The Last Leaf Sa maliit na bahagi ng lungsod sa kanluran ng
Washington Square, ang mga kalye ay nagkagulo. Kung saan-
by O. Henry
In a small part of the city west of Washington Square,
the streets have gone wild. They turn in different directions.
They are broken into small pieces called “places.” One street
goes across itself one or two times. A painter once discovered
something possible and valuable about this street. Suppose a
painter had some painting materials for which he had not paid.
Suppose he had no money. Suppose a man came to get the
money. The man might walk down that street and suddenly
meet himself coming back, without having received a cent!
This part of the city is called Greenwich Village. And to old
Greenwich Village the painters soon came. Here they found
rooms they like, with good light and at a low cost.
Sue and Johnsy lived at the top of a building with three
floors. One of these young women came from Maine, the other
from California. They had met at a restaurant on Eighth Street.
There they discovered that they liked the same kind of art, the
same kind of food, and the same kind of clothes. So they
decided to live and work together.
That was in the spring.
Ang Huling Dahon
Salin ni Dave A. De Los Martirez
saan ang direksiyon ng mga ito. Ang mga ito ay pinagpira-
piraso at tinawag na mga “lugar”. Ang isang kalye ay
tumatawid sa kanyang sarili ng isa o dalawang beses. Ang
isang pintor ay minsang may natuklasan na posible at mahalaga
sa kalyeng ito. Ipagpalagay na ang isang pintor ay may mga
materyales sa pagpipinta na hindi niya binayaran. Ipagpalagay
na wala siyang pera. Ipagpalagay na may isang lalaki na
dumating para kunin ang pera. Maaaring dumaan siya sa
kalyeng iyon at bumalik ulit na wala man lang natatanggap ni
sentimo. Ang bahagi ng lungsod na ito ay tinatawag na Nayon
ng Greenwich. At sa lumang Nayon ng Greenwich ang mga
pintor ay dumating. Dito sila nakahanap ng mga kwartong
kanilang gusto, may magandang ilaw at nasa murang halaga.
Sina Sue at Johnsy ay naninirahan sa tuktok ng isang
gusali na may tatlong palapag. Ang isa sa mga dalagang ito ay
nagmula sa Maine, ang isa naman ay sa California. Nagkakilala
sila sa isang restawran sa Eighth Street. Doon ay nadiskubre
nila na pareho sila ng gusto pagdating sa sining, pagkain, at
mga damit kung kaya ay napagdesisyunan nila na tumira at
magtrabaho nang magkasama.
Iyon ay panahon ng tagsibol.
Toward winter a cold stranger entered Greenwich
Village. No one could see him. He walked around touching one
person here and another there with his icy fingers. He was a
bad sickness. Doctors called him Pneumonia. On the east side
of the city he hurried, touching many people; but in the narrow
streets of Greenwich Village he did not move so quickly.
Mr. Pneumonia was not a nice old gentleman. A nice
old gentleman would not hurt a weak little woman from
California. But Mr. Pneumonia touched Johnsy with his cold
fingers. She lay on her bed almost without moving, and she
looked through the window at the wall of the house next to
hers.
One morning the busy doctor spoke to Sue alone in the
hall, where Johnsy could not hear.
“She has a very small chance,” he said. “She has a
chance, if she wants to live. If people don’t want to live, I can’t
do much for them. Your little lady has decided that she is not
going to get well. Is there something that is troubling her?”
“She always wanted to go to Italy and paint a picture of
the Bay of Naples,” said Sue.
“Paint! Not paint. Is there anything worth being
troubled about? A man?”
Dumating ang tagginaw, isang malamig na estranghero
ang pumasok sa Nayon ng Greenwich. Walang nakakakita sa
kanya. Naglibot siya at hinahawakan ang isang tao dito at isa
pa roon ng kanyang malalamig na mga daliri. Isa siyang
malubhang sakit. Tinatawag siya ng mga doktor na Pulmonya.
Sa silangan ng siyudad ay siya ay nagtungo, hinahawakan ang
maraming tao; ngunit sa makipot na kalye ng Nayon ng
Greenwich, hindi siya nakagalaw nang mabilis.
Si Ginoong Pulmonya ay isang hindi mabuting ginoo.
Ang isang mabuting ginoo ay hindi sasaktan ang isang
mahinang maliit na babae mula sa California. Ngunit si
Ginoong Pulmonya ay hinawakan si Johnsy ng kanyang
malamig na mga daliri. Siya ay nakahiga sa kanyang kama na
halos hindi na gumagalaw, at sa bintana ay nakatingin siya sa
pader ng bahay na katabi nila.
Isang umaga, kinausap ng doktor si Sue nang mag-isa
sa pasilyo, kung saan ay hindi naririnig ni Johnsy.
“Siya ay mayroon ng napakaliit na pag-asa”, sabi niya.
“Siya ay may pag-asa, kung gusto niyang mabuhay. Kung ang
mga tao ay ayaw nang mabuhay, wala na akong magagawa
para sa kanila. Ang iyong kaibigan ay nakapagdesisyon na na
hindi na siya gagaling. May bumabagabag ba sa kanya?”
“Lagi niyang gustong pumunta sa Italya at ipinta ang
Look ng Naples”, wika ni Sue.
“Pagpipinta! Hindi pagpipinta. May iba pa bang
kabagabagabag? Lalaki?”
“A man?” said Sue. “Is a man worth—No, doctor.
There is not a man.”
“It is weakness,” said the doctor. “I will do all I know
how to do. But when a sick person begins to feel that he’s
going to die, half my work is useless. Talk to her about new
winter clothes. If she were interested in the future, her chances
would be better.”
After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom
to cry. Then she walked into Johnsy’s room. She carried some
of her painting materials, and she was singing.
Johnsy lay there, very thin and very quiet. Her face was
turned toward the window. Sue stopped singing, thinking that
Johnsy was asleep.
 Sue began to work. As she worked she heard a low
sound, again and again. She went quickly to the bedside.
Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the
window and counting—counting back.
“Twelve,” she said; and a little later, “Eleven”; and
then, “Ten,” and, “Nine”; and then, “Eight,” and, “Seven,”
almost together.
“Lalaki?”, tanong ni Sue. “Ang lalaki ba ay dapat—
Hindi, doktor. Walang lalaki.”
“Iyon ay kahinaan,” wika ng doktor. “Gagawin ko lahat
ng aking makakaya. Ngunit kung ang may sakit ay
nagsimulang makaramdam na siya ay mamamatay na, kalahati
ng aking trabaho ay wala ng saysay. Kausapin mo siya tungkol
sa mga bagong damit pangtagginaw. Kung siya ay interesado
sa hinaharap, ang pag-asa niya ay magiging mas mabuti.
Pagkaalis ng doktor, si Sue ay nagtungo sa silid-
trabahuhan para umiyak. Pagkatapos ay pumasok naman siya
sa silid ni Johnsy. Nagdala siya ng ilang materyales sa
pagpipinta, at siya ay umaawit
Si Johnsy ay nakahiga, sobrang payat at napakatahimik.
Siya ay lumingon sa bintana. Tumigil sa pag-awit si Sue dahil
iniisip niyang natutulog si Johnsy.
Nagsimulang magtrabaho si Sue. Sa kanyang
pagtatrabaho ay paulit-ulit siyang nakarinig ng mahinang
tunog. Nagmadali siyang nagtungo sa tabi ng kama.
Ang mga mata ni Johnsy ay mulat na mulat. Siya ay
nakatingin sa bintana at nagbibilang—pabalik na nagbibilang.
“Labindalawa,” sabi niya; maya-maya pa, “Labing-isa”;
at sumunod, “Sampu,”at “Siyam”; at sumunod, “Walo,” at,
“Pito,” halos magkasabay.
Sue looked out the window. What was there to count?
There was only the side wall of the next house, a short distance
away. The wall had no window. An old, old tree grew against
the wall. The cold breath of winter had already touched it.
Almost all its leaves had fallen from its dark branches.
“What is it, dear?” asked Sue.
“Six,” said Johnsy, in a voice still lower. “They’re
falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred.
It hurt my head to count them. But now it’s easy. There goes
another one. There are only five now.”
“Five what, dear? Tell your Sue.”
“Leaves. On the tree. When the last one falls, I must go,
too. I’ve known that for three days. Didn’t the doctor tell you?”
“Oh, I never heard of such a thing,” said Sue. “It
doesn’t have any sense in it. What does an old tree have to do
with you? Or with your getting well? And you used to love that
tree so much. Don’t be a little fool. The doctor told me your
chances for getting well. He told me this morning. He said you
had very good chances! Try to eat a little now. And then I’ll go
back to work. And then I can sell my picture, and then I can
buy something more for you to eat to make you strong.”
Si Sue ay tumingin sa bintana. Ano ba ang mayroon
doon para bilangin? Ang meron lamang doon ay ang pader ng
kabilang bahay na malapit sa kanila. Ang pader na ito ay
walang bintana. Isang matandang puno ang lumaki sa pader.
Ito ay nadampian na ng malamig na hangin na dulot ng
tagginaw. Halos lahat ng mga dahon nito ay nahulog na mula
sa maiitim nitong mga sanga.
“Ano iyon, giliw?” tanong ni Sue.
“Anim,” wika ni Johnsy, sa mahina pa ring boses.
“Ngayon, sila ay nahuhulog nang mas mabilis. Noong
nakaraang tatlong araw, halos nasa isandaan ang mga ito.
Sumakit ang ulo ko kaya binilang ko na lamang sila. Ngunit
ngayon ay madali na. May isa pang nahulog. Ngayon ay lilima
na lamang sila.”
“Limang ano, giliw? Sabihin mo sa akin.”
“Mga dahon. Sa puno. Kapag ang huling dahon ay
nahulog na, kailangan ko na ring lumisan. Tatlong araw ko na
iyong nalalaman. Hindi ba sinabi sa iyo ng doktor?”
“Wala akong narinig na ganyang bagay mula sa kanya,”
wika ni Sue. “Wala man lang kabuluhan iyon. Ano ang
kinalaman ng matandang puno sa iyo? O sa iyong paggaling?
At minahal mo rin nang sobra ang punong iyon. Huwag kang
maging tanga. Sinabi sa akin ng doktor ang iyong tsansa na
gumaling. Sinabi niya sa akin kaninang umaga. Sabi niya ay
may malaki kang pag-asa! Subukan mong kumain ngayon nang
paunti-unti. At ako ay babalik na sa aking pagtatrabaho. At
nang maibenta ko na ang aking larawan, at makabili ako ng
marami pang pagkain para iyong kainin upang ikaw ay
lumakas.
“You don’t have to buy anything for me,” said Johnsy.
She still looked out the window. “There goes another. No, I
don’t want anything to eat. Now there are four. I want to see
the last one fall before night. Then I’ll go, too.”
“Johnsy, dear,” said Sue, “will you promise me to close
your eyes and keep them closed? Will you promise not to look
out the window until I finish working? I must have this picture
ready tomorrow. I need the light; I can’t cover the window.”
“Couldn’t you work in the other room?” asked Johnsy
coldly.
“I’d rather be here by you,” said Sue. “And I don’t want
you to look at those leaves.”
“Tell me as soon as you have finished,” said Johnsy.
She closed her eyes and lay white and still. “Because I want to
see the last leaf fall. I have done enough waiting. I have done
enough thinking. I want to go sailing down, down, like one of
those leaves.”

“Hindi mo kailangang bumili ng kahit ano para sa
akin,” wika ni Johnsy. Siya ay tumingin muli sa bintana. “May
isa pang nahulog. Hindi, ayaw kong kumain ng kahit na ano.
Ngayon ay may apat na lamang. Gusto kong masaksihan ang
pagkahulog ng huling dahon bago dumilim. Tapos, ako’y aalis
na rin.”
“Johnsy, aking giliw,” sambit ni Sue, “maipapangako
mo ba sa akin na ipipikit mo ang iyong mga mata at panatilihin
ang mga itong nakapikit? Maipapangako mo ba sa akin na
hindi ka titingin sa bintana hanggang sa matapos ako sa aking
pagtatrabaho? Kailangan kong matapos at maihanda ang
larawang ito para bukas. Kakailanganin ko ang ilaw; hindi ko
pwedeng takpan ang bintana.”
“Hindi ba pwedeng sa ibang silid ka magtrabaho?”
tanong ni Johnsy nang walang sigla.
“Mas gugustuhin kong naririto ako kasama ka,” wika ni
Sue. “At ayaw kong tumingin ka sa mga dahong iyon.”
“Sabihin mo agad sa akin kapag ikaw ay tapos na,”
wika ni Johnsy. Ipinikit niya ang kanyang mga mata at humiga.
“Dahil nais kong makita ang pagkahulog ng huling dahon.
Pagod na ako sa kakahintay. Pagod na ako sa kakaisip. Gusto
ko na ring maglayag, katulad ng isa sa mga dahong iyon.”
“Try to sleep,” said Sue. “I must call Behrman to come
up here. I want to paint a man in this picture, and I’ll make him
look like Behrman. I won’t be gone a minute. Don’t try to
move till I come back.”
Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the first floor
of their house. He was past sixty. He had had no success as a
painter. For forty years he had painted, without ever painting a
good picture. He had always talked of painting a great picture,
a masterpiece, but he had never yet started it.
He got a little money by letting others paint pictures of
him. He drank too much. He still talked of his great
masterpiece. And he believed that it was his special duty to do
everything possible to help Sue and Johnsy.
Sue found him in his dark room, and she knew that he
had been drinking. She could smell it. She told him about
Johnsy and the leaves on the vine. She said that she was afraid
that Johnsy would indeed sail down, down like the leaf. Her
hold on the world was growing weaker.
Old Behrman shouted his anger over such an idea.
“Subukan mong matulog,” wika ni Sue. “Kailangan
kong tawagan si Behrman para magtungo rito. Nais kong
magpinta ng isang lalaki sa larawang ito at si Behrman ang
gusto kong maging kamukha niya. Hindi ako magtatagal.
Huwag kang gagalaw hangga’t hindi ako bumabalik.”
 Si Ginoong Behrman ay isang pintor na naninirahan sa
unang palapag ng gusaling kanila ring tinitirhan. Siya ay
mahigit animnapung taong gulang na. Wala siyang
napagtagumpayan bilang pintor. Sa apatnapung taon na
kanyang pagpipinta, wala man lamang siyang naipinta na
maayos na larawan. Lagi niyang nababanggit ang gawa na may
magandang larawan, isang obra maestra, ngunit hindi pa niya
ito nasisimulan.
Kumikita siya ng pera sa pamamagitan ng pagpipinta sa
kanya ng ibang pintor. Lagi siyang umiinom. Palagi niya pa
ring nakukwento ang kanyang mga obra. At naniniwala siyang
ispesyal niyang tungkulin ang gawin ang lahat ng posible para
tulungan sina Sue at Johnsy.
Nakita siya ni Sue sa kanyang madilim na silid, at
nalaman niyang siya ay umiinom. Naaamoy niya ito. Sinabi
niya kay Berhman ang tungkol kay Johnsy at sa mga dahon sa
baging. Sinabi niya na natatakot siya na lumisan din si Johnsy
gaya ng pagkahulog ng dahon. Ang kanyang pagkapit sa
mundo ay lumuluwag.
Isinigaw ni Ginoong Berhman ang kanyang galit sa
kanyang narinig.
“What!” he cried. “Are there such fools? Do people die
because leaves drop off a tree? I have not heard of such a thing.
No, I will not come up and sit while you make a picture of me.
Why do you allow her to think such a thing? That poor little
Johnsy!” “
“She is very sick and weak,” said Sue. “The sickness
has put these strange ideas into her mind. Mr. Behrman, if you
won’t come, you won’t. But I don’t think you’re very nice.”
“This is like a woman!” shouted Behrman. “Who said I
will not come? Go. I come with you. For half an hour I have
been trying to say that I will come. God! This is not any place
for someone so good as Johnsy to lie sick. Some day I shall
paint my masterpiece, and we shall all go away from here.
God! Yes.”
Johnsy was sleeping when they went up. Sue covered
the window, and took Behrman into the other room. There they
looked out the window fearfully at the tree. Then they looked
at each other for a moment without speaking. A cold rain was
falling, with a little snow in it too.
Behrman sat down, and Sue began to paint.
She worked through most of the night.
“Ano!” aniya. “May mga tao ba talagang tanga? May
mga namamatay ba dahil sa mga dahong nahuhulog mula sa
puno? Wala pa akong naririnig na ganyang bagay. Hindi, hindi
ako aakyat at uupo habang ipinipinta mo ako. Bakit mo siya
hinahayaang mag-isip ng ganoong bagay? Kawawang Johnsy!”
“Siya ay may lubhang sakit at mahina,” wika ni Sue.
“Ang kanyang sakit ang nagpasok nitong mga kakaibang ideya
sa kanyang pag-iisip. Ginoong Behrman, kung hindi ka sasama,
huwag! Ngunit hindi ko alam kung mabuti kang talaga.
 “Ang babae nga naman!” sigaw ni Behrman. “Sino ang
nagsabi na hindi ako sasama? Tayo na. Ako ay sasama sa iyo.
Sa loob ng kalahating oras ay sinusubukan kong sabihin sa iyo
na ako ay pupunta. Diyos ko! Hindi ito ang lugar para sa
sinumang ‘sing buti ni Johnsy na magkasakit. Balang araw ay
maiipinta ko rin ang aking obra, at lahat tayo ay lilisan. Diyos
ko! Oo.”
Natutulog si Johnsy nang sila ay umakyat. Tinakpan ni
Sue ang bintana, at dinala sa ibang silid si Behrman. Doon ay
tinitigan nila sa bintana ang puno nang may takot. Pagkatapos,
sila ay sandaling nagkatitigan at walang mga imik. Ang
malamig na ulan ay bumuhos, na may kasamang niyebe.
Umupo si Behrman, at nagsimula na sa pagpipinta si
Sue.
Halos magdamag na siyang nagtrabaho.
In the morning, after an hour’s sleep, she went to
Johnsy’s bedside. Johnsy with wide-open eyes was looking
toward the window. “I want to see,” she told Sue.
Sue took the cover from the window.
But after the beating rain and the wild wind that had not
stopped through the whole night, there still was one leaf to be
seen against the wall. It was the last on the tree. It was still dark
green near the branch. But at the edges it was turning yellow
with age. There it was hanging from a branch nearly twenty
feet above the ground.
“It is the last one,” said Johnsy. “I thought it would
surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall today,
and I shall die at the same time.”
“Dear, dear Johnsy!” said Sue. “Think of me, if you
won’t think of yourself. What would I do?”
But Johnsy did not answer. The most lonely thing in the
world is a soul when it is preparing to go on its far journey. The
ties that held her to friendship and to earth were breaking, one
by one.
Nang pagkaumaga, pagkatapos ng isang oras na
pagtulog, siya ay nagtungo sa tabi ng kama ni Johnsy. Si
Johnsy na mulat na mulat ang mga mata ay nakatingin sa
bintana. “Gusto kong makita,” wika niya kay Sue.
Inalis ni Sue ang takip sa bintana.
Ngunit pagkatapos ng napakalakas na ulan at matinding
hangin na hindi tumigil buong gabi, may isang dahon pa rin na
makikita sa pader. Iyon na lamang ang natitira sa puno. Ito ay
kulay berde pa rin sa sanga. Ngunit ang mga gilid nito ay
naninilaw na. Ito ay nakadikit sa sanga na nasa may
dalawampung talampakan mula sa lupa.
“Iyon na ang huli,” sabi ni Johnsy. “Akala ko ay
siguradong mahuhulog na iyon kagabi. Napakinggan ko ang
hangin. Ngayon iyon mahuhulog, at ako na rin ay
mamamatay.”
 “Giliw ko, Johnsy!” wika ni Sue. “Isipin mo naman
ako, kung hindi mo iniisip ang iyong sarili. Ano ang aking
gagawin?”
Ngunit hindi sumagot si Johnsy. Ang pinakamalungkot
sa mundo ay ang kaluluwa na naghahanda sa kanyang
malayong paglalakbay. Ang tali na sa kanilang pagkakaibigan
at sa mundo na nakatali ay unti-unti nang napuputol.
The day slowly passed. As it grew dark, they could still
see the leaf hanging from its branch against the wall. And then,
as the night came, the north wind began again to blow. The rain
still beat against the windows.
When it was light enough the next morning, Johnsy
again commanded that she be allowed to see.
The leaf was still there.
Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she
called to Sue, who was cooking something for her to eat.
“I’ve been a bad girl, Sue,” said Johnsy. “Something
has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It
is wrong to want to die. I’ll try to eat now. But first bring me a
looking-glass, so that I can see myself. And then I’ll sit up and
watch you cook.”
An hour later she said, “Sue, some day I hope to paint
the Bay of Naples.”
The doctor came in the afternoon. Sue followed him
into the hall outside Johnsy’s room to talk to him.
“The chances are good,” said the doctor. He took Sue’s
thin, shaking hand in his. “Give her good care, and she’ll get
well. And now I must see another sick person in this house. His
name is Behrman. A painter, I believe.
Ang araw ay mabagal na lumipas. Habang dumidilim,
nakikita pa rin nila ang dahon sa sanga na nasa pader.
Pagkatapos, nang gumabi na, ang hanging amihan ay
nagsimulang umihip. Ang malakas na ulan ay nagpatuloy sa
pagbuhos sa mga bintana.
Nang lumiwanag kinabukasan, inutusan ni Johnsy si
Sue na buksan ang bintana para tingnan ang dahon.
Naroroon pa rin ang dahon.
Tinitigan ni Johnsy nang mahabang oras ang dahon
habang siya ay nakahiga. Pagkatapos, tinawag niya si Sue, na
nagluluto ng pagkain para sa kanya.
“Hindi ako naging mabuting babae, Sue,” wika ni
Johnsy. “May dahilan kung bakit nanatili ang dahong iyon
doon at iyon ay para ipakita sa akin kung gaano ako kasama.
Masamang isipin ang pagnanais na mamatay. Simula ngayon,
ako ay kakain na. Ngunit ikuha mo muna ako ng salamin para
makita ang aking sarili. Tapos, ako ay uupo at panonoorin kang
magluto.”
Paglipas ng isang oras, sinabi niya, “Sue, balang araw
maipipinta ko rin ang Look ng Naples.”
 Dumating ang doktor noong tanghali. Sinundan niya ito
sa pasilya sa labas ng silid ni Johnsy para siya ay kausapin.
“Ang pag-asa niya ay maganda,” sabi ng doktor.
Hinawakan niya ang manipis na nanginginig na kamay ni Sue.
“Alagaan mo siya, at siya ay gagaling. Ngayon, ako ay aalis na
at bibisitahin ko ang isa pang tao dito sa gusali na may sakit.
Behrman ang kanyang pangalan. Isang pintor.
Pneumonia, too. Mike is an old, weak man, and he is very ill.
There is no hope for him. But we take him to the hospital
today. We’ll make it as easy for him as we can.”
The next day the doctor said to Sue: “She’s safe. You
have done it. Food and care now—that’s all.”
And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy
lay. She put one arm around her.
“I have something to tell you,” she said. “Mr. Behrman
died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was ill only two
days. Someone found him on the morning of the first day, in
his room. He was helpless with pain.”
“His shoes and his clothes were wet and as cold as ice.
Everyone wondered where he had been. The night had been so
cold and wild.
“And then they found some things. There was a light
that he had taken outside. And there were his materials for
painting. There was paint, green paint and yellow paint. And—
Pulmonya rin. Si Mike ay isang matanda, mahinang tao,
at siya ay may malubhang sakit. Wala na siyang pag-asa.
Ngunit dadalhin namin siya sa ospital ngayon. Gagawin namin
ang aming makakaya para gawin itong madali para sa kanya.
Noong sumunod na araw, sinabi ng doktor kay Sue:
“Ligtas na siya. Nagawa mo. Pagkain at pag-aalaga—iyon
lamang.”
At noong tanghali, lumapit si Sue sa kama kung saan
nakahiga si Johnsy. Inilagay niya ang kanyang braso sa palibot
ni Johnsy.
“May nais akong sabihin sa iyo,” wika niya. “Si
Ginoong Behrman ay pumanaw na ngayon sa ospital dahil sa
pulmonya. Siya ay may sakit ng dalawang araw. May nakakita
sa kanya noong unang araw, sa kanya silid. Siya ay kaawa-
awang naghihirap.”
“Ang kanyang mga sapatos at mga damit ay basa at
kasing lamig ng yelo. Lahat ay nagtataka kung saan siya
nanggaling. Noong gabi bago ang araw na iyon ay napakalamig
at napakatindi.
“At may mga natagpuan silang mga kagamitan. May
ilaw siyang dinala sa labas. Naroroon din ang kaniyang mga
materyales sa pagpipinta. May pintura, berde at dilaw na
pintura. At—

“Look out the window, dear, at the last leaf on the wall.
Didn’t you wonder why it never moved when the wind was
blowing? Oh, my dear, it is Behrman’s great masterpiece—he
painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.”
“Tumingin ka sa bintana, giliw ko, sa dahon na nasa
pader. Hindi ka ba nagtataka kung bakit hindi man lang ito
nahulog nang umihip nang malakas ang hangin? O, aking
giliw, iyon ay ang dakilang obra maestra ni Ginoong Behrman
—ipininta niya iyon noong gabing nahulog ang huling dahon.”