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  • In a little district west of Washington Square, a colony of artists settled,

  • attracted by low rents in the buildings abandoned by the companies so prosperous until "the crash".

  • At the top of a squatty, three- story brick, Sue and Johnsy had their studio.

  • They had met in May and enjoyed each other's company so much that the joint studio resulted.

  • In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about

  • the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.

  • Johnsy, he smote. Her thin blood was no match for Mr. Pneumonia.

  • Sue was beside herself with worry, and the only shoulder to cry upon was that of Old Behrman -

  • a painter who lived on the ground floor below them.

  • Behrman was a failure in art.

  • He had wielded the brush for forty years,

  • always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it.

  • He drank to excess, and regarded himself as a guard dog of sorts,

  • to protect the two young women in the studio above.

  • Ahh!, Good afternoon, Miss Susie.

  • Good afternoon, Mr. Behrman. Any luck with your paintings today?

  • Nothing today. Here, let me help you with your groceries.

  • Thank you, but I think you've got your hands full enough.

  • I shlep all this down to Washington Square, and for what?

  • Oooh! My goodness!

  • Ah! Mr. Behrman, this is beautiful. Is it new?

  • Ja, ja, ja, I paint it today. I could have sold it too. For twenty dollars.

  • What?! Why didn't you?

  • Ach! No, no, no! It's not for a woman like that!

  • An art maven from Park Avenue.

  • She only wanted to buy the painting because it matched the color of her sofa! Hmmph! Ein Yuchna!

  • Yes, but twenty dollars...

  • Twenty dollars? You want money, be a banker. You want misery, be a painter like me.

  • How is she? Miss Johnsy, I mean.

  • I'm going to make her some soup.

  • She seems to be getting worse... The doctor is on his way.

  • Oh, such a foolish girl! Painting out in the cold like that for hours -

  • Now she gets pneumonia and perhaps dies?

  • Uhh, I'm sorry,- I mean - She's such a sweet young thing.

  • And such a talent - a gift - for painting, I should have.

  • Listen. You tell her I will make a prayer for her. Ja?

  • Thank you, Mr. Behrman.

  • [MUSIC]

  • She has one chance in... let us say, ten. And that chance is for her to want to live.

  • This way people have of lining-up on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopeia look silly.

  • Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well.

  • Has she anything on her mind?

  • She... she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day.

  • Paint! Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth giving a second thought to?

  • A man for instance?

  • A man?! Is a man worth ...

  • No, doctor. There's nothing like that.

  • Well, it is the weakness, then.

  • I will do all that science, in as far as it's filtered through my efforts, can accomplish, but

  • when a my patient of mine begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession

  • I must subtract fifty percent from the curative power of medicine.

  • If you can get her to ask just one question about the new winter styles in overcoats,

  • I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of a one-in-ten.

  • Thank you, doctor.

  • Twelve.

  • Eleven.

  • Did I tell you I saw old Mr. Behrman on my way back from the market?

  • He almost sold a painting today.

  • A new one. Oh, you should see it. It's wonderful.

  • Still trying to paint his masterpiece.

  • You shouldn't have bothered. I really don't want any soup.

  • Oh, Johnsie, you have to eat something. You need your energy.

  • I'll just leave it here next to you. Try to have a little at least.

  • Nine

  • Eight

  • Seven

  • What is it, dear?

  • Six.

  • They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred.

  • It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy.

  • There goes another one. There are only five left now.

  • Five what, dear?

  • Tell your Sudie.

  • Leaves.

  • On the ivy vine.

  • When the last one falls I must go, too.

  • I've known that for three days now. Didn't the doctor tell you?

  • I've never heard such nonsense! What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well?

  • And you used to love that vine so. Don't be a goosey!

  • Why, the doctor told me that your chances for getting well real soon were...

  • let's see exactly what he said...

  • He said your chances were ten to one!

  • Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride the street cars or walk past a new building.

  • Try to take some soup now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it,

  • and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.

  • You needn't get any more wine.

  • There goes another.

  • Now there's only four.

  • I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.

  • Oh, Johnsy -

  • - will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working?

  • I must hand those drawings in by tomorrow. I need the light, or I would draw the curtain.

  • Couldn't you draw in the other room?

  • I'd rather be here by you. Besides, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.

  • Tell me as soon as you've finished. I want to see the last one fall.

  • I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold of everything, and go sailing down.

  • Just like one of those poor, tired leaves.

  • Try to get some sleep.

  • I must call Mr. Behrman up to model for a new illustration.

  • I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move until I get back.

  • Three.

  • Vas? Is there people in this world who will die because some leaves drop from a confounded vine?

  • I have never heard of such a thing!

  • Why do you let such silly thoughts enter her pretty little head? Hmm?

  • Nein! I will not pose for you.

  • She is very ill and weak, and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies.

  • Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't.

  • But I think you are a horrid old... old flibbertigibbet!

  • You are just like a woman! Who told you I would not pose? I come. I come with you.

  • Oh, Mein Gott!

  • This is no place for someone as good as Miss Yohnsy to lie in sickness.

  • Some day I shall paint my masterpiece. And then we can all go away.

  • Ja. ... Ja.

  • Pull them open, I want to see.

  • It is the last one.

  • I thought it would surely have fallen during the night.

  • I heard the wind. Today it will fall.

  • And I will die at the same time.

  • Think of me. If you won't think of yourself. What would I do?

  • [MUSIC] [Rain, Thunder]

  • Open the curtains.

  • I've been a bad girl, Sudie. Something has made that last leaf stay there

  • Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was.

  • It is a sin to want to die.

  • You may bring me a little soup now. And some milk with a little port wine in it, and -

  • No, wait. Bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me.

  • I'll sit up while you cook.

  • Sudie -

  • Some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples.

  • You will. We both will.

  • Even chances. With good nursing you'll win.

  • Now I must return to a case I have downstairs.

  • Behrman, his name is. Pneumonia too.

  • He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute.

  • There's no hope for him.

  • But he goes to the hospital today to make him feel more comfortable.

  • Thank you, doctor.

  • I'm so sorry -

  • - Yes. I will. -

  • Thank you for calling, doctor. Bye.

  • I have something to tell you, white mouse.

  • Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital.

  • He was ill only two days.

  • The janitor found him on the morning of the first day,

  • in his room downstairs helpless with pain.

  • His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold.

  • They couldn't imagine where he'd been on such a dreadful night.

  • And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place.

  • Some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow paints mixed on it, and -

  • Look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall...

  • Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew?

  • Oh, sweetie, it's Behrman's masterpiece!

  • He painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.

In a little district west of Washington Square, a colony of artists settled,

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B1 UK paint pneumonia leaf doctor ivy masterpiece

The Last Leaf by O. Henry - Full Movie

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    Anbe2623 posted on 2016/03/26
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