Şunu aradınız:: no one dedicate this song to me (İngilizce - Bengalce)

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İngilizce

Bengalce

Bilgi

İngilizce

no one dedicate this song to me

Bengalce

এই গানটি কেউ আমাকে উৎসর্গ করে না

Son Güncelleme: 2022-05-22
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

dedicate a song to me

Bengalce

আমাকে একটি গান উত্সর্গ করুন

Son Güncelleme: 2021-05-26
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

want to dedicate a song to me

Bengalce

আমাকে কোনো গান উৎসর্গ করতে চান

Son Güncelleme: 2021-09-09
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

no one can defeat him in this song

Bengalce

Son Güncelleme: 2020-11-25
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

no one can defeat him in this song

Bengalce

কেউ আমাকে মারতে পারে না মানে

Son Güncelleme: 2022-01-10
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

yesterday something no one can envy happened to me.

Bengalce

কিন্তু গতকাল যা ঘটল, তারপর আর কেউ আমায় হিংসে করবেন না।

Son Güncelleme: 2016-02-24
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

it is revealed to me that your god is one god . so let him who hopes to meet his lord do good deeds and let him associate no one else in the worship of his lord . "

Bengalce

বলুনঃ আমি ও তোমাদের মতই একজন মানুষ , আমার প ্ রতি প ্ রত ্ যাদেশ হয় যে , তোমাদের ইলাহই একমাত ্ র ইলাহ । অতএব , যে ব ্ যক ্ তি তার পালনকর ্ তার সাক ্ ষাত কামনা করে , সে যেন , সৎকর ্ ম সম ্ পাদন করে এবং তার পালনকর ্ তার এবাদতে কাউকে শরীক না করে ।

Son Güncelleme: 2014-07-02
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Referans: Anonim
Uyarı: Görünmez HTML biçimlendirmesi içeriyor

İngilizce

it is revealed to me that your god is one god . so let him who hopes to meet his lord do good deeds and let him associate no one else in the worship of his lord . "

Bengalce

বলো -- ''আমি নিঃসন্দেহ তোমাদেরই মতন একজন মানুষ, আমার কাছে প্রত্যাদিষ্ট হয়েছে যে নিঃসন্দেহ তোমাদের উপাস্য একক উপাস্য, সেজন্য যে কেউ তার প্রভুর সঙ্গে মুলাকাতের কামনা করে সে তবে সৎকর্ম করুক এবং তার প্রভুর উপাসনায় অন্য কাউকেও শরীক না করুক।’’

Son Güncelleme: 2014-07-02
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim
Uyarı: Görünmez HTML biçimlendirmesi içeriyor

İngilizce

dad was 46 and my mother was 38. she was very fair was large breasts, 36c. her legs were very light in color and so smooth. but their shape was amazing, they were not fat but just large enough to be so shapely. the story began when my dad was out on business. it was my cousin’s engagement party. but i had exams on so i was working. it was my mother’s sister’s daughter who was getting married. my mother had gone alone. to drop her back home from the engagement, my mother’s sister husband (my aunt’s husband) dropped her back in his car. during this time we were very tight for cash and the house was very close to be taken away. our close family knew this. well my mother reached home and aunt’s husband vikesh also entered. they both thought i was not at home but at college. really i was in my room working. i peeped from my room and saw that my mother had gone into her room to get changed when vikesh came in. he presented her with an envelope of money. my mother was grateful to him for helping us out. but then he said “what can u give me in return?” he then touched my mother’s breast. my mother was furious she shouted at him. he then took the money back and was about to go. then my mother begged at his feet to give the money. he said only if u let me do what i want. my mother cried “yeah but we need the money”. then vikesh laid my mother on a bed. my mother was dressed in a nice red saree for the engagement party. he said just be my dulhan for an hour. my mother was silent. he lifted her saree to knee level and i saw those lovely legs and i got a hard on. he then started undoing her blouse hooks and took it off to reveal the breasts. vikesh was 53 and there was lust in him. my mother covered her breasts with her hands but he just pushed them aside… and started sucking and biting into them. after 10 minutes of this… he pulled the rest of her saree off till she just had her black knickers on and he ripped them off. my mothers thighs closed and her legs. this was her last chance, her dignity being protected. but vikesh pulled them open to reveal her vagina… his prize… the honey between her legs. he undid his trousers and quickly pushed his penis inside her. my mother had her eyes closed and wanted to get the humiliation over with. he pushed harder and harder, he was moaning and moaning…. while my mother just kept quiet… her shiny smooth legs open wrapped around his waist. his thighs pushed deeper and deeper. she was closing her eyes. as he reached the his high of pleasure my mother couldn’t take it any longer and she let out a silent groan ” gaaaaaa” was all she said. she had reached orgasmic point. he just smiled. at the end my mother looked away. he rested by her and said that her husband was lucky, he said that she had given him pure pleasure. my mother asked how he could cheat on her sister. he said that he was desperate for her. but no one should find out. my mother had seed all over her vagina and her juices were everywhere. he then pushed his head between her legs and licked her out and sucked her out for another hour. my mother was being used for sex because she needed the money… she had sold herself for sex. he used her properly and took full advantage. he then asked for oral sex… my mother was totally tired now and said ” but i don’t even do that with my husband” but she had no power and he persuaded her that this will be the last act. he slid his penis in her mouth and she sucked till he ejaculated. my mother then just lay on the bed. the red saree underneath her… and her naked, with red marks over her body around her breasts and vagina. her clitoris was swollen and she just lay there. he put his clothes on and left the money and went off. the next day, my mother was wearing a green silk sari with a low cut silk sleeveless blouse, a blouse in which i had jacked off hundreds of times. i was sitting at the dining table and she was serving me. that time, my dad had gone for a trip and was not expected for around 3 months. from across the table, she bent to serve me, giving me an excellent view of her creamy cleavage. seeing that, i got really hard. after dinner, i and my mom were sitting on the sofa watching t. v. , when we got talking. while we were talking, i casually put my hands on her melons and squeezed them. on seeing this, she slapped me and said, “you little bastard, what the fuck do you think you were doing?” i slapped her back and said, “shut up you slut, i know all about you and jay uncle. ” on hearing this she was shocked and then slowly started crying. i said, “i want your body mom, and if you don’t want me to tell dad, you will have to bear with anything i do to you. ” saying this, i put my hands on her breasts again and fondled them. she said, “okay, we’ll do anything you say, but we cannot have sex. i’m your mother, for god’s sake!” getting what i wanted, i quickly agreed. i removed the pallu of her blouse and made her sit next to me. i started fondling her breasts through her blouse and then started unbuttoning it. i removed her blouse totally. then i saw my mother in her bra, with her breasts straining to get out. i then removed her bra and then started sucking on my mother’s nipples. after sucking her breasts for what seemed like ages, i took hold of her head and pressed her mouth to my hard dick. i made her remove my jeans and rammed my dick into her deliciously soft mouth. after a few strokes, i was so horny that i came in her mouth and forced her to swallow my cum. after that incident, i was very free with my mother’s breasts. everyday after school, i used to go home, remove my mother’s blouse and suck and squeeze her breasts. even while serving food, i used to just reach over under my mother’s pallu and lift up her blouse and start sucking on her breasts.——– calling all incest lovers to promote incest sex the best and safest sex….any girls or ladies from agra or delhi wants having relationship may contact. secrecy guaranteed

Bengalce

বাহু কি চুদাই কি কাহানী

Son Güncelleme: 2020-02-05
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

english for students the necklace the necklace is a classic story. let us enjoy reading this one. she was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. she had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the ministry of education. her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land. she suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. she suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. all these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. the sight of the little breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. she imagined silent antechambers, heavy with oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. she imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings. when she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "aha! scotch broth! what could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken. she had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. and these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. she had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after. she had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. she would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery. * one evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand. "here's something for you," he said. swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words: "the minister of education and madame ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of monsieur and madame loisel at the ministry on the evening of monday, january the 18th." instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring: "what do you want me to do with this?" "why, darling, i thought you'd be pleased. you never go out, and this is a great occasion. i had tremendous trouble to get it. every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. you'll see all the really big people there." she looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "and what do you suppose i am to wear at such an affair?" he had not thought about it; he stammered: "why, the dress you go to the theatre in. it looks very nice, to me . . ." he stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth. "what's the matter with you? what's the matter with you?" he faltered. but with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks: "nothing. only i haven't a dress and so i can't go to this party. give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than i shall." he was heart-broken. "look here, mathilde," he persisted. "what would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?" she thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk. at last she replied with some hesitation: "i don't know exactly, but i think i could do it on four hundred francs." he grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on sundays. nevertheless he said: "very well. i'll give you four hundred francs. but try and get a really nice dress with the money." the day of the party drew near, and madame loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. her dress was ready, however. one evening her husband said to her: "what's the matter with you? you've been very odd for the last three days." "i'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "i shall look absolutely no one. i would almost rather not go to the party." "wear flowers," he said. "they're very smart at this time of the year. for ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses." she was not convinced. "no . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women." "how stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "go and see madame forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. you know her quite well enough for that." she uttered a cry of delight. "that's true. i never thought of it." next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble. madame forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to madame loisel, opened it, and said: "choose, my dear." first she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. she tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. she kept on asking: "haven't you anything else?" "yes. look for yourself. i don't know what you would like best." suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. her hands trembled as she lifted it. she fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself. then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish: "could you lend me this, just this alone?" "yes, of course." she flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. the day of the party arrived. madame loisel was a success. she was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. all the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to her. all the under-secretaries of state were eager to waltz with her. the minister noticed her. she danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart. she left about four o'clock in the morning. since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. he threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. she was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs. loisel restrained her. "wait a little. you'll catch cold in the open. i'm going to fetch a cab." but she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. when they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance. they walked down towards the seine, desperate and shivering. at last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight. it brought them to their door in the rue des martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. it was the end, for her. as for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten. she took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. but suddenly she uttered a cry. the necklace was no longer round her neck! "what's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed. she turned towards him in the utmost distress. "i . . . i . . . i've no longer got madame forestier's necklace. . . ." he started with astonishment. "what! . . . impossible!" they searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. they could not find it. "are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked. "yes, i touched it in the hall at the ministry." "but if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall." "yes. probably we should. did you take the number of the cab?" "no. you didn't notice it, did you?" "no." they stared at one another, dumbfounded. at last loisel put on his clothes again. "i'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if i can't find it." and he went out. she remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought. her husband returned about seven. he had found nothing. he went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him. she waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe. loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing. "you must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. that will give us time to look about us." she wrote at his dictation. * by the end of a week they had lost all hope. loisel, who had aged five years, declared: "we must see about replacing the diamonds." next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. he consulted his books. "it was not i who sold this necklace, madame; i must have merely supplied the clasp." then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind. in a shop at the palais-royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. it was worth forty thousand francs. they were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand. they begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. and they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of february. loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. he intended to borrow the rest. he did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. he gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. he mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs. when madame loisel took back the necklace to madame forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice: "you ought to have brought it back sooner; i might have needed it." she did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. if she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? what would she have said? would she not have taken her for a thief? * madame loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. from the very first she played her part heroically. this fearful debt must be paid off. she would pay it. the servant was dismissed. they changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof. she came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. she washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. she washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. and, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money. every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained. her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page. and this life lasted ten years. at the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest. madame loisel looked old now. she had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. she spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. but sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired. what would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. who knows? who knows? how strange life is, how fickle! how little is needed to ruin or to save! one sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the champs-elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. it was madame forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive. madame loisel was conscious of some emotion. should she speak to her? yes, certainly. and now that she had paid, she would tell her all. why not? she went up to her. "good morning, jeanne." the other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman. "but . . . madame . . ." she stammered. "i don't know . . . you must be making a mistake." "no . . . i am mathilde loisel." her friend uttered a cry. "oh! . . . my poor mathilde, how you have changed! . . ." "yes, i've had some hard times since i saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account." "on my account! . . . how was that?" "you remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the ministry?" "yes. well?" "well, i lost it." "how could you? why, you brought it back." "i brought you another one just like it. and for the last ten years we have been paying for it. you realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . well, it's paid for at last, and i'm glad indeed." madame forestier had halted. "you say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?" "yes. you hadn't noticed it? they were very much alike." and she smiled in proud and innocent happiness. madame forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands. "oh, my poor mathilde! but mine was imitation. it was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . " author: guy de maupassant classics index sponsored content disha patani: no guy has come up and said they find me hot, no one flirts with me india today recommended by short stories index the necklace to home page share this page:  what’s this? facebook twitter enjoy this page? please pay it forward. here's how to ... report this ad sponsored content malaika arora in bikini goes swimming in austrian lake, arjun kapoor records videos. seen yet? india today recommended by report this ad follow these links! quick links confused words what is new? nursery rhymes beauties of english top menu follow us privacy policy © 2019 english-for-students.com. all rights reserved. back to top

Bengalce

english for students the necklace the necklace is a classic story. let us enjoy reading this one. she was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. she had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the ministry of education. her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land. she suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. she suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. all these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. the sight of the little breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. she imagined silent antechambers, heavy with oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. she imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings. when she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "aha! scotch broth! what could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken. she had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. and these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. she had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after. she had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. she would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery. * one evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand. "here's something for you," he said. swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words: "the minister of education and madame ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of monsieur and madame loisel at the ministry on the evening of monday, january the 18th." instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring: "what do you want me to do with this?" "why, darling, i thought you'd be pleased. you never go out, and this is a great occasion. i had tremendous trouble to get it. every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. you'll see all the really big people there." she looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "and what do you suppose i am to wear at such an affair?" he had not thought about it; he stammered: "why, the dress you go to the theatre in. it looks very nice, to me . . ." he stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth. "what's the matter with you? what's the matter with you?" he faltered. but with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks: "nothing. only i haven't a dress and so i can't go to this party. give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than i shall." he was heart-broken. "look here, mathilde," he persisted. "what would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?" she thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk. at last she replied with some hesitation: "i don't know exactly, but i think i could do it on four hundred francs." he grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on sundays. nevertheless he said: "very well. i'll give you four hundred francs. but try and get a really nice dress with the money." the day of the party drew near, and madame loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. her dress was ready, however. one evening her husband said to her: "what's the matter with you? you've been very odd for the last three days." "i'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "i shall look absolutely no one. i would almost rather not go to the party." "wear flowers," he said. "they're very smart at this time of the year. for ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses." she was not convinced. "no . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women." "how stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "go and see madame forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. you know her quite well enough for that." she uttered a cry of delight. "that's true. i never thought of it." next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble. madame forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to madame loisel, opened it, and said: "choose, my dear." first she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. she tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. she kept on asking: "haven't you anything else?" "yes. look for yourself. i don't know what you would like best." suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. her hands trembled as she lifted it. she fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself. then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish: "could you lend me this, just this alone?" "yes, of course." she flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. the day of the party arrived. madame loisel was a success. she was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. all the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to her. all the under-secretaries of state were eager to waltz with her. the minister noticed her. she danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart. she left about four o'clock in the morning. since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. he threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. she was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs. loisel restrained her. "wait a little. you'll catch cold in the open. i'm going to fetch a cab." but she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. when they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance. they walked down towards the seine, desperate and shivering. at last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight. it brought them to their door in the rue des martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. it was the end, for her. as for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten. she took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. but suddenly she uttered a cry. the necklace was no longer round her neck! "what's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed. she turned towards him in the utmost distress. "i . . . i . . . i've no longer got madame forestier's necklace. . . ." he started with astonishment. "what! . . . impossible!" they searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. they could not find it. "are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked. "yes, i touched it in the hall at the ministry." "but if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall." "yes. probably we should. did you take the number of the cab?" "no. you didn't notice it, did you?" "no." they stared at one another, dumbfounded. at last loisel put on his clothes again. "i'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if i can't find it." and he went out. she remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought. her husband returned about seven. he had found nothing. he went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him. she waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe. loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing. "you must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. that will give us time to look about us." she wrote at his dictation. * by the end of a week they had lost all hope. loisel, who had aged five years, declared: "we must see about replacing the diamonds." next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. he consulted his books. "it was not i who sold this necklace, madame; i must have merely supplied the clasp." then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind. in a shop at the palais-royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. it was worth forty thousand francs. they were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand. they begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. and they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of february. loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. he intended to borrow the rest. he did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. he gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. he mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs. when madame loisel took back the necklace to madame forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice: "you ought to have brought it back sooner; i might have needed it." she did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. if she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? what would she have said? would she not have taken her for a thief? * madame loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. from the very first she played her part heroically. this fearful debt must be paid off. she would pay it. the servant was dismissed. they changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof. she came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. she washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. she washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. and, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money. every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained. her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page. and this life lasted ten years. at the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest. madame loisel looked old now. she had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. she spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. but sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired. what would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. who knows? who knows? how strange life is, how fickle! how little is needed to ruin or to save! one sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the champs-elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. it was madame forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive. madame loisel was conscious of some emotion. should she speak to her? yes, certainly. and now that she had paid, she would tell her all. why not? she went up to her. "good morning, jeanne." the other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman. "but . . . madame . . ." she stammered. "i don't know . . . you must be making a mistake." "no . . . i am mathilde loisel." her friend uttered a cry. "oh! . . . my poor mathilde, how you have changed! . . ." "yes, i've had some hard times since i saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account." "on my account! . . . how was that?" "you remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the ministry?" "yes. well?" "well, i lost it." "how could you? why, you brought it back." "i brought you another one just like it. and for the last ten years we have been paying for it. you realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . well, it's paid for at last, and i'm glad indeed." madame forestier had halted. "you say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?" "yes. you hadn't noticed it? they were very much alike." and she smiled in proud and innocent happiness. madame forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands. "oh, my poor mathilde! but mine was imitation. it was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . " author: guy de maupassant classics index sponsored content disha patani: no guy has come up and said they find me hot, no one flirts with me india today recommended by short stories index the necklace to home page share this page:  what’s this? facebook twitter enjoy this page? please pay it forward. here's how to ... report this ad sponsored content malaika arora in bikini goes swimming in austrian lake, arjun kapoor records videos. seen yet? india today recommended by report this ad follow these links! quick links confused words what is new? nursery rhymes beauties of english top menu follow us privacy policy © 2019 english-for-students.com. all rights reserved. back to top গল্পটি বাংলা ভাষায় অনুবাদ করে

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english for students the necklace the necklace is a classic story. let us enjoy reading this one. she was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. she had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the ministry of education. her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land. she suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. she suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. all these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. the sight of the little breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. she imagined silent antechambers, heavy with oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. she imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings. when she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "aha! scotch broth! what could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken. she had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. and these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. she had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after. she had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. she would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery. * one evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand. "here's something for you," he said. swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words: "the minister of education and madame ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of monsieur and madame loisel at the ministry on the evening of monday, january the 18th." instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring: "what do you want me to do with this?" "why, darling, i thought you'd be pleased. you never go out, and this is a great occasion. i had tremendous trouble to get it. every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. you'll see all the really big people there." she looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "and what do you suppose i am to wear at such an affair?" he had not thought about it; he stammered: "why, the dress you go to the theatre in. it looks very nice, to me . . ." he stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth. "what's the matter with you? what's the matter with you?" he faltered. but with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks: "nothing. only i haven't a dress and so i can't go to this party. give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than i shall." he was heart-broken. "look here, mathilde," he persisted. "what would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?" she thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk. at last she replied with some hesitation: "i don't know exactly, but i think i could do it on four hundred francs." he grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on sundays. nevertheless he said: "very well. i'll give you four hundred francs. but try and get a really nice dress with the money." the day of the party drew near, and madame loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. her dress was ready, however. one evening her husband said to her: "what's the matter with you? you've been very odd for the last three days." "i'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "i shall look absolutely no one. i would almost rather not go to the party." "wear flowers," he said. "they're very smart at this time of the year. for ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses." she was not convinced. "no . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women." "how stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "go and see madame forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. you know her quite well enough for that." she uttered a cry of delight. "that's true. i never thought of it." next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble. madame forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to madame loisel, opened it, and said: "choose, my dear." first she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. she tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. she kept on asking: "haven't you anything else?" "yes. look for yourself. i don't know what you would like best." suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. her hands trembled as she lifted it. she fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself. then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish: "could you lend me this, just this alone?" "yes, of course." she flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. the day of the party arrived. madame loisel was a success. she was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. all the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to her. all the under-secretaries of state were eager to waltz with her. the minister noticed her. she danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart. she left about four o'clock in the morning. since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. he threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. she was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs. loisel restrained her. "wait a little. you'll catch cold in the open. i'm going to fetch a cab." but she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. when they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance. they walked down towards the seine, desperate and shivering. at last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight. it brought them to their door in the rue des martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. it was the end, for her. as for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten. she took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. but suddenly she uttered a cry. the necklace was no longer round her neck! "what's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed. she turned towards him in the utmost distress. "i . . . i . . . i've no longer got madame forestier's necklace. . . ." he started with astonishment. "what! . . . impossible!" they searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. they could not find it. "are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked. "yes, i touched it in the hall at the ministry." "but if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall." "yes. probably we should. did you take the number of the cab?" "no. you didn't notice it, did you?" "no." they stared at one another, dumbfounded. at last loisel put on his clothes again. "i'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if i can't find it." and he went out. she remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought. her husband returned about seven. he had found nothing. he went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him. she waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe. loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing. "you must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. that will give us time to look about us." she wrote at his dictation. * by the end of a week they had lost all hope. loisel, who had aged five years, declared: "we must see about replacing the diamonds." next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. he consulted his books. "it was not i who sold this necklace, madame; i must have merely supplied the clasp." then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind. in a shop at the palais-royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. it was worth forty thousand francs. they were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand. they begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. and they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of february. loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. he intended to borrow the rest. he did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. he gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. he mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs. when madame loisel took back the necklace to madame forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice: "you ought to have brought it back sooner; i might have needed it." she did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. if she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? what would she have said? would she not have taken her for a thief? * madame loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. from the very first she played her part heroically. this fearful debt must be paid off. she would pay it. the servant was dismissed. they changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof. she came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. she washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. she washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. and, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money. every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained. her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page. and this life lasted ten years. at the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest. madame loisel looked old now. she had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. she spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. but sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired. what would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. who knows? who knows? how strange life is, how fickle! how little is needed to ruin or to save! one sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the champs-elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. it was madame forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive. madame loisel was conscious of some emotion. should she speak to her? yes, certainly. and now that she had paid, she would tell her all. why not? she went up to her. "good morning, jeanne." the other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman. "but . . . madame . . ." she stammered. "i don't know . . . you must be making a mistake." "no . . . i am mathilde loisel." her friend uttered a cry. "oh! . . . my poor mathilde, how you have changed! . . ." "yes, i've had some hard times since i saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account." "on my account! . . . how was that?" "you remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the ministry?" "yes. well?" "well, i lost it." "how could you? why, you brought it back." "i brought you another one just like it. and for the last ten years we have been paying for it. you realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . well, it's paid for at last, and i'm glad indeed." madame forestier had halted. "you say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?" "yes. you hadn't noticed it? they were very much alike." and she smiled in proud and innocent happiness. madame forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands. "oh, my poor mathilde! but mine was imitation. it was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . " author: guy de maupassant classics index sponsored content disha patani: no guy has come up and said they find me hot, no one flirts with me india today recommended by short stories index the necklace to home page share this page:  what’s this? facebook twitter enjoy this page? please pay it forward. here's how to ... report this ad sponsored content malaika arora in bikini goes swimming in austrian lake, arjun kapoor records videos. seen yet? india today recommended by report this ad follow these links! quick links confused words what is new? nursery rhymes beauties of english top menu follow us privacy policy © 2019 english-for-students.com. all rights reserved. back to top

Bengalce

english for students the necklace the necklace is a classic story. let us enjoy reading this one. she was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. she had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the ministry of education. her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land. she suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. she suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. all these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. the sight of the little breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. she imagined silent antechambers, heavy with oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. she imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings. when she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "aha! scotch broth! what could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken. she had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. and these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. she had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after. she had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. she would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery. * one evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand. "here's something for you," he said. swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words: "the minister of education and madame ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of monsieur and madame loisel at the ministry on the evening of monday, january the 18th." instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring: "what do you want me to do with this?" "why, darling, i thought you'd be pleased. you never go out, and this is a great occasion. i had tremendous trouble to get it. every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. you'll see all the really big people there." she looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "and what do you suppose i am to wear at such an affair?" he had not thought about it; he stammered: "why, the dress you go to the theatre in. it looks very nice, to me . . ." he stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth. "what's the matter with you? what's the matter with you?" he faltered. but with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks: "nothing. only i haven't a dress and so i can't go to this party. give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than i shall." he was heart-broken. "look here, mathilde," he persisted. "what would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?" she thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk. at last she replied with some hesitation: "i don't know exactly, but i think i could do it on four hundred francs." he grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on sundays. nevertheless he said: "very well. i'll give you four hundred francs. but try and get a really nice dress with the money." the day of the party drew near, and madame loisel seemed sad, uneasy and anxious. her dress was ready, however. one evening her husband said to her: "what's the matter with you? you've been very odd for the last three days." "i'm utterly miserable at not having any jewels, not a single stone, to wear," she replied. "i shall look absolutely no one. i would almost rather not go to the party." "wear flowers," he said. "they're very smart at this time of the year. for ten francs you could get two or three gorgeous roses." she was not convinced. "no . . . there's nothing so humiliating as looking poor in the middle of a lot of rich women." "how stupid you are!" exclaimed her husband. "go and see madame forestier and ask her to lend you some jewels. you know her quite well enough for that." she uttered a cry of delight. "that's true. i never thought of it." next day she went to see her friend and told her her trouble. madame forestier went to her dressing-table, took up a large box, brought it to madame loisel, opened it, and said: "choose, my dear." first she saw some bracelets, then a pearl necklace, then a venetian cross in gold and gems, of exquisite workmanship. she tried the effect of the jewels before the mirror, hesitating, unable to make up her mind to leave them, to give them up. she kept on asking: "haven't you anything else?" "yes. look for yourself. i don't know what you would like best." suddenly she discovered, in a black satin case, a superb diamond necklace; her heart began to beat covetously. her hands trembled as she lifted it. she fastened it round her neck, upon her high dress, and remained in ecstasy at sight of herself. then, with hesitation, she asked in anguish: "could you lend me this, just this alone?" "yes, of course." she flung herself on her friend's breast, embraced her frenziedly, and went away with her treasure. the day of the party arrived. madame loisel was a success. she was the prettiest woman present, elegant, graceful, smiling, and quite above herself with happiness. all the men stared at her, inquired her name, and asked to be introduced to her. all the under-secretaries of state were eager to waltz with her. the minister noticed her. she danced madly, ecstatically, drunk with pleasure, with no thought for anything, in the triumph of her beauty, in the pride of her success, in a cloud of happiness made up of this universal homage and admiration, of the desires she had aroused, of the completeness of a victory so dear to her feminine heart. she left about four o'clock in the morning. since midnight her husband had been dozing in a deserted little room, in company with three other men whose wives were having a good time. he threw over her shoulders the garments he had brought for them to go home in, modest everyday clothes, whose poverty clashed with the beauty of the ball-dress. she was conscious of this and was anxious to hurry away, so that she should not be noticed by the other women putting on their costly furs. loisel restrained her. "wait a little. you'll catch cold in the open. i'm going to fetch a cab." but she did not listen to him and rapidly descended the staircase. when they were out in the street they could not find a cab; they began to look for one, shouting at the drivers whom they saw passing in the distance. they walked down towards the seine, desperate and shivering. at last they found on the quay one of those old nightprowling carriages which are only to be seen in paris after dark, as though they were ashamed of their shabbiness in the daylight. it brought them to their door in the rue des martyrs, and sadly they walked up to their own apartment. it was the end, for her. as for him, he was thinking that he must be at the office at ten. she took off the garments in which she had wrapped her shoulders, so as to see herself in all her glory before the mirror. but suddenly she uttered a cry. the necklace was no longer round her neck! "what's the matter with you?" asked her husband, already half undressed. she turned towards him in the utmost distress. "i . . . i . . . i've no longer got madame forestier's necklace. . . ." he started with astonishment. "what! . . . impossible!" they searched in the folds of her dress, in the folds of the coat, in the pockets, everywhere. they could not find it. "are you sure that you still had it on when you came away from the ball?" he asked. "yes, i touched it in the hall at the ministry." "but if you had lost it in the street, we should have heard it fall." "yes. probably we should. did you take the number of the cab?" "no. you didn't notice it, did you?" "no." they stared at one another, dumbfounded. at last loisel put on his clothes again. "i'll go over all the ground we walked," he said, "and see if i can't find it." and he went out. she remained in her evening clothes, lacking strength to get into bed, huddled on a chair, without volition or power of thought. her husband returned about seven. he had found nothing. he went to the police station, to the newspapers, to offer a reward, to the cab companies, everywhere that a ray of hope impelled him. she waited all day long, in the same state of bewilderment at this fearful catastrophe. loisel came home at night, his face lined and pale; he had discovered nothing. "you must write to your friend," he said, "and tell her that you've broken the clasp of her necklace and are getting it mended. that will give us time to look about us." she wrote at his dictation. * by the end of a week they had lost all hope. loisel, who had aged five years, declared: "we must see about replacing the diamonds." next day they took the box which had held the necklace and went to the jewellers whose name was inside. he consulted his books. "it was not i who sold this necklace, madame; i must have merely supplied the clasp." then they went from jeweller to jeweller, searching for another necklace like the first, consulting their memories, both ill with remorse and anguish of mind. in a shop at the palais-royal they found a string of diamonds which seemed to them exactly like the one they were looking for. it was worth forty thousand francs. they were allowed to have it for thirty-six thousand. they begged the jeweller not to sell it for three days. and they arranged matters on the understanding that it would be taken back for thirty-four thousand francs, if the first one were found before the end of february. loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs left to him by his father. he intended to borrow the rest. he did borrow it, getting a thousand from one man, five hundred from another, five louis here, three louis there. he gave notes of hand, entered into ruinous agreements, did business with usurers and the whole tribe of money-lenders. he mortgaged the whole remaining years of his existence, risked his signature without even knowing if he could honour it, and, appalled at the agonising face of the future, at the black misery about to fall upon him, at the prospect of every possible physical privation and moral torture, he went to get the new necklace and put down upon the jeweller's counter thirty-six thousand francs. when madame loisel took back the necklace to madame forestier, the latter said to her in a chilly voice: "you ought to have brought it back sooner; i might have needed it." she did not, as her friend had feared, open the case. if she had noticed the substitution, what would she have thought? what would she have said? would she not have taken her for a thief? * madame loisel came to know the ghastly life of abject poverty. from the very first she played her part heroically. this fearful debt must be paid off. she would pay it. the servant was dismissed. they changed their flat; they took a garret under the roof. she came to know the heavy work of the house, the hateful duties of the kitchen. she washed the plates, wearing out her pink nails on the coarse pottery and the bottoms of pans. she washed the dirty linen, the shirts and dish-cloths, and hung them out to dry on a string; every morning she took the dustbin down into the street and carried up the water, stopping on each landing to get her breath. and, clad like a poor woman, she went to the fruiterer, to the grocer, to the butcher, a basket on her arm, haggling, insulted, fighting for every wretched halfpenny of her money. every month notes had to be paid off, others renewed, time gained. her husband worked in the evenings at putting straight a merchant's accounts, and often at night he did copying at twopence-halfpenny a page. and this life lasted ten years. at the end of ten years everything was paid off, everything, the usurer's charges and the accumulation of superimposed interest. madame loisel looked old now. she had become like all the other strong, hard, coarse women of poor households. her hair was badly done, her skirts were awry, her hands were red. she spoke in a shrill voice, and the water slopped all over the floor when she scrubbed it. but sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she sat down by the window and thought of that evening long ago, of the ball at which she had been so beautiful and so much admired. what would have happened if she had never lost those jewels. who knows? who knows? how strange life is, how fickle! how little is needed to ruin or to save! one sunday, as she had gone for a walk along the champs-elysees to freshen herself after the labours of the week, she caught sight suddenly of a woman who was taking a child out for a walk. it was madame forestier, still young, still beautiful, still attractive. madame loisel was conscious of some emotion. should she speak to her? yes, certainly. and now that she had paid, she would tell her all. why not? she went up to her. "good morning, jeanne." the other did not recognise her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman. "but . . . madame . . ." she stammered. "i don't know . . . you must be making a mistake." "no . . . i am mathilde loisel." her friend uttered a cry. "oh! . . . my poor mathilde, how you have changed! . . ." "yes, i've had some hard times since i saw you last; and many sorrows . . . and all on your account." "on my account! . . . how was that?" "you remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the ministry?" "yes. well?" "well, i lost it." "how could you? why, you brought it back." "i brought you another one just like it. and for the last ten years we have been paying for it. you realise it wasn't easy for us; we had no money. . . . well, it's paid for at last, and i'm glad indeed." madame forestier had halted. "you say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?" "yes. you hadn't noticed it? they were very much alike." and she smiled in proud and innocent happiness. madame forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands. "oh, my poor mathilde! but mine was imitation. it was worth at the very most five hundred francs! . . . " author: guy de maupassant classics index sponsored content disha patani: no guy has come up and said they find me hot, no one flirts with me india today recommended by short stories index the necklace to home page share this page:  what’s this? facebook twitter enjoy this page? please pay it forward. here's how to ... report this ad sponsored content malaika arora in bikini goes swimming in austrian lake, arjun kapoor records videos. seen yet? india today recommended by report this ad follow these links! quick links confused words what is new? nursery rhymes beauties of english top menu follow us privacy policy © 2019 english-for-students.com. all rights reserved. back to top english for students the necklace the necklace is a classic story. let us enjoy reading this one. she was one of those pretty and charming girls born, as though fate had blundered over her, into a family of artisans. she had no marriage portion, no expectations, no means of getting known, understood, loved, and wedded by a man of wealth and distinction; and she let herself be married off to a little clerk in the ministry of education. her tastes were simple because she had never been able to afford any other, but she was as unhappy as though she had married beneath her; for women have no caste or class, their beauty, grace, and charm serving them for birth or family, their natural delicacy, their instinctive elegance, their nimbleness of wit, are their only mark of rank, and put the slum girl on a level with the highest lady in the land. she suffered endlessly, feeling herself born for every delicacy and luxury. she suffered from the poorness of her house, from its mean walls, worn chairs, and ugly curtains. all these things, of which other women of her class would not even have been aware, tormented and insulted her. the sight of the little breton girl who came to do the work in her little house aroused heart-broken regrets and hopeless dreams in her mind. she imagined silent antechambers, heavy with oriental tapestries, lit by torches in lofty bronze sockets, with two tall footmen in knee-breeches sleeping in large arm-chairs, overcome by the heavy warmth of the stove. she imagined vast saloons hung with antique silks, exquisite pieces of furniture supporting priceless ornaments, and small, charming, perfumed rooms, created just for little parties of intimate friends, men who were famous and sought after, whose homage roused every other woman's envious longings. when she sat down for dinner at the round table covered with a three-days-old cloth, opposite her husband, who took the cover off the soup-tureen, exclaiming delightedly: "aha! scotch broth! what could be better?" she imagined delicate meals, gleaming silver, tapestries peopling the walls with folk of a past age and strange birds in faery forests; she imagined delicate food served in marvellous dishes, murmured gallantries, listened to with an inscrutable smile as one trifled with the rosy flesh of trout or wings of asparagus chicken. she had no clothes, no jewels, nothing. and these were the only things she loved; she felt that she was made for them. she had longed so eagerly to charm, to be desired, to be wildly attractive and sought after. she had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. she would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery. * one evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand. "here's something for you," he said. swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words: "the minister of education and madame ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of monsieur and madame loisel at the ministry on the evening of monday, january the 18th." instead of being delighted, as her husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across

Son Güncelleme: 2019-09-16
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the gift of the magi o. henry 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.

Bengalce

the gift of the magi full story

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the gift of the magi o. henry 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.

Bengalce

the gift of the magi full story

Son Güncelleme: 2016-09-03
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim
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İngilizce

the gift of the magi o. henry 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.

Bengalce

the gift of the magi full story

Son Güncelleme: 2016-09-03
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim
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İngilizce

t h e g i f t o f t h e m a g i p t h e g i f t o f t h e m a g i one dollar and eighty-seven cents. that was all. she had put it aside, one cent and then another and then another, in her careful buying of meat and other food. della counted it three times. one dollar and eighty-seven cents. and the next day would be christmas. there was nothing to do but fall on the bed and cry. so della did it. while the lady of the home is slowly growing quieter, we can look at the home. furnished rooms at a cost of $8 a week. there is little more to say about it. in the hall below was a letter-box too small to hold a letter. there was an electric bell, but it could not make a sound. also there was a name beside the door: “mr. james dillingham young.” 1 o . h e n r y when the name was placed there, mr. james dillingham young was being paid $30 a week. now, when he was being paid only $20 a week, the name seemed too long and important. it should perhaps have been “mr. james d. young.” but when mr. james dillingham young entered the furnished rooms, his name became very short indeed. mrs. james dillingham young put her arms warmly about him and called him “jim.” you have already met her. she is della. della finished her crying and cleaned the marks of it from her face. she stood by the window and looked out with no interest. tomorrow would be christmas day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy jim a gift. she had put aside as much as she could for months, with this result. twenty dollars a week is not much. everything had cost more than she had expected. it always happened like that. only $ 1.87 to buy a gift for jim. her jim. she had had many happy hours planning something nice for him. something nearly good enough. something almost worth the honor of belonging to jim. there was a looking-glass between the windows of the room. perhaps you have seen the kind of looking-glass that is placed in $8 furnished rooms. it was very narrow. a person could see only a little of himself at a time. however, if he was very thin and moved very quickly, he might be able to get a good view of himself. della, being quite thin, had mastered this art. suddenly she turned from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brightly, but her face had lost its color. quickly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its complete length. the james dillingham youngs were very proud of two things which they owned. one thing was jim’s gold watch. it had once belonged to his father. and, long ago, it had belonged to his father’s father. the other thing was della’s hair. if a queen had lived in the rooms near theirs, della would have washed and dried her hair where the queen could see it. della knew her hair was more beautiful than any queen’s jewels and gifts. if a king had lived in the same house, with all his riches, jim would have looked at his watch every time they met. jim knew that no king 2 t h e g i f t o f t h e m a g i had anything so valuable. so now della’s beautiful hair fell about her, shining like a falling stream of brown water. it reached below her knee. it almost made itself into a dress for her. and then she put it up on her head again, nervously and quickly. once she stopped for a moment and stood still while a tear or two ran down her face. she put on her old brown coat. she put on her old brown hat. with the bright light still in her eyes, she moved quickly out the door and down to the street. where she stopped, the sign said: “mrs. sofronie. hair articles of all kinds.” up to the second floor della ran, and stopped to get her breath. mrs. sofronie, large, too white, cold-eyed, looked at her. “will you buy my hair?” asked della. “i buy hair,” said mrs. sofronie. “take your hat off and let me look at it.” down fell the brown waterfall. “twenty dollars,” said mrs. sofronie, lifting the hair to feel its weight. “give it to me quick,” said della. oh, and the next two hours seemed to fly. she was going from one shop to another, to find a gift for jim. 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 shops, and she had looked in every shop in the city. it was a gold watch chain, very simply made. its value was in its rich and pure material. because it was so plain and simple, you knew that it was very valuable. all good things are like this. it was good enough for the watch. as soon as she saw it, she knew that jim must have it. it was like him. quietness and value—jim and the chain both had quietness and value. she paid twenty-one dollars for it. and she hurried home with the chain and eighty-seven cents. 3 o . h e n r y with that chain on his watch, jim could look at his watch and learn the time anywhere he might be. though the watch was so fine, it had never had a fine chain. he sometimes took it out and looked at it only when no one could see him do it. when della arrived home, her mind quieted a little. she began to think more reasonably. she started to try to cover the sad marks of what she had done. love and large-hearted giving, when added together, can leave deep marks. it is never easy to cover these marks, dear friends— never easy. within forty minutes her head looked a little better. with her short hair, she looked wonderfully like a schoolboy. she stood at the looking-glass for a long time. “if jim doesn’t kill me,” she said to herself, “before he looks at me a second time, he’ll say i look like a girl who sings and dances for money. but what could i do—oh! what could i do with a dollar and eightyseven cents?” at seven, jim’s dinner was ready for him. jim was never late. della held the watch chain in her hand and sat near the door where he always entered. then she heard his step in the hall and her face lost color for a moment. she often said little prayers quietly, about simple everyday things. and now she said: “please god, make him think i’m still pretty.” the door opened and jim stepped in. he looked very thin and he was not smiling. poor fellow, he was only twenty-two—and with a family to take care of! he needed a new coat and he had nothing to cover his cold hands. jim stopped inside the door. he was as quiet as a hunting dog when it is near a bird. his eyes looked strangely at della, and there was an expression in them that she could not understand. it filled her with fear. it was not anger, nor surprise, nor anything she had been ready for. he simply looked at her with that strange expression on his face. della went to him. “jim, dear,” she cried, “don’t look at me like that. i had my hair cut off and sold it. i couldn’t live through christmas without giving you a 4 t h e g i f t o f t h e m a g i gift. my hair will grow again. you won’t care, will you? my hair grows very fast. it’s christmas, jim. let’s be happy. you don’t know what a nice—what a beautiful nice gift i got for you.” “you’ve cut off your hair?” asked jim slowly. he seemed to labor to understand what had happened. he seemed not to feel sure he knew. “cut it off and sold it,” said della. “don’t you like me now? i’m me, jim. i’m the same without my hair.” jim looked around the room. “you say your hair is gone?” he said. “you don’t have to look for it,” said della. “it’s sold, i tell you— sold and gone, too. it’s the night before christmas, boy. be good to me, because i sold it for you. maybe the hairs of my head could be counted,” she said, “but no one could ever count my love for you. shall we eat dinner, jim?” jim put his arms around his della. for ten seconds let us look in another direction. eight dollars a week or a million dollars a year— how different are they? someone may give you an answer, but it will be wrong. the magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. my meaning will be explained soon. from inside the coat, jim took something tied in paper. he threw it upon the table. “i want you to understand me, dell,” he said. “nothing like a haircut could make me love you any less. but if you’ll open that, you may know what i felt when i came in.” white fingers pulled off the paper. and then a cry of joy; and then a change to tears. for there lay the combs—the combs that della had seen in a shop window and loved for a long time. beautiful combs, with jewels, perfect for her beautiful hair. she had known they cost too much for her to buy them. she had looked at them without the least hope of owning them. and now they were hers, but her hair was gone. but she held them to her heart, and at last was able to look up and say: “my hair grows so fast, jim!” 5 o . h e n r y and then she jumped up and cried, “oh, oh!” jim had not yet seen his beautiful gift. she held it out to him in her open hand. the gold seemed to shine softly as if with her own warm and loving spirit. “isn’t it perfect, jim? i hunted all over town to find it. you’ll have to look at your watch a hundred times a day now. give me your watch. i want to see how they look together.” jim sat down and smiled. “della,” said he, “let’s put our christmas gifts away and keep them a while. they’re too nice to use now. i sold the watch to get the money to buy the combs. and now i think we should have our dinner.” the magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men— who brought gifts to the newborn christ-child. they were the first to give christmas gifts. being wise, their gifts were doubtless wise ones. and here i have told you the story of two children who were not wise. each sold the most valuable thing he owned in order to buy a gift for the other. but let me speak a last word to the wise of these days: of all who give gifts, these two were the most wise. of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are the most wise. everywhere they are the wise ones. they are the magi. 6

Bengalce

o dom do magi

Son Güncelleme: 2015-08-29
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
Kalite:

Referans: Anonim

İngilizce

say : " i am but a man like yourselves , ( but ) the inspiration has come to me , that your allah is one allah : whoever expects to meet his lord , let him work righteousness , and , in the worship of his lord , admit no one as partner .

Bengalce

বলুনঃ আমি ও তোমাদের মতই একজন মানুষ , আমার প ্ রতি প ্ রত ্ যাদেশ হয় যে , তোমাদের ইলাহই একমাত ্ র ইলাহ । অতএব , যে ব ্ যক ্ তি তার পালনকর ্ তার সাক ্ ষাত কামনা করে , সে যেন , সৎকর ্ ম সম ্ পাদন করে এবং তার পালনকর ্ তার এবাদতে কাউকে শরীক না করে ।

Son Güncelleme: 2014-07-02
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
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Referans: Anonim
Uyarı: Görünmez HTML biçimlendirmesi içeriyor

İngilizce

say : " i am but a man like yourselves , ( but ) the inspiration has come to me , that your allah is one allah : whoever expects to meet his lord , let him work righteousness , and , in the worship of his lord , admit no one as partner .

Bengalce

বলো -- ''আমি নিঃসন্দেহ তোমাদেরই মতন একজন মানুষ, আমার কাছে প্রত্যাদিষ্ট হয়েছে যে নিঃসন্দেহ তোমাদের উপাস্য একক উপাস্য, সেজন্য যে কেউ তার প্রভুর সঙ্গে মুলাকাতের কামনা করে সে তবে সৎকর্ম করুক এবং তার প্রভুর উপাসনায় অন্য কাউকেও শরীক না করুক।’’

Son Güncelleme: 2014-07-02
Kullanım Sıklığı: 1
Kalite:

Referans: Anonim
Uyarı: Görünmez HTML biçimlendirmesi içeriyor

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