The last leaf

????? In a neighborhood west of Washington Square, the street is divided like mad into little alleys called alleys. These "alleys" form many strange angles and curves. A street itself sometimes crosses more than once. Once a painter saw something valuable in the street. It would be interesting if a merchant, going to collect money for paints, paper, and canvases, went round and round the street, and suddenly came across himself, empty-handed, without having received a dime.

????? So it wasn't long before many painters found their way to the quaint old Greenwich Village. They wandered about in search of north-facing Windows, 18th-century gables, Dutch lofts and low rents. Then they bought pewter mugs and a baking pan or two from Sixth Street and formed an "art district."

????? Suai and Johnsy set up their studio on the top floor of a squat, three-story brick house. "Johnsy" is Johnsy's nickname. One is from Maine, the other from California. They had met while dining at the Delmongo restaurant, and had talked to each other about their tastes in art, food, and dress, so much so that they had jointly rented the studio.

????? That was in May. In November, a cold, invisible visitor, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, prowled quietly through the arts district, touching his cold fingers here and there. At the eastern end of the square, the vandal strode defiantly, bringing down dozens of victims in one fell swoop, but his pace slowed in the maze of narrow, mossy alleys.

????? Mr. Pneumonia is not your idea of a chivalrous old gentleman. A frail woman, bloodless by the California zephyr, should not have been the object of this breathless old man with the red fists. Johnsy, however, was struck; She lay motionless on a painted iron bed, gazing out of the little Dutch glass window at the empty wall of the brick house opposite.

????? One morning the busy doctor raised his bushy gray eyebrows and called Sue out into the corridor.

????? "I think there is only one chance of her being ill," he said, shaking down the mercury in his thermometer. "The one chance lies in her own survival. The mental state of people who don't want to live and would rather take care of the funeral home business confuses medicine. This young lady of yours is full of the idea that she's never gonna get well. Is there something on her mind?"

????? "She -- she wants to paint the Bay of Naples one day." Sue says.

????? "Painting? -- Don't talk nonsense! Did she have anything worth thinking about twice? For example, [1] men?"

????? "A man? Suai bellowed out like a harmonica. "Are men worth... . No, doctor, there is no such thing. '

????? "With all the power available to heal her. But when my patient starts counting the carriages that will take her to her funeral, I have to reduce the effect of the treatment by 50 percent. If you can find a way to interest her in a question or two about the new style of winter coat sleeves, I can assure you that you will improve her chances from one in ten to one in five." After the doctor left, Suai went into the studio and wept a Japanese napkin into a wet mess. Then she went into Johnsy's room with her drawing board in her hand, pretending to be very sprightly, and blowing a jazz tune.

????? Johnsy lay with her face toward the window, her body still under the covers. Thinking she was asleep, Sue stopped whistling.

????? She set up her drawing board and began to draw a pen illustration of a magazine story. The young painter, in order to pave the way to art, had to illustrate the stories in magazines, and the young writer had to write the stories in order to pave the way to literature.

????? Suai was painting the story's protagonist, an Idaho herdsman, a pair of fashionable horse fair breeches and a monocle when she heard a low voice repeated several times. She walked quickly to the bed.

????? Johnsy's eyes went wide. She looked out the window and counted... Count backwards.

????? "Twelve," she counted, and after a pause, "eleven," then "ten," then "nine," then "eight" and "seven," almost simultaneously.

????? Suai looked out of the window with concern. What is there to count? There was an empty, dark yard, and the empty walls of a brick house twenty feet away. A very old ivy, its withered roots knotted together, and its branches climbed halfway up the brick wall. The cold wind of autumn had blown almost all the leaves off the vine, leaving almost nothing but the bare branches still clinging to the peeling bricks.

????? 'What, my dear? Sue asked.

????? "Six," said Johnsy almost in a whisper. "They're falling faster and faster now. Three days ago, there were about a hundred. It makes my head ache to count. But now it's easier to count. Another piece fell. There are only five left."

????? "Five what, dear. Tell your Suai."

????? "Leaf. It's on the ivy. When the last leaf falls, I should go. I've known about it for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"

????? "Well, I never heard such nonsense," said Suai carelessly. "What do those old ivy leaves have to do with your illness? Didn't you used to love this tree? Come on, you naughty girl. Don't say silly things. See, the doctor told me just this morning that your chances of a speedy recovery were, let me see what he said -- he said your chances were ten to one! Oh, that's about as likely as we are to ride a streetcar or walk past a new building in New York. Have some soup, and let Suai paint her picture to sell to Mr. Editor in exchange for some red wine for her sick child, and some pork chops for her own appetite."

????? "You needn't buy any wine," said Johnsy, her eyes fixed out of the window. "There's another one. No, I don't want soup. There are only four left. I want to see the last leaf fall before it gets dark. Then I'm going, too."

????? "Johnsy, dear," Suai said, leaning over her, "will you wait till I finish? I must hand in these illustrations tomorrow. I need light, or I'll draw down the curtains."

????? "Can't you go and paint in the other room?" "Asked Johnsy coldly.

????? "I want to stay here with you, with you," Suai said. "Besides, I don't like you looking at those leaves."

????? "Call me as soon as you've finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes. She lay pale and motionless on the bed, like a statue lying on its side. "Because I am tired of waiting and thinking to see that last leaf fall. I want to get rid of everything and float down, float down, like a poor tired leaf."

????? "Try to get some sleep," said Suai. "I must go downstairs and fetch Behrman up to be my model for the reclusive old miner. I'll be back in a minute. You don't move until I come back."

????? Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of their building. He was over sixty, and had a beard like Michelangelo's Moses, curling from the head of a satyr that resembled a half-man, half-beast, and curling from the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure as a painter. After forty years of painting, he was far from touching the dress of the goddess of art. He's always saying he's going to paint his masterpiece, but up to now he hasn't started. For years he had drawn nothing but the occasional commercial or something like that. He earned a little money by modelling for young artists in the arts district who were too poor to afford professional models. He drank to excess and often talked about the masterpiece he was going to paint. Besides, he was a very angry little old man, who despised tenderness, and thought himself a house-dog who protected the two young ladies in the studio upstairs.

????? Suai found Behrman in his dimly lit room downstairs, smelling of alcohol. A blank canvas stretched on an easel in a corner of the room had waited 25 years for the masterpiece, but not a single line had been waiting. Suai told him of Johnsy's fancies, and said she was afraid that Johnsy herself, small and frail as a leaf, might float away from the world.

????? Old Behrman, whose red eyes were evidently watering in the wind, laughed with great contempt at such foolish notions.

????? "What," he cried, "is there anyone in the world stupid enough to want to die because those damn ivy leaves have fallen? I have never heard of such a strange thing. No, I don't have time to pose for your reclusive coal miner fool. How could you let her think like that? Oh, poor Miss Johnsy."

????? "She was very ill and weak," Suai said. "The fever had made her nervous and full of strange ideas. Well, Mr. Behrman, if you don't want to pose for me, that's fine. I think you're a nasty old... . The old rascals."

????? "You're such a motherfucker!" Behrman cried. "Who says I don't want to be a model? Come on, I'll go with you. Didn't I tell you how much I wanted to be your model? Good Lord, a girl like Miss Johnsy shouldn't be lying sick in a place like this. One day I'm going to paint a masterpiece, and then we can all move out. "

????? "Of course!

????? Johnsy was asleep when they went upstairs. Suai drew the curtain down over the window sill and motioned Behrman into the next room. There they peered nervously out of the window at the ivy tree. Then they looked at each other for a moment in silence. The cold rain mingled with snow fell steadily. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, sat on an upturned iron pot that served as a rock, as the reclusive miner.

????? When Suai awoke the next morning, after only an hour's sleep, she saw Johnsy's lifeless eyes staring wide at the drawn green curtains.

????? "Draw the curtains. I want to see." "She commanded in a low voice.

????? Suai wearily complied.

????? And yet, lo! After a long night of wind and rain, a vine leaf still hung on the brick wall. It was the last leaf on the ivy. It was still dark green near the stem, but the edges of the serrated leaves had withered and yellowed, and it hung proudly from a branch twenty feet above the ground.

????? "This is the last leaf." 'said Johnsy.' I thought it must have fallen last night. I heard the wind. It will fall today, and I will die."

????? "Oh, oh," Suai said to her, drawing his tired face close to the pillow. "If you won't think of yourself, think of me. What can I do?"

????? But Johnsy made no answer. A soul is the loneliest person in the world when she is preparing for the mysterious and distant journey to her death. As the ties which had bound her so much to friendship faded away, her fanatical thoughts grew stronger.

????? At last the day was over, and even in the twilight they could see the lone vine leaf clinging to its branch against the wall. Then night came with a howling north wind, and the rain beat against the Windows and spilled from the low-hanging Dutch eaves.

????? As soon as it was dawn Johnsy gave the merciless order to draw the curtains.

????? The dead vine leaf was still there.

????? Johnsy lay looking at it for a long time. Then she called to Sue, who was making her chicken soup over the gas stove.

????? "I was a bad girl, Sue," Johnsy said. "God left that last leaf there to prove how bad I had been. It's a sin to want to die. Bring me some chicken soup now, and some milk with wine in it, and -- no, give me a little mirror first, and put up the pillows, and I'll sit up and watch you cook."

????? After an hour she said, "Suai, I hope one day to paint the Bay of Naples."

????? The doctor came in the afternoon, and as he left, Suai made an excuse and ran out into the corridor.

????? "Fifty to one." 'said the doctor, taking Suai's thin, trembling hand in his.' Take good care, and you will succeed. Now I have to see another patient downstairs. His name was Behrman... . I hear he's a painter, too. Pneumonia. He was very old and weak, and very ill. He can't be cured. We'll take him to the hospital today to make him more comfortable."

????? The next day, the doctor said to Suai, "She's out of danger. You made it. Now it's just nutrition and care."

????? In the afternoon Suai ran to Johnsy's bed, where she lay peacefully knitting a dark blue shawl of useless wool. Suai put one arm around her, pillow and all.

????? "I have something to tell you, little fellow," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was only ill for two days. The morning before, the porter had found him in his room downstairs, immobile with pain. His shoes and clothes were all wet and cold. They could not make out where he had gone on that stormy night. Then they found a lantern that had not gone out, a ladder that had been moved, some paintbrushes that had been thrown about, a palette daubed with green and yellow paint, and, my dear, look out the window, look at the last vine leaf on the wall. Don't you ever wonder why it never shakes or moves when the wind blows so hard? Alas, my dear, this leaf is Behrman's masterpiece. He painted it there the night the last leaf fell."