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, к чему она была готова|. 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, что случалось|. 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 буду тебя любить меньше из-за твоей стрижки|. 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 для волос| – 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. На тот момент|. 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 всех тех| 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.
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 вплоть до этого момента в рассказе| 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 ему пришлось съесть|. The dinner had been much too big. It seemed to him that his dinner had included all the turkey and