About Henry, the gifts of the Magi read abbreviated. O'Henry "The Gift of the Magi"

The focus of attention on these holidays is, of course, the Gospel story about the Nativity of Christ: about the Star of Bethlehem over the cave, about the journey of the Magi and their worship of the baby Jesus Christ ... Today is the time to remember the warm and touching Christmas stories, one of which was written by such a beloved many writer O. Henry.

A savior is born
into the bitter cold.
Shepherd's fires burned in the desert.
The storm raged and exhausted the soul
from the poor kings who delivered gifts.
The camels lifted their shaggy legs.
The wind howled.
Star burning in the night
watched as the three caravans of the road
converged into the cave of Christ, like rays. (Brodsky Joseph, 1963-1964)

Until now, the Nativity of Christ, which happened more than two thousand years ago, is perceived by people not as an event from the distant past, but as a time of magic and miracles. And, indeed, amazing events often happen around Christmas, the magic of which many manage to experience for themselves.
The magical atmosphere of the holiday is reflected by many writers in their Christmas stories. At the same time, the miracles described by them may not be connected at all with something supernatural, but come from the actions we have committed.

"Gifts of the Magi"

One of the warmest and most touching stories on the Christmas theme is "The Gift of the Magi", written by the not very sentimental writer O. Henry.

The title of the story - "Gifts of the Magi" - is quite symbolic. The Holy Scripture says that at the birth of Jesus Christ, over the cave where he was born, the eight-pointed Star of Bethlehem shone, which indicated to the Eastern sages that holy place where the long-awaited Savior was born.

The Magi hurried there to see the Son of God and worship him. The Magi did not come empty-handed, they brought gifts to baby Jesus: gold, frankincense, myrrh.

The star shone brightly from the sky.
The cold wind raked the snow into a snowdrift.
Rustling sand. The fire crackled at the entrance.
The smoke was like a candle. The fire curled up.
And the shadows got shorter
then suddenly longer. Nobody around knew
that the account of life will begin from this night.
The wolves have arrived. The baby was fast asleep.
Steep vaults surrounded the manger.
The snow swirled. White steam swirled.
The baby lay, and the gifts lay. (Brodsky Joseph, 1963)

Hence the tradition of giving gifts to each other on Christmas Eve.

The story described in this story is imbued with the spirit of Christmas and a magical, cozy atmosphere. And it's not just about Christmas gifts, but about priceless things that money can't buy - about selfless love and self-sacrifice.

Spouses Dillingham, living in conditions of extreme poverty, barely making ends meet, however, have two real treasures. One of them is the wife's luxurious hair, and the other is the husband's expensive family watch. The only thing missing is the appropriate accessories that can enhance the beauty of these treasures - tortoiseshell hair combs and a gold watch chain. The couple love each other very much, but they have no money for Christmas gifts. But, nevertheless, each of them will find a way out to buy a gift ...

These illustrations were made by one of the most magical artists - P. J. Lynch.

« The Magi, those who brought gifts to the baby in the manger, were, as you know, wise, surprisingly wise people. It was they who started the fashion to make Christmas gifts. And since they were wise, their gifts were wise, perhaps even with a stipulated right of exchange in case of unsuitability. And here I was telling you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other. But let it be said for the edification of the wise of our day, that of all the givers these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise. Anywhere and everywhere. They are the magi."» . (O.Henry)

A surprisingly kind Christmas story about the value of true love, described by the writer O. Henry more than a hundred years ago, still thrills readers' hearts.

The bitter fate of the merry fellow O. Henry

And it is all the more surprising that wonderful touching stories that instill in people's hearts faith in justice, love and selflessness (stories " Last page», « purple dress”, etc.), stories imbued with wonderful light, humor and jokes, were written by a man whom fate did not spoil at all during his lifetime, her blows rained down one after another. At the age of three, he lost his mother, who died of tuberculosis, and later the same disease claimed the life of his wife.

The writer himself was accused of bank embezzlement, although it is likely that the accusation was false. In the casemates of a terrible prison, he spent three and a half years, but did not give up. It was in prison that William Sidney Porter (this is his real name) began to write his first stories under the pseudonym O. Henry.
He differed from other prisoners in his cheerful disposition and kindness. " Guaranteed Cure for Bad Moods”, - this is what Porter was called by Al Jennings, who was sitting with him, who had previously hunted train robberies and became his best friend. Largely under the influence of O. Henry, having been released, Al Jennings did not return to his past life, but became a famous politician and made a career in cinema. He shared his memories of his friend in the book " With O'Henry at the bottom».

« All the world needs is a little more compassion. There are four hundred extremely wealthy families in America. And I want to make these four hundred feel like four million».

O. Henry managed to create a special world in which kind, sincere people live, who smile at each other, a world that does not want to leave.

« How hard we work, trying to hide our true self from our neighbor! Sometimes I think that life would be much easier if people did not try to pretend to be someone else, if they would just for a moment take off their masks and stop being hypocrites. We could achieve universal equality if we tried hard enough!' he once said.

And although longing and tormenting darkness often approached his soul, forcing him to seek salvation at the bottom of the glass more and more often, he could not share this with his readers and disappoint them. There is never any “darkness” in his stories, and they always end with a “happy ending”.

And O. Henry died in poverty due to cirrhosis of the liver in the summer of 1910.

Gifts of the Magi

The only thing that could be done here was to slam on the old couch and cry. That's exactly what Della did. Where does the philosophical conclusion come from that life consists of tears, sighs and smiles, and sighs predominate.

Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many happy hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.

In the wall between the windows stood a dressing table. Have you ever looked into the dressing table of an eight-dollar furnished apartment? A very thin and very mobile person can, by observing the successive change of reflections in his narrow doors, form a fairly accurate idea of \u200b\u200bhis own appearance. Della, who was of a frail build, managed to master this art.

She suddenly jumped away from the window and rushed to the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but the color drained from her face in twenty seconds. With a quick movement, she pulled out the hairpins and loosened her hair.

I must tell you that the James couple. Dillingham Young had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch, which belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon had served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the cellar, Jim, passing by; every time he would take his watch out of his pocket - especially in order to see how he tears his beard out of envy.

And then Della's beautiful hair fell apart, shining and shimmering like the jets of a chestnut waterfall. They descended below the knees and wrapped almost her entire figure in a cloak. But she immediately, nervous and in a hurry, began to pick them up again. Then, as if hesitating, she stood motionless for a minute, and two or three tears fell on the shabby red carpet.

An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sparkles in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.

The sign at which she stopped read: "M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products," Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, with difficulty catching her breath.

Will you buy my hair? she asked madam.

I buy hair, - answered madam. - Take off your hat, we need to look at the goods.

The chestnut waterfall flowed again.

Twenty dollars,” said madam, habitually weighing the thick mass on her hand.

Let's hurry, - said Della.

The next two hours flew by on pink wings - I apologize for the hackneyed metaphor. Della was shopping around looking for a present for Jim.

Finally, she found. No doubt that was created for Jim, and only for him. There was nothing like it in other stores, and she turned everything upside down in them. It was a platinum pocket watch chain, simple and strict design, captivating with its true qualities, and not ostentatious brilliance, as all good things should be. She, perhaps, could even be recognized as worthy of a watch. As soon as Della saw her, she knew that the chain must belong to Jim, She was the same as Jim himself. Modesty and dignity - these qualities distinguished both. Twenty-one dollars had to be paid to the cashier, and Della hurried home with eighty-seven cents in her pocket. With such a chain, Jim in any society will not be ashamed to ask what time it is. Gorgeous as his watch was, he often glanced at it furtively, because it hung on a wretched leather strap.

At home, Della's excitement subsided and gave way to forethought and calculation. She took out her curling iron, lit the gas, and set about repairing the damage caused by generosity combined with love. And this is always the hardest work, my friends, gigantic work.

In less than forty minutes, her head was covered with cool little curls that made her surprisingly like a boy who had run away from lessons. She looked at herself in the mirror with a long, attentive and critical look.

"Gifts of the Magi" - a summary and analysis of the short story by O. Henry

The American novelist O. Henry quickly gained popularity among admirers of the literary genre. The writer from the United States is internationally recognized as a master of short novels that have unexpected endings and are imbued with subtle humor. One of these short stories by O. Henry is the story "Gifts of the Magi". This Christmas tale, written in concise language, deserves to be read in order to capture the essence of the work and understand the depth of its content in subtle humor and summary. Below is a brief analysis of the novel.

Summary of "Gifts of the Magi" by O. Henry

On Christmas Eve, Della counts the accumulated money. But the sum of one dollar eighty-seven cents plunges her into tears. For this amount, she will not be able to buy anything as a gift to her husband. Therefore, Della decides to sell the most precious thing she has - her very long and beautiful brown hair. She sells her hair for $20, buys a platinum chain (for $21) for Jim's gold pocket watch, which he inherited from his father and grandfather. Della then returns home and waits for her husband.After returning from work and seeing his wife without beautiful hair, Jim was stunned, and Della began to reassure him that she did it for him, and that the hair would grow back. After the couple embraced, Jim tosses the bundle onto the table. Unwrapping it, Della is delighted, and then upset, because the bundle contained a set of hair combs she had liked so long ago. She says her hair will grow back quickly and hands her gift to Jim. But as you might have guessed, Jim sold his gold watch in order to buy a gift for his wife.

Brief analysis

One outstanding example of a short story with an unpredictable ending, The Gift of the Magi, was written in 1905. The author wrote his story in a small tavern in New York City. A miniature short story that meets all the features of O. Henry's talent, immediately gained popularity and recognition from readers. The story was first published in 1906 in the writer's collection Four Millions.

Subject- Self-sacrifice for love, wisdom and generosity of ordinary people, mutual devotion.

Composition— The novel begins with an exposition describing the room of the Dalingham couple. Next comes the plot, where a young woman decides to sell her hair in order to buy a gift for her husband. The culmination - the gifts are bought. The denouement of the novel - Jim and Dell sold the most expensive thing they had, and the things bought as a gift were not useful, an unexpected denouement is a feature of the composition.

Genre- The work belongs to the genre of the story.

Subject

The great American writer has always been sensitive to social inequalities. He was well aware that "small" simple people have all human feelings, and, getting into difficult life circumstances, these people put in the first place deep spiritual qualities that help them survive.

In his work, he talks about the true love of two young people, about their devotion and dedication, self-denial and sacrifice. Jim and Dell live in a cheap apartment, the most expensive thing they own is Dell's luxurious hair and Jim's gold watch. The touching love of a young couple works wonders: these people, without hesitation, sell the most expensive things in order to give each other gifts for the Christmas holiday. Gifts turn out to be unnecessary: there is no luxurious hair that could be stabbed with tortoiseshell combs, and no watch that could be hung on a chain. And these gifts are priceless - Jim and Dell endowed each other with love, gave spiritual intimacy, mutual understanding and devotion.

Therefore, the writer called his work - "Gifts of the Magi." He showed real human values. "Little" people turned out to be above everything petty and vain, their gifts turned out to be more important and valuable than the gifts of the Magi.

Composition

O. Henry begins his work with an exposition in which he describes the modest dwelling of the main characters, the beggarly and unsightly furnishings of the room. The author briefly and unobtrusively describes the characters themselves. From the picture drawn, it becomes clear that young people love each other, live, albeit poorly, but happily.

Next comes the action. Tomorrow is Christmas, and Dell has no money, and the young woman decides to sell her hair in order to buy Jim an expensive chain for his valuable watch as a gift, because it is Jim's family heirloom. Climax - Dell sells hair and buys a coveted chain. She hurries home and looks forward to her husband.

There is an unexpected denouement: Jim returns home and looks at Dell with short hair in such a way that she becomes afraid. And the thing is that the young man sold a family heirloom in order to buy his beloved wife tortoiseshell combs for her luxurious hair.

In the epilogue, the writer mentions the wise Magi and their gifts brought to the baby lying in the manger. But the wisest of the wise were these two young men who sacrificed their treasures in the name of love.

Gifts of the Magi

Hieronymus Bosch - Adoration of the Magi

O. Henry "Gifts of the Magi"

One dollar eighty seven cents. That was it. Of these, sixty cents are in one cent coins. For each of these coins, one had to bargain with a grocer, a greengrocer, a butcher, so that even the ears burned with the silent disapproval that such frugality aroused. Della counted three times. One dollar eighty seven cents.

And tomorrow is Christmas.
The only thing that could be done here was to slam on the old couch and cry. That's exactly what Della did. Where does the philosophical conclusion come from that life consists of tears, sighs and smiles, and sighs predominate.

While the mistress of the house goes through all these stages, let's look at the house itself. Furnished apartment for eight dollars a week. The atmosphere is not so much blatant poverty, but rather eloquently silent poverty. Below, on the front door, a letter-box, through which no letter could squeeze, and an electric bell-button, from which no mortal could make a sound. To this was added a card bearing the inscription: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." "Dillingham" came into full swing during a recent period of prosperity, when the owner of the said name received thirty dollars a week. Now, with that income reduced to twenty dollars, the letters in the word "Dillingham" faded, as if seriously wondering if it could be reduced to a modest and unassuming "D"? But when Mr. James Dillingham Jung came home and went upstairs to his apartment, he was invariably greeted with the exclamation of "Jim!" - and the tender embrace of Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you under the name of Della. And this is really, really cute.
Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many happy hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.
In the wall between the windows stood a dressing table. Have you ever looked into the dressing table of an eight-dollar furnished apartment? A very thin and very mobile person can, by observing the successive change of reflections in his narrow doors, form a fairly accurate idea of \u200b\u200bhis own appearance. Della, who was of a frail build, managed to master this art.
She suddenly jumped away from the window and rushed to the mirror. Her eyes sparkled, but the color drained from her face in twenty seconds. With a quick movement, she pulled out the hairpins and loosened her hair.

I must tell you that the James Dillingham Jungs had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch that belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the basement, Jim, passing by, would take out his watch from his pocket every time - especially to see how he was tearing his beard out of envy.
And then Della's beautiful hair fell apart, shining and shimmering like the jets of a chestnut waterfall. They descended below the knees and wrapped almost her entire figure in a cloak.

But she immediately, nervous and in a hurry, began to pick them up again. Then, as if hesitating, she stood motionless for a minute, and two or three tears fell on the shabby red carpet.
An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sparkles in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.
The sign at which she stopped read: “M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products. Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, panting for breath.
- Will you buy my hair? she asked madam.
"I buy hair," replied Madame. - Take off your hat, we need to look at the goods.
The chestnut waterfall flowed again.

Twenty dollars,” said madam, habitually weighing the thick mass on her hand.
"Let's hurry," Della said.
The next two hours flew by on pink wings - I apologize for the hackneyed metaphor. Della was shopping around looking for a present for Jim.

Finally she found. No doubt it was made for Jim, and only for him. Nothing like it was found in other stores, and she turned everything upside down in them. It was a platinum pocket watch chain, simple and austere in design, captivating by its true qualities, not by ostentation, as all good things should be. She, perhaps, could even be recognized as worthy of a watch. As soon as Della saw it, she knew that the chain must belong to Jim. She was just like Jim himself. Modesty and dignity - these qualities distinguished both.

Twenty-one dollars had to be paid to the cashier, and Della hurried home with eighty-seven cents in her pocket. With such a chain, Jim in any society will not be ashamed to ask what time it is. Gorgeous as his watch was, he often glanced at it furtively, because it hung on a wretched leather strap.
At home, Della's excitement subsided and gave way to forethought and calculation. She took out her curling iron, lit the gas, and set about repairing the damage caused by generosity combined with love. And this is always the hardest work, my friends, gigantic work.
In less than forty minutes, her head was covered with cool little curls that made her surprisingly like a boy who had run away from lessons. She looked at herself in the mirror with a long, attentive and critical look.
Well, she told herself, if Jim doesn't kill me as soon as he looks at me, he'll think I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what was I to do, oh, what was I to do, since I had only a dollar and eighty-seven cents!”
At seven o'clock the coffee was brewed, and the red-hot frying pan stood on the gas stove, waiting for the mutton cutlets.
Jim was never late. Della clutched the platinum chain in her hand and sat on the edge of the table near the front door. Soon she heard his footsteps down the stairs and turned pale for a moment. She had a habit of turning to God with short prayers about all sorts of worldly trifles, and she whispered hastily:
- Lord, make sure that he does not like me!
The door opened and Jim entered and closed it behind him. He had a thin, worried face. It's not easy being burdened with a family at twenty-two! He needed a new coat for a long time, and his hands were freezing without gloves.
Jim stood motionless at the door, like a setter smelling a quail. His eyes rested on Della with an expression she couldn't understand, and she became frightened. It wasn't anger, or surprise, or reproach, or horror—none of the feelings one might expect. He just stared at her without taking his eyes off her, and his face did not change its strange expression.
Della jumped off the table and rushed to him.

"Jim, honey," she cried, "don't look at me like that!" I cut my hair and sold it because I wouldn't mind if I didn't have anything to give you for Christmas. They will grow back. You're not angry, are you? I couldn't help it. My hair grows very fast. Well, wish me a Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's enjoy the holiday. If you knew what a gift I have prepared for you, what a wonderful, wonderful gift!
- Did you cut your hair? Jim asked with tension, as if, despite the increased brain activity, he still could not grasp this fact.
“Yes, she cut her hair and sold it,” said Della. "But you'll still love me, won't you?" I'm still the same, albeit with short hair.
Jim looked around the room in bewilderment.
- So, then your braids are gone? he asked with a senseless insistence.
"Don't look, you won't find them," said Della. - I'm telling you: I sold them - cut them off and sold them. Today is Christmas Eve, Jim. Be nice to me, because I did it for you. Maybe the hairs on my head can be counted,” she continued, and her gentle voice suddenly sounded serious, “but no one, no one could measure my love for you! Fry cutlets, Jim?
And Jim came out of his daze. He pulled his Della into his arms. Let's be modest and take a few seconds to consider some foreign object. Which is more - eight dollars a week or a million a year? A mathematician or a sage will give you the wrong answer. The magi brought precious gifts, but there was not one among them. However, these vague hints will be explained further.
Jim took a bundle from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.
"Don't get me wrong, Dell," he said. - No hairstyle and haircut can make me stop loving my girl. But unfold this bundle, and then you will understand why I was a little taken aback at the first minute.
White nimble fingers tore at the twine and paper. There was a cry of delight, immediately - alas! - purely feminine, replaced by a stream of tears and groans, so that it was necessary to immediately apply all the sedatives that were at the disposal of the owner of the house.
For there were combs on the table, the same set of combs - one back and two side ones - which Della had long admired reverently in one Broadway window. Lovely combs, real tortoiseshell, with glittering pebbles set into the edges, and just the color of her brown hair. They were expensive - Della knew this - and her heart long languished and languished from an unrealizable desire to possess them. And now they belonged to her, but there are no longer beautiful braids that would adorn their desired brilliance.
Nevertheless, she pressed the combs to her chest, and when at last she found the strength to raise her head and smile through her tears, she said:
- My hair grows very fast, Jim!
Then she suddenly jumped up like a scalded kitten and exclaimed:
- Oh my god!
After all, Jim had not yet seen her wonderful gift. She hurriedly handed him the chain in her open palm. The matte precious metal seemed to play in the rays of her stormy and sincere joy.
- Isn't it lovely, Jim? I ran all over the city until I found this. Now you can watch at least a hundred times a day what time it is. Give me a watch. I want to see what it will look like all together.

But Jim, instead of obeying, lay down on the couch, put both hands under his head and smiled.
"Dell," he said, "we'll have to hide our presents for now, let them lie down for a bit." They are too good for us now. I sold the watch to buy you combs.

And now, perhaps, it's time to fry the cutlets.

The Magi, those who brought gifts to the baby in the manger, were, as you know, wise, surprisingly wise people. It was they who started the fashion to make Christmas gifts. And since they were wise, their gifts were wise, perhaps even with a stipulated right of exchange in case of unsuitability. And here I was telling you an unremarkable story about two stupid children from an eight-dollar apartment who, in the most unwise way, sacrificed their greatest treasures for each other. But let it be said for the edification of the wise of our day, that of all the givers these two were the wisest. Of all those who offer and receive gifts, only those like them are truly wise. Anywhere and everywhere. They are the wolves.

While the mistress of the house goes through all these stages, let's look at the house itself. Furnished apartment for eight dollars a week. The atmosphere is not so much blatant poverty, but rather eloquently silent poverty. Below, on the front door, a letter-box, through which no letter could squeeze, and an electric bell-button, from which no mortal could make a sound. To this was added a card bearing the inscription: "Mr. James Dillingham Young." "Dillingham" came into full swing during a recent period of prosperity, when the owner of the said name received thirty dollars a week. Now, with that income reduced to twenty dollars, the letters in the word "Dillingham" faded, as if seriously wondering if it could be reduced to a modest and unassuming "D"? But when Mr. James Dillingham Jung came home and went upstairs to his apartment, he was invariably greeted with the exclamation of "Jim!" and the tender embrace of Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you under the name of Della. And this is really, really cute.

Della stopped crying and brushed her puff over her cheeks. She now stood at the window and looked despondently at the gray cat walking along the gray fence along the gray yard. Tomorrow is Christmas, and she only has one dollar and eighty-seven cents for a present for Jim! For many months she gained literally every cent, and that's all she achieved. Twenty dollars a week won't get you far. The expenses turned out to be more than she expected. This is always the case with spending. Just a dollar and eighty-seven cents for Jim's present! Her Jim! How many happy hours she spent thinking about what to give him for Christmas. Something very special, rare, precious, something just a little worthy of the high honor of belonging to Jim.

I must tell you that the James Dillingham Jungs had two treasures that were their pride. One is Jim's gold watch that belonged to his father and grandfather, the other is Della's hair. If the Queen of Sheba lived in the house opposite, Della, after washing her hair, would certainly dry her loose hair at the window - especially in order to make all the outfits and jewelry of Her Majesty fade. If King Solomon had served in the same house as a porter and kept all his wealth in the cellar, Jim, passing by; every time he would take his watch out of his pocket - especially in order to see how he tears his beard out of envy.

An old brown jacket on her shoulders, an old brown hat on her head - and, tossing her skirts, flashing with wet sequins in her eyes, she was already rushing down to the street.

The sign at which she stopped read: “M-me Sophronie. All kinds of hair products. Della ran up to the second floor and stopped, panting for breath.

Will you buy my hair? she asked madam.

I buy hair, - answered madam. - Take off your hat, we need to look at the goods.

The chestnut waterfall flowed again.

Twenty dollars,” said madam, habitually weighing the thick mass on her hand.

Let's hurry, - said Della.

The next two hours flew by on pink wings - I apologize for the hackneyed metaphor. Della was shopping around looking for a present for Jim.

Finally, she found. No doubt that was created for Jim, and only for him. There was nothing like it in other stores, and she turned everything upside down in them. It was a platinum pocket watch chain, simple and strict design, captivating with its true qualities, and not ostentatious brilliance, as all good things should be. She, perhaps, could even be recognized as worthy of a watch. As soon as Della saw it, she knew that the chain must belong to Jim. She was just like Jim himself. Modesty and dignity - these qualities distinguished both. Twenty-one dollars had to be paid to the cashier, and Della hurried home with eighty-seven cents in her pocket. With such a chain, Jim in any society will not be ashamed to ask what time it is. Gorgeous as his watch was, he often glanced at it furtively, because it hung on a wretched leather strap.

Well, she told herself, if Jim doesn't kill me as soon as he looks at me, he'll think I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what was I to do, oh, what was I to do, since I had only a dollar and eighty-seven cents!”

At seven o'clock the coffee was brewed, and the red-hot frying pan stood on the gas stove, waiting for lamb cutlets.

Jim was never late. Della clutched the platinum chain in her hand and sat on the edge of the table near the front door. Soon she heard his footsteps down the stairs and turned pale for a moment. She had a habit of turning to God with short prayers about all sorts of worldly trifles, and she whispered hastily:

Lord, make it so that he does not dislike me.

The door opened and Jim walked in and closed it behind him. He had a thin, worried face. It's not easy being burdened with a family at twenty-two! He needed a new coat for a long time, and his hands were freezing without gloves.

Jim stood motionless at the door, like a quail smelling a setter. His eyes rested on Della with an expression she could not understand, and she became Terrified. It wasn't anger, or surprise, or reproach, or horror—none of the feelings one might expect. He just stared at her without taking his eyes off her, and his face did not change its strange expression.

Della jumped off the table and rushed to him.

Jim, honey, she cried, don't look at me like that. I cut my hair and sold it because I wouldn't mind if I didn't have anything to give you for Christmas. They will grow back. You're not angry, are you? I couldn't help it. My hair grows very fast. Well, wish me a Merry Christmas, Jim, and let's enjoy the holiday. If you knew what a gift I have prepared for you, what a wonderful, wonderful gift!

Did you cut your hair? Jim asked with tension, as if, despite the increased brain activity, he still could not grasp this fact.

Yes, she cut her hair and sold it, - said Della. "But you'll still love me, won't you?" I'm still the same, albeit with short hair.

Jim looked around the room in bewilderment.

So, your braids are gone, then? he asked with a senseless insistence.

Don't look, you won't find them," said Della. - I'm telling you: I sold them - cut them off and sold them. Today is Christmas Eve, Jim. Be nice to me, because I did it for you. Maybe the hairs on my head can be counted,” she continued, and her gentle voice suddenly sounded serious, “but no one, no one could measure my love for you! Fry cutlets, Jim?

And Jim came out of his daze. He pulled his Della into his arms. Let's be modest and for a few seconds let's take a look at some foreign object. Which is more - eight dollars a week or a million a year? A mathematician or a sage will give you the wrong answer. The magi brought precious gifts, but there was not one among them. However, these vague hints will be explained further.

Jim took a bundle from his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.

Don't get me wrong, Dell, he said. - No hairstyle and haircut can make me stop loving my girl. But unfold this bundle, and then you will understand why I was a little taken aback at the first minute.

White nimble fingers tore at the twine and paper. There was a cry of delight, immediately - alas! - purely feminine, replaced by a stream of tears and groans, so that it was necessary to immediately apply all the sedatives that were at the disposal of the owner of the house.

For there were combs on the table, the same set of combs - one back and two side ones - which Della had long admired reverently in one Broadway window. Lovely combs, real tortoiseshell, with glittering pebbles set into the edges, and just the color of her brown hair. They were expensive - Della knew this - and her heart long languished and languished from an unrealizable desire to possess them. And now they belonged to her, but there are no longer beautiful braids that would adorn their desired brilliance.

Nevertheless, she pressed the combs to her chest, and when at last she found the strength to raise her head and smile through her tears, she said:

My hair grows really fast, Jim!

Then she suddenly jumped up like a scalded kitten and exclaimed:

Oh my god!

After all, Jim had not yet seen her wonderful gift. She hurriedly handed him the chain in her open palm. The matte precious metal seemed to play in the rays of her stormy and sincere joy.

Isn't it lovely, Jim? I ran all over the city until I found this. Now you can watch at least a hundred times a day what time it is. Give me a watch. I want to see what it will look like all together.

But Jim, instead of obeying, lay down on the couch, put both hands under his head and smiled.

Dell,” he said, “we'll have to hide our gifts for now, let them lie down a little. They are too good for us now. I sold the watch to buy you combs. And now, perhaps, it's time to fry the cutlets.

The story was suggested by our reader Tatyana.