The Merchant of Venice (briefly)

The Merchant of Venice

There was a merchant, Antonio, who lived in Venice. Everybody liked Antonio because he was a good mam. He had many ships that travelled to other countries. He sold things to people in these other countries, and bought things from them. At the time of our story, Antonio's ships were all at sea.

Antonio had many friends, but his dearest friend was called I3assanio. He loved Bassanio very much. When Bassanio's father died, he left his son a lot of money. But Bassanio soon spent it all; he became poor and very unhappy.

Bassanio was in love with Portia, a lady from Belmont, near Venice. Portia's father died and left her all his money So Portia was beautiful and very rich. Bassanio was sad because he had no money He knew that many rich young men went to Belmont. They all hoped to marry Portia. So he asked Antonio to lend him 3,000 gold pieces for the journey.

`I haven't any money now,' replied Antonio. `All my money is with my ships at sea. I'm waiting for them to return.

`But many people here know me and will lend money to me. I'll pay it back when my ships return. Go and find me a money­lender.Then I'll lend the money to you.You can go to Belmont and marry Portia:

So Bassanio went to a money-lender. This man's name was Shylock.

Shylock had a lot of money, but he loved it too much. He lent money to merchants. But they had to pay him back a lot more money than they borrowed. Antonio didn't like Shylock's way of doing business and Shylock didn't like Antonio either.

`Antonio is kind and will lend his money to everyone,' Shylock thought. `People only have to pay back what they

borrowed. He makes things very difficult for me. And he often tells the other merchants that my way of doing business is wrong. He's my enemy and I can't forgive him:

Bassanio asked Shylock to lend Antonio 3,000 gold pieces for three months.This made Shylock very happy.

` Now at last I have a way to catch Antonio,' he said to himself. `I can make things very difficult for him.'

When Shylock met Antonio, he said to him, `You don't like my way of making moneyYou've often called me a"dog" in the past. But now you've come to me because you need my help.You want me to lend you money But what shall I say to you ? Does a " dog " have money? Can a "dog" lend a person 3,000 gold pieces? Shall I lend you money because you called me a"dog"?'

But Antonio wasn't afraid of Shylock.

` If you decide to lend me money,' he replied, ` don't lend it to me as a fi-iend. Lend it to me as an enemy. Then if I can't pay you back, you can punish me for it:

`But I want to be your friend,' said Shylock. `I want to forget what you've done to me in the past. I'll lend you 3,000 gold pieces and you don't have to pay me back more than that.'

` That's very good of you, Shylock,' said Bassanio.

Then Shylock laughed and said, `But now let's have a little joke. If you don't pay me back 3,000 gold pieces at the end of three months, you must give me a pound of your flesh. I'll cut the flesh from a part of your body as I like. Do you agree ?'

Antonio thought that this was a good joke. So he laughed and agreed. But Bassanio was afraid and said, `Please don't agree to this stupid idea of Shylock's. I don't want you to borrow money in this way. Shylock really will do what he says. He really will take your flesh:

` Don't be afraid,' replied Antonio. ` My ships will return in two months and bring me plenty of money.'

So Antonio borrowed the money from Shylock and gave it to Bassanio.

Before he died, Portia's father made a plan. He wanted to be sure that his daughter found a good husband. ` I'm afraid that a lot of young men will want to marry Portia,' he thought. ` They will choose her because she's rich. So I shall leave three small boxes ­a gold one, a silver one and a lead one. To win Portia, the man must choose the right box:

Later, after her father's death, Portia was sitting with another young lady called Nerissa. Nerissa was a servant, but she was also a good friend of Portia. They were talking about all the young men who wanted to marry Portia. Then another servant came into the room.

`A prince has just arrived from Africa,' he said.

Portia showed the prince the three boxes.The prince carefully read everything that was written on each box.

On the gold box were the words, ` Choose me. You will get what many men want.'

On the silver box were the words, `Choose me.You will get what you should get.'

And on the lead box were the words, ` Choose me. You must give everything that you have:

` My picture is inside the right box,' said Portia. ` If you choose it, I am yours. Now choose ! '

The prince studied the words on all three boxes again. Finally he said, `Everybody in the world wants gold and everybody in the world wants Portia. So the gold box is the right box.Yes, I'll choose the gold box.'

Portia gave the prince the key to the gold box and he opened it. But when he saw inside it, he was very surprised. There was a picture of a dead man.

There was also a piece of paper in the box, and these words were written on the paper :

` Many things shine brightly but they are not always gold.' The prince left with a sad heart. But Portia was very pleased to see him go.

•

Next a French prince came to Belmont. He was very proud, so he chose the silver box. He read the words, ` Choose me.You will get what you should get:

` Fine,' said this proud prince, ` I'm a great man, so clearly I should get a beautiful and rich lady like Portia:

But when he opened the box, he found a picture inside. It was not a picture of Portia, but the head of a stupid man. There was also a piece of paper in the box. It said :

` Many stupid men are covered in silver.'

` I've been stupid too,' said the prince, and went away.

Then a servant came to Portia and said, `A young man from Venice is on his way here. He wants to try and win you.' This young man was, of course, Bassanio.

When Bassanio arrived, he had many servants with him. One of them was called Gratiano. Gratiano was a servant, but he was also a good friend of Bassanio.

When Portia saw Bassanio, she fell in love with him. Now she became afraid. She didn't want Bassanio to choose the wrong box. So she said to him, `Please wait a day or two before you choose. If you choose the wrong box, I won't see you again. I can teach you how to choose the right box. But I've promised not to do that.'

`No, I'm too nervous to wait,' answered Bassanio. `I'll choose now.'

Bassanio studied the words on the gold and silver boxes carefully. He thought, ` The gold and silver boxes seem to promise fine things. But beauty on the outside does not always mean beauty on the inside. The lead box doesn't promise anything. It tells me to give, and to be ready to lose everything. Well, I'm ready to give everything to Portia. So I choose the lead box:

Portia gave him the key and he opened the lead box. Inside the box was Portia's picture and a piece of paper with these words on it :

` If you're pleased with this, kiss your lady.'

Bassanio was very happy. He turned to Portia and said, `Dear lady have I really won you? Will you be mine?'

`Yes, Bassanio,' replied Portia. `I don't want great things for myself, but for you I'd like to be a thousand times more beautiful and ten thousand times richer. Take me, and everything that belongs to me.'

Portia took a ring ofl~ her finger and gave it to Bassanio.

` Take this ring, dear Bassanio,' she said to him. ` When you stop wearing it, that will be the end of our love:

` I'll die before anyone takes this ring from my finger ! ' cried Bassanio.

As Portia and Bassanio continued to talk about their love, Nerissa and Gratiano came to them.

Nerissa said, ` We hope that you'll be very happy in your marriage: `Yes,' said Gratiano. `And Nerissa and I have some wonderful news. We're going to get married too:

As the four happy people were talking about their weddings, a man from Venice arrived with a letter from Antonio. Bassanio opened the letter and began to read it.

While he was reading the letter, Portia looked at Bassanio's face. ` I'm sure that there's very bad news in this letter,' she thought. `But what's happened?' To Bassanio she said,`I'm half of you,so I must have half of your problems. Tell me what's in the letter.'

` Dearest Portia,' Bassanio replied, ` this letter brings terrible news.' Then he read the letter to her :

Dear Bassanio,

My ships are all lost. Now 1 have no money, so 1 cannot pay Shylock. 1 must Qive lvim a pound of my fiesh, as we agreed. But if 1 do that, it will kill me. So please forget about the money that you borrowed from me. 1 only want to see you uow before 1 die.

Antonio

` You must return to Venice immediately,' said Portia. ` But first let's get married. Then I can give you enough gold to pay Shylock twenty times. When it is paid, bring Antonio back here with you.'

•

Portia and I3assanio got married, and Nerissa and Gratiano married too. After the weddings, the two men hurried back to Venice.

After they left, Portia thought of a clever way to save Antonio. A good friend of hers was a famous judge. She asked her friend to lend her his judge's clothes and notes. Then she put on the clothes and pretended to be a judge. Nerissa also put on men's clothes and pretended to be the judge's servant.

Then the two women followed their husbands to Venice.

•

Shylock had a beautiful daughter, Jessica. A good friend of Antonio fell in love with Jessica and ran away with her. Jessica took some of her father's money with her.

So Shylock was very angry with Antonio. He ran angrily through the streets of Venice, shouting loudly about his daughter and his money. Small boys followed him and laughed at him.

When Shylock heard the news about Antonio's ships, he was very pleased.

`Good. Antonio's ships are lost at sea,' he thought. `Now at last I can kill my enemy'

He went to see Antonio. A man was just taking him to prison. ` Guard him well,' Shylock said to this man.

` Please, Shylock, I'd like to talk to you,' began Antonio. But Shylock refused to listen.

` Don't speak to me, Antonio,' he said. ` I won't forgive you. You called me a "dog", so now I'll act like a dog. I won't show you any mercy; I'll take my pound of flesh from you.'

` He hates me and he really wants to kill me,' thought Antonio. ` I won't try to speak to him again. I only want one thing now I want to see Bassanio before I die.'

Antonio was taken to court, and the Duke of Venice took his seat as judge. The duke felt very sorry for Antonio. When Shylock came in, he said, ` Please, Shylock, show mercy.'

` Never,' replied Shylock. ` The pound of flesh is mine by law and I want it.Antonio is my enemy and I hate him.'

`Does everyone kill the things that they hate?' asked Bassanio. ` Don't try to talk to Shylock,' said Antonio sadly. ` He doesn't want to listen. Please be quick and judge me. Give Shylock what he wants.'

`I'll pay you 6,000 gold pieces for the 3,000 that Antonio borrowed,' said Bassanio.

` If you offer me six times that amount of money,' said Shylock, ` I'll still take my pound of flesh. Give me my pound of flesh ! '

` How can you hope for mercy for yourself when you show no mercy to Antonio?' asked the duke.

` I'm not afraid. I've done nothing wrong,' said Shylock.

The duke didn't know what to do. Then a young man came

into the room and gave the duke a letter. The young man was really Nerissa. But nobody knew her because she was dressed like a man.

`Sir, a young judge has just arrived from Padua,' she said. `A friend of yours has sent him to judge Antonio and Shylock. This letter explains everything.'

The duke read the letter and said, `Ask him to come in.'

The young judge came into the room. It was really Portia, wearing the clothes of a judge. But nobody knew her.

As she sat down, the duke asked, ` Do you know what's happened here?'

`Yes,'said Portia.`Where areAntonio and Shylock?' ` Here,' said the duke.

Portia looked at the two men. Then she said, ` Shylock has the law of Venice behind him. So he must show mercy to Antonio:

` Why must I show mercy?' asked Shylock. ` Tell me.'

`Because mercy is a wonderful thing,' replied Portia. `It falls like soft rain from the sky on to the earth. It brings good things to the person who gives it. Kings have mercy in their hearts, and we should show mercy to other people. So, Shylock, do you still want your pound of flesh?'

` Yes ! ' answered Shylock. ` I want what is mine by law ! '

Then Bassanio said, ` I'll offer Shylock ten times the amount of money that Antonio has borrowed. If this isn't enough for him, please change the law Please change it and save Antonio.'

` No,' replied Portia. ` If we change one law, then people will want to change other laws.We can't do that:

` Oh, wise young judge ! ' cried Shylock.

`Can I see the paper that Antonio signed?' asked Portia. `I want to see his promise to Shylock - his promise to give Shylock a pound of his flesh.'

Portia read the paper and said, `Yes, Shylock is right. By law he can take a pound of Antonio's flesh. He can cut the flesh from the .r

place near Antonio's heart. Shylock, show some mercy. Take three times the amount of money.Tell me to destroy this paper.'

` No,' said Shylock, ` I want my pound of flesh.'

` Then Antonio must prepare himself for the knife: ` Oh, wise young judge ! ' cried Shylock again.

`Do you want to say anything?' Portia asked Antonio.

`Only a few words,' replied Antonio. `Bassanio, my dearest friend, goodbye. Don't be sad for me. Tell your wife about me. Tell her how much I loved you. If Shylock cuts deeply I'll pay him with all my heart:

`I love my wife very much,' said Bassanio sadly. `But your life means more to me than my wife and everything in the world. I'll happily lose my wife to save you:

` It's good that your wife isn't here now,' said Portia.

Then Gratiano said, ` I too love my wife very much. But if it can save Antonio, I'll lose her too.'

When she heard this, Nerissa laughed quietly. ` If you say those things in front of your wife,' she said to Gratiano, `you'll have a lot of problems at home:

` Let's hurry ! ' said Shylock impatiently.

` Take your pound of flesh,' said I'ortia. ` It's yours by law. This court gives you permission to take it:

As Shylock moved towards Antonio, Portia spoke again.

` Wait ! ' she said. `There's one more thing. In this paper, Antonio promised to give you a pound of his flesh. So you can take a pound of flesh. But there's nothing in the paper about blood. He didn't promise to give you any blood. So if one drop of his blood falls, you'll lose your land and your money.'

` Oh, wise young judge ! ' cried Gratiano. `Is that really the law?' asked Shylock.

` Yes,' replied 1'ortia. ` Now you've got what you wanted, Shylock.You've got more than you wanted.'

Shylock was very angry. But he knew that he couldn't win. `If I cut off a pound of Antonio's flesh, he'll lose a lot of blood,' he thought. ` What shall I do ?' Finally he said, ` All right, I'll take the money. Give me three times the amount that Antonio borrowed from me.'

` Here it is ! ' cried Bassanio happily. ` Take it ! '

But Portia stopped him. ` No,' she said. ` Shylock didn't want the money before. He only wanted his pound of flesh.'

`But I've changed my mind,' said Shylock. `I don't want his flesh now'

He turned to leave the court.

` Wait, Shylock,' said Portia. ` When someone tries to kill a person from Venice, he must give all his money away He must give one half of his money to the state of Venice. The other half must go to the person that he tried to kill. And the duke must decide if he lives or not.This is the law So now you must ask the duke for mercy'

` Kill me, then,' said Shylock. ` If you take my money, you also take my life.'

`I don't want Shylock's money,' said Antonio. `But he must promise to leave his money to his daughter, Jessica, and her husband when he dies.'

`Good,' said the duke. `Do you promise, Shylock? Will you sign this paper?'

` Yes, yes ! ' said Shylock. ` I'll sign. But please, I must go home now. I'm not well:

The duke agreed and Shylock left the court.

Antonio and Bassanio were very grateful to Portia. They tried to give her money but Portia refused to take it.

` Dear sir,' said Bassanio. ` Please take something to remember us. We want to thank you.'

Then Portia had an idea. She decided to play a joke on

Bassanio. So she pretended to notice a ring on his finger. It was the ring that she gave him.

` That's a beautiful ring,' she said. ` Please give it to me. It's the only thing that I want from you:

Bassanio remembered his promise to Portia about the ring. `What will Portia say?' he thought. `She wants me to wear this ring for ever. I can't give it to this young judge.'

`I'll buy you the best ring in Venice,' he said to Portia, `but I can't give you this ring. It's very special. My wife gave it to me. I mustn't sell it, or give it away, or lose it.'

`I understand,' said Portia. `You don't want me to have the ring. All right, then. Goodbye ! '

She began to walk away.

`Bassanio, please give the judge the ring,' said Antonio. ` He did a lot for us today He saved my life:

Bassanio thought about this. He knew that Antonio was right. So he told Gratiano to take the ring to Portia. She was very pleased with it and thanked Gratiano.

Gratiano met Nerissa again. She was still dressed as a man, so he didn't know her. Nerissa decided to play a joke on her husband too. Gratiano also had a ring from his wife. Now Nerissa, too, got this ring back from her husband.

Portia and Nerissa returned to Belmont, and Bassanio and Antonio arrived soon after them.

Bassanio introduced Antonio to Portia and told her about the wise young judge.As they were talking, Nerissa began to cry `What's the matter?' Portia asked her.

` Gratiano has given away the ring that I gave him,' replied Nerissa. ` He gave it to a young man.'

` The young man was the servant of the wise young judge,' said Gratiano. ` He was only a boy:

`You were wrong to give the ring away Gratiano,' said Portia. ` You promised Nerissa to wear it for ever. I also gave nry husband a ring. I know that he'll never give that away'

` But Bassanio gave his ring away too,' said Gratiano. ` He gave his ring to the clever young judge. Then the boy the judge's servant, wanted my ring. What could I do ?'

Portia spoke angrily to Bassanio. `You've broken your promise to me ! ' she cried. ` I'll never love you again ! '

`You don't understand, Portia,' said Bassanio. `I didn't want to give the ring to the judge, but I had to. He saved the life of my dearest friend. I offered him 3,000 gold pieces but he didn't want it. He only wanted this ring.'

` Please forgive Bassanio,' said Antonio. ` The young judge saved my life. I promise you that Bassanio will always be a good husband to you.'

` Then,' said Portia, taking out a ring, ` give him this ring. Tell him to look after it better than the other one.'

Bassanio looked at the ring. `But it's the same ring~' he cried. ` I gave this ring to the young judge. I don't understand. What does this mean?'

` It means,' said Portia, ` that I was the young judge. And here's that young boy my servant. It was Nerissa:

Bassanio and Gratiano were very surprised. At first they couldn't speak. They couldn't believe Portia's story

Portia had other news. She gave a letter to Antonio. In the letter was information about three of his ships. They weren't lost at sea; they were safe in Venice.

` This is wonderful news ! ' cried Antonio. ` Now I can live happily again ! '

` It's almost morning,' said Portia. ` Let's go inside and talk there: `Yes,' said Gratiano. `Come, young servant of the judge - or would you like to be my wife now?'

                                                                                                                                                                                                                THE END

O.Henry THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs – the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims –  just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men – wonderfully wise men – who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Ernest Hemingway - Cat in the Rain

Ernest Hemingway - Cat in the Rain

There were only two Americans stopping at the hotel. They did not know any of the people they passed on the stairs on their way to and from their room. Their room was on the second floor facing the sea. It also faced the public garden and the war monument. There were big palms and green benches in the public garden. In the good weather there was always an artist with his easel. Artists liked the way the palms grew and the bright colors of the hotels facing the gardens and the sea. Italians came from a long way off to look up at the war monument. It was made of bronze and glistened in the rain. It was raining. The rain dripped from the palm trees. Water stood in pools on the gravel paths. The sea broke in a long line in the rain and slipped back down the beach to come up and break again in a long line in the rain. The motor cars were gone from the square by the war monument. Across the square in the doorway of the cafe a waiter stood looking out of the empty square.     The American wife stood at the window looking out. Outside right under their window a cat was crouched under one of the dripping green tables. The cat was trying to make herself so compact that she would not be dripped on.     "I'm going down and get that kitty," the American wife said.     "I'll do it," her husband offered from the bed.     "No, I'll get it. The poor kitty out trying to keep dry under a table."     The husband went on reading, lying propped up with the two pillows at the foot of the bed.     "Don't get wet," he said.     The wife went downstairs and the hotel owner stood up and bowed to her as she passed the office. His desk was at the far end of the office. He was an old man and very tall.     "Il piove," the wife said. She liked the hotel-keeper.     "Si, si, Signora, brutto tempo. It is very bad weather."     He stood behind his desk in the far end of the dim room. The wife liked him. She liked the deadly serious way he received any complaints. She liked the way he wanted to serve her. She liked the way he felt about being a hotel-keeper. She liked his old, heavy face and big hands.     Liking him she opened the door and looked out. It was raining harder. A man in a rubber cape was crossing the empty square to the cafe. The cat would be around to the right. Perhaps she could go along under the eaves. As she stood in the door-way an umbrella opened behind her. It was the maid who looked after their room.     "You must not get wet," she smiled, speaking Italian. Of course, the hotel-keeper had sent her.     With the maid holding the umbrella over her, she walked along the gravel path until she was under their window. The table was there, washed bright green in the rain, but the cat was gone. She was suddenly disappointed. The maid looked up at her.     "Ha perduto qualque cosa, Signora?"     "There was a cat," said the American girl.     "A cat?"     "Si, il gatto."     "A cat?" the maid laughed. "A cat in the rain?"     "Yes," she said, "under the table." Then, "Oh, I wanted it so much. I wanted a kitty."     When she talked English the maid's face tightened.     "Come, Signira," she said. "We must get back inside. You will be wet."     "I suppose so", said the American girl.     They went back along the gravel path and passed in the door. The maid stayed outside to close the umbrella. As the American girl passed the office, the padrone bowed from his desk. Something felt very small and tight inside the girl. The padrone made her feel very small and at the same time really important. She had a momentary feeling of being of supreme importance. She went on up the stairs. She opened the door of the room. George was on the bed, reading.     "Did you get the cat?" he asked, putting the book down.     "It was gone."     "Wonder where it went to," he said, resting his eyes from reading.     She sat down on the bed.     "I wanted it so much," she said. "I don't know why I wanted it so much. I wanted that poor kitty. It isn't any fun to be a poor kitty out in the rain."     George was reading again.     She went over and sat in front of the mirror of the dressing table looking at herself with the hand glass. She studied her profile, first one side and then the other. Then she studied the back of her head and her neck.     "Don't you think it would be a good idea if I let my hair grow out?" she asked, looking at her profile again.     George looked up and saw the back of her neck, clipped close like a boy's.     "I like it the way it is."     "I get so tired of it," she said. "I get so tired of looking like a boy."     George shifted his position in the bed. He hadn't looked away from her since she started to speak.     "You look pretty darn nice," he said.     She laid the mirror down on the dresser and went over to the window and looked out. It was getting dark.     "I want to pull my hair back tight and smooth and make a big knot at the back that I can feel," she said. "I want to have a kitty to sit on my lap and purr when I stroke her."     "Yeah?" George said from the bed.     "And I want to eat at a table with my own silver and I want candles. And I want it to be spring and I want to brush my hair out in front of a mirror and I want a kitty and I want some new clothes."     "Oh, shut up and get something to read.," George said. He was reading again.     His wife was looking out of the window. It was quite dark now and still raining in the palm trees.     "Anyway, I want a cat," she said, "I want a cat. I want a cat now. If I can't have long hair or any fun, I can have a cat."     George was not listening. He was reading his book. His wife looked out of the window where the light had come on in the square.     Someone knocked at the door.     "Avanti," George said. He looked up from his book.     In the doorway stood the maid. She held a big tortoise-shell cat pressed tight against her and swung down against her body.     "Excuse me," she said, "the padrone asked me to bring this for the Signora."     1924