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最后一片叶子The-Last-Leaf-赏析

最后一片叶子T h e-L a s t-L e a f-赏析(总4页)--本页仅作为文档封面，使用时请直接删除即可----内页可以根据需求调整合适字体及大小--最后一片叶子The Last Leaf 赏析【摘要】美国著名短篇小说家欧·亨利《最后一片叶子》描写了一个已经濒于死亡的贫穷女画家乔安西因为一片永不凋落的常春藤叶而恢复健康的离奇故事，塑造了一个命运不济，但品德高尚的老画家贝尔门的形象，歌颂了他舍己为人的崇高精神，从而唱出了一曲生命与希望的赞歌，歌颂了人性的美与善。

《最后一片叶子》作为欧·亨利的代表作，充分体现了这位“世界短篇小说之王”的创作特色。

文中作者着力挖掘和赞美小人物的伟大人格和高尚品德，展示他们向往人性世界的美好愿望The Novel "The Last Leaf" is about a young girl decidesthat she will die when the last leaf drops from a dying vine outside her window, as lingering pneumonia slowly takes her will to live. Her neighbor, Art Carney, is an elderly artist frustrated by his inability to paint what is in his heart. In an attempt to save the young girl, he creates the masterpiece he has been struggling to paint. A beautifully shot and moving story. This excellent short novel is my favorite story. Art Carney does a great job, although his character is French in this version, as opposed to the German character in the book. and just like the book,it truly touched the heart of its reader.【关键词】生命；希望；赞歌；一、希望的使者“当最后一片叶子落下时，生命就都结束了，我也得离开这个世界而去了”，女画家乔安西，患了肺炎濒临大限时，丧失了生的希望，她天天躺在床上望着窗外长春藤上的叶子想：等到最后一片叶子凋零时，我的生命也就走到了尽头。

【英文原版小说】欧·亨利短篇小说-TheLastLeaf最后一片叶子

The Last Leaf最后一片叶子IIn a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'h?te of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well.Has she anything on her mind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, 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 illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.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.Sue look 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."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?""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, so 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.""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."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.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."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.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."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.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.""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 itsstem 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. When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.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."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."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. "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."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."在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道都横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。

最后一片叶子剧本the last leaf

Johnsy： Sue： DoctorBerhman 旁白情景一旁白：In November, a terrible virous- Pneumonia, touching here and there with his icy fingers. （拿起一张写有Pneumonia的纸条给观众看，拿几张团成纸团抛向群众，抛向谁谁咳嗽）【琼西伏案写着日记。

（这时抛向了Johnsy）然后先咳嗽再逐渐面色苍白的在床上躺着，一动不动的盯着窗外。

快要哭了。

】【苏这时在买菜回来的路上。

】医生：Sue, wait for me, I have something to tell you. Your friendJohnsy has one chance in ten,And that chance is for her towant to live. She has made up her mind that she's not goingto get well. （语气沉重地）Has she anything on her mind?苏：She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day.医生：Paint? - bosh! （难以置信地）Has she anything on her mindworth thinking about twice - a man for instance?苏： "A man?"（有一点轻蔑的大声说） "Is a man worth - but, nodoctor; （坚定地）there is nothing of the kind."医生：Well, But whenever my patient begins to count how manydays are left to her, I half the power of medicines情景二【医生走后，苏艾走进工作室里，把一条日本餐巾哭成一团湿。

最后一片叶子The-Last-Leaf-赏析

最后一片叶子The-Last-Leaf-赏析
《The Last Leaf》是美国著名作家奥恩斯坦伯格创作的美丽感人的短篇小说。

乔瓦
尼（Johnsy）是一位很有天赋的艺术家，但是在秋日中患上恶劣的肺病，体重急剧减轻，
急需抢救。

不久，她的生命垂危，她定义了一个游戏，他说第一片枯黄的叶子从枝头掉下
来她就会离开人世。

格伦（Behme）是一个年遽长老，他对乔瓦尼极为关心。

当他看到乔瓦尼这样迟期把
临终之交，心里孤寂而震动。

夜里，他独自去散步，就像在接受抗争的考验。

夜晚，他偷
偷爬到楼上，用他的老手拼拼凑凑描绘出一片绿叶，藏在乔瓦尼的窗外，并献给她。

当乔瓦尼从绝病中苏醒，她惊叹窗外一片翠绿叶子，而这片绿叶不仅意味着她的生命
即将延续，更代表了格伦对他的无私付出。

从《The Last Leaf》我们可以感受到作者给我们传达出来的含义：勇敢地面对挫折，勇往直前，克服困境，积极面对生活，不断努力，永不放弃，不要轻言放弃。

最后，《The Last Leaf》向我们展示了无私的爱，让我们见证了爱的奇妙与力量。

无论一个人处于怎样的境况，都可以带来爱的温暖和模范的精神。

The_last_leaf(最后一片叶子)

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna.In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building.One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room."She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?""She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue."Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?""A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines."After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting -- counting backward. "Twelve," she said, and a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together.Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An oldivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear?" asked Sue."Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were -- let's see exactly what he said ¨C he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us.""You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. 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, "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 tomorrow.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "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 Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always beenplanning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it.He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?""She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas.""This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow.Behrman sat and posed as the miner.The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window."Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly.Sue obeyed.After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters 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 today and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer.The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup."I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now."An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway."Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain."The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all."Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night.And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it.And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."。

最后一片树叶的故事英文作文的续写150字

最后一片树叶的故事英文作文的续写150字The last leaf swayed gently in the breeze, its green color a stark contrast to the barren branches surrounding it. For days, it had held on stubbornly, refusing to succumb to the inevitable arrival of winter. It seemed to be a symbol of hope, a reminder that life could still thrive in the midst of adversity.最后一片树叶在微风中轻轻摇曳，它的绿色与周围光秃秃的树枝形成了鲜明的对比。

几天来，它顽强地坚持着，不愿屈服于冬天的必然到来。

它似乎是希望的象征，提醒着人们在逆境中生命仍然可以茁壮成长。

The last leaf's story spread throughout the town, capturing the hearts of all who heard it. People came from far and wide to witness this small miracle, to draw inspiration from the leaf's unwavering determination. Some even brought offerings of water and nutrients, hoping to help the leaf hold on for just a little while longer.最后一片叶子的故事在整个小镇上传开，打动了所有听说它的人的心。

人们从远方涌来，目睹这个小小的奇迹，从叶子坚定不移的意志中汲取灵感。

最后一片叶子

苏艾把琼珊的胡思乱想告诉了他，还说她害怕琼珊自个儿瘦小柔弱得像一片叶子一样，对这个世界的留恋越来越微弱，恐怕真会离世飘走了。
老贝尔曼两只发红的眼睛显然在迎风流泪，他十分轻蔑地嗤笑这种傻呆的胡思乱想。
• 他们上楼以后，琼珊正睡着觉。苏艾把窗帘拉下，一直遮住窗台，做手势叫贝尔曼到隔壁屋子里去。他们在那里提心吊胆地瞅着窗外那棵常春藤。后来他们默默无言，彼此对望了一会。寒冷的雨夹杂着雪花不停地下着。贝尔曼穿着他的旧蓝衬衣，坐在一把翻过来充当岩石的铁壶上，扮作隐居的矿工。
“哎呀，哎呀，”苏艾把疲乏的脸庞挨近枕头边上对她说，“你不肯为自己着想，也得为我想想啊。我可怎么办呢？” 可是琼珊不回答。当一个灵魂正在准备走上那神秘的、遥远的死亡之途时，她是世界上最寂寞的人了。那些把她和友谊极大地联结起来的关系逐渐消失以后，她那个狂想越来越强烈了。白天总算过去了，甚至在暮色中她们还能看见那片孤零零的藤叶仍紧紧地依附在靠墙的枝上。后来，夜的来临带来呼啸的北风，雨点不停地拍打着窗子，雨水从低垂的荷兰式屋檐上流泻下来。
苏艾去楼下找插画对象，贝尔曼老贝尔曼是住在她们这座楼房底层的一个画家。他年过60，有一把像米开朗琪罗的摩西雕像那样的大胡子，这胡子长在一个像半人半兽的森林之神的头颅上，又鬈曲地飘拂在小鬼似的身躯上。贝尔曼是个失败的画家。他操了四十年的画笔，还远没有摸着艺术女神的衣裙。他老是说就要画他的那幅杰作了，可是直到现在他还没有动笔。几年来，他除了偶尔画点商业广告之类的玩意儿以外，什么也没有画过。他给艺术区里穷得雇不起职业模特儿的年轻画家们当模特儿，挣一点钱。他喝酒毫无节制，还时常提起他要画的那幅杰作。除此以外，他是一个火气十足的小老头子，十分瞧不起别人的温情，却认为自己是专门保护楼上画室里那两个年轻女画家的一只看家犬。

欧亨利《最后一片叶子》(又名《最后的常春藤叶》)课件PPT(35页)

整体感知
故事发生在什么地方？
故事发生在华盛顿广场西边的一个胡同区里。
整体感知
作者围绕最后一片叶子写了哪些人物？哪些是主要人物？
作者所写的人物：苏、琼西、贝尔曼、医生。主要人物：苏、琼西、贝尔曼。
整体感知
“最后一片叶子” 在全文起什么作用？
答：“最后一片叶子”起到了贯穿文章故事情节的作用，连接了琼西由病重到好转、贝尔曼去世的事件。
侧面—— 通过医生和苏的对话间接写贝尔曼。贝尔曼为了挽救琼西的生命，冒雨画最后一片叶子，得了肺炎去世。他是一个有自我牺牲的精神的人。
内容探究
总结：贝尔曼在他平凡甚至有点讨厌的外表下，藏着一颗火热的爱心，虽然穷困潦倒，却默默关心、帮助他人，甚至不惜付出生命的代价。
NEIRONGTANJIU
创作背景
《最后一片叶子》的故事的场景是纽约市的格林尼治艺术家聚居区。百年来，那里已然从身处窘境的文人聚居区发展为举世闻名的艺术中心和旅游胜地。因此，从欧·亨利的创作时代即可获得主人公的生存状况，他们是许多未成名艺术家的代表，他们梦想着改变现状。
The last leaf
文章体裁
小
Fiction
说
• 小说是以塑造人物形象为中心，通过故事情节叙述和环境描写反映社会生活的一种文学体裁。
• 人物形象、故事情节、环境是小说的三要素。
• 其中，人物是最主要的要素。人物是小说的核心，情节是骨GANZHI
生字词
bǐ bó
鄙薄
wēn
瘟神
miè
轻蔑
xǔ
自诩
dònɡ tɑn
NEIRONGTANJIU
内
容
2.在琼西命悬一线的情况下，苏是如何照顾她的？

The last leaf(最后一片叶子)

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna.In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building.One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room."She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?""She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue."Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?""A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines."After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting -- counting backward. "Twelve," she said, and a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together.Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An oldivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear?" asked Sue."Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were -- let's see exactly what he said ¨C he said the chances were ten to one! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us.""You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. 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, "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 tomorrow.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "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 Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always beenplanning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?""She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas.""This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner.The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window."Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly.Sue obeyed.After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters 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 today and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer.The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there. Johnsy lay for a long time, looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was preparing chicken soup."I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now."An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway."Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain."The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all."Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night.And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it.And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."。

Thelastleaf最后一片叶子

Thelastleaf最后一片叶子作者：谢飞来源：《中学生英语·学生综合天地》2012年第11期《最后一片叶子》，也译为《最后的常春藤叶》是美国著名批判现实主义作家欧·亨利（O.Henry）的代表作之一。

他是世界三大短篇小说大师之一，他善于挖掘和赞美小人物的伟大人格和高尚品德，展现他们向往人性世界的美好愿望。

本故事让我们为琼西的命运紧张了一番，为苏的友谊感叹了一回，为贝尔曼的博爱震撼了一次。

1.In a little district west of Washington Square，Sue and Johnsy had their studio at the top of a squatty，three-story brick.在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，苏和琼西的画室设在一所又宽又矮的三层楼砖房的顶楼上。

2.“Johnsy”was familiar for Joanna.One was from Maine；the otherfrom California.They had met at a Caféin the street in May and found they had a lot in common，so they rented the joint studio.“琼西”是琼娜的昵称。

她俩一个来自缅因州，一个来自加利福尼亚州。

她们五月在街上的咖啡厅相遇，发现彼此有很多相同之处，便合租了那间画室。

3.In November，Pneumonia spread in the district，many people were contracted，and Johnsy was one of the victims.She lay on her bed，scarcely moving，looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.到了11月，肺炎在这个区蔓延，很多人都感染了，琼西也患上了可怕的肺炎。

（整理）The_last_leaf（最后一片叶子中文翻译）

（整理）The_last_leaf（最后一片叶子中文翻译）The last leaf中文译文注：这是欧·亨利小说原文的中文译文，仅供参考。

在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道都横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。

这些“胡同”稀奇古怪地拐着弯子。

一条街有时自己本身就交叉了不止一次。

有一回一个画家发现这条街有一种优越性：要是有个收帐的跑到这条街上，来催要颜料、纸张和画布的钱，他就会突然发现自己两手空空，原路返回，一文钱的帐也没有要到！所以，不久之后不少画家就摸索到这个古色古香的老格林尼治村来，寻求朝北的窗户、18世纪的尖顶山墙、荷兰式的阁楼，以及低廉的房租。

然后，他们又从第六街买来一些蜡酒杯和一两只火锅，这里便成了“艺术区”。

苏和琼西的画室设在一所又宽又矮的三层楼砖房的顶楼上。

“琼西”是琼娜的爱称。

她俩一个来自缅因州，一个是加利福尼亚州人。

她们是在第八街的“台尔蒙尼歌之家”吃份饭时碰到的，她们发现彼此对艺术、生菜色拉和时装的爱好非常一致，便合租了那间画室。

那是5月里的事。

到了11月，一个冷酷的、肉眼看不见的、医生们叫做“肺炎”的不速之客，在艺术区里悄悄地游荡，用他冰冷的手指头这里碰一下那里碰一下。

在广场东头，这个破坏者明目张胆地踏着大步，一下子就击倒几十个受害者，可是在迷宫一样、狭窄而铺满青苔的“胡同”里，他的步伐就慢了下来。

肺炎先生不是一个你们心目中行侠仗义的老的绅士。

一个身子单薄，被加利福尼亚州的西风刮得没有血色的弱女子，本来不应该是这个有着红拳头的、呼吸急促的老家伙打击的对象。

然而，琼西却遭到了打击；她躺在一张油漆过的铁床上，一动也不动，凝望着小小的荷兰式玻璃窗外对面砖房的空墙。

一天早晨，那个忙碌的医生扬了扬他那毛茸茸的灰白色眉毛，把苏叫到外边的走廊上。

“我看，她的病只有十分之一的恢复希望，”他一面把体温表里的水银柱甩下去，一面说，“这一分希望就是她想要活下去的念头。

有些人好像不愿意活下去，喜欢照顾殡仪馆的生意，简直让整个医药界都无能为力。

The last leaf 剧本

The last leaf (最后一片叶子)剧本Scene 1It was the deep autumn of New York. The life there was not as bustling and noisy as it used to be. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. In a cabin located in the western part of Washington square, a mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs became another victim of him. Unfortunately, it was Johnsy. And she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow.D:"She has one chance in - let us say, ten," (边说边甩着体温表)"And that chance is for her to want to live. But it seems your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" S:"She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day."D:"Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?"S:"A man? Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind."(扯着嗓子)D:"Well, it is the weakness, then, I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten.(医生走开，苏珊低声啜泣，而后故作镇定地拿着画板进入房间)S：Johnsy.J: Oh,here you come back,Sudie.（有气无力）S:Yes,dear. （走到她床边，握着她的手）J: Has the doctor gone?S: Umm. Well, if it wasn’t me who led him the way, I’m afraid….I’m afraid he would be stuck in the missing alley!（含着怨气）J: Twelve,eleven,ten……S: Johnsy, What are you counting for?J: "Six," (用气音)"They're falling faster now. Oh, there goes another one. There are only five left now."S: Five what, my dear?J: "Leaves. On the ivy vine. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy.（伤感）S: Oh, don’t do things like that! I’ll pull the shade down so that you won’t catch a cold.J: No! Please don’t, Sue…S: OK,OK, I’ll keep off the curtain. Then lie down my dear, just do not count those leaves any more.J: Poor leaves. There will be none left before long. And would a girl like me who’s about to go to the heaven be afraid of catching cold? No, certainly not.S: Oh, I’ve never heard of such nonsense. The doctor have just said that you’re getting well. How could a slight illness like this do harm to you since you are so young and charming? That’s exactly what the doctor told me!J:Sue, look at me. Don’t deny that you’ve wept. If I were going to recover, why would your face be covered with tears? I’ m not silly. I’ve read the newspaper. The pneumonia caused by flu have taken away so many people’s lives and I….I’ll be the next.旁白：琼西脸色惨白，静静地躺着，活像一尊倒塌下来的塑像，她闭上眼睛说……Johnsy opened her mouth, with her eyes closed, and lying white and still as fallen statue.J: Because I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. 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.S: My child, don’t be so silly. What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? How can you link your life with a small ivy leaf? Please do not say things like that. I’ll never let you speak that sort of words, Johnsy.J: Sue, please don’t blame me. Neither do I want to leave you as well as the beautiful world. However, I’ve tried my best to defend, like the weak leaf. I believe it doesn’t want to fall down, but how could it survive without any strength?S: No, Johnsy. Throw away the leaves from your brain, ok? Let’s think about something marvelous. Let’s think about the Bay of Naples, the motherland of VG, and the SN River in Paris.J: Oh, that’s right. We’ve engaged to travel around the Europe together and realize our artistic dreams.S：Yes, and to save up for that, we cut back daily expenses, never dine out, never buy fashionable clothes and keep off any banquet.J:(转头看窗外) There fall down another leaf and only 3 left. Tomorrow…tomorrow there’ll be none left.S: Johnsy, I beg you! Please don’t count the leaves any more.旁白：老贝尔门是住在楼下底层的一个画家。

thelastleaf课文原文及翻译

thelastleaf课文原文及翻译The Last LeafBeside the artery of the little street, there was a small IRISH shop. Across the street, there was an old brown art studio with a large sofa near the windows. Two young friends, Johnsy and Sue, most of the time stayed in the little studio.在那条小街道的一头，有一间小小的爱尔兰商店。

街对面，有一间陈色的艺术工作室，室内靠窗有一张大沙发。

两个年轻的朋友约翰西和苏，大部分时间呆在那间小工作室里。

It was the autumn of the year and the city had cold wind blowing in from the sea. One night, Johnsy made a statement that she hoped all the ivy leaves would be gone from the wall. They were the last leaves on the old wall, and now they were all shaking because of the cold wind.当时正值秋天，海风带来寒意。

一天晚上，约翰西说，希望墙上所有常春藤的叶子能够掉光。

它们是那陈旧墙壁上的最后一片叶子，现在受到寒风的吹动，正在摇曳。

Sue told her that it was a silly idea, but Johnsy just wanted to see the last leaf fall to make her happy. Then Sue went out to have a look at the leaves. Strangely, there was still one leaf on the wall, but it was not moving, no matter how much the wind blew.苏认为约翰西的想法很蠢，但约翰西仍然希望看到最后一片叶子掉落，让自己乐上加乐。

The Last Leaf( 最后一片叶子)

Main idea of the story
What happened to Johnsy?
“In November, pneumonia came to that part of the city. Many people caught it, and Johnsy was among them.”
2. Surprising ending:
What happened to the old Behrman?
The Theme of the story
Human Touch Power of Belief Self-sacrifice(自我牺牲)
What is human touch?
Human touch is the love, care, friendship and concern of people towards each other.
“She was looking out of the window and was counting… There was a wall covered with an old vine growing half way up it.” “When the last leaf falls, I must go, too.”
Self-sacrifice: the greatness in humanity
Old Behrman sacrificed his own life to save Johnsy. He is a hero!
In our real life, many people choose to make sacrifices for the persons and things they care.

(最后一片叶子)--欧亨利

The Last LeafIn a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called"places."These"places"make strange angles and curves.One Street crosses itself a time or two.An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street.Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should,in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back,without a cent having been paid on account!So,to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling,hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents.Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue,and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty,three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio."Johnsy"was familiar for Joanna.One was from Maine;the other from California.They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street"Delmonico's,"and found their tastes in art,chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May.In November a cold,unseen stranger,whom the doctors called Pneumonia,stalked about the colony,touching one here and there with his icy fingers.Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly,smiting his victims by scores,but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."最后一片叶子在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道都横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。

The Last Leaf 最后一片叶子

The Last Leaf 最后一片叶子作者：张宁来源：《中学生英语·九年级》2020年第09期●Our story today is called “The Last Leaf”. It was written by O. Henry.○我们今天的故事叫做《最后一片叶子》，是欧·亨利写的。

Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio1 apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy’s real name was Joanna.In November， a cold， unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease， pneumonia2，killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed， hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building.One morning， a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room.“She has one chance in—let us say， ten，” he said. “And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind？”“She—she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day，” said Sue.“Paint？” said the doctor. “Bosh3！Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice—a man for example？”“A man？” said Sue. “Is a man worth—but， no，doctor; there is nothing of the kind.”“I will do all that science can do，” said the doctor. “But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages4 at her funeral5，I take away fifty percent from the curative6 power of medicines.”After the doctor had gone，Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy’s room with her drawing board， whistling7 ragtime8.Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling， thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to “Art” by makin g pictures for magazine stories. Sue heard a low sound， several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting—counting backward. “Twelve，” she said，and a little later “eleven”; and then “ten” and “nine”; and then “eight” and “seven”， almost together.Sue looked out the window. What was there to count？ There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy9 vine10， going bad at the roots， climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches，almost bare， hung on the bricks.“What is it， dear？” asked Sue.“Six，” said Johnsy，quietly. “They’re falling faster no w. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it’s easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.”“Five what， dear？” asked Sue.“Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go，too. I’ve known that for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you？”“Oh， I never heard of such a thing，” said Sue. “What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well？And you used to love that vine. Don’t be silly. 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！Try to eat some soup now. And， let me go back to my drawing， so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us.”“You needn’t get any more wine，” said Johnsy， keeping her eyes fixed out the window. “There goes another one. No，I don’t want any soup. 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，“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 tomorrow.”“Tell me as soon as you have finished，” said Johnsy， closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue11. “I want to see the last one fall. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of thinking. I want to turn loose12 my hold on everything， and go sailing13 down， down， just like one of those poor，tired leaves.”“Try to sleep，” said Sue. “I must call Mr. Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner14. Don’t try to move until I come back.”Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years， he had always been planning to paint a work of art， but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce15， little， old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas16 that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. “Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine？ Why do you let that silly business come in her brain？”“She is very sick and weak，” said Sue，“and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas.”“This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick，” yelled Behrman. “Some day I will paint a masterpiece，and we shall all go away.”“Five what， dear？” asked Sue.“Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go，too. I’ve known that for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you？”“Oh， I never heard of such a thing，” said Sue. “What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well？ And you used to love that vine. Don’t be silly. 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！Try to eat some soup now. And， let me go back to my drawing， so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us.”“You needn’t get any more wine，” said Johnsy， keeping her eyes fixed out the window. “There goes another one. No，I don’t want any soup. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fa ll before it gets dark. Then I’ll go，too.”“Johnsy， dear，” said Sue，“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 tomorrow.”“Tell me as soon as you ha ve finished，” said Johnsy， closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue11. “I want to see the last one fall. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of thinking. I want to turn loose12 my hold on everything， and go sailing13 down， down， just like one of those poor，tired leaves.”“Try to sleep，” said Sue. “I must call Mr. Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner14. Don’t try to move until I come back.”Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years， he had always been planning to paint a work of art， but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce15， little， old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas16 that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. “Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine？ Why do you let that silly business come in her brain？”“She is very sick and weak，” said Sue，“and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas.”“This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick，” yelled Behrman. “Some day I will paint a masterpiece， and we shall all go away.”“Five what， dear？” asked Sue.“Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go，too. I’ve known that for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you？”“Oh， I never heard of such a thing，” said Sue. “What hav e old ivy leaves to do with your getting well？And you used to love that vine. Don’t be silly. 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！Try to eat some soup now. And， let me go back to my drawing， so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us.”“You needn’t get any more wine，” said Johnsy， keeping her eyes fixed out the window. “There goes another one. No，I don’t want any soup. 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，“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 tomorrow.”“Tell me as soon as you have finished，” said Johnsy， closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue11. “I want to see the last one fall. I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of thinking. I want to turn loose12 my hold on everything， and go sailing13 down， down， just like one of those poor，tired leaves.”“Try to sleep，” said Sue. “I must call Mr. Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner14. Don’t try to move until I come back.”Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years， he had always been planning to paint a work of art， but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce15， little， old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him.Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas16 that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf.Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. “Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine？ Why do you let that silly business come in her brain？”“She is very sick and weak，” said Sue，“and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas.”“This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick，” yelled Behrman. “Some day I will paint a masterpiece，and we shall all go away.”。

最后一片叶子TheLastLeaf

最后一片叶子 The Last Leaf最后一片叶子 The Last LeafThe Last Leaf is a short story written by O Henry,Settled in Greenwich Village.Its depicts characters and themes are typically of O Henry’s wo rk.Johnsy has fallen ill and is dying of pneumonia.She watches the leaves falling from the window of her room,and decides that when the last leaf drops,she will die,too.To encourage her,Mr.Behrman painted the last leaf in a stormy night but he died of pneumonia because of his efforts in the storm.This is a sad story about sacrifice as well as a moving story about hope.Likewise,we can learn about something from this story,something that totally different from each other.Everyone has a certain purpose that support all his life,and we call it hope.Hope means an oasis to a man walking in the desert.From Johnsy’s recovery,there’s no doubt that hope is her holy light which points out her direction.Meanwhile,everything should be paid off,including kindness.Mayb e we can consider Johnsy’s recovery as an exchange with Mr.Behrman’s sacrifice.No wonder it will be a cruel comparison,but it is an universal routine in the world.In addition,it warns us not to let ourselves have our own way without limitation.。

最后一片叶子[中英对照]

最后一片叶子（欧亨利小说）编辑《最后一片叶子》，一译《最后的常春藤叶》，主人公是琼西、苏艾、贝尔曼。

文中作者着力挖掘和赞美小人物的伟大人格和高尚品德，展示他们向往人性世界的美好愿望。

最后一片叶子”的故事，着实让我们为琼西的命运紧张了一番，为苏艾的友谊感叹了一回，为贝尔曼的博爱震撼了一次。

作者通过对穷苦朋友间友谊的描写，刻画出一个舍己为人的以自己生命为代价创造真正杰作的画家形象，讴歌了以贝尔曼为代表的普通人的高尚。

书名最后一片叶子又名最后的常春藤叶作者欧·亨利原版名称The Last Leaf装帧平装开本161作者简介▪生平▪手法2作品内容3作品原文▪中文原文▪英文原文4作品赏析1作者简介编辑生平1862年9月11日，美国最著名的短篇小说家之——欧·亨利（O.Henry）出生于美国北卡罗来纳州有个名叫格林斯波罗的小镇。

曾被评论界誉为曼哈顿桂冠散文作家和美国现代短篇小说之父。

1862年他出身于美国北卡罗来纳州格林斯波罗镇一个医师家庭。

父亲是医生。

他原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)。

他所受教育不多，15岁便开始在药房当学徒，20岁时由于健康原因去德克萨斯州的一个牧场当了两年牧牛人，积累了对西部生活的亲身经验。

1884年以后做过会计员、土地局办事员、新闻记者。

此后，他在德克萨斯做过不同的工作，包括在奥斯汀银行当出纳员。

他还办过一份名为《滚石》的幽默周刊，并在休斯敦一家日报上发表幽默小说和趣闻逸事。

1887年，亨利结婚并生了一个女儿。

正当他的生活颇为安定之时，却发生了一件改变他命运的事情。

1896年，奥斯汀银行指控他在任职期间盗用资金。

他为了躲避受审，逃往洪都拉斯。

1897年，后因回家探视病危的妻子被捕入狱，判处5年徒刑。

在狱中曾担任药剂师，他创作第一部作品的起因是为了给女儿买圣诞礼物，但基于犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法国药典的编者的名字作为笔名，在《麦克吕尔》杂志发表。

THE LAST LEAF(最后一片常春藤叶英文改写)

THE LAST LEAFI’m Johnsy. Sue, my best friend, and I met at a cafe on Eighth Street. We have the same tastes in art chicory salad and bishop sleeves, so we joint studio.In November, unfortunately, the Pneumonia stalked about the district. When I heart that I was among the victims, everything seemed to lose color. I was too disappointed to live because of the small chances. However, Sue, never losing confidence, was always staying with me and looking after me. Every time when the doctor invited Sue into the hallway, I know my body condition is worse. In order to encourage me, she created cheerful atmosphere.But for me, I was a pessimistic person that I have no optimistic attitude to fight with the illness. I looked out of the window. I noticed an old ivy vine which only has few leaves in the bare, dreary yard. The cold breath of autumn had blown away its leaves. “Twelve, eleven, ten,”I counted the lucky leaves of the tree. “Six,” I said, 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.” I thought my life is similar to the leaves of tree.“Sue. When the last one falls I must go, too. I’ve know that for three days.” I told to her. “Look. That leaves just four. I want to see the last onefall before it gets dark. I’ll go, too.” After hearing that, her face blanched. She let me try to sleep. Then, she called Behrman up to be her model for the old miner.Lying on the sickbed, I thought nothing. I was tired of thinking and waiting. I just wanted to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves. Gradually, I fell asleep. Maybe, tomorrow, I would go another place.The beating rain and fierce wind never stopped all night. When I awoke, I asked Sue to pull the curtain up. What surprised me was that the last leaf on the vine. The day wore away and even through the twilight we could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall.At this moment, I suddenly felt that I was so selfish. The weak leaf could live through the horrible nigh. On the contrary, I just wanted to die.I felt sorry to myself and my best friend. I knew I must build up the confidence. I told to Sue, “You bring me a little soup now, and some milk with a little port in it, and then pack some pillows.” Sue was too happy to say a word.With the care of Sue and doctor, finally, I beat the disease. Because of the last leaf, I restored my confidence. However, indeed, a man, Mr. Behrman, is more important than the last leaf. I will never forget Mr. Behrman. I thank him more than I can say.Mr. Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath us.Perhaps in other’ mind, he was not a great person. He was a failure in art. For forty years he had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but never began it. He drank gin to excess and also had a bad temper. Besides, he was a fierce little old man, who mocked terribly at softness in any one. Indeed, he was a warm and friendly person.Sue invited Behrman to be her model that day. Sue told him of my fancy, painting the Bay of Maples some day, and how she feared I would ,indeed, light and fragile as a leaf ,float away. Although he showed his contempt for such foolish imaginings after hearing that, the tears fell down. In his heart, he was deeply moved.At that night, I could not imagine how he spent such horrible night. He used the lantern to light the way and used the ladder climb up the old ivy vine and hung the painted leaf when the last leaf fell. No one knew that he was ill.It was Mr. Behrman’s masterpiece painting the last leaf. The leaf changed my fate. But, Mr. Behrman left us forever because of the pneumonia.。

欧亨利欧亨利最后一片叶子

欧亨利-欧亨利最后一片叶子最后一片叶子。

《最后一片叶子》是美国作家欧·亨利的作品。

该作品描写一位老画家为患肺炎而奄奄一息的穷学生画最后一片长春藤叶的故事。

老画家贝尔曼是一个在社会底层挣扎了一辈子的小人物。

一生饱经风霜。

穷困潦倒。

却热爱绘画艺术。

为挽救一个青年画家的生命而献出了自己的生命。

作品名称,最后一片叶子。

外文名称,The last leaf。

作品别名,最后一片常青藤叶。

文学体裁,短篇小说。

作者,欧·亨利。

作品字数,约4100字。

作品首发,1905年。

内容简介。

《最后一片叶子》描写的是华盛顿贫民窟的两个年青的画家苏和琼西同她们的邻居贝尔曼之间发生的故事。

琼西在寒冷的十一月患上了严重的肺炎。

并且其病情越来越重。

作为画家的她。

将生命的希望寄托在窗外最后一片藤叶上。

以为藤叶落下之时。

就是她生命结束之时。

于是。

她失去了活下去的勇气和信念。

作为她的朋友苏很伤心。

便将琼西的想法告诉了老画家贝尔曼。

这个老画家是个脾气火爆。

爱取笑人的酒鬼。

终日与酒为伴。

画了近四十年的画。

一事无成。

每天都说要创作出一篇惊世之作。

却始终只是空谈。

但是他对这两位年青的画家却是照顾有佳。

他听到了此事后。

便骂了一通。

但仍无计可施。

然而令人惊奇的事发生了：尽管屋外的风刮得那样厉害。

而锯齿形的叶子边缘已经枯萎发黄。

但它仍然长在高高的藤枝上。

琼西看到最后一片叶子仍然挂在树上。

叶子经过凛冽的寒风依然可以存留下来。

自己为什么不能？于是又重拾生的信念。

顽强地活了下来。

可是故事并不是到此就结束了。

真相才刚刚打开：原来是年过六旬的贝尔曼。

在一个风雨交加的夜晚。

为了画上最后一片藤叶。

因着凉。

染上了肺炎。

在他生命的最后时刻。

他终于完成了令人震撼的杰作。

创作背景。

19世纪末20世纪初。

美国社会处于历史大变动时期。

1861年至1865年的美国南北内战。

最终推翻了残酷落后的黑人奴隶制度。

1873年7月。

林肯阐述了一个理想政府的三条原则。

即民治。