欧亨利短篇小说《TheLastLeaf》(《最后一片常青藤叶》

In a little district (区域)west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips (条状)called “place”.These “places” make strange angles and curves .

One street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possiblity in this street .Suppose a collector with a bill for paints , paper and canvas should,in traversing(穿过) this route, suddenly meet himself coming back,without a cent having been paid on account. 华盛顿广场西边有一个小区，小区里的街道隔成了很多杂乱无章的小巷，小巷又交叉形成了特有的转角和曲线,同一条街道也常常出现一两个交叉口。一次，一个艺术家偶然发现了这条街道的价值所在。
比如，一个商人带着颜料、纸张和画布的账单来这儿收账，转悠了半天，一个子儿都没捞到，反而发现自己又回到了原处，太搞笑了。（指上文说的‘很多杂乱无章的小巷’。。地形复杂） 2. So,to quaint (古雅的)old Greenwich Villagethe art people soon came prowling(在……搜寻), hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables(山型墙) and Dutch attics (阁楼)and low rents .Then they imported som-e petwer mugs(杯子) and a chafing diah (火锅)or two from Sixth avenue,and become a “colony”(殖民地). 于是，搞艺术的人们很快都跑到古香古色的Greenwich(…
)村来了。他们到处转悠，寻找朝北的窗户、十八世纪的三角墙、荷兰式的阁楼和租金低廉的房屋。然后，他们又从第六大道上掏了一些马克杯和一两个火锅，这里就被他们圈成了自己的地盘。
At the top of a squatty,three-story brick Sue(人名:苏)and Johnsy (琼西)had their studio.“Johnsy”was familiar for Joanna（乔安娜）. One was from Maine(缅因州)； the other from (加利福尼亚洲)California. They had met at the table d’hote of an English street“Delmo-nico’s,” and found their taste in art,chicory salad and bishop sleeves(灯笼袖) so con-genial that the joint studio resulted. 苏和琼西租了一个低矮的三层砖房的顶层作为她们的画室。
“琼西”是乔安娜的昵称。两个姑娘，一个来自缅因 州，一个来自加利福尼亚州。她们是在第八大街的德尔莫尼科餐馆里吃饭时遇到的，发现在艺术、饮食和衣着上都“情投意合”，所以就一起办了一个画室。 That was in May.In November a cold ,unseen stranger,whom the doctors ca-lled Pneumonia(肺炎), stalked(追踪) about the col-ony,touching one here and there with his icy fingers .Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly（破坏者，跨过，大胆地）,smiting （打）his victim by scores, but his feet trod slo-wly through the maze（迷宫） of the narrow and moss-grown “places”. （平时不怎么用英语，一旦想读点文学原著…
竟无语凝噎） 那是五月份的事了。 （指上文） 转眼到了十一月，一个冷酷的、隐形的不速之客悄悄地潜入艺术家们的地盘，用冰冷的手指到处触摸，医生们管这个不速之客叫肺炎。在广场的东边，这个坏蛋嚣张的到处流窜，一下子就能击垮十几个人，可在这些到处苔藓的狭长小巷里，他却放慢了脚步。(暗有所指) Mr. Pneumonia(...拟人) was not what you would call a chivalric (骑士的)old gentlemen. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California(加利福尼亚州) zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fised, short-breathed old duffer . But Johnsy he smote;and she lay , scarely moving,on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.
肺炎先生可不是人们想象中的上了年纪的乐善好施的绅士。柔弱的小姑娘，早就已经被加加利福尼亚州的西风出的脸上苍白了，哪里禁得住这个摩拳擦掌的老不死的折腾。琼西也未能幸免，她躺在刷过油漆的破旧的铁床上，一动不动，只是望着荷兰式的小玻璃窗外面的砖房的墙壁。
One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy(蓬松的)，gray eyebrow.
一天早上，忙碌的医生扬了扬他蓬松的灰色眉毛，把苏叫的走廊上。
“She has only one chance in—let us say, the”.he said ,as he shook down the mercury(温度表)in his clinical thermo-metmeter.“And that dance is for her to live . This way people have of lining-up on the side of the undertsker makers the entire phaimacopeia look silly.Your little lady has made up her mind that she’s not going to get well Has she angthing on her mind？
”
“我看，她的病恐怕只有十分之一的希望了。”医生一边甩了甩体温计，想把体温计的水银摔倒零点，一边说到，“就看她对生命的渴望了。一个人一心想死，等着去殡仪馆排队，就无药可救了。这位小姐，好像已经自暴自弃了。她是还有未了的心愿吗？”
“She ——she want to pain the Bay of Naples some day,”said Sue.
“她，她还打算去画Naples海湾”苏说。(看了好几遍才发现后面真正使Joanna对生命有希望的的是什么)
“Paint？——Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice—— a man,for instance？ ”
“画画？……别瞎说了，她没有值得多考虑一下的事情？……比方说，男人？”
“A man？”said Sue,with a jew’s-harp twang(单簧口琴) in her voice.“Is a man worth——but ,no,doctor;there is nothing of her kind ”
“男人？”苏像吹口琴似的哼了一声，(…有猫腻)“男人就值得……不，没有， 医生。根本不可能”
“Well, it is the weakness, then ,”said the doctor .“I,will do all that science ,so far as it may filter(滤过)through my efforts, can accomplish.But, whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral(葬礼) procession l subtract 50 percent . form the curative power of medicines.If yuo will get to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves l will promise you a one -in-five chance for her ,instead of one in ten ”
“这么说，那就是身体太虚弱了。”医生说，“我会尽我所能，科学的治疗方法我都会试试，如果病人每天想的是葬礼要用多少辆马车，治疗的效果只能减半了。如果你能提起她对冬季大衣袖子的新款式的兴趣，提一个问题，我敢保证，她的希望就能提高到五分之一。”(语言幽默。。)
After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp(果肉) . Then she swaggered into Johnsy’s room with her drawing board,whistling ragtime.(鸣汽笛)
Johnsy lay, scarelr making a ripple(波纹)under the badclothes, with her face toward the window.Sue stopped whistling,thinking she was asleep.
She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrage a mahazine stofy .Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to literature.
医生离去之后，苏艾到工作室里哭了一声，把一张 日本纸餐巾擦得一团糟。然后，她拿起画板，吹着拉格泰姆音乐调子，昂首阔步地走进琼珊的房间。
琼西躺在被窝里，脸朝着窗口，一点儿动静也没有。苏以为她睡着了，赶紧停止吹口哨。
她架起画板，开始替杂志画一幅短篇小说的钢笔画插图。青年画家不得不以杂志小说的插图来铺平通向艺术的道路，而这些小说则是 青年作家为了铺平文学道路而创作的。
Johnsy"s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward.
"Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.
So looked solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.

琼西的眼睛睁得大大的。她望着窗外，在计数——倒数上来。
“十二，”她说，过了一会儿，又说“十一”；接着是“十”、“九”；再接着是几乎连在一起的“八”和“七”。
苏关切地向窗外望去。有什么可数的呢？外面见到的只是一个空荡荡、阴沉沉的院子，和二十英尺外的一幛砖屋的墙壁。一株极老极老的常春藤，纠结的根已经枯萎，攀在半墙上。秋季的寒风把藤上的叶子差不多全吹落了，只剩下几根几乎是光秃秃的藤枝依附在那堵松动残缺的砖墙上。
"What is it, dear?" asked Sue.
"Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They"re falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it"s easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."
"Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie."
"Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I"ve known that for three days. Didn"t the doctor tell you?" 怎么回事，亲爱的？”苏问道。“六。”琼西说，声音低得像是耳语，“它们现在掉得快些了。三天前差不多有一百片。数得我头昏眼花。现在可容易了。喏，又掉了一片。只剩下五片了。”
“五片什么，亲爱的？告诉你的苏。”“叶子，常春藤上的叶子。
等最后一片掉落下来，我也得去了。三天前我就知道了。难道大夫没有告诉你吗？”
"Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don"t be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let"s see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that"s almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing on she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self."
"You needn"t get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don"t want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I"ll go, too."
"Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down."
哟，我从没听到这样荒唐的话。”苏装出满不在乎的样子数落地说，“老藤叶同你的病有什么相干？你一向很喜欢那株常春藤，得啦，你这淘气的姑娘。别发傻啦。我倒忘了，大夫今天早晨告诉你，你很快康复的机会是——让我想想，他是怎么说的——他说你好的希望是十比一！哟，那几乎跟我们在 纽约搭街车或者走过一幛新房子的工地一样，碰到意外的时候很少。现在喝一点儿汤吧。让苏艾继续画图，好卖给编辑先生，换了钱给她的病孩子买点儿红葡萄酒，也买些猪排填填她自己的馋嘴。”
“你不用再买什么酒啦。”琼西说，仍然凝视着窗外，“又掉了一片。不，我不要喝汤。只剩四片了。我希望在天黑之前看到最后的藤叶飘下来。那时候我也该去了。”
“琼西，亲爱的，”苏弯着身子对她说，“你能不能答应我，在我画完之前，别睁开眼睛，别瞧窗外？那些图画我明天得交。我需要光线，不然我早就把窗帘拉下来了。”
"Couldn"t you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly.
"I"d rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don"t want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves."
"Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I"m tired of waiting. I"m tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves."
"Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I"ll not be gone a minute. Don"t try to move "til I come back." 你不能到另一间屋子里去画吗？”琼西冷冷地问道。
“我要呆在这儿，跟你在一起。”苏说，“而且我不喜欢你老盯着那些莫名其妙的藤叶。”
“你一画完就告诉我。”琼珊闭上眼睛说，她脸色惨白，静静地躺着，活像一尊倒塌下来的塑像，“因为我要看那最后的藤叶掉下来。我等得不耐烦了。也想得不耐烦了。我想摆脱一切，像一片可怜的、厌倦的藤叶，悠悠地往下飘，往下飘。”
“你争取睡一会儿。”苏艾说，“我要去叫贝尔曼上来，替我做那个隐居的老矿工的模特儿。我去不了一分种。在我回来之前，千万别动。”
Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo"s Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress"s robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.
Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy"s fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.
老贝尔曼是住在楼下底层的一个画家。他年纪六十开外，有一把像米开朗琪罗的摩西雕像上的胡子，从 萨蒂尔似的脑袋上顺着小鬼般的身体卷垂下来。贝尔曼在艺术界是个失意的人。他耍了四十年的 画笔，还是同 艺术女神隔有相当距离，连她的长袍的边缘都没有摸到。他老是说就要画一幅杰作，可是始终没有动手。除了偶尔涂抹了一些商业画或广告画之外，几年没有画过什么。他替“艺术区”里那些雇不起职业模特儿的青年艺术家充当模特儿，挣几个小钱，他喝杜松子酒总是过量，老是唠唠叨叨地谈着他未来的杰作。此外，他还是个暴躁的小老头儿，极端瞧不起别人的温情，却认为自己是保护楼上两个青年艺术家的看家恶狗。
苏在楼下那间灯光暗淡的小屋子里找到了酒气扑人的贝尔曼。角落里的画架上绷着一幅空白的画布，它在那儿静候杰作的落笔，已经有了二十五年。她把琼西的想法告诉了他，又说她多么担心，惟恐那个虚弱得像枯叶一般的琼 珊抓不住她同世界的微弱联系，真会撒手而去。
Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imagininga.
老贝尔曼的充血的眼睛老是迎风流泪，他对这种白痴般的想法大不以为然，连讽带刺地咆哮了一阵子。
"Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy."
"She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn"t. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet."
"You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."
Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.
“什么话！”他嚷道，“难道世界上竟有这种傻子，因为可恶的藤叶落掉而想死？我活了一辈子也没有听到过这种怪事。不，我没有心思替你当那无聊的隐士模特儿。你怎么能让她脑袋里有这种傻念头呢？唉，可怜的小琼珊小姐。”
“她病得很厉害，很虚弱，”苏艾说，“高烧烧得她疑神疑鬼，满脑袋都是希奇古怪的念头。好吗，贝尔曼先生，既然你不愿意替我当模特儿，我也不勉强了。我认得你这个可恶的老——老贫嘴。”
“你真女人气！”贝尔曼嚷道，“谁说我不愿意？走吧。我跟你一起去。我已经说了半天，愿意替你替你效劳。天哪！像琼珊小姐那样好的人实在不应该在这种地方害病。总有一天，我要画一幅杰作，那么我们都可以离开这里啦。天哪！是啊。”他们上楼时，琼珊已经睡着了。苏艾把窗帘拉到窗槛上，做手势让贝尔曼到另一间屋子里去。他们在那儿担心地瞥着窗外的常春藤。接着，他们默默无言地对瞅了一会儿。寒雨夹着雪花下个不停。贝尔曼穿着一件蓝色的旧衬衫，坐在一翻转过身的权充岩石的铁锅上，扮作隐居的矿工。
When Sue awoke from an hour"s sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.
第二天早晨，苏艾睡了一个小时醒来的时候，看到琼珊睁着无神的眼睛，凝视着放下末的绿窗帘。
"Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.
把窗帘拉上去，我要看。”她用微弱的声音命令着。
Wearily Sue obeyed.
But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground.
"It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time." 苏艾困倦地照着做了。
可是，看那！经过了漫漫长夜的风吹雨打，仍旧有一片常春藤的叶子贴在墙上。它是藤上最后的一片了。靠近 叶柄的颜色还是深绿的，但那锯齿形的边缘已染上了枯败的黄色，它傲然挂在离地面二十来英尺的一根藤枝上面。
“那是最后的一片叶子。”琼珊说，“我以为昨夜它一定会掉落的。我听到刮风的声音。它今天会脱落的，同时我也要死了。”
"Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won"t think of yourself. What would I do?"
But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.
The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.
哎呀，哎呀！”苏艾把她困倦的脸凑到枕边说，“如果你不为自己着想，也得替我想想呀。我可怎么办呢？”
但是琼珊没有回答。一个准备走上神秘遥远的死亡道路的心灵，是全世界最寂寞、最悲哀的了。当她与尘世和友情之间的联系一片片地脱离时，那个玄想似乎更有力地掌握了她。那一天总算熬了过去。
黄昏时，她们看到墙上那片孤零零的藤叶仍旧依附在茎上。随夜晚同来的北风的怒号，雨点不住地打在窗上，从荷兰式的低屋檐上倾泻下来。
When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.
天色刚明的时候，狠心的琼珊又吩咐把窗帘拉上去。
The ivy leaf was still there.
Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove.
那片常春藤叶仍在墙上。
琼珊躺着对它看了很久。然后她喊喊苏艾，苏艾正在煤卸炉上搅动给琼珊喝的鸡汤。
"I"ve been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."
我真是一个坏姑娘，苏，”琼说，“冥冥中有什么使那最后的一片叶子不掉下来，启示了我过去是多么邪恶。不想活下去是个罪恶。现在请你拿些汤来，再弄一点掺葡萄酒的牛奶，再——等一下；先拿一面小镜子给我，用枕头替我垫垫高，我想坐起来看你煮东西。”
And hour later she said:
"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."
The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left.
一小时后，她说：

“苏，我希望有朝一日能去那不勒斯海湾写生。”
下午，医生来，他离去时，苏艾找了个借口，跑到过道上。
"Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue"s thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you"ll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."
The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She"s out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that"s all." 好的希望有了五成。”医生抓住苏瘦小的、颤抖的手说，“只要好好护理，你会胜利。现在我得去楼下看看另一个病人。他姓贝尔曼——据我所知，也是搞艺术的。也是肺炎。他上了年纪，身体虚弱，病势来得很猛。他可没有希望了，不过今天还是要把他送进医院，让他舒服些。”
第二天，医生对苏说：“她已经脱离危险，你成功了。现在，你只需要好好护理，给她足够的营养就行了。”
And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all.
"I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn"t imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn"t you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it"s Behrman"s masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell." 那天下午，苏跑到床边，琼西靠在那儿，心满意足地在织一条毫无用处的深蓝色户巾，苏艾连枕头把她一把抱住。
“我有些话要告诉你，小东西。”她说，“贝尔曼在医院里去世了。他得了肺炎，只病了两天。头天早上，看门人在楼下的房间里发现他难过得要命。他的鞋子和衣服都湿透了，冰凉冰凉的。他们想不出，在那种凄风苦雨的的夜里，他究竟是到什么地方去了。后来，他们找到了一盏还燃着的灯笼，一把从原来地方挪动过的梯子，还有几去散落的的画笔，一块 调色板，上面和了绿色和黄色的颜料，末了——看看窗外，亲爱的，看看墙上最后的一片叶子。你不是觉得纳闷，它为什么在风中不飘不动吗？啊，亲爱的，那是贝尔曼的杰作——那晚最后的一片叶子掉落时，他画在墙上的。”
以上是《最后一片常青藤》的全部内容
欧 亨利大佬打小说结句总是出人意料，大家肯定还记得曾经的试卷上的那句“欧亨利式结尾，出人意料又在情理之中吧”
好读，能看完小说，难懂，没有相应的时代背景(也可能是有英译)，这是我对我已经看过的部分大佬小说的理解
这篇《最后一片常青藤叶》中，琼西的生命和窗外孤独的常青藤叶相连，是以情养命，以物寄情的写照，缓缓等待死亡的带给人的的绝望常人难以理解。当你不能动弹，周围围绕的是孤寂阴冷与黑暗时，总渴望一束缕阳光，那时的温暖一定让人惬意的、放松的，在两个女孩儿绝望时，将死的的老画家为苏琼与西撑起了她们的希望之光。
“那是最后的一片叶子。”琼珊说，“我以为昨夜它一定会掉落的。我听到刮风的声音。它今天会脱落的，同时我也要死了。”
那片常春藤叶仍在墙上。
“我真是一个坏姑娘，苏，”琼说，“冥冥中有什么使那最后的一片叶子不掉下来，启示了我过去是多么邪恶。不想活下去是个罪恶。现在请你拿些汤来，再弄一点掺葡萄酒的牛奶，再——等一下；先拿一面小镜子给我，用枕头替我垫垫高，我想坐起来看你煮东西。
生命的律动总是感人的，无论何时 能在清晨触摸到第一缕阳光，能在傍晚看着夕阳落下都该是让人迷恋且守望的。