrickwall.Thecoldbreathofautumnhadstrickenitsleavesfromthevineuntilitsskeletonbranchesclung,almostbare,tothecrumblingbricks.

Whatisit,dear?askedSue.

Six,saidJohnsy,inalmostawhisper.They'refallingfasternow.Threedaysagotherewerealmostahundred.Itmademyheadachetocountthem.Butnowit'seasy.Theregoesanotherone.Thereareonlyfiveleftnow.

Fivewhat,dear?TellyourSudie.

Leaves.Ontheivyvine.WhenthelastonefallsImustgo,too.I'veknownthatforthreedays.Didn'tthedoctortellyou?

Oh,Ineverheardofsuchnonsense,complainedSue,withmagnificentscorn.Whathaveoldivyleavestodowithyourgettingwell?Andyouusedtolovethatvineso,younaughtygirl.Don'tbeagoosey.Why,thedoctortoldmethismorningthatyourchancesforgettingwellrealsoonwere-let'sseeexactlywhathesaid-hesaidthechancesweretentoone!Why,that'salmostasgoodachanceaswehaveinNewYorkwhenwerideonthestreetcarsorwalkpastanewbuilding.Trytotakesomebrothnow,andletSudiegobacktoherdrawing,soshecanselltheeditormanwithit,andbuyportwineforhersickchild,andporkchopsforhergreedyself.

Youneedn'tgetanymorewine,saidJohnsy,keepinghereyesfixedoutthewindow.Theregoesanother.No,Idon'twantanybroth.Thatleavesjustfour.Iwanttoseethelastonefallbeforeitgetsdark.ThenI'llgo,too.

Johnsy,dear,saidSue,bendingoverher,willyoupromisemetokeepyoureyesclosed,andnotlookoutthewindowuntilIamdoneworking?Imusthandthosedrawingsinbyto-morrow.Ineedthelight,orIwoulddrawtheshadedown.

Couldn'tyoudrawintheotherroom?askedJohnsy,coldly.

I'dratherbeherebyyou,saidSue.Beside,Idon'twantyoutokeeplookingatthosesillyivyleaves.

Tellmeassoonasyouhavefinished,saidJohnsy,closinghereyes,andlyingwhiteandstillasfallenstatue,becauseIwanttoseethelastonefall.I'mtiredofwaiting.I'mtiredofthinking.Iwanttoturnloosemyholdoneverything,andgosailingdown,down,justlikeoneofthosepoor,tiredleaves.

Trytosleep,saidSue.ImustcallBehrmanuptobemymodelfortheoldhermitminer.I'llnotbegoneaminute.Don'ttrytomove'tilIcomeback.

OldBehrmanwasapainterwholivedonthegroundfloorbeneaththem.HewaspastsixtyandhadaMichaelAngelo'sMosesbeardcurlingdownfromtheheadofasatyralongwiththebodyofanimp.Behrmanwasafailureinart.FortyyearshehadwieldedthebrushwithoutgettingnearenoughtotouchthehemofhisMistress'srobe.Hehadbeenalwaysabouttopaintamasterpiece,buthadneveryetbegunit.Forseveralyearshehadpaintednothingexceptnowandthenadaubinthelineofcommerceoradvertising.Heearnedalittlebyservingasamodeltothoseyoungartistsinthecolonywhocouldnotpaythepriceofaprofessional.Hedrankgintoexcess,andstilltalkedofhiscomingmasterpiece.Fortheresthewasafiercelittleoldman,whoscoffedterriblyatsoftnessinanyone,andwhoregardedhimselfasespecialmastiff-in-waitingtoprotectthetwoyoungartistsinthestudioabove.

SuefoundBehrmansmellingstronglyofjuniperberriesinhisdimlylighteddenbelow.Inonecornerwasablankcanvasonaneaselthathadbeenwaitingtherefortwenty-fiveyearstoreceivethefirstlineofthemasterpiece.ShetoldhimofJohnsy'sfancy,andhowshefearedshewould,indeed,lightandfragileasaleafherself,floataway,whenherslightholdupontheworldgrewweaker.

OldBehrman,withhisredeyesplainlystreaming,shoutedhiscontemptandderisionforsuchidioticimaginings.

Vass!hecried.Isderepeopleindeworldmitderfoolishnesstodiebecauseleafsdeydropofffromaconfoundedvine?Ihafnotheardofsuchathing.No,Iwillnotboseasamodelforyourfoolhermit-dunderhead.Vydoyouallowdotsillypusinesstocomeinderbrainofher?Ach,dotpoorleetleMissYohnsy.

Sheisveryillandweak,saidSue,andthefeverhaslefthermindmorbidandfullofstrangefancies.Verywell,Mr.Behrman,ifyoudonotcaretoposeforme,youneedn't.ButIthinkyouareahorridold-oldflibbertigibbet.

Youarejustlikeawoman!yelledBehrman.WhosaidIwillnotbose?Goon.Icomemityou.ForhalfanhourIhafpeentryingtosaydotIamreadytobose.Gott!disisnotanyblaceinwhichonesogootasMissYohnsyshallliesick.SomedayIvillbaintamasterpiece,andveshallallgoaway.Gott!yes.

Johnsywassleepingwhentheywentupstairs.Suepulledtheshadedowntothewindow-sill,andmotionedBehrmanintotheotherroom.Intheretheypeeredoutthewindowfearfullyattheivyvine.Thentheylookedateachotherforamomentwithoutspeaking.Apersistent,coldrainwasfalling,mingledwithsnow.Behrman,inhisoldblueshirt,tookhisseatasthehermitmineronanupturnedkettleforarock.

WhenSueawokefromanhour'ssleepthenextmorningshefoundJohnsywithdull,wide-openeyesstaringatthedrawngreenshade.

Pullitup;Iwanttosee,sheordered,inawhisper.