《麥琪的禮物》是一篇感人至深的小短篇。它講述了一對夫妻之間的深厚感情,這份感情打動了無數人。 很久很久之前就讀過這個故事, 那時除了為德拉剪去的長發而難過，為楊先生賣掉的金表而傷心,並不會為他們禮物的內涵而感動。
而今重溫這個小故事。他們用自己美麗的心靈贈給對方的是一件無價之寶。而這件無價之寶，確實世間任何自認聰明的或富有的人永遠不會，也不能給予的禮物。因為那是用他們彼此的一切換來的。我也為故事的結尾所感動 – “楊先生非旦不按她的吩咐行事，反而倒在睡椅上，兩手枕在頭下，微微發笑。”多麽的幸福，雖然生活在貧困中。
我們有很多的理由來為現今的困惑狡辯：人們淪為社會大機器的一部份，身不由己，高速運轉，疲於奔命。殘酷的競爭機製迫使人們避免弱勢淘汰，不斷奮鬥進取，號稱都是為了事業。然而所做的一切給與人們的是壓力、家庭危機，滲入骨髓的緊張和不安，不但使男人心力交瘁，也使女人惶惶不可終日。更有，在現代競爭激烈的社會環境下，在“女權”運動的指引下，女性的壓力越來越大，女性的善良、委婉、忍讓、嫻靜都消失在精幹強悍的麵具之下，被這無情的社會所吞噬。不得不說的一個事實是，無論男性多麽“偉大”，一個家的幸福與快樂還是由女人主導的。女人的智慧才是真正的智慧。
然而，當今社會，世風日下，唯利是圖。不但外麵的世界既冷酷勢利又誘惑繽紛，男人靠不住，女人沒安全感；即使婚姻生活在人性的迷亂中也是風雨飄搖。
想一想，在當今繁瑣的生活中，一路走下來，既甘苦與共又伉儷情深的已是鳳毛麟角。與困苦不安的過去相比：他們樸素而安靜，彼此關懷體諒，富有更多的善意，索求不高，對婚姻抱著客觀寬厚的態度，生活有缺憾也全盤接受，很知命，其樂融融。
THE GIFT OF THE MAGI
by 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.
一元八角七。全都在這兒了，其中六角是一分一分的銅板。這些分分錢是雜貨店老板、菜販子和肉店老板那兒軟硬兼施地一分兩分地扣下來，直弄得自己羞愧難當，深感這種掂斤播兩的交易實在丟人現眼。德拉反複數了三次，還是一元八角七，而第二天就是聖誕節了。
除了撲倒在那破舊的小睡椅上哭嚎之外，顯然別無他途。
德拉這樣作了，可精神上的感慨油然而生，生活就是哭泣、抽噎和微笑，尤以抽噎占統治地位。
當這位家庭主婦逐漸平靜下來之際，讓我們看看這個家吧。一套帶家具的公寓房子，每周房租八美元。盡管難以用筆墨形容，可它真真夠得上乞丐幫這個詞兒。
樓下的門道裏有個信箱，可從來沒有裝過信，還有一個電鈕，也從沒有人的手指按響過電鈴。而且，那兒還有一張名片，上寫著“詹姆斯•迪林厄姆•楊先生”。
“迪林厄姆”這個名號是主人先前春風得意之際，一時興起加上去的，那時候他每星期掙三十美元。現在，他的收入縮減到二十美元，“迪林厄姆”的字母也顯得模糊不清，似乎它們正嚴肅地思忖著是否縮寫成謙遜而又講求實際的字母Ｄ。不過，每當詹姆斯•迪林厄姆•楊回家，走進樓上的房間時，詹姆斯•迪林厄姆•楊太太，就是剛介紹給諸位的德拉，總是把他稱作“吉姆”，而且熱烈地擁抱他。那當然是再好不過的了。
德拉哭完之後，往麵頰上抹了抹粉，她站在窗前，癡癡地瞅著灰蒙蒙的後院裏一隻灰白色的貓正行走在灰白色的籬笆上。明天就是聖誕節，她隻有一元八角七給吉姆買一份禮物。她花去好幾個月的時間，用了最大的努力一分一分地攢積下來，才得了這樣一個結果。一周二十美元實在經不起花，支出大於預算，總是如此。隻有一元八角七給吉姆買禮物，她的吉姆啊。她花費了多少幸福的時日籌劃著要送他一件可心的禮物，一件精致、珍奇、貴重的禮物——至少應有點兒配得上吉姆所有的東西才成啊。
房間的兩扇窗子之間有一麵壁鏡。也許你見過每周房租八美元的公寓壁鏡吧。一個非常瘦小而靈巧的人，從觀察自己在一連串的縱條影象中，可能會對自己的容貌得到一個大致精確的概念。德拉身材苗條，已精通了這門子藝術。
突然，她從窗口旋風般地轉過身來，站在壁鏡前麵。她兩眼晶瑩透亮，但二十秒鍾之內她的麵色失去了光彩。她急速地折散頭發，使之完全潑散開來。
現在，詹姆斯•迪林厄姆•楊夫婦倆各有一件特別引以自豪的東西。一件是吉姆的金表，是他祖父傳給父親，父親又傳給他的傳家寶；另一件則是德拉的秀發。如果示巴女王①也住在天井對麵的公寓裏，總有一天德拉會把頭發披散下來，露出窗外晾幹，使那女王的珍珠寶貝黔然失色；如果地下室堆滿金銀財寶、所羅門王又是守門人的話，每當吉姆路過那兒，準會摸出金表，好讓那所羅門王忌妒得吹胡子瞪眼睛。
此時此刻，德拉的秀發潑撒在她的周圍，微波起伏，閃耀光芒，有如那褐色的瀑布。她的美發長及膝下，仿佛是她的一件長袍。接著，她又神經質地趕緊把頭發梳好。躊躇了一分鍾，一動不動地立在那兒，破舊的紅地毯上濺落了一、兩滴眼淚。
她穿上那件褐色的舊外衣，戴上褐色的舊帽子，眼睛裏殘留著晶瑩的淚花，裙子一擺，便飄出房門，下樓來到街上。
她走到一塊招牌前停下來，上寫著：“索弗羅妮夫人——專營各式頭發”。德拉奔上樓梯，氣喘籲籲地定了定神。那位夫人身軀肥大，過於蒼白，冷若冰霜，同“索弗羅妮”的雅號簡直牛頭不對馬嘴。
“你要買我的頭發嗎？”德拉問。
“我買頭發，”夫人說。“揭掉帽子，讓我看看發樣。”
那褐色的瀑布潑撒了下來。
“二十美元，”夫人一邊說，一邊內行似地抓起頭發。
“快給我錢，”德拉說。
嗬，接著而至的兩個小時猶如長了翅膀，愉快地飛掠而過。請不用理會這胡謅的比喻。她正在徹底搜尋各家店鋪，為吉姆買禮物。
她終於找到了，那準是專為吉姆特製的，決非為別人。她找遍了各家商店，哪兒也沒有這樣的東西，一條樸素的白金表鏈，鏤刻著花紋。正如一切優質東西那樣，它隻以貨色論長短，不以裝潢來炫耀。而且它正配得上那隻金表。她一見這條表鏈，就知道一定屬於吉姆所有。它就像吉姆本人，文靜而有價值——這一形容對兩者都恰如其份。她花去二十一美元買下了，匆匆趕回家，隻剩下八角七分錢。金表匹配這條鏈子，無論在任何場合，吉姆都可以毫無愧色地看時間了。
盡管這隻表華麗珍貴，因為用的是舊皮帶取代表鏈，他有時隻偷偷地瞥上一眼。
德拉回家之後，她的狂喜有點兒變得審慎和理智了。她找出燙發鐵鉗，點燃煤氣，著手修補因愛情加慷慨所造成的破壞，這永遠是件極其艱巨的任務，親愛的朋友們——簡直是件了不起的任務嗬。
不出四十分鍾，她的頭上布滿了緊貼頭皮的一綹綹小卷發，使她活像個逃學的小男孩。她在鏡子裏老盯著自己瞧，小心地、苛刻地照來照去。
“假如吉姆看我一眼不把我宰掉的話，”她自言自語，“他定會說我像個科尼島上合唱隊的賣唱姑娘。但是我能怎麽辦呢——唉，隻有一元八角七，我能幹什麽呢？”
七點鍾，她煮好了咖啡，把煎鍋置於熱爐上，隨時都可作肉排。
吉姆一貫準時回家。德拉將表鏈對疊握在手心，坐在離他一貫進門最近的桌子角上。接著，她聽見下麵樓梯上響起了他的腳步聲，她緊張得臉色失去了一會兒血色。她習慣於為了最簡單的日常事物而默默祈禱，此刻，她悄聲道：“求求上帝，讓他覺得我還是漂亮的吧。”
門開了，吉姆步入，隨手關上了門。他顯得瘦削而又非常嚴肅。可憐的人兒，他才二十二歲，就挑起了家庭重擔！他需要買件新大衣，連手套也沒有呀。
吉姆站在屋裏的門口邊，紋絲不動地好像獵犬嗅到了鵪鶉的氣味似的。他的兩眼固定在德拉身上，其神情使她無法理解，令她毛骨悚然。既不是憤怒，也不是驚訝，又不是不滿，更不是嫌惡，根本不是她所預料的任何一種神情。他僅僅是麵帶這種神情死死地盯著德拉。
德拉一扭腰，從桌上跳了下來，向他走過去。
“吉姆，親愛的，”她喊道，“別那樣盯著我。我把頭發剪掉賣了，因為不送你一件禮物，我無法過聖誕節。頭發會再長起來——你不會介意，是嗎？我非這麽做不可。我的頭發長得快極了。說‘恭賀聖誕’吧！吉姆，讓我們快快樂樂的。你肯定猜不著我給你買了一件多麽好的——多麽美麗精致的禮物啊！”
“你已經把頭發剪掉了？”吉姆吃力地問道，似乎他絞盡腦汁也沒弄明白這明擺著的事實。
“剪掉賣了，”德拉說。“不管怎麽說，你不也同樣喜歡我嗎？沒了長發，我還是我嘛，對嗎？”
吉姆古怪地四下望望這房間。
“你說你的頭發沒有了嗎？”他差不多是白癡似地問道。
“別找啦，”德拉說。“告訴你，我已經賣了——賣掉了，沒有啦。這是聖誕前夜，好人兒。好好待我，這是為了你呀。也許我的頭發數得清，”突然她特別溫柔地接下去，“可誰也數不清我對你的恩愛啊。我做肉排了嗎，吉姆？”
吉姆好像從恍惚之中醒來，把德拉緊緊地摟在懷裏。現在，別著急，先讓我們花個十秒鍾從另一角度審慎地思索一下某些無關緊要的事。房租每周八美元，或者一百萬美元——那有什麽差別呢？數學家或才子會給你錯誤的答案。麥琪②帶來了寶貴的禮物，但就是缺少了那件東西。這句晦澀的話，下文將有所交待。
吉姆從大衣口袋裏掏出一個小包，扔在桌上。
“別對我產生誤會，德爾，”他說道，“無論剪發、修麵，還是洗頭，我以為世上沒有什麽東西能減低一點點對我妻子的愛情。不過，你隻消打開那包東西，就會明白剛才為什麽使我楞頭楞腦了。”
白皙的手指靈巧地解開繩子，打開紙包。緊接著是欣喜若狂的尖叫，哎呀！突然變成了女性神經質的淚水和哭泣，急需男主人千方百計的慰藉。
還是因為擺在桌上的梳子——全套梳子，包括兩鬢用的，後麵的，樣樣俱全。那是很久以前德拉在百老匯的一個櫥窗裏見過並羨慕得要死的東西。這些美妙的發梳，純玳瑁做的，邊上鑲著珠寶——其色彩正好同她失去的美發相匹配。她明白，這套梳子實在太昂貴，對此，她僅僅是羨慕渴望，但從未想到過據為己有。現在，這一切居然屬於她了，可惜那有資格佩戴這垂涎已久的裝飾品的美麗長發已無影無蹤了。
不過，她依然把發梳摟在胸前，過了好一陣子才抬起淚水迷蒙的雙眼，微笑著說：“我的頭發長得飛快，吉姆！”
隨後，德拉活像一隻被燙傷的小貓跳了起來，叫道，“喔！喔！”
吉姆還沒有瞧見他的美麗的禮物哩。她急不可耐地把手掌攤開，伸到他麵前，那沒有知覺的貴重金屬似乎閃現著她的歡快和熱忱。
“漂亮嗎，吉姆？我搜遍了全城才找到了它。現在，你每天可以看一百次時間了。把表給我，我要看看它配在表上的樣子。”
吉姆非旦不按她的吩咐行事，反而倒在睡椅上，兩手枕在頭下，微微發笑。
“德爾，”他說，“讓我們把聖誕禮物放在一邊，保存一會兒吧。它們實在太好了，目前尚不宜用。我賣掉金表，換錢為你買了發梳。現在，你作肉排吧。”
正如諸位所知，麥琪是聰明人，聰明絕頂的人，他們把禮物帶來送給出生在馬槽裏的耶穌。他們發明送聖誕禮物這玩藝兒。由於他們是聰明人，毫無疑問，他們的禮物也是聰明的禮物，如果碰上兩樣東西完全一樣，可能還具有交換的權利。在這兒，我已經笨拙地給你們介紹了住公寓套間的兩個傻孩子不足為奇的平淡故事，他們極不明智地為了對方而犧牲了他們家最最寶貴的東西。不過，讓我們對現今的聰明人說最後一句話，在一切饋贈禮品的人當中，那兩個人是最聰明的。在一切饋贈又接收禮品的人當中，像他們兩個這樣的人也是最聰明的。無論在任何地方，他們都是最聰明的人。
他們就是麥琪。.
①示巴女王（QueeenofSheba）：基督教《聖經》中朝覲所羅門王，以測其智慧的示巴女王，她以美貌著稱。
②麥琪（Magi，單數為Magus）：指聖嬰基督出生時來自東方送禮的三賢人，載於聖經馬太福音第二章第一節和第七至第十三節
