A Newspaper Story by O Henry
Difficulty: Medium    Uploaded: 7 years, 8 months ago by GCHOTEAU     Last Activity: 6 years, 2 months ago
Fin
72 Units
100% Translated
100% Upvoted
A 8 heures du matin il était étalé sur le kiosque à journaux de Giuseppi, sortant des presses, encore humide. Giuseppi, avec l'astuce des gens de son espèce, flirtait à l'angle opposé, laissant ses clients se débrouiller, n'ayant aucun doute sur une théorie selon laquelle tout vient à point à qui sait attendre.

Ce journal extraordinaire était, d'après sa clientèle et son intention, un éducateur, un guide, un moniteur, un champion, un conseiller domestique et un vade mecum.

Parmi ses multiples qualités, on pouvait sélectionner trois éditoriaux. L'un, en un langage simple et chaste mais instructif destiné aux parents et enseignants, désapprouvait les châtiments corporels pour les enfants.

Un autre était un avertissement accusateur et significatif adressé à un responsable syndical connu qui était sur le point d'inciter ses clients à une grève importune.

Le troisième était une revendication éloquente pour que les forces de police soient soutenues et aidées pour tout ce qui tendait à accroître leur efficacité en tant que gardiens et serviteurs de l'ordre public..

Outre ces réprimandes et requêtes plus importantes au magasin de la bonne citoyenneté, il y avait une judicieuse prescription ou forme de procédure exposée par l'éditeur de la rubrique "à cœur ouvert" dans le cas précis d'un jeune homme qui s'était plaint de l'obstination de sa dulcinée, lui apprenant comment il pouvait peut-être la conquérir.

Il y avait aussi, à la rubrique beauté, une réponse détaillée à une jeune dame qui désirait un conseil pour s'assurer des yeux brillants, des joues roses et un magnifique visage.

Un autre sujet qui requérait une compétence particulière était une petite annonce ainsi libellée : CHER JACK: ... Pardonne-moi. Tu avais raison. Retrouve-moi angle Madison et ...ème à 8 H 30 ce matin. Nous partons à midi.

REPENTANTE.

A 8 heures, un jeune homme au regard hagard, une lueur fiévreuse dans l'œil suite au manque de sommeil, laissa tomber un penny et attrapa le journal du dessus en passant devant le kiosque de Giuseppi. Une nuit blanche avait fait de lui un lève-tard. Il devait rejoindre son bureau avant neuf heures et, entre-temps, il lui fallait se raser et avaler rapidement une tasse de café.

Il passa chez son barbier, puis se mit en route rapidement. Il mit son journal dans sa poche, songeant à le lire attentivement plus tard en déjeunant. A l'angle de rue suivant, il tomba de sa poche, emportant avec lui sa nouvelle paire de gants. Trois blocs plus loin, il s'aperçut de la disparition de ses gants et fit demi-tour en fulminant.

Exactement à la demie, il atteignit le coin de rue où gisaient les gants et le journal. Mais, bizarrement, il ignora ce qu'il était venu chercher. Il tenait deux petites mains aussi fermement que jamais et regardait au fond de deux yeux bruns et contrits, son cœur explosant de joie.

— Cher Jack, dit-elle, je savais que tu serai là à l'heure.

— Je me demande ce qu'elle veut dire par là, se disait-il, mais tout va bien, tout va bien.

Un coup de vent souffla de l'ouest, attrapa le journal sur le trottoir, l'ouvrit et l'envoya voler en tournoyant dans une rue latérale. En haut de cette rue, conduisant un cheval bai nerveux vers un buggy aux roues en étoile, se trouvait le jeune homme qui avait écrit au rédacteur du courrier du cœur au sujet d'une recette pour conquérir celle pour qui il soupirait.

Le vent, d'une rafale farceuse, colla le journal volant contre le chanfrein de l'étalon bai. Une longue trainée de couleur baie mélangée au rouge du train de roulement s'étira sur quatre blocs. Puis une borne d'incendie joua son rôle dans la cosmogonie, le buggy se transforma en bois d'allumette comme c'était joué d'avance, et le conducteur prit très calmement quelque repos là où il avait été projeté sur l'asphalte devant une certaine demeure de grès brun.

Ils sortirent et le firent entrer très promptement. Et il y en eut une qui fit elle-même office d'oreiller pour sa tête et s'assura qu'il n'y avait pas d'yeux curieux, se penchant et disant : — Oh, c'était toi, c'était toi tout le temps, Bobby! Tu n'as pas pu le voir? Et si tu meurs, mon Dieu, moi aussi je mourrai, et... — Mais avec tout ce vent nous devons nous dépêcher pour garder le contact avec notre journal.

Le policier O'Brine l'arrêta, considérant que c'était un personnage dangereux pour la circulation. Redressant ses pages chiffonnées avec ses gros doigts malhabiles, il resta debout à quelques pieds de l'entrée familiale du café Shandon Bells. Il épela maladroitement un gros titre : "Les journaux montent au front dans une démarche pour aider la police."

Mais chut! La voix de Danny, le chef barman, par l'entrebaillement de la porte : — V'là un p'tit verre pour toi, Mike, mon vieux.

Derrière les colonnes généralistes et amicales de la presse, le policier O'Brine réceptionne en vitesse son petit verre de tord-boyau.. Il s'en repart, loyal, rafraîchi, réconforté à ses devoirs. Puisse le rédacteur ne pas regarder avec fierté le premier fruit spirituel au sens propre qui avait béni son labeur.

Le policier O'Brine replia le journal et le mit malicieusement dans la poche d'un petit garçon qui passait. Ce garçon s'appelait Johnny et il emmena le journal chez lui. Sa sœur s'appelait Gladys et elle avait écrit au rédacteur de la rubrique beauté du journal pour demander le critère de beauté réalisable. C'était il y a des semaines et elle avait cessé d'espérer une réponse. Gladys était une jeune fille pâle au regard terne et à l'air insatisfait. Elle s'habillait pour remonter l'avenue pour acheter du ruban. Sous sa jupe, elle épingla deux feuilles du journal que Johnny avait rapporté. Quand elle se mit à marcher, le bruit de froissement était une imitation parfaite de la réalité.

Dans la rue, elle rencontra la fille Brown de l'appartement du dessous et s'arrêta pour discuter. La fille Brown vira au vert. Il n'y avait que la soie à 5$ le yard pour émettre le bruit qu'elle entendait quand Gladys bougeait. La fille Brown, consumée de jalousie, dit une méchanceté et s'en alla, les lèvres pincées.

Gladys poursuivit son chemin vers l'avenue. Maintenant, ses yeux étincelaient comme des diamants de Jagersfontein. Une fleuraison rose envahit ses joues, un sourire triomphant, subtil et vivifiant transfigura son visage. Elle était superbe. Si le rédacteur de la rubrique beauté avait pu la voir à ce moment! Dans le journal, il y avait quelque chose dans sa réponse, je crois, à propos du fait d'entretenir d'agréables sentiments envers les autres afin de rendre attirants les visages ordinaires.

Le responsable syndical contre lequel l'injonction éditoriale solennelle et grave s'étalait dans le journal était le père de Gladys et Johnny. Il attrapa les restes du journal dont Gladys avait ravi un simulacre de froissement de soie. L'éditorial n'apparut pas sous ses yeux, mais, à sa place, il fut accueilli par l'un de ces ingénieux et spécieux casse-têtes qui captivent pareillement le simple d'esprit et le sage.

Le responsable syndical déchira la moitié de la page, se munit d'une table, d'un crayon et de papier et s'englua dans son casse-tête.

Trois heures plus tard, l'ayant vainement attendu au lieu de rendez-vous prévu, d'autres responsables plus conservateurs se déclarèrent et statuèrent en faveur de l'arbitrage et la grève avec ses dangers associés fut évitée. Les éditions suivantes du journal firent référence, en caractères de couleur, à l'appel claironnant de sa dénonciation des projets initiaux du leader syndical.

Les feuilles qui restaient du dynamique journal vinrent également loyalement démontrer son pouvoir.

Quand Johnny revint de l'école, il chercha un endroit isolé et enleva les éditoriaux manquants de dessous ses vêtements, où ils avaient été habilement répartis afin de protéger efficacement les zones généralement agressées à l'occasion des châtiments scolastiques. Johnny fréquentait une école privée et avait eu des problèmes avec son professeur. Comme on l'a dit, il y avait un excellent éditorial contre les punitions corporelles dans la publication de ce matin, et il a sans aucun doute eu son effet.

Après cela, peut-on douter du pouvoir de la presse ?
unit 1
AT 8 A. M. it lay on Giuseppi's news-stand, still damp from the presses.
1 Translations, 4 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 4
From its many excellencies might be selected three editorials.
2 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 11
You were right.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 12
Meet me comer Madison and -th at 8.30 this morning.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 13
We leave at noon.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 14
PENITENT.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 16
A sleepless night had left him a late riser.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 18
He visited his barber shop and then hurried on his way.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 19
He pocketed his paper, meditating a belated perusal of it at the luncheon hour.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 20
At the next corner it fell from his pocket, carrying with it his pair of new gloves.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 21
Three blocks he walked, missed the gloves and turned back fuming.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 22
Just on the half-hour he reached the corner where lay the gloves and the paper.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 23
But he strangely ignored that which he had come to seek.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 25
"Dear Jack," she said, "I knew you would be here on time."
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 26
"I wonder what she means by that," he was saying to himself; "but it's all right, it's all right."
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 29
The wind, with a prankish flurry, flapped the flying newspaper against the face of the skittish bay.
1 Translations, 1 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 32
They came out and had him inside very promptly.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 34
Couldn't you see it?
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 36
Policeman O'Brine arrested it as a character dangerous to traffic.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 38
One headline he spelled out ponderously: "The Papers to the Front in a Move to Help the Police."
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 39
But, whisht!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 42
He moves away, stalwart, refreshed, fortified, to his duties.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 44
unit 45
That boy was named Johnny, and he took the paper home with him.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 47
That was weeks ago, and she had ceased to look for an answer.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 48
Gladys was a pale girl, with dull eyes and a discontented expression.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 49
She was dressing to go up to the avenue to get some braid.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 50
Beneath her skirt she pinned two leaves of the paper Johnny had brought.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 51
When she walked the rustling sound was an exact imitation of the real thing.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 52
On the street she met the Brown girl from the flat below and stopped to talk.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 53
The Brown girl turned green.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 54
Only silk at $5 a yard could make the sound that she heard when Gladys moved.
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 55
The Brown girl, consumed by jealousy, said something spiteful and went her way, with pinched lips.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 56
Gladys proceeded toward the avenue.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 57
Her eyes now sparkled like jagerfonteins.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 58
A rosy bloom visited her cheeks; a triumphant, subtle, vivifying, smile transfigured her face.
2 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 59
She was beautiful.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 60
Could the beauty editor have seen her then!
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 63
He picked up the remains of the journal from which Gladys had ravished a cosmetic of silken sounds.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 68
The remaining leaves of the active journal also went loyally to the proving of its potency.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 70
Johnny attended a private school and had had trouble with his teacher.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago
unit 72
After this can any one doubt the power of the press?
1 Translations, 2 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 8 months ago

AT 8 A. M. it lay on Giuseppi's news-stand, still damp from the presses. Giuseppi, with the cunning of his ilk, philandered on the opposite comer, leaving his patrons to help themselves, no doubt on a theory related to the hypothesis of the watched pot.

This particular newspaper was, according to its custom and design, an educator, a guide, a monitor, a champion and a household counsellor and vade mecum.

From its many excellencies might be selected three editorials. One was in simple and chaste but illuminat- ing language directed to parents and teachers, depreca- ting corporal punishment for children.

Another was an accusive and significant warning addressed to a notorious labour leader who was on the point of instigating his clients to a troublesome strike.

The third was an eloquent demand that the police force be sustained and aided in everything that tended to increase its efficiency as public guardians and servants.

Besides these more important chidings and requisitions upon the store of good citizenship was a wise prescription or form of procedure laid out by the editor of the heart- to-heart column in the specific case of a young man who had complained of the obduracy of his lady love, teaching him how he might win her.

Again, there was, on the beauty page, a complete answer to a young lady inquirer who desired admonition toward the securing of bright eyes, rosy cheeks and a beautiful countenance.

One other item requiring special cognizance was a brief "personal," running thus:

DEAR JACK: -- Forgive me. You were right. Meet me comer Madison and -th at 8.30 this morning. We leave at noon.

PENITENT.

At 8 o'clock a young man with a haggard look and the feverish gleam of unrest in his eye dropped a penny and picked up the top paper as he passed Giuseppi's stand. A sleepless night had left him a late riser. There was an office to be reached by nine, and a shave and a hasty cup of coffee to be crowded into the interval.

He visited his barber shop and then hurried on his way. He pocketed his paper, meditating a belated perusal of it at the luncheon hour. At the next corner it fell from his pocket, carrying with it his pair of new gloves. Three blocks he walked, missed the gloves and turned back fuming.

Just on the half-hour he reached the corner where lay the gloves and the paper. But he strangely ignored that which he had come to seek. He was holding two little hands as tightly as ever he could and looking into two penitent brown eyes, while joy rioted in his heart.

"Dear Jack," she said, "I knew you would be here on time."

"I wonder what she means by that," he was saying to himself; "but it's all right, it's all right."

A big wind puffed out of the west, picked up the paper from the sidewalk, opened it out and sent it flying and whirling down a side street. Up that street was driving a skittish bay to a spider-wheel buggy, the young man who had written to the heart-to-heart editor for a recipe that he might win her for whom he sighed.

The wind, with a prankish flurry, flapped the flying newspaper against the face of the skittish bay. There was a lengthened streak of bay mingled with the red of running gear that stretched itself out for four blocks. Then a water-hydrant played its part in the cosmogony, the buggy became matchwood as foreordained, and the driver rested very quietly where he had been flung on the asphalt in front of a certain brownstone mansion.

They came out and had him inside very promptly. And there was one who made herself a pillow for his head, and cared for no curious eyes, bending over and saying, "Oh, it was you; it was you all the time, Bobby! Couldn't you see it? And if you die, why, so must I, and -- "

But in all this wind we must hurry to keep in touch with our paper.

Policeman O'Brine arrested it as a character dangerous to traffic. Straightening its dishevelled leaves with his big, slow fingers, he stood a few feet from the family entrance of the Shandon Bells Café. One headline he spelled out ponderously: "The Papers to the Front in a Move to Help the Police."

But, whisht! The voice of Danny, the head bartender, through the crack of the door: "Here's a nip for ye, Mike, ould man."

Behind the widespread, amicable columns of the press Policeman O'Brine receives swiftly his nip of the real stuff. He moves away, stalwart, refreshed, fortified, to his duties. Might not the editor man view with pride the early, the spiritual, the literal fruit that had blessed his labours.

Policeman O'Brine folded the paper and poked it playfully under the arm of a small boy that was passing. That boy was named Johnny, and he took the paper home with him. His sister was named Gladys, and she had written to the beauty editor of the paper asking for the practicable touchstone of beauty. That was weeks ago, and she had ceased to look for an answer. Gladys was a pale girl, with dull eyes and a discontented expression. She was dressing to go up to the avenue to get some braid. Beneath her skirt she pinned two leaves of the paper Johnny had brought. When she walked the rustling sound was an exact imitation of the real thing.

On the street she met the Brown girl from the flat below and stopped to talk. The Brown girl turned green. Only silk at $5 a yard could make the sound that she heard when Gladys moved. The Brown girl, consumed by jealousy, said something spiteful and went her way, with pinched lips.

Gladys proceeded toward the avenue. Her eyes now sparkled like jagerfonteins. A rosy bloom visited her cheeks; a triumphant, subtle, vivifying, smile transfigured her face. She was beautiful. Could the beauty editor have seen her then! There was something in her answer in the paper, I believe, about cultivating kind feelings toward others in order to make plain features attractive.

The labour leader against whom the paper's solemn and weighty editorial injunction was laid was the father of Gladys and Johnny. He picked up the remains of the journal from which Gladys had ravished a cosmetic of silken sounds. The editorial did not come under his eye, but instead it was greeted by one of those ingenious and specious puzzle problems that enthrall alike the simpleton and the sage.

The labour leader tore off half of the page, provided himself with table, pencil and paper and glued himself to his puzzle.

Three hours later, after waiting vainly for him at the appointed place, other more conservative leaders declared and ruled in favour of arbitration, and the strike with its attendant dangers was averted. Subsequent editions of the paper referred, in coloured inks, to the clarion tone of its successful denunciation of the labour leader's intended designs.

The remaining leaves of the active journal also went loyally to the proving of its potency.

When Johnny returned from school he sought a secluded spot and removed the missing columns from the inside of his clothing, where they had been artfully distributed so as to successfully defend such areas as are generally attacked during scholastic castigations. Johnny attended a private school and had had trouble with his teacher. As has been said, there was an excellent editorial against corporal punishment in that morning's issue, and no doubt it had its effect.

After this can any one doubt the power of the press?