The famous humorist wrote a painfully devastating story, inspired by a deep sense that makes you think about life, about the goodness of life, and before we are deprived of people who are educated to the point of understanding and singing. It’s about the story of the famous O. Henry “The Remaining Leaf”, short term what will be described in this material.
The master of the “short story” genre was born on June 11, 1862 near the town of Greensboro, Northern Carolina. Having tried myself in various professions. He worked as an accountant for a non-disabled company, as a clerk for a land office, and as a cashier for a bank. The first written evidence has arrived, working with a humorous industrialist near the town of Ostina. Subtle humor and unsatisfactory revelations attached to his descriptions. Over the course of his creative life, nearly 300 accounts were written, and the collection of his works totals 18 volumes.
A short summary of O. Henry’s work “The Remaining Leaf” can be described as follows: two young girls live in a room, one of whom has fallen ill from a fever. The illness began to progress, the patient’s doctor repeatedly pointed out the depressed mood of the rest, the young girl got it into her head that she would die if the remaining leaf fell from the tree. Outside the window of the room there was ivy, which was fighting against the autumn storm, a skinny leaf of the plant was twisting and growing under the pressure of the merciless wind. The old failure of an artist, who was previously seen as having a nasty and rambunctious character, is about to become famous by writing his artistic masterpiece, having known the story of a girl who hesitates on top of things.
In our short essay on “The Remaining Arkoush” by O. Henry, I would like to point out that the author, describing the complex and inanimate character of the artist-sama, does not see him, does not sympathize, or does not criticize him; the entirety of the picture is revealed in the remaining In just a few words of a young girl, which describes the recent developments in the life of the client who will wear it. The young organism saw the mountain above the twig, and the reason for the weariness became the very remaining leaf that had fallen on the ivy. Day by day he fought for life, but did not want to give up. Neither the wind, nor the approaching winter could bite him, and this terrible cloud of life breathed on the girl, and she wanted to be clothed, she wanted to live again.
Most of all, in the short version of O. Henry’s “The Remaining Leaf,” it was about an old artist who, as a result, is dying. The Swede is dying, also sick from the burning of his legs, who finds himself restless on the bed in his room in a wet sweat, and no one knows the reason for his illness. And just a few days later, coming from the words of the girls themselves, the reader understands that having put his life at the end of the seemingly impatient old man, whose heart was truly pure, he himself is lying dying girl having created your masterpiece. The old one painted the remaining leaf of the tree and attached it to the nail. And I caught a cold that night.
To the elderly and to life, the old will give a miraculous lesson, which is dear to all words, which this girl will never forget, and I will always marvel at life in a new way. The old man buried the people and disposed of his gold to death. Such a truly breathtaking and at the same time destructive discourse by O. Henry “The Remaining Leaf”, a short summary of which is included in this material. The revelation itself does not overwhelm you and touches you to the depths of your soul.
It’s worth living, fighting for life, loving whatever it may seem like. So, sometimes it seems that she is unfair, cruel, but she is beautiful and unique. Sometimes, in order to realize this, it is necessary to go through difficulties, to face the difference between life and death. And while you yourself are standing on this frozen cordon, you realize how wonderful life is, how garni the simple things are that leave us day after day: the singing of the birds, the warmth of the sun, the blue of the sky. How important it is to remember about it, how important it is to talk about it to children, and don’t let it seem to you that the stench won’t make you understand right away, the people themselves, if you talk about it, will definitely remember your words when the time comes. A short summary of O. Henry’s book “The Remaining Leaf”, more descriptions that could be such a butt itself.
In conclusion, in addition to what has been said above, I would like to recommend before reading “The Remaining Leaf” by O. Henry, a short summary of which was presented to your attention in this material. This work is one of the author’s greatest masterpieces.
It’s impossible not to get overwhelmed by the creativity of O. Henry. This American writer, like no one else, was able to open with one stroke of the pen human wadi and increase honesty. There is no allegory in his works, life remains as it is in reality. However, the master of words describes tragic situations with powerful, subtle irony and good humor. We present to your respect one of the most devastating author's novels, or rather a short change. “The Remaining Leaf” by O. Henry is a living account, written in 1907, just three days before the death of the writer.
Two emerging artists named Sue and Jones rent an inexpensive apartment in a poor area of Manhattan. On this third floor, the sun rarely peeks over the top, so the window faces the sun. Behind the slope you can see a blank wall, entwined with old ivy. This is approximately how the first lines of O. Henry’s account of “The Remaining Leaf” sound, a short version of which we are trying to create closer to the text.
The girls settled in this apartment near the grass, setting up a small painting studio here. At the time of writing, the leaves were falling in the yard and one of the artists was seriously ill - she was diagnosed with pneumonia. When the doctor came, he was afraid for Jones’s life, and now she lost heart and was preparing to die. Her pretty little head is haunted by a thought: just like the remaining leaf from the ivy behind the eyelid, the rest of life will come for her.
Sue tries to get her friend back, to instill a small spark of hope, but it’s bad to leave. The situation is complicated by the fact that the autumn wind mercilessly blows away the leaves from the old ivy, which means that life is not long for the girl.
Regardless of the laconicism of his work, the author memorably describes the manifestations of Sue’s destructive turbot about her friend who fell ill, the appearance and characters of the heroes. Although we are afraid to omit a lot of important nuances, we set ourselves the task of conveying only a short change. “The Remaining Leaf”... O. Henry having given his testimony, at first glance, the name is incredible. Yogo reveals the development of the plot.
The artist Berman has a living room on top of the lower one. Twenty-five other people, who are old, are dreaming about the creation of their Christmas masterpiece, but there is no time left to start work. She cries cheaply and sings unceasingly.
Sue, a friend of the sick girl, respects Berman because of her bad character. Ale still tells him about Jonesy’s fantasy, his obsession with the power of death and the falling leaves of the ivy behind the window. How can the artist help without being woken up?
Chantly, in this place the writer could put a long mark and complete the story. And we would have had a chance to listen merrily, talking about the lot of a young girl, whose life was brilliant, seemingly from a book, “a small short change.” “The Remaining Leaf” by O. Henry is a plot with an unsatisfactory ending, like most of the author’s other works. So put a mark on it early.
Outside, a strong wind blew from the board and snow all night long. When Francesco Jones asked her friend to open the curtains, the girls noticed that there were still yellow-green leaves on the stems of the ivy and trees. And on the next, and on the third day, the picture did not change - the stubborn leaf did not want to be removed.
Jonesy was encouraged, believing that it was too early to die. The doctor, who brought his patient in, said that the illness had improved and the girl’s health was improving. A fanfari is about to start sounding - it’s a miracle! Nature stood on the side of people, who were not afraid to take away from a weak girl the hope of a cure.
It will take a little time for the reader to understand that miracles are created by the will of those who created them. It doesn’t matter if you change your mind, having read the whole story and want a short change. “The Remaining Leaf” by O. Henry is a story with a happy ending, but with a slight infusion of turmoil and light turmoil.
Within a few days, the girls learn that their son Berman died of a drug-induced pneumonia. He caught a severe cold that very night when the remaining leaves of the ivy were to fall. The artist painted a yellow-green flower with a stem and silent living veins on a solid wall.
Instilling hope in the heart of the dying Jones, Berman sacrificed his own life. This is how O. Henry’s story “The Remaining Leaf” ends. Analysis of the work can take up more than one side, but we will try to figure out its main idea in just one row: “And in everyday life there is a place of achievement.”
Remaining sheet
Near a small block at the entrance to Washington Square, the streets became intertwined and formed short paths called thoroughfares. These passages are filled with marvelous slopes and crooked lines. One street there seems to be changing itself every once in a while. What artist managed to reveal even the value of the power of this street. It’s acceptable to go to the store with a bag for farbi, papier and linen for yourself, so that you can go home without spending a cent on the bag!
And Mitzi's axis was focused on his neighborhood of Greenwich Village in search of windows that look like the beginning of the 18th century, Dutch attics and cheap rents. Then they transported a bunch of tin pots and one or two braziers there from Main Avenue and set up a “colony.”
Sue and Jones's studio was located on the hill of a three-top target booth. Jonesy is different than Joannie. One came from Maine, the other from California. They met at the table d'hôte of a restaurant on Volma Street and found that their eyes on mysticism, chicorn salad and fashionable sleeves were completely avoided. As a result, a large studio was created.
It was all in the grass. At the fall of the leaves, an inhospitable stranger, whom doctors call Pneumonia, invisibly walks around the colony, sticking out one or the other with its squeaky fingers. On the other side, this soul-sinking soul was croaking smilingly, hostilely, dozens of victims, and here, near the labyrinth of narrow alleys, overgrown with moss, they were pouring foot after foot.
Mr. Pneumonia could not be called a gallant old gentleman. A miniature girl, anemic as a California zephyr, could hardly be considered a good opponent for any old deaf kut with red fists and a butt. However, they called her from the bottom, and Jonesy lay unmoved on the stained bed, marveling at the crumbling palette of the Dutch window on the blank wall of the neighbor's cell phone booth.
One wound of the doctor with one rush of shaggy gray hair called Sue into the corridor.
“There’s one chance... well, let’s say, against ten,” he said, shaking the mercury at the thermometer. - And those who want to live. Our entire pharmacopoeia is wasted when people begin to act on the bark of the trunar. Your little lady thought that she could no longer be seen. What is she thinking about?
- Oh... she wanted to write in farbs to the Neapolitan inlet.
- Farbami? Nisenitnitsa! What is there in her soul, what is there in her soul that she would really think about, for example, a person?
“Well, then she’s just weakened,” said the doctor. – I will earn everything that I can earn as a representative of science. And if my patient begins to respect the carriages at his funeral procession, I will throw away fifty hundred rubles from the whole power of my hands. As soon as you can figure out what style of sleeves to wear this winter, I guarantee you that you have one chance in five, instead of one in ten.
After that, as a doctor, Sue ran into the medicine room and cried into the Japanese paper server until it was still wet. Then she bravely went to Jonesy's room with her chair-chair, whistling ragtime.
Jonesy lay with her face turned to the window, ice covered under the carpets. Sue stopped whistling, thinking that Johnsy had fallen asleep.
Vaughn sweetened her daughter and started carcassing the little ones until the magazine interview. For young artists, the path to Mystery is paved with illustrations to magazine reports, which young authors pave their path to Literature.
Throwing in the figure of an Idaho cowboy in elegant breeches and a monocle for recognition, Sue felt a quiet whisper that would be repeated several times. Vaughn walked up to the bed, whiningly. Jones's eyes were wide open. She marveled at the window and praised the turnaround order.
“Twelve,” she said, and a little later: “eleven,” and then: “ten” and “nine,” and then: “vsim” and “sim”—at the same time.
Sue marveled at the window. What was there rahuvati? All that could be seen was the empty, gloomy door and the blank wall of the twenty-kroki-sixty-dollar hut. The old, old ivy is gnarled, rotten, and the roots are covered halfway up the wall. The cold breath of autumn tore the leaves from the vines, and the bare skeletons of the forks were hot behind the vines, which were crumbling.
- What is it, Lyuba? - Sue asked.
“Six,” ice said Jonesy sensitively. - Now the stench is thicker. Three days ago there were nearly a hundred of them. Rahuvati's head was clouded. And now it’s simple. Axis and one more flight. Now I've lost five more.
- What the hell, Lyuba? Tell your Sudie.
- Leaves. On the ivy. If the remaining leaf falls, I will die. I've known this for three days now. Hiba doctor without telling you?
- First I sense such stupidity! - Sue was taken away from the miraculous ill-nature. - How can the leaves on the old ivy grow to what you see? And you loved this ivy so much, little girl! Don't be stupid. Even today the doctor told me that you will soon wake up... excuse me, what can I say?.. that you have ten chances against one. It’s not less than that, no matter what we have here in New York, if you go by the tram or if you go to a new booth. Try to add a little bit of broth and let your Suda finish the little thing, so that she can tell her editor and buy wine for her sick girl and pork cutlets for herself.
“You don’t need to buy any more wine,” Jones said, looking up at the window. – Axis and one more flight. No, I don’t want any broth. Well, you'll be deprived of something. I want to grow like the remaining leaf has fallen. Then I will die too.
“Johnsi, my love,” said Sue, mocking her, “do you promise not to flatten my eyes and not to marvel at the window until I finish practising?” I may create an illustration tomorrow. I need light, otherwise I would lower the curtain.
- Why can’t you paint in the other room? – Jones asked coldly.
“I would like to sit with you,” said Sue. - And besides, I don’t want you to marvel at the depths of the leaves.
“Tell me when you leave,” said Jonesy, with her eyes swimming, looking pale and unruly, like a toppled statue, “because I want to die, like the remaining ark. I'm tired of checking. I'm tired of thinking. I want to fly away from everything that touches me - to fly, fly lower and lower, like one of these poor, tired leaves.
“Try to sleep,” Sue said. - I need to call Berman, I want to write from this goldsmith-samitnik. I'm more of a sucker. Watch, don’t break in until I come.
Old Berman was an artist, who is alive in the lower part under his studio. He was already over sixty, and his beard, all in curls, like Michelangelo’s Moses, descended from the head of the satyr on the body of a dwarf. Mysteriously, Berman was in trouble. He was determined to write a masterpiece, but never started it. For a number of years now, without writing anything other than viscos, advertisements, and daubs for the sake of a piece of bread. Having paid a lot of money, we listened to the young artists, whose professional sitters showed up in abundance. We drank a lot of beer, but still talked about our upcoming masterpiece. And in another way, he was an evil child, who was tired of any kind of sentimentality and marveled at himself, like a watchdog specially assigned to protect two young artists.
Sue found Berman, smelling of yalev berries, in his darkened business below. In one bundle, twenty-five pieces of canvas stood on an easel, unoccupied, ready to receive the first touches of the masterpiece. Sue told the old man about Jonesy's fantasy and about her fear that it would not fly away from them if the German connection with the light was weakened. Old Berman, whose red-colored surfaces were already wet with dirt, screaming, crying out from such idiotic fantasies.
- What! - Vin shouted. - How can such stupidity be possible - to die while the leaves fall from the damned ivy! I smell it for the first time. No, I don’t want to call for your idiot-samitnik. How do you allow her to fill her head with such nonsense? Oh, crazy little Ms. Jonesy!
“She’s very sick and weak,” said Sue, “and because of her fever, all sorts of painful fantasies come to mind.” Very well, Mr. Berman, if you don’t want to call me, then I don’t need to. But I still think that you are an unacceptable old...unacceptable old basic.
– Axis Helpful woman! - Berman shouted. – Who said that I don’t want to tease you? Idemo. I'm coming with you. Every day I say what I want to call. My God! There's no place to get sick of such a beautiful girl as Ms. Jones. As soon as I write a masterpiece, we’ll all go away. So-so!
Jonesy was asleep when the stench rose up into the hills. Sue lowered the curtain all the way to the windowsill and signaled for Berman to go to the next room. There they came up to the window and looked with fear at the old ivy. Then they looked at each other, without seeming to want a word. It's cold, the heavy rainfall is filled with snow. Berman, wearing an old blue shirt, sits in the position of a gold miner on an inverted teapot instead of a rock.
Two young artists Sue and Joanna rent a small studio in the bohemian quarter of New York. During the cold leaf fall, Joanna fell seriously ill with pneumonia. All day long you lie in the bed and marvel at the window that looks out onto the gray wall of the courtroom. The wall is covered with old ivy, which flies in the gusts of the autumn wind. Joanna plucks the falling leaves and sings that she will die if the wind takes the remaining leaves from the vine. The doctor tells Sue that they can’t help because Joanna doesn’t want any of the hassles of life. Sue doesn't know how to help her sick friend.
Sue will go to Berman's room to ask him to show up for an illustration of the book. Vaughn recognizes that Joanna was sung at her swift death with the remaining ivy leaf that had flown. An old, drunken artist, never given to embitterment, who dreamed of glory, but never started the desired painting, only laughs at these mindless fantasies.
A friend’s wound is sore that one single ivy leaf is still miraculously lost in place, and all the coming days are the same. Joanna comes to life, respecting the stench as a sign of what she needs to live on. The doctor who is seeing Joanna informs them that old Berman is being treated for his burnt legs.
The sick person is going to get better and life is not safe. Toddy Sue tells her friends that the old artist has died. The burning of the veins was removed, the little boards and cold nights on the wall of the living room were the very same ivy leaf that did not fly, which was used by the young girl in her life. That masterpiece that he set out to write about his entire life.
Two young girl artists came from the deep provinces to New York. The girls are close friends of childhood. Their names were Sue and Jonesy. They wanted to take it easy, because friends and relatives in such a big place didn’t stink. The apartment was taken from the Greenwich Village neighborhood, on the other hand. Everyone knows that people living in this block are connected with creativity.
At the end of the summer, when the leaves began to fall, it was very cold, the girls had a lot of warm clothes, and Jonesy fell ill. The doctor's diagnosis embarrassed the girls. The illness is inflamed. The doctor said that there is one chance in a million to get out. But in the girl there was a spark in life. The girls just lie on their beds, marvel at the window, then at the sky, at the trees, and watch the hour of their death. Look at the tree, so the leaves will fall off. I believe that as soon as the remaining leaf is torn, it will go into another world.
Sue is looking for ways to get her friend back on her feet. There is Elder Berman, there is an artist who lingers above and below. The master is still going to create a kind of mysticism, but there is no way to get anywhere. Having learned about the girl, the old man became embarrassed. Until the evening, a strong storm began with rain and thunder, Jones knew that from the wound of a leaf on the tree, neither would she. Alas, there was such a shock that after such an element the leaf was lost on the tree. Jnosi was already alive. Vaughn is red, she becomes shameful and rapt, and she wanted to live and fight.
The doctor arrived and noted the improvement of the body. The chances were 50% to 50%. At the booths, the doctor arrived again, the body began to see each other. The doctor said that there was an epidemic going around the house, and the old man from the bottom above also fell ill with an illness and maybe the next day he would visit the doctor more joyfully, as if he had said a miraculous novelty. Jones's life and troubles are over.
In the evening, Sue learns that the artist below died of illness, his body stopped fighting the disease. Berman fell ill on that thirsty night when nature was in ruins. He created a leaf of ivy and, under a strong board and a cold wind, climbed the tree to attach it. There wasn’t even a single leaf missing from the ivy. The creator has created his miraculous masterpiece. In this manner, he put the life of the girl in order and gave up his victim.
The book consists of three parts. Reported by American emigrant and journalist Jake Barnes. Place of the first part of Paris, France. Here Jake interacts with other American emigrants.
O. Henry
Two young artists, Sue and Jones, rent an apartment on the top floor of a building in the New York neighborhood of Greenwich Village, where people of mysticism have long settled. Leaf-falling Jones is sick with pneumonia. The doctor’s verdict is disappointing: “She has one chance in ten. And those who want to live themselves.” Ale Jones lost interest in life. She lies next to the bed, marvels at the window and appreciates how many leaves have been lost on the old ivy, which has wrapped its fringes around the opposite wall. Jones is re-constructed: if the remaining leaf falls out, you will die.
Sue talks about the gloomy thoughts of the friend of the old artist Berman, who is alive below. He’s been planning to create a masterpiece for a long time, but he just can’t get his head around it yet. Having sensed about Jones, old Berman became terribly embarrassed and did not want to mention Sue, who wrote from the new goldsmith-samitnik.
As soon as the foot wound appears, the ivy has lost one leaf. Jones follows this as he defies the wind. It got dark, it was raining, the wind was blowing even harder, and Jonesy had no doubt that the Frenchman would no longer cover this leaf. But he will have mercy: on this great battle, the brave leaf continues to fight against the worthless. Tse controls Jones with strong hostility. He becomes disgraceful with his cowardice, and finds it worthwhile to live. The doctor, having diagnosed it, means it’s gone bad. In my opinion, the chances of living and dying are equal. Vin adds that the neighbor below also has a burning leg, but the poor woman has no chance of getting dressed. A day later, the doctor declares that Jones’ life is now not safe. In the evening, Sue tells her friends the news: old Berman has died at the doctor’s. It got cold that night, when the ivy had used up the remaining arch and the artist painted a new one and under the pouring plank and the windy wind, attaching it to the neck. Berman did create his masterpiece.
Jones and Sue, two young emerging artists, rent an apartment on the upper side of one of the buildings in New York's Greenwich Village. There are people who live there quietly, who are in constant pursuit of mysteries. November leaves Jones is diagnosed with pneumonia. Doctors tell the girl that her chances are approximately equal to 10 hundred, and she will survive only if she really wants to live. Unfortunately, Jones lost interest in life. There you lie undisturbed by the bed and marvel at the window, respectfully, how many leaves have been lost on the wall opposite the ivy. Jones imagines that the last leaf will die from the tree.
Sue shares her friend’s gloomy thoughts with Berman, an old artist who hangs around in someone’s day. All my life I strive to create a masterpiece, but until now little has come of it. Berman, sensing Jonesy’s misfortune, became incredibly embarrassed. Sue was in awe when she was painting a portrait of a goldsmith-samitnik for him.
When you step on a wound on the ivy, one remaining leaf is lost. Jones will follow this, as the wind tries to destroy it, but the leaf stubbornly resists the elements. It’s dark outside, the rain is falling, and the wind is picking up. Jones no longer doubts that the Frenchman will not be able to improve the rest of the page. Ale vona had mercy. On this day, the good leaf continues to beat, and does not succumb to the strongest attacks of the wind. Jonesy is enraged by what is happening. He is disgraceful before himself through his cowardice. The girl knows that she has a lifelong desire to live. The doctor who comes to examine the illness informs her about positive changes. It seems that Jones' chances of life and death are approximately the same. He adds that they are already sick at the bottom of the fire, but they have no good chance of surviving.
Several days pass, and the doctor informs him that Jones is living with a homeless person. That evening Sue comes to Jonesy and reports that old Berman has died. Having caught a cold on that unfortunate night, when the remaining leaf fell from the ivy. The artist painted a new leaf, which was under the torrential plank and fastened to the tree by the wind. Berman did create a masterpiece about such a thing.
