黑猫外文翻译资料

 2022-03-10 09:03

黑猫

  我要讲述的故事十分荒唐,又十分家常。我并不指望读者相信它。否则我不是疯了么?因为连我自己都不相信这就是我的亲身经历。我没疯,也的确不是在做梦。明天就是我的死期,我要赶在今天把这事说出来,以求灵魂安生。我想马上把这些家常琐事公之于众,只求简洁明了,而不打算妄加评论。这些事让我惊魂难定,备受折磨,最终遭到毁灭。可我不想多作解释。这些事对我来说惟有恐怖,可对很多人来说,却似乎是夸夸其谈罢了。或许后世的某些智者会认为,这都是些不足挂齿的平常事,而那些比我更冷静更有理性的有识之士,则会更加明察秋毫。在这些人心里,我满怀敬畏的叙述,也许只是一连串因果相生的普通事件。

  我从小就性情温良。我软得出奇的心肠,一度成为伙伴们的笑柄。我特别喜欢动物,父母对此也百般纵容,给我弄了很多种宠物。我长时间和它们泡在一起。每喂它们一次、抚摸它们一下,我都快乐得要死。这种癖好与日俱增。长大后,人生的最大乐趣就莫过于此了。对着那些珍爱忠实而有灵性的狗的人,我压根无须多费口舌解说个中欣悦。兽类自我牺牲的无私爱意,总能让惯看人情冷暖的人刻骨铭心。

  我早早地就结了婚。让我高兴的是,妻子和我性情相投。见我喜爱饲养宠物,碰到中意的,她从不会放过任何机会,千方百计也要搞到手。我们养了小鸟、金鱼、野兔、一条好狗,一只小猴子,还有一只猫。

  那猫大得惊人,浑身乌黑,美丽非凡,而且特别有灵性。我妻子骨子里就迷信,一说到那猫的灵性,就绕不开古人对猫的普遍看法——所有的黑猫都是女巫乔装的。我不是在说妻子对此有多当真,我之所以提到这一点,不为别的,只是刚好想起而已。

  那猫名叫普路托,是我最心爱的宠物和玩伴。我包揽下喂它的活儿。在家里,我一抬脚,它就如影随形。即便我要上街,想甩开它也不容易。

  几年来,我和普路托一直这么相交甚欢。几年来,让我羞于承认的是,由于喝酒上了瘾,我也性情大变。我一天比一天喜怒无常,全然不顾别人的感受。我居然容许自己辱骂妻子了!甚至还对她拳打脚踢。我的宠物当然感受到了我的变化。我不理它们也就算了,可我还虐待起它们来。小兔子、小猴子、甚至那只狗,一旦想跟我亲热或碰巧跑到我身边,我都会毫无忌惮地蹂躏一番。然而对普路托,我还很顾念,没忍心下手。可我的病情却日复一日地加重——世上哪种病能比酗酒更可怕啊——那时普路托老了,脾气也有几分乖张了,最终,就连它,也成了我的出气筒。

  一天晚上,我从城里一个常去的地方醉酒而归,我以为普路托故意躲我,于是一把逮住了它。惊骇之下,它在我手上轻轻咬了一口。我顿时恶魔附身一样,怒火中烧,忘乎所以,原本善良的灵魂似乎从躯壳逃逸而出。我酒性大发,一身狠劲。我从背心口袋里掏出折叠刀,打开刀子,攥住那可怜畜生的脖子,蓄意不良地把它的一只眼珠剜了出来。写到这幕该死的暴行,我不禁面红耳赤,一会儿灼热不堪,一会儿瑟瑟发抖。

  睡了一夜,酒醒了。神智恢复后,想到自己犯下的罪行,我的心头半是恐惧,半是悔恨。但这充其量不过是种暧昧无力的感觉。我的灵魂依然不为之所动。我又开始纵饮无度,很快就把那事忘得一干二净。

  当我沉湎酒香时,猫的伤势也在渐渐好转。眼珠被我剜掉的那个眼窝真是可怕,但它看来已不再感到疼痛。它照常在屋子里走来走去,只是我一靠近,就吓得拼命逃窜。这是意料中的反应。我毕竟天良未泯,所以,看到曾经那么爱我的猫这般模样,不由悲从中来。但这股子悲伤马上就化作怒火,到后来,竟然演变为邪念,仿佛正是这股邪念,最终害我一败涂地。哲学上并不重视这种邪念,不过我深信,它是人心的一种原始冲动,是与人类须臾不离的一种基本心力,或者不妨说情绪。正是它,直接决定了人类的性格。谁敢说在明知干不得的情况下,自己干的坏事蠢事没有一箩筐?难道我们不是常常明知那么干犯法,还是全然不顾,飞蛾扑火一样管不住自己?哎呀,我就是受这邪念的左右,活活断送了自己。内心深处那股神秘难测的感觉,散发着惑人的气息,让我烦扰难安,甚至违背本性,为作恶而作恶——我被无形的力量推动着,继续对那只无辜的猫下毒手,最终害它送了命。一天早上,我残忍地用索套勒住猫脖子,把它吊在树枝上。我流着泪吊死了它。我痛悔不已。可我到底还是吊死了它。我明知那猫爱过我,我抓不住它的错;我明知吊死它就犯下了灵魂永难超生的死罪——如果有此可能,那罪恶就连慈悲为怀、让人敬畏的上帝都无法赦免。

  就在我干下那个伤天害理的勾当的晚上,我在睡梦中忽听有人大喊失火,惊醒后发现,床上的幔帐已着了火。整幢房子熊熊燃烧。我们夫妻俩和一个佣人拼死拼活才逃出火海。那场大火烧得真彻底,我在世间的所有财产都被焚烧一空了。从那以后,我万念俱灰。

  我并没脆弱到非得在灾祸和恶行间找出因果关系。我是想把事件的来龙去脉详述一遍,但愿不要遗漏任何环节。失火的次日,我前去凭吊了废墟。四壁崩塌,惟有一道墙还立在残砖断瓦中。那是我房间的一道墙,并不厚,在房子中央。我的床头就是靠在这堵墙上。墙上的灰泥大大阻隔了火势——我认为是新近粉刷的缘故。墙根前挤满了人,很多人似乎急欲发现点什么秘密,不错眼珠地查看着那道墙。忽然,人们连呼“怪事”。我好奇心顿起。凑近一看,天哪,白墙上赫然一个浅浮雕——是只硕大的猫!一只刻得鬼斧神工的猫!猫脖子上还有根索套!

  一看到这幽灵,我怎不以为是活见了鬼?我又惊又怕,转念一想,终是舒了一口气。我记得,那猫是吊在离房屋很近的花园里。火警一起,花园里片刻间就人潮汹涌。一准是谁割断绳子,把猫从树上放了下来,再从敞开的窗子扔进了我的卧室。那人可能是想把我从睡梦中砸醒。不过别的几堵墙倒下来,那可怜的死猫,就被挤压到了新刷的泥灰墙上。石灰、烈火和尸骸释放的氨气交互作用,墙上的浮雕也就赫然在目了。

  我上面细细道来的事实,不能说不惊心动魄,就算良心上不能自圆其说,倒也合情合理吧。但在我心魂深处,更其根深蒂固的,还是我的幻觉。几个月来,猫的幻影总是挥之不去,几个月来,我一直沉浸在说是懊悔又不是懊悔的模糊情绪里。害死了它,我竟然后悔起来。我在经常混迹的下等场所中,到处物色一只和普路托品种一样、外表也多少有些相似的猫,聊慰寸心。

  一天晚上,我坐在一个声名狼藉的酒寮里,正迷糊着呢,视线突然被一只盛放杜松子酒或朗姆酒的大酒桶拽了过去。除了那只桶,屋里的家具寥寥无几。一个黑咕隆咚的家伙,正卧在那只巨桶上养神。我刚才就盯着那桶看了一会儿了,奇怪的是,居然才发现上面坐着那黑东西。我走过去摸了摸,是只块头跟普路托一样大的黑猫。除了一个地方之外,它简直和普路托毫无二致:普路托通体乌黑,没一根白毛;酒桶上的猫,整个胸部几乎都被一块白斑覆盖了。那白斑有些模糊不清。

  有意思的是,我一触摸它,它就迅速站起身,呜呜直叫,还一遍遍蹭我的手。我的关注使它显得很高兴。正是我苦苦寻找的猫。我当场向店主人表示要买下它。不料店主却对猫一无所知,说是以前从没见过它,也就没开价。

  我继续爱抚它。要动身回家时,猫流露出跟我走的样子。我任它跟着,一边走一边俯身拍拍它。猫一到我家,马上乖顺得不得了,片刻工夫就博取了妻的欢心。

  可没过多久,我的心底深处就升起了一股对它的厌恶。真让我始料不及。到底怎么回事?我迷惑了。它显然是喜欢我的。它的喜欢却惹我嫌恶,令我恼火,慢慢地,变成仇恨。我的心里充满苦涩。我开始躲避它。羞愧加之对早先暴行的记忆,使我没动手欺侮它。几个星期过去了,我依然没动它一根寒毛。然而,时间长了,我心里渐渐生出一层说不出的憎恶,一瞄见它可恨的形象,就躲避瘟疫一样,悄然逃开。

  毫无疑问,这畜生招致我厌恶的原因,就是在我带它回家的第二天早晨,看到它和普路托一样,眼珠也被剜掉了一个。可我妻子竟然因而更疼爱它了。我上面说了,我妻子极其慈悲。以前我也这么慈悲。我曾因我的慈悲感受过无比纯正的快乐。

  尽管我对这猫日益嫌憎,它反倒愈加眷恋我了,可以说是寸步不离。这般执著,恐怕您确实难以理解。只要我一坐下,它就自觉地蹲在椅子下,有时跳到我的膝上,百般示好,实在让人生厌;我一站起来走路,它就缠在我两腿间,几乎将我绊倒;再不就用又尖又长的爪子钩住我的衣服,顺势爬上我的胸口。那会子我恨不得一拳把它打死,可却未敢造次,部分原因是,我总在那个时候回忆起上次犯下的罪行,但更主要的——我还是快点承认吧——我是怕极了那家伙。

  这层害怕,倒不是生怕冲动起来,管不住自己而犯罪——唉,我也说不清是不是这样。即使现在身陷死牢,我也简直羞于承认,这猫在我心底激起的惊骇,竟然因脑中幻象的存在而变本加厉。妻子曾不止一次地要我留心看这只猫身上的白斑,我说过了,这怪物跟我杀掉的那只猫惟一的不同,就是这块白斑。想必您还记得,这白斑虽大,原本倒是很模糊的,可随着时光的推移,它明显异于往日,不知不觉间,竟然轮廓分明了。长久以来,我的理性一直拒绝这一点,我宁愿把它当成幻觉。眼下,我一提这家伙就毛骨悚然。我因此而厌恶它,惧怕它。要是有胆量,我早送它上西天了。老天!这家伙居然是个极端恐怖的意象——一个绞刑架!哦!这是多么可悲可怖的刑具!这是正法的刑具,让人饱尝痛楚的刑具,送人命的刑具啊!

  至此,我已是沦落不堪。一只没有思想的畜生,因我轻侮地杀了它的同类,居然给我——一个上帝创造出来的人——带来了这样的灾难。呜呼,我再也不得安宁了。白天,这畜生纠缠不休,片刻都不放过我;夜晚,我时时从说不出有多骇人的噩梦中惊醒,醒来,它正往我脸上喷热气。我无力摆脱这一梦魇的具象。这畜生沉甸甸的肉身,一直压在心头。

  我身负这般煎熬,身上那点残余的温良便丧失殆尽了。意识中,全是见不得天日的邪恶意念。我平素就喜怒无常,而今,脾性越发极端,我开始痛恨所有的人和事。我管束不住自己,时常突发暗火。我完全没了判断力,一味放任自己。哎呀,妻子的日子就不好过了。可她毫无怨言,经常默默忍受我的暴虐。

  穷困所迫,我们只好住在一栋老房子里。一天,为了点家务事,妻子陪我去老房子的地窖。猫尾随我走下陡峭的阶梯,差点绊我个倒栽葱。我气得发疯,抡起了斧头。盛怒之下,我忘了自己曾孩子一样惧怕它,因了那惧怕,我至今没对它下手。此刻我却记不得这些了。我对准这猫一斧砍去。如果斧头像我想的那样落下去,这厮当即就得毙命。谁知,妻子一把攥住了我的胳膊。她这一拦不当紧,我被激怒了,狂暴得热血冲顶。我挣脱她的手,一斧子劈在她的脑壳上。她都没来得及呻吟一声,就当场送了命。

  干完这天理难容的杀人勾当,我立刻就苦苦思索藏匿尸首的事了。我知道,无论白天还是黑夜,要想把尸首搬出去,都有被邻里撞见的危险。种种方案走马灯一样在脑子里穿梭。我一会儿琢磨着剁碎它来个焚尸灭迹,一会儿想着在地窖里挖个洞埋了,再一转念,又思忖干脆扔到院子的井里去,或者像平日装货一样装进箱子,找个搬运工弄出去。后来我灵机一动,突然想出一个自认万全的计策:我决定把尸首砌进地窖的墙壁里。据记载,中世纪的僧侣就是这么把殉道者砌进墙壁的。

  这个地窖派这个用场再合适不过。地窖的墙壁造得不牢,新近又用粗糙的灰泥彻底粉刷了一遍,因地窖潮湿,灰泥还没干燥。巧的是,墙上有个地方,本是虚设的烟囱或壁炉,经填补后,也就跟别处毫无二致了。我确信自己很轻易地就能把这儿挖开,塞进尸首,再把墙原样砌好。保管谁都看不出任何破绽。

  我照这个法子干了起来。我找了根铁棍,一下子就把砖头撬开了。为免尸首倒下,我很仔细地把它靠在里面的夹墙上。接着,没费劲就把墙堵死了。为了防止留下痕迹,我搞到石灰、黄沙和一些毛发,调配出的灰泥跟旧灰泥没什么区别,仔细地涂抹在新砌的砖墙上。粉饰太平之后,我感到很满意。墙壁看上去就跟没动过一样。连散落在地上的垃圾,我都万分谨慎地清扫干净了。我得意地四周打量一遍,心想:“总算没白忙乎。”

  接下来,该揪出那个制造惨祸的家伙了。我已横下心来,坚决要置它于死地。如果它现在出现在我面前,它必死无疑。可在我怒发冲冠的时候,那狡诈的家伙已脚底抹油了。它自然不会往枪口上撞。这蹲伏在我心口上的可恶畜生终于消失了。我如释重负,幸福得无以复加。猫一整夜都没露面。自从它来到我家,这是我睡上的第一个安稳觉。是啊,即使灵魂背负着杀人的重担,我依然睡得很香甜。

  第二天过去了。第三天也过去了。带给我巨大痛苦的猫还是没出现。我这才重新自由呼吸。哈!这怪物吓得逃之夭夭了!眼不见心不烦,我像是进入了极乐世界。杀害妻子的滔天大罪居然只在心头泛起一丝涟漪。警察调查过几次,被我三言两语就打发了,他们甚至还来搜了一次家,当然也没找出任何蛛丝马迹。我于是认为,将来的幸福有了保障。

  不料,在我杀死妻子的第四天,家里开进了一队警察。他们又严密搜查了一番。藏尸的地方隐蔽得超乎想像,我自然一点都不感到慌乱。警官命令我陪他们四处搜查,连旮旯缝隙都没放过。搜到第三遍或是第四遍时,他们终于下了地窖。我连眼皮都没颤动一次,心跳平静得如同睡眠者均匀的呼吸。我从地窖这头走到那头,双臂当胸而抱,简直是来回漫步。警察完全对我放了心,都准备走了。我乐不自禁,为了表示得意,也为了让他们加倍相信我是无罪的,我恨不得马上说些什么,哪怕就一句也行。

  他们刚抬脚跨上台阶,我还是忍不住开了口:“先生们,承蒙你们不再那么怀疑我,在下深感欣慰。祝各位身体健康。还望多多关照。对了,顺便说一句,这地窖非常坚固。”(我越是想说轻松点,越不知道究竟说的是什么)“这地窖可以说建造得太好了。这几堵墙,先生,要走了么?这几堵墙砌得很牢。”说到这里,我故作姿态起来,神经兮兮地抓起一根藤条,冲着藏匿爱妻的砖墙使劲敲打。

  主啊,把我从大恶魔的毒牙下拯救出来吧!敲击的回响尚未归于沉寂,就听得墓穴里传来了回应。是啼哭声。哭声开头还瓮声瓮气,断断续续,像孩子的抽泣。随即迅速变成尖锐的长啸,极为异常,惨绝人寰。这声声哀鸣,半是恐怖,半是得意,惟有地狱里受罪冤魂的惨叫和魔鬼见到遭天罚者的欢呼交相呼应,才有这样的效果。

  我当时的想法说来荒唐。我头脑昏沉,踉跄着走到对面那堵墙边。阶梯上的警察惊惧万状,一时呆若木鸡。过了一会儿,才有十来条粗壮的胳膊挥舞着撞向墙壁。整堵墙全倒了。那具尸首笔直地戳在大家眼前。尸首已腐烂不堪,凝满血块,头顶上,蹲伏着那只骇人的猫,张着血

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THE BLACK CAT

For the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I not dream. But to–morrow I die, and to–day I would unburthen my soul. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In their consequences, these events have terrified—have tortured—have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound them. To me, they have presented little but Horror—to many they will seem less terrible thanbarroques. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common–place—some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.

From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the unselfish and self–sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mereMan.

I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, gold–fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, anda cat.

This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she was everserious upon this point—and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just now, to be remembered.

Pluto—this was the catrsquo;s name—was my favorite pet and playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended me wherever I went about the house. It was even with difficulty that I could prevent him from following me through the streets.

Our friendship lasted, in this manner, for several years, during which my general temperament and character—through the instrumentality of the Fiend Intemperance—had (I blush to confess it) experienced a radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others. I suffered myself to use intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence. My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected, but ill–used them. For Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard to restrain me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my way. But my disease grew upon me—for what disease is like Alcohol!—and at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish—even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill temper.

One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat avoided my presence. I seized him; when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed, at once, to take its flight from my body and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin–nurtured, thrilled every fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat–pocket a pen–knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.

When reason returned with the morning—when I had slept off the fumes of the nightrsquo;s debauch—I experienced a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into excess, and soon drowned in wine all memory of the deed.

In the meantime the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart—one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which give direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which isLaw, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit

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