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西南联大英文课（英汉双语版） [:1705033821]
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16 妄想的病人
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我还记得那天，到大英博物馆去查阅有关接触性花粉症治疗方面的资料，我猜我大概得了这种小病。我取下一本医书，一口气读完了所有要读的内容。然后，我慵懒地、漫不经心地随便翻着书，泛泛地研究起其他疾病来。我忘记了全神贯注地研究的第一种瘟病是什么病——我知道，是一种可怕的、毁灭性的灾难——没等把一连串的病症征兆看完一半的时候，我便意识到自己肯定得了这种病。
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我惊恐万状，万分绝望，没精打采呆坐了好一会儿。然后又拿起那本书，翻了起来。翻到伤寒——看了看它的各种症状——我发现我又得了伤寒——一定已经染病在身好几个月了，竟然还蒙在鼓里——不知道我还患上其他什么疾病没有；翻到舞蹈病——我发现，正如我预料到的那样，我也患有这种疾病——就这样，我开始对自己的病情产生了兴趣，并决定一查到底，于是我开始按字母顺序逐个排查——翻到疟疾，了解到自己已经出现了疟疾的某些症状，大约在两个星期后就会进入急性发作期；翻到肾小球肾炎，我心中稍微感到一丝安慰，因为我发现我得的只是其中较轻的一种，就目前状况而言，我的生命还可以延续一些年。此外，我还染上了霍乱，并伴有严重的并发症；而我好像是先天性白喉患者。我认认真真地按照26个字母挨个检查了一遍，得出的结论是，我唯一没有得上的疾病就是髌前囊炎。
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起初，我还挺受打击的，心里好像还有那么几分失落。为什么我没有得上髌前囊炎呢？这一缺憾岂不让人不快？不过，过了一会儿，我那贪婪的感觉渐渐平复下来。我回过味来了，从药理学讲，我已经把药理学上所罗列的其他各种常见疾病都得了，于是我变得没那么自私了，决定没有得上髌前囊炎也可以接受。反正痛风已经处于恶性晚期了，它好像是在我毫无知觉的情况下找上了我；而我显然是在孩提时期就染上了发酵病。鉴于发酵病是字母表中能查到的最后一种疾病名称，我得出一个结论，我没什么别的病了。
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我坐在那里陷入了沉思。我想，从医学角度来看，我一定是一个非常有趣的病例；对于医学院的教学课堂来说，我更是一个极为难得的病例！医学院的学生们有了我的话，他们就没必要再“去医院”实习了。倘若他们有了我的话，我一个人就是他们的“实习医院”。他们只需围着我走一走，然后就可以领他们的毕业证了。
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我不知道自己究竟还能活多久，我想自查一下。我摸了摸自己的脉搏。一开始，我一点脉象都没摸到。接下来，脉搏突然跳了起来。我掏出怀表，测算脉搏的次数，大概每分钟147次。我又摸了摸心脏，却感受不到心脏的跳动。心脏已经停止跳动了。我劝自己相信心脏想必还在那里，想必还在跳动，只是我这种现象无法解释罢了。我把自己上半身从腰部到头部拍了个遍，还稍微拍了拍身体的侧面和后背，可我却什么也没有摸到，什么也没听到。我想看看自己的舌头，我尽量把舌头伸得长长的，闭上一只眼睛，用另一只眼来检查。我只能看见自己的舌尖，而这么做唯一的收获就是：我比以前更加确信我得了猩红热。
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于是，我去看病，我的私人医生是一位老朋友。平时，每当我觉得我生病的时候，他就会摸摸我的脉搏，看看我的舌头，再不咸不淡地谈谈天气；所以我觉得我现在去找他看病是对他的报答。我心中暗想：“医生需要的就是临床实践，他有了我这样的病人，比拥有一千七百个常见的普通病人得到的临床实践机会还要多，因为这些病人每个人也只能身患一到两种疾病。”于是我径直去找他。他问我：“你哪里不舒服？”
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我答道：“亲爱的伙计，我不会告诉你我得了什么病，浪费你的时间。生命短暂，在我还没说完以前，你就可能离世了。不过，我可以告诉你我没有得什么病，我没有得髌前囊炎。至于我为什么没有得髌前囊炎呢？我说不清楚；然而事实就摆在这里，我没有得髌前囊炎。可是，除此之外，什么病我都有。”
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我还把自己是如何发现这些疾病的过程一五一十地讲给他听了。
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接下来，他解开我的衣服，俯视着我。他紧握着我的一只手腕，我没料到他会敲打我的胸部——我称之为胆小鬼的做法——又马上把侧着的脸贴到我的身上。最后，他坐下来，开了一个处方，然后把处方折起来递给我。我接了过来揣进衣兜里，走了出去。
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我没有打开处方看，就径直来到一家最近的药店把处方递了过去。药剂师看了看处方，又将它退了回来。他说他不收这种处方。
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“你是药剂师吧？”我问道。
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“我是药剂师啊。如果我经营一个合作商店兼家庭旅馆的话，我倒是可以为你效劳。可我只是一个药剂师，我爱莫能助。”
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我看了看那处方，只见上面写道：“一磅牛排，每隔六小时服用一次；每天早晨散步十英里；每天晚上十一点整准时上床睡觉。此外不要满脑子都装些你不明白的东西。”
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（张白桦 译）
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西南联大英文课（英汉双语版） [:1705033822]
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17 THE TELL-TALE HEART A MURDERER’S CONFESSION
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By Edgar Allan Poe
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THE TELL-TALE HEART, by Edgar Allen Poe, in his Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque ,1840, and reprinted in Robert I. Fulton’s Standard Selections , pp. 426-431.
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Edgar Allen Poe （1808-1849）, American author. He is one of the world’s greatest writers of short stories; his stories have always had special appreciation in France.
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True! —nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
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It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain;but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object, there was none. Passion, there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture—a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees—very gradually—I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid my life of him forever.
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Now, this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded—with what caution—with what foresight—with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it—oh, so gently! and then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly—very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon the bed. Ha! —would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously—oh, so cautiously—cautiously （for the hinges creaked） I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights—every night just at midnight—but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his evil eye.
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Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back—but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness （for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers）, and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.