Free Listening English lessons

Short Story: ‘Paul’s Case,’ Part One

November 7th, 2009 at 03:15pm Under short story

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

ANNOUNCER:

Now, the VOA Special English program AMERICAN STORIES.

(MUSIC)

Our story today is called “Paul’s Case.” It was written by Willa Cather. “Paul’s Case” will be told in two parts. Here is Kay Gallant with part one of the story.

STORYTELLER:

Paul hated school. He did not do his homework. He did not like his teachers. Paul’s father did not know what to do with him. His teachers did not know either. One afternoon, all his teachers at Pittsburgh High School met together with him to discuss his case. Paul was late. When he entered the room his teachers sat waiting for him.

He was tall for his age and very thin. His clothes were too small for him, but they were clean. He had a bright red flower in the button hole of his black jacket. One of the teachers asked Paul why he had come to the meeting. Paul said politely that he wanted to do better in school. This was a lie. Paul often lied.

His teachers began to speak. They had many complaints. One said Paul talked to the other students instead of paying attention to the lessons. Another said Paul always sat in class with his hands covering his eyes. A third teacher said Paul looked out the window instead of looking at her. His teachers attacked him without mercy.

Paul’s eyesbrows moved up and down as his teachers spoke. His smile never left his face, but his fingers shook as he touched the flower on his coat. At last the meeting was over. Paul’s smile got even wider. He bowed gracefully and left the room.

His teachers were angry and confused. The art teacher spoke for all of them when he said there was something about Paul that he didn’t understand. “I don’t think he really means to be bad,” he said. “There’s just something wrong with that boy.” Then the art teacher remembered one warm afternoon when Paul had fallen asleep in his class. Paul’s face was white with thin blue veins under the skin. The boy’s face looked tired and lined, like an old man’s. His eyebrows moved up and down, even in his sleep.

After he left the meeting, Paul ran down the hill from the school whistling. He was late for his job at the concert hall. Paul was an usher there. He showed people to their seats. He carried messages for them. He brought them their programs with a polite bow. Everyone thought he was a charming boy and the best usher at the hall.

When Paul reached the concert hall that evening, he went immediately to the dressing room. About six boys were already there. Paul began changing his clothes with excited hands. He loved his green uniform with the gold pockets and design.

Paul rushed into the concert hall as soon as he had changed clothes. He ran up and down the hall, helping people. He became more and more excited. His face became pink and his eyes seemed larger and very bright. He looked almost handsome. At last everyone was seated. The orchestra began to play and Paul sat down with a sigh of relief.

The music seemed to free something in Paul’s spirit. Then a woman came out and began to sing. She had a rich, strong soprano voice. Paul felt truly happy for the first time that day.

At the end of the concert Paul went back to the dressing room. After he had changed his clothes again he went outside the concert hall. He decided to wait for the singer to come out. While he waited he looked across the street to the large hotel called “The Schenley.” All the important people stayed at The Schenley when they visited Pittsburgh. Paul had never been inside it, but he used to stand near the hotel’s wide glass doors. He liked to watch the people enter and leave. He believed if he could only enter this kind of a hotel, he would be able to leave school, his teachers, and his ordinary, gray life behind him. . . forever.

At last the singer came out of the concert hall. Paul followed her as she walked to the hotel. He was part of a large crowd of admirers who had waited to see her. When they all reached the hotel, she turned and waved. Then the doors opened and she disappeared inside. Paul stared into the hotel as the doors slowly closed. He could feel the warm, sweet air inside. And for a moment, he felt part of a golden world of sparkling lights and marble floors. He thought about the mysterious dishes of food being served in the hotel’s dining room. He thought about green bottles of wine growing cold in silver buckets of ice.

He turned away from the hotel and walked home. He thought of his room with its horrible yellow wallpaper, the old bed with its ugly red cover. He shook his head.

Soon he was walking down the street where he lived. All the houses on Cordelia Street were exactly alike. Middle class businessmen had bought them for their families. All their children went to school and to church. They loved arithmetic. As Paul walked toward his house he felt as if he were drowning in ugliness. He longed for cool colors and soft lights and fresh flowers. He didn’t want to see his ugly bedroom or the cold bathroom with its cracked mirror and gray floor.

Paul went around to the back of his father’s house. He found an open window and climbed into the kitchen. Then he went downstairs to the basement. He was afraid of rats. But he did not want to face his own bedroom. Paul couldn’t sleep. He sat on the floor and stared into the darkness until morning came.

The following Sunday Paul had to go to church with his family. Afterwards, everyone came home and ate a big dinner. Then all the people who lived on Cordelia Street came outside to visit each other.

After supper Paul asked his father if he could visit a friend to get some help with his arithmetic. Paul left the house with his school books under his arm. But he didn’t go to his friend’s house. Instead he went to see Charley Edwards. Charley was a young actor. Paul liked to spend as much time as he could at the theater where Charley Edwards and his group acted in their plays.

It was only at the theater and the concert hall that Paul felt really alive. The moment he smelled the air of these places he felt like a prisoner suddenly set free. As soon as he heard the concert hall orchestra play he forgot all the ugly, unpleasant events in his own life.

Paul had discovered that any kind of music awakened his imagination.

Paul didn’t want to become a musician, however. He didn’t want to become an actor, either. He only wanted to be near people who were actors and musicians. He wanted to see the kind of life these artists led.

Paul found a schoolroom even worse after a night at the theater or the concert hall. He hated the school’s bare floors and cracked walls. He turned away from his dull teachers in their plain clothes. He tried to show them how little he thought of them and the studies they taught.

He would bring photographs of all the actors he knew to school. He would tell the other students that he spent his evenings with these people at elegant restaurants. Then he would announce that he was going away to Europe or to California, or to Egypt for a while. The next day he would come to school smiling nervously. His sister was ill, he would say. But he was still planning to make his trip next spring.

Paul’s problems at school became worse. Even after the meeting with his teachers, things did not get better. He told them he had no time to study grammar and arithmetic. He told them he had to help the actors in the theater. They were old friends of his.

Finally, his teachers went to Paul’s father. He took Paul out of school and made him get a job. He told the manager at the concert hall that Paul could not work there anymore. His father warned the doorman at the theater not to let Paul into the place. And Charley Edwards promised Paul’s father not to see Paul again.

All the actors at the theater laughed when they heard about the stories Paul had been telling. The women thought it was funny that Paul had told people he took them out to nice restaurants and sent them flowers. They agreed with the teachers and with his father that Paul’s was a bad case.

(MUSIC)

ANNOUNCER:

You have just heard part one of the American story “Paul’s Case.” It was written by Willa Cather. Your storyteller was Kay Gallant.  Listen again next week at this time for the final part of “Paul’s Case” told in Special English on the Voice of America. I’m Steve Ember.

By admin Add comment

Short Story: ‘The Lady, or the Tiger?’

November 3rd, 2009 at 03:03pm Under short story

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

ANNOUNCER:

Now, the VOA Special English program, AMERICAN STORIES.

(MUSIC)

We present the short story “The Lady, or the Tiger?” by Frank R. Stockton.  Here is Barbara Klein with the story.

(MUSIC)

STORYTELLER:

Long ago, in the very olden time, there lived a powerful king.  Some of his ideas were progressive.  But others caused people to suffer.

One of the king’s ideas was a public arena as an agent of poetic justice.  Crime was punished, or innocence was decided, by the result of chance.  When a person was accused of a crime, his future would be judged in the public arena.

All the people would gather in this building. The king sat high up on his ceremonial chair. He gave a sign. A door under him opened.  The accused person stepped out into the arena. Directly opposite the king were two doors.  They were side by side, exactly alike. The person on trial had to walk directly to these doors and open one of them. He could open whichever door he pleased.

If the accused man opened one door, out came a hungry tiger, the fiercest in the land.  The tiger immediately jumped on him and tore him to pieces as punishment for his guilt. The case of the suspect was thus decided.

Iron bells rang sadly. Great cries went up from the paid mourners.  And the people, with heads hanging low and sad hearts, slowly made their way home. They mourned greatly that one so young and fair, or so old and respected, should have died this way.

But, if the accused opened the other door, there came forth from it a woman, chosen especially for the person.  To this lady he was immediately married, in honor of his innocence. It was not a problem that he might already have a wife and family, or that he might have chosen to marry another woman. The king permitted nothing to interfere with his great method of punishment and reward.

Another door opened under the king, and a clergyman, singers, dancers and musicians joined the man and the lady. The marriage ceremony was quickly completed. Then the bells made cheerful noises.  The people shouted happily.  And the innocent man led the new wife to his home, following children who threw flowers on their path.

This was the king’s method of carrying out justice. Its fairness appeared perfect. The accused person could not know which door was hiding the lady. He opened either as he pleased, without knowing whether, in the next minute, he was to be killed or married.

Sometimes the fierce animal came out of one door. Sometimes it came out of the other.

This method was a popular one. When the people gathered together on one of the great trial days, they never knew whether they would see a bloody killing or a happy ending. So everyone was always interested.  And the thinking part of the community would bring no charge of unfairness against this plan. Did not the accused person have the whole matter in his own hands?

(MUSIC)

The king had a beautiful daughter who was like him in many ways.  He loved her above all humanity.  The princess secretly loved a young man who was the best-looking and bravest in the land.  But he was a commoner, not part of an important family.

One day, the king discovered the relationship between his daughter and the young man. The man was immediately put in prison.  A day was set for his trial in the king’s public arena. This, of course, was an especially important event.  Never before had a common subject been brave enough to love the daughter of the king.

The king knew that the young man would be punished, even if he opened the right door. And the king would take pleasure in watching the series of events, which would judge whether or not the man had done wrong in loving the princess.

(MUSIC)

The day of the trial arrived.  From far and near the people gathered in the arena and outside its walls. The king and his advisers were in their places, opposite the two doors.  All was ready. The sign was given. The door under the king opened and the lover of the princess entered the arena.

Tall, beautiful and fair, his appearance was met with a sound of approval and tension.  Half the people had not known so perfect a young man lived among them.  No wonder the princess loved him!  What a terrible thing for him to be there!

As the young man entered the public arena, he turned to bend to the king.  But he did not at all think of the great ruler.  The young man’s eyes instead were fixed on the princess, who sat to the right of her father.

From the day it was decided that the sentence of her lover should be decided in the arena, she had thought of nothing but this event.

The princess had more power, influence and force of character than anyone who had ever before been interested in such a case.  She had done what no other person had done. She had possessed herself of the secret of the doors. She knew behind which door stood the tiger, and behind which waited the lady.  Gold, and the power of a woman’s will, had brought the secret to the princess.

She also knew who the lady was. The lady was one of the loveliest in the kingdom.  Now and then the princess had seen her looking at and talking to the young man.

The princess hated the woman behind that silent door. She hated her with all the intensity of the blood passed to her through long lines of cruel ancestors.

Her lover turned to look at the princess.  His eye met hers as she sat there, paler and whiter than anyone in the large ocean of tense faces around her. He saw that she knew behind which door waited the tiger, and behind which stood the lady. He had expected her to know it.

The only hope for the young man was based on the success of the princess in discovering this mystery. When he looked at her, he saw that she had been successful, as he knew she would succeed.

Then his quick and tense look asked the question: “Which?” It was as clear to her as if he shouted it from where he stood. There was not time to be lost.

The princess raised her hand, and made a short, quick movement toward the right.  No one but her lover saw it. Every eye but his was fixed on the man in the arena.

He turned, and with a firm and quick step he walked across the empty space. Every heart stopped beating.  Every breath was held.  Every eye was fixed upon that man. He went to the door on the right and opened it.

(MUSIC)

Now, the point of the story is this: Did the tiger come out of that door, or did the lady?

The more we think about this question, the harder it is to answer. It involves a study of the human heart. Think of it not as if the decision of the question depended upon yourself.  But as if it depended upon that hot-blooded princess, her soul at a white heat under the fires of sadness and jealousy.  She had lost him, but who should have him?

How often, in her waking hours and in her dreams, had she started in wild terror, and covered her face with her hands?  She thought of her lover opening the door on the other side of which waited the sharp teeth of the tiger!

But how much oftener had she seen him open the other door? How had she ground her teeth, and torn her hair, when she had seen his happy face as he opened the door of the lady!  How her soul had burned in pain when she had seen him run to meet that woman, with her look of victory. When she had seen the two of them get married.  And when she had seen them walk away together upon their path of flowers, followed by the happy shouts of the crowd, in which her one sad cry was lost!

Would it not be better for him to die quickly, and go to wait for her in that blessed place of the future? And yet, that tiger, those cries, that blood!

Her decision had been shown quickly. But it had been made after days and nights of thought.  She had known she would be asked.  And she had decided what she would answer. And she had moved her hand to the right.

The question of her decision is one not to be lightly considered. And it is not for me to set myself up as the one person able to answer it. And so I leave it with all of you:

Which came out of the open door – the lady, or the tiger?

(MUSIC)

ANNOUNCER:

You have heard the American Story “The Lady, or the Tiger?” by Frank R. Stockton. Your storyteller was Barbara Klein. This story was adapted into Special English by Shelley Gollust. It was produced by Lawan Davis.  Listen again next week for another American story in VOA Special English.  I’m Bob Doughty.

By admin 2 comments