10 shorts stories by O. Henry. Книга для чтения на английском языке

The door opened and Jim stepped in. He looked very thin and he was not smiling. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and with a family to take care of! |и правда, бедняга – такой молодой, а уже семья, о которой надо заботиться. Of в конце – это частое дело в английском для подобных предложений, правда, обычно такая конструкция появляется в вопросах: who do you think of – о ком ты думаешь? Where are you from – откуда ты?| He needed a new coat and he had nothing to cover his cold hands.

Jim stopped inside the door. He was as quiet as a hunting dog when it is near a bird. His eyes looked strangely at Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not understand. It filled her with fear. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor anything she had been ready for |ни удивление, ни что-то такое, кчемуонабылаготова|. He simply looked at her with that strange expression on his face.

Della went to him.

“Jim, dear,” she cried, “don’t look at me like that. I had my hair cut off |to cut off – отрезать что-то напрочь| and sold it. I couldn’t live through Christmas without giving you a gift. My hair will grow again. You won’t care, will you |ты же не будешь переживать из-за этого|? My hair grows very fast. It’s Christmas, Jim. Let’s be happy. You don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful nice gift I got for you.”

“You’ve cut off your hair?” asked Jim slowly. He seemed to labor to understand what had happened |казалось, он с трудом переваривал, чтослучалось|. He seemed not to feel sure he knew.

“Cut it off and sold it,” said Della. “Don’t you like me now? I’m me, Jim. I’m the same without my hair.”

Jim looked around the room.

“You say your hair is gone?” he said. |волос больше нет?|

“You don’t have to look for it,” said Della. “It’s sold, I tell you – sold and gone, too. It’s the night before Christmas, boy. Be good to me, because I sold it for you. Maybe the hairs of my head could be counted,” she said, “but no one could ever count my love for you. Shall we eat dinner, Jim?”

Jim put his arms around his Della. For ten seconds let us look in another direction. Eight dollars a week or a million dollars a year— how different are they? Someone may give you an answer, but it will be wrong. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them |magi – волхвы. О.Генри обыгрывает библейский сюжет приношения даров новорожденному Иисусу|. My meaning will be explained soon.

From inside the coat, Jim took something tied in paper. He threw it upon the table.

“I want you to understand me, Dell,” he said. “Nothing like a haircut could make me love you any less |конечно же, я не будутебялюбитьменьшеиз-затвоейстрижки|. But if you’ll open that, you may know what I felt when I came in.”

White fingers pulled off the paper. And then a cry of joy; and then a change to tears.

For there lay The Combs |Там были гребни дляволос| – the combs that Della had seen in a shop window and loved for a long time. Beautiful combs, with jewels, perfect for her beautiful hair. She had known they cost too much for her to buy them. She had looked at them without the least hope of owning them. And now they were hers, but her hair was gone.

But she held them to her heart, and at last was able to look up and say: “My hair grows so fast, Jim!”

And then she jumped up and cried, “Oh, oh!”

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful gift |еще пока не видел. Натотмомент|. She held it out to him in her open hand. The gold seemed to shine softly as if with her own warm and loving spirit.

“Isn’t it perfect, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You’ll have to look at your watch a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how they look together.”

Jim sat down and smiled.

“Della,” said he, “let’s put our Christmas gifts away and keep them a while. They’re too nice to use now. I sold the watch to get the money to buy the combs. And now I think we should have our dinner.”

The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men – who brought gifts to the newborn Christ-child. They were the first to give Christmas gifts. Being wise |будучи мудрыми|, their gifts were doubtless wise ones. And here I have told you the story of two children who were not wise. Each sold the most valuable thing he owned in order to |для того, чтобы| buy a gift for the other. But let me speak a last word to the wise of these days: Of all |из всехтех| who give gifts, these two were the most wise. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are the most wise. Everywhere they are the wise ones. They are the magi.

Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen

There is only one day that is ours. There is one day when all Americans go back to the old home and eat a big dinner. Bless the day. The President gives it to us every year.

Sometimes he talks about the people who had the first Thanksgiving. They were the Puritans. They were some people who landed on our Atlantic shore. We don’t really remember much about them.

But those people ate a large bird called turkey on the first Thanksgiving Day. So we have turkey for Thanksgiving dinner, if we have enough money to buy turkey. That is a tradition.

Yes. Thanksgiving Day is the one day of the year that is purely |исключительно| American. And now here is the story to prove to you that we have old traditions in this new country. They are growing older more quickly than traditions in old countries. That is because we are so young and full of life. We do everything quickly.

Stuffy Pete sat down on a seat in the New York City park named Union Square. It was the third seat to the right as you enter Union Square from the east.

Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had sat down there |он сидел там вплотьдоэтогомоментаврассказе| at one in the afternoon. Every time, things had happened to him. They were wonderful things. They made his heart feel full of joy—and they filled another part of him, too. They filled the part below his heart.

On those other Thanksgiving Days he had been hungry. (It is a strange thing. There are rich people who wish to help the poor. But many of them seem to think that the poor are hungry only on Thanksgiving Day.)

But today Pete was not hungry. He had come from a dinner so big that he had almost no power to move |не было сил, чтобы двигаться. В английском нет как такового слова “чтобы”. Чаще оно заменяется безличной формой глагола – I live to eat, He works to make money…|. His light green eyes looked out from a gray face on which there was still a little food. His breath was short. His body had suddenly become too big for his clothes; it seemed ready to break out |вырваться, прорваться| of them. They were torn. You could see his skin through a hole in the front of his shirt. But the cold wind, with snow in it, felt pleasantly cool to him.

For Stuffy Pete was overheated with the warmth of all he had had to eat |от всего того, что емупришлосьсъесть|. The dinner had been much too big. It seemed to him that his dinner had included all the turkey and all the other food in the whole world.

So he sat, very, very full. He looked out at the world without interest, as if it could never offer him anything more.

The dinner had not been expected |такой ужин был неожиданным. О. Генри часто использует пассивы – вместо фразы “Пит не ожидал такого ужина”, автор пишет “такой ужин не был ожидаем” В первом примере сам Пит совершает действие – это актив, а во второмнад ужином совершается действие – его ожидают или не ожидают в данном случае|.

He had been passing a large house near the beginning of that great broad street called Fifth Avenue. It was the home of two old ladies of an old family. These two old ladies had a deep love of traditions |они были влюблены втрадиции|. There were certain things they always did. On Thanksgiving Day at noon they always sent a servant to stand at the door. There he waited for the first hungry person who walked by |проходилмимо|. The servant had orders |уприслугибылприказ| to bring that person into the house and feed him until he could eat no more. Stuffy Pete happened to pass by |такслучилось, чтопроходилмимо| on his way to the park. The servant had gathered him in. Tradition had been followed |быласоблюдена|.

Stuffy Pete sat in the park looking straight before him for ten minutes. Then he felt a desire to look in another direction. With a very great effort, he moved his head slowly to the left.

Then his eyes grew wider and his breath stopped. His feet in their torn shoes at the ends of his short legs moved about |болтались| on the ground.

For the Old Gentleman was coming across Fourth Avenue toward Stuffy’s seat.

Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there to find Stuffy Pete on his seat. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make into a tradition |превратить в традицию|. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years he had found Stuffy there. Then he had led Stuffy to a restaurant and watched him eat a big dinner.

They do these things more easily in old countries like England |часто в английском слово “they” – “они” неозначаетникогоконкретного, этопросто “люди”. Перевод этого предложения – в старых странах подобные вещи делаются чаще. Кемделаются? Людьми|. They do them without thinking about them.

But in this young country, we must think about them. In order to build |to build – это строить, но это ещеисоздать| a tradition, we must do the same thing again and again for a long time. The Old Gentleman loved his country. He believed he was helping to build a great American tradition. And he had been doing very well. Nine years is a long time here.

The Old Gentleman moved, straight and proud, toward the tradition that he was building. Truly feeding Stuffy Pete |от всего сердца кормяСтаффиПита… Слово stuffy имеет много значений – душный, скучный, занудный, забитый, чопорный.Стаффи Пит – это явно кличка, но какое именно значение слова stuffy имел ввиду О.Генри понять сложно, поэтому в русском переводе слово не было переведено. СтаффиПиттакиосталсяСтаффиПитом| once a year was not a very important tradition. There are greater and more important traditions in England. But it was a beginning. It proved that a tradition was at least possible in America.

The Old Gentleman was thin and tall and sixty. He was dressed all in black. He wore eye-glasses. His hair was whiter |не белее. Стало больше седины в волосах| and thinner than it had been last year |чем было в прошлом году. Опять had и третья форма глагола – на этот момент седины больше чем на момент в прошлом году|. His legs did not seem as strong as they had seemed the year before.

As this kind Old Gentleman came toward him, Stuffy began to shake and his breath was shorter. He wished he could fly away. But he could not move from his seat.

“Good morning,” said the Old Gentleman. “I am glad to see that the troubles of another year have not hurt you. You continue to move in health about the beautiful world |поэтичное предложение, которое не перевести буквально. Это что-то вроде «мир прекрасен, и я рад, что ваше здоровье тоже хорошее| . For that blessing you and I can give thanks on this day of thanksgiving. If you will come with me, my man, I will give you a dinner that will surely make your body feel as thankful as your mind.”

That is what the Old Gentleman said every time. Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years. The words themselves were almost a tradition. Always before, they had been |и все же почемууО.Генривезде had итретьяформаглагола, онижепрошедший Perfect? Вся история ведется о прошлом событии – Пит пошел, Пит увидел.., и все события предшествующие текущим действиям Пита должны стоять в прошедшем Perfect – had и третья форма глагола. Тем самым автор показывает, что они именно были раньше похождений Пита| music in Stuffy’s ear. But now he looked up at the Old Gentleman’s face with tears of suffering in his eyes. The snow turned quickly to water when it fell upon his hot face. But the Old Gentleman was shaking with the cold. He turned away, with his back to the wind, and he did not see Stuffy’s eyes.

Stuffy had always wondered |всегда думал. I wonder – это чаще “я думаю”, ане “яудивляюсь”| why the Old Gentleman seemed sad as he spoke. He did not know that it was because the Old Gentleman was wishing that he had a son. A son would come there after he himself was gone |сын бы приходил бы туда, после того как Старый Джентльмен бы умер|. A son would stand proud and strong before Stuffy, and say: “In remembrance of my father.” Then it would really be a tradition.

But the Old Gentleman had no family. He lived in a room in one of the old houses near the park. In the winter he grew a few flowers there. In the spring he walked on Fifth Avenue. In the summer he lived in a farmhouse in the hills outside New York, and he talked of a strange bug |все говорил о каком-тостранномнасекомом| he hoped some day to find. In the fall season he gave Stuffy a dinner. These were the things that filled the Old Gentleman’s life.

Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute, helpless and very sorry for himself. The Old Gentleman’s eyes were bright with the giving-pleasure. His face was getting older every year, but his clothes were very clean and fresh.

And then Stuffy made a strange noise. He was trying to speak. As the Old Gentleman had heard the noise nine times before, he understood it. He knew that Stuffy was accepting.

“Thank you. I’m very hungry.”