2 Running for Governor 竞选州长 马克·吐温
9 News of the Engagement 订婚的消息 阿诺德·本涅特
16 A Day’s Wait 一整天的等待 欧内斯特·海明威
21 The Son’s Veto 儿子的否决 托马斯·哈代
40 The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County卡拉韦拉斯县臭名昭著的跳蛙马克·吐温
48 The Hollow of the Three Hills 三丘之谷 纳桑尼尔·霍桑
55 A Hunger Artist 饥饿艺术家 弗兰兹·卡夫卡
66 The Sphinx Without a Secret 没有秘密的斯芬克斯 奥斯卡·王尔德
74 A Family 一家人 居伊·德·莫泊桑
81 My Uncle Jules 我的叔叔于勒 居伊·德·莫泊桑
91 A Chameleon 变色龙 安东·契诃夫
96 Hills like White Elephants 白象似的群山 欧内斯特·海明威
104 The Lady’s Maid 女主人的贴身女仆 凯瑟琳·曼斯菲尔德
111 The Fly 苍蝇 凯瑟琳·曼斯菲尔德
119 The Dreamer 冥思者 萨基
125 Two Friends 两个朋友 居伊·德·莫泊桑
135 Mr. Andrews 安德鲁斯先生 爱德华·摩根·福斯特
141 Daisy Miler (excerption) 黛西·米勒（节选） 亨利·詹姆斯
170 A Service of Love 爱的牺牲 欧·亨利
178 The Gift of the Magi 麦琪的礼物 欧·亨利
185 Kew Gardens 邱园纪事 弗吉尼亚·伍尔夫
194 Eveline 伊芙琳 詹姆士·乔伊斯
200 The Wind Blows 大风吹 凯瑟琳·曼斯菲尔德
207 The Furnished Room 带家具的出租屋 欧·亨利
217 The Lost Decade 失落的十年 弗兰茨·司各特·菲兹杰拉德
223 The Story of an Hour 一小时的故事 凯特·肖邦
227 The Green Door 绿色房门 欧·亨利
236 The Last Leave 最后的藤叶 欧·亨利
244 The Egg 鸡蛋 舍伍德·安德森
256 After Twenty Years 二十年后 欧·亨利
261 The Last Lesson 最后一课 阿尔封斯·都德
267 The Law of Life 生命的法则 杰克·伦敦
277 The Monkey’s Paw 猴爪 威廉·怀马克·雅各布斯
292 The Tell-Tale Heart 泄密的心 埃德加·爱伦·坡
299 The Black Cat 黑猫 埃德加·爱伦·坡
310 A Rose for Emily 献给爱米莉的玫瑰 威廉·福克纳
323 The Return of Imray 伊姆雷归来 鲁德亚德·吉普林
339 The Killers 杀人者 欧内斯特·海明威
354 The Signal Man 信号员 查尔斯·狄更斯
373 The Nightingale and the Rose 夜莺与玫瑰 奥斯卡·王尔德
381 The Happy Prince 快乐王子 奥斯卡·王尔德
393 The Story of the Bad Little Boy 坏小孩的故事 马克·吐温
397 The Story of the Good Little Boy 好小孩的故事 马克·吐温
The Gift of the Magi显示全部>>
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, 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 gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray 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 honor 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 color 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 knew 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.