每天读点好英文：看见死亡的双眼(txt+pdf+epub+mobi电子书下载)

作者：暖小昕

出版社：宁波出版社

格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT

每天读点好英文：看见死亡的双眼试读：

我将要讲的这个故事荒谬至极，却又极其平凡，我并不企求人们相信，就连我的心里都不相信这些亲身经历的事，还指望别人相信？那岂不是疯了吗？然而，我并没有疯，而且也确实不是在做梦。不过明天我就要死了，所以今天我要把这些事说出来好让自己的灵魂得以解脱。我迫切想把这一系列纯粹的家常琐事一五一十、简单明了、不加任何评论地公之于世。因为这些事情，我备受惊吓，内心痛苦不堪——它们彻底毁了我的一切。但我并不打算作出详细的解释。对我而言，这些事情留下的唯有恐怖，但对大多数人而言，它们也许并没有奇怪之处。也许，后世一些有识之士会把我的幻觉当作平常小事——而在一些更加冷静、逻辑思维更强，且不像我这样遇事容易激动紧张的有识之士看来，这不过是一连串有着因果联系的普通事件罢了。

我从小就因温顺善良而出名。我的软心肠甚至一度成为同伴们的笑柄。我尤其喜欢动物，宠爱我的父母就给我买了各种宠物。我大部分时间都与这些小动物在一起，而喂养和爱抚它们的时候往往也是我最开心的时刻。这种特殊的癖好一直伴随着我的成长。成年后，这也成了我的主要乐趣之一。对于那些喜欢忠实而敏锐的狗的人来说，我无须多费口舌，他们就能理解其中的无穷乐趣。如果你经常尝到人类哪种寡情薄义的滋味，那么动物的无私的、甘于牺牲的爱。一定会触动你的内心。

我结婚很早，很庆幸我的妻子与我志趣相投。她看我偏爱饲养宠物，只要有机会物色到中意的，从来都不放过。我们养了小鸟、金鱼、良种狗、小兔子，还有一只小猴和一只猫。

我们养的猫非常大，也很漂亮，浑身乌黑，而且非常聪明。我的妻子有些迷信，每当说到这只猫的聪明灵性，她总会提及些古老的传说，认为黑猫都是巫婆伪装而成的。我想，她也许只是说着好玩的，并没有当真，而这也只是我想到了就顺便写了下来。

这只猫名叫普路托。它是我最爱的宠物和玩伴。我独自喂养它，在家里，无论我走到哪儿，它都跟着我，寸步不离，就连我上街它也要跟着，我想尽一切办法都赶不走它。

我和猫的友情就这样维持了好几年。在这期间，说来不好意思，由于嗜酒成瘾，我的脾气和性情彻底变坏了。我变得越来越喜怒无常，急躁不安，不再顾及他人的感受，甚至对妻子也恶语相向，最后我还对她施加暴力。当然，我养的那些宠物也都察觉出了我性情的变化。我不仅没有照顾它们，反而虐待它们。那些兔子，那只小猴，甚至那只狗，偶尔出于想与主人亲热的目的跑到我面前，我也会毫无顾忌地虐待它们。然而，对于普路托，我还是心存爱护，没有怠慢。不过，我的病情越来越重——再也没有像酗酒这么严重的疾病了——最后，就连普路托也开始成为我坏脾气的受害者，而此时的它也老了，脾气也不再像以前那样温顺了。

一天晚上，我在镇上一个常去的酒吧喝得酩酊大醉。回到家，我认为这只猫在刻意地躲着我，便一把抓住它。它被我的粗暴行为吓坏了，不由地在我的手上轻轻咬了一口，留下了一排牙印。我立刻怒火中烧，失去了控制，原本善良的灵魂一下子飞出了我的躯体。我酒性大发，变得凶神恶煞。我从背心的口袋里掏出一把小刀，打开刀子，抓住那只可怜的畜生的喉咙，凶残地把它的一只眼珠剜了出来！写到自己的这一可恶的罪行时，羞愧不已的我面红耳赤，全身战栗发抖。

第二天，我恢复了理智，从昨晚愤怒的情绪中清醒过来，对自己所犯下的罪行感到既恐惧又懊悔。但这至多不过是一种微弱而模糊的感觉，并未触及我的灵魂。我又开始沉迷于酗酒，很快就忘记了自己过去的所作所为。

这时，那只猫也慢慢康复了，失去眼珠的眼窝看起来真是使人心惊肉跳，但它看上去已经不痛了。它像往常一样在屋里走来走去，正如我想的那样，它一见我走近，就会恐慌地拼命逃走。最初，我的内心还残留着一点儿良心，看到曾经如此热爱我的动物现在竟然这样嫌恶我，不免感到伤心。但不久，这种伤心之情就转化为愤怒之火。再后来，邪念又起，终于一发不可收拾。关于这种邪念，哲学上并没有任何记载，但我深信，邪念是人的一种原始本能——一种无法摆脱的原始本能，或者说是情感，它决定了人类的性格。谁不是明知不应该却一次又一次没有任何理由地做蠢事？我们的心中难道没有一种永久的邪念，我们以它们对抗自身的判断力，明知犯法却还要去以身试法？就是这种邪念，彻底断送了我的一生。正是内心这种难解的渴望，使我自寻烦恼、违背本性，仅仅为作恶而作恶，继续伤害那只无辜的动物，最终使其送了命。

一天早上，冷血的我残忍地用套索套住它的脖子，并将其挂在树枝上，做完这一切后，我眼含泪水，心里无比地痛苦懊悔。我把它挂在树上是因为我知道它曾经爱过我，我认为这就给了我伤害它的理由。我知道这是在犯罪，一种让我的灵魂永远不得超生的死罪。如果有这种可能，就连慈悲为怀的上帝都无法宽恕我的罪行。

就在我犯下这桩残忍罪行的那天晚上，我在睡梦中突然被失火的喊叫声惊醒。我床上的帘子都着火了，整间房子都烧着了。我们夫妇和一个仆人好不容易才逃出了那场大火，保住了性命。房子被彻底烧毁，我所有的财产都被大火吞没。从那以后，我万念俱灰。

我还不至于那么迷信，会去寻找这种灾难与罪行之间的因果关系。但我要详细地列出事实，我希望，这中间不要落下任何环节。火灾后的第二天，我去看了那片废墟。所有的墙壁，除了一面墙之外，其他都倒塌了。唯一没有倒塌的那面墙壁并不厚，立在房间的正中间，而我的床头就紧靠着这面墙。墙上的石膏在很大程度上阻止了火势的蔓延，我认为这是由于最近刚粉刷过的缘故。墙根前密密麻麻聚集了一堆人，人们似乎都在专心地看着这面墙。我不时地听到人们说“奇怪”、“异常”之类的话，这也引发了我的好奇心。走近一看，只见那面白壁上赫然有一只巨大的猫的浮雕。这只猫看起来惟妙惟肖，它的脖子上还套着绳子。

一看到这个鬼怪——我一口咬定它就是鬼怪——我便惊恐万分。但最后一想便放下心来。我记得这只猫是被挂在房子临近的花园里。火警一响，花园便挤满了人，肯定是哪个人把猫从树上放下来，从开着的窗子里扔进了我的卧室。这样做也许是为了让我从睡梦中醒来。其他倒下的墙把被我残害的受害者压在新刷的灰泥上。石灰、焰火，还有尸体发出的氨气，在这些东西的共同作用下，我所看到的那幅假浮雕便完成了。

对于这种触目惊心的事实，尽管从良心的角度来说，我很难自圆其说，但于理而言，倒也说得过去。然而，不管怎样，这些在我的脑海中留下了极其深刻的印象。几个月过去了，我依然不能摆脱那只猫所带来的幻觉。在这其间，我的心里又产生了一些感伤，以及似是而非的懊悔之情。我甚至很遗憾失去了这只猫，在经常出现猫的地方，我四处寻找一只外貌与之相似的猫来填补它的位置。

一天晚上，我茫然地坐在一间下等酒吧里。突然，一个黑色的物体吸引了我的全部注意力，那东西就在一个盛着金酒或朗姆酒的大桶上。这只大桶也是这个房间里最重要的家当。我两眼直勾勾地盯着大木桶的顶端，看了好几分钟。令我吃惊的是，那上面的东西好像不见了。我靠近并用手摸了摸，这是一只黑猫，个头非常大——和普路托一样，长得也非常相似，除了一处：普路托全身没有一根白毛，而这只猫有一大片模糊的白斑，几乎覆盖了整个胸部。

我一摸它，它就立刻跳起来，大声地叫着，蹭着我的手，似乎为我终于注意到了它而感到高兴。这猫正是我梦寐以求的。我立刻向老板提出要买下来，但是老板并不了解这只猫的来历，他之前从未见过这只猫，因此无法开价。

我继续爱抚着这只猫。当我准备回家时，它流露出要跟着我走的意思。我便让它跟着我，还不时地弯腰拍拍它。到家后，它表现得很温驯，一下子就成了我妻子的最爱。

可是，对我而言，我很快就不喜欢它了。这大大出乎我的意料，我不知道怎么会这样，也不知道原因——而它显然很喜欢我，这不禁让我觉得非常厌烦、恼火。渐渐地，这种厌烦和恼怒的情绪升级为深恶痛绝。我躲避这只猫，某种羞愧之情以及之前残忍罪行的记忆使我并没有虐待它。几周以来，我既没有打它，也没有粗暴地虐待它，但是久而久之，我对它的厌恶之情日益加深，一见到它我就悄悄溜开，就像躲瘟疫那样。

就在我发现它并带它回家的第二天早晨，它竟然像普路托一样，失去了一颗眼珠。这愈发加深了我对这只猫的憎恶之情，但是，这使我的妻子愈发喜欢它了。正如我所说的，我的妻子非常富有同情心，而这也曾经是我最突出的优点，也是我单纯快乐的源泉。

尽管我极其厌恶这只猫，但它对我的喜爱与日俱增。它坚持与我寸步不离，这实在让人难以理解。无论我坐到哪里，它都会在我的椅子边蜷着，或跳到我的膝盖上，在我的身上撒娇，令人厌恶。我一站起来，它又会钻到我的两脚之间，并因此而差点儿把我绊倒；要不就用它那又长又尖的爪子抓住我的衣服，爬上我的胸口。每当这时，虽然我恨不得一拳揍死它，但还是克制住了自己，一方面是因为我对之前犯下罪行的记忆，而主要的原因还在于——说实话——这只猫让我感到非常恐惧。

这种恐惧并非对其身体邪恶的惧怕，但我也很难说明白这是一种什么心理。我自己几乎羞于承认——是的，即使在牢笼里，我也羞于承认——这只猫令我感到恐惧和害怕，而这种纯粹的幻觉又进一步加深了我的恐惧感。我的妻子不止一次地让我注意那片白毛的痕迹。我说过，这是它与被我杀害的那只猫唯一的明显区别。你们应该记得这个标记，虽然白毛面积大，但是，起先它看起来是模糊的，可不知不觉中，它竟然有了清晰的轮廓。很长一段时间，我的理智竭力将其当幻觉，而这时，那斑迹显示出一种东西，一种我害怕说出的东西。正因为这点，我憎恨、害怕这个怪物。如果我有足够的勇气，早就摆脱它了——它竟然成了可怕的影子，一种恐怖的东西——绞刑台！唉，多么可悲恐怖的刑具！让人痛苦送命的刑具！

此时的我成为一个无比悲惨的可怜虫。我行若无事地杀害了它的同类，而这只没有理性的动物竟然这样对我——作为按照上帝形象创造出来的人，给我带来如此不堪忍受的灾祸！无论白天还是黑夜，我知道自己再也不得安宁了。白天，这个畜生片刻不离我；晚上，我开始不断地从噩梦中惊醒，然后发现这个东西正在我的脸上吐着热气，并压在我的身上。我无法摆脱这一具体而真实的噩梦，只能任由它压在我的心头！

在这种压力的折磨下，我内心残余的那点儿微弱的良心消失了。邪念成了我唯一的内心活动，翻来翻去都是极为卑鄙的邪恶念头。我本来就喜怒无常，而今愈演愈烈，我竟然憎恶世间的一切事物和所有人。我盲目地放纵自我，常常抑制不住突然发火，而我那逆来顺受的妻子则经常成为我虐待的对象。

因为贫穷，我们不得不住在老房子里。有一天，为了一些家务事，她陪着我到老房子的地窖中去，这只猫也跟着我走下那陡峭的台阶，它又让我差点儿摔了跟头，我的怒火由此而变得一发不可收拾。我愤怒地举起斧头，对着这只猫砍了下去。不过，我内心对它还存有一些恐惧。当然，如果我要真想砍死它，这只猫肯定就当场毙命。但是，我的妻子伸手拦住了我。当时，我正在火头上，被这一拦，立刻怒不可遏，从她的手中抽出胳膊，朝她的脑袋砍了一斧头。她一声没吭地倒下了，当场就死了。

完成了这可怕的谋杀之后，我立刻着手细细盘算藏匿尸体的事。我知道无论是白天还是黑夜，我都无法将尸体运出房子，因为可能会被邻居看见。我想了很多计划。一会儿我想把尸体切成小块烧掉，一会儿又决定在地窖里挖一个墓穴。我又想到院子里的井，还打算把尸体放进箱子，当成装货那样，照往常的习惯，让搬运工把它搬出屋子。最后，我突然想到一个万全之策。我决定将尸体砌进地窖——据记载，中世纪的僧侣就是这样把殉道者砌进墙里的。

这个地窖用来藏尸再好不过了。它的墙壁结构很松，最近还刚用粗灰泥全部刷新过，因为空气很潮湿，灰泥还没有干。而且，有一堵墙因为有个假烟囱或者说是壁炉而凸出一块，里面被填满了，和地窖的其他部分相似。我可以很容易地将这个地方挖开，把尸体塞进去，再像之前那样把墙完全砌上，这样肉眼就无法看出任何破绽了。

这个想法的确不错。我用一根撬杠，没费什么力气就把砖撬掉了，然后仔细把尸体紧贴着内墙放好，我撑着尸体让它不掉下来，然后我又顺利地把墙按照原来的样子砌好。我拿来了石灰、黄沙和乱发，做好一切防范。我准备好了一种与旧灰泥几乎无异的新灰泥，非常仔细地把它涂在新砌的砖墙上。一切完毕。我看到一切顺利，感到非常满意。这面墙看不出一丝动过的痕迹，地上的垃圾我也非常仔细地收拾干净。我得意地四下看看，自语道：“总算没有白忙活。”

下一步就是要找到那只招惹出这起悲惨灾难的畜生，我终于下定决心要置它于死地。我再看见它的时候，毫无疑问，那就是它的死期。但它很狡猾，乘我刚才暴怒之时，就警觉地逃走了。而我现在正怒火中烧，它自然不敢现身。这只讨厌的畜生终于消失了，我的心头一阵轻松，这种高兴劲儿实在难以形容和想象。到了晚上，那只猫还没有出现。自从它来到这屋子里之后，我还从来没像今晚这样睡得如此踏实而安宁，哪怕此时，我的内心还背负着杀人的重担！

第二天、第三天过去了，那只折磨我的猫还没现身。我又可以像自由人那样呼吸了。那个恶魔害怕了、逃走了，永远地离开了我。我再也看不见它了！我高兴极了！我甚至没有为自己的罪行感到不安，心里只洋溢着喜悦。警察来问过几次妻子的行踪，不过，我早已想好了答案，因此也就顺利地度过了危机。他们甚至还搜查过一次，当然，什么也没有发现。我觉得未来高枕无忧。

谋杀后的第四天，一群警察不期而至，再次严密地搜查了房子。不过，我认为自己藏匿的地方不可能被猜到，很安全，所以一点儿都不慌张。那些警察命令我陪他们搜查。他们没有放过任何隐蔽的地方和任何一个角落。最后搜到第三、第四遍，他们开始转向地窖。我一点儿也不紧张，泰然自若地跟着他们，就像清白者那样平静。我从地窖的一端走向另一端。我将双臂抱于胸前，若无其事地来回走动。警察什么也没发现，正准备离开，而我也高兴得心花怒放，感觉有一肚子话要说，庆祝自己的胜利，同时也让他们更加确信我是无罪的。“先生们，”当这群人上楼梯的时候，我终于开口说道，“我非常高兴澄清了嫌疑。我祝福你们都健康，给你们请安。顺便说一下，这间屋子结构非常牢固。”（我只想开口说话，却根本不知道自己都说了什么）“可以说这屋子的结构非常棒。这些墙壁——你们要走了吗？先生们——这些墙非常牢固地砌在一起。”说到这里，我脑子一热，装作很有信心的样子，举起手中的棍子，猛地敲打藏着我妻子尸体的那堵墙。

上帝保佑，把我从虎口中拯救出来吧！我敲墙的余音未完，就听见从墙里传出一阵如同从坟墓里发出来的声音。那哭声，一开始压抑得断断续续，就像小孩子的抽噎，很快就成了持续不断的厉声尖叫，声音异常，惨绝人寰，一声号叫，一声痛哭，半是恐怖，半是得意，就好像地狱里的冤鬼痛苦的叫声和魔鬼诅咒的狂喜呼声混在一起。

说到我当时的想法，实在是太荒唐了。我昏头昏脑，踉踉跄跄地走到对面那面墙。那时，台阶上的警察都害怕起来，呆若木鸡。不一会儿，就有十多条粗壮的手臂在拆那堵墙。那墙完全倒塌。尸体已经腐烂，凝结着血块，直立在大家的面前。在尸体头上，坐着那可怕的畜生，张着血盆大口，独眼里冒着火。它捣了鬼，诱使我杀了妻子。如今它又发出声音，将我推向了绞刑架：原来我把这只怪物也砌到墙里去了！

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 tomorrow I die, and today 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 than baroque. 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 mere Man.

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, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a 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 ever serious 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 cat' 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 night' 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 is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself—to offer violence to its own nature—to do wrong for the wrong' s sake only—that urged me to continue and finally to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute.

One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; —hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; —hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence; —hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin—a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it—if such a thing were possible—even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.

On the night of the day on which this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were in flames. The whole house was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration. The destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair.

I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts—and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. This exception was found in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had rested the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire—a fact which I attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with every minute and eager attention. The words “strange! ”,“singular! ” and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accuracy truly marvellous. There was a rope about the animal' s neck.

When I first beheld this apparition—for I could scarcely regard it as less—my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by the crowd—by some one of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open window, into my chamber. This had probably been done with the view of arousing me from sleep. The falling of other walls had compressed the victim of my cruelty into the substance of the freshly-spread plaster; the lime of which, had then with the flames, and the ammonia from the carcass, accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.

Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not altogether to my conscience, for the startling fact just detailed, it did not the less fall to make a deep impression upon my fancy.For months I could not rid myself of the phantasm of the cat; and, during this period, there came back into my spirit a half-sentiment that seemed, but was not, remorse. I went so far as to regret the loss of the animal, and to look about me, among the vile haunts which I now habitually frequented, for another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar appearance, with which to supply its place.

One night as I sat, half stupefied, in a den of more than infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black object, reposing upon the head of one of the immense hogsheads of Gin, or of Rum, which constituted the chief furniture of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at the top of this hogshead for some minutes, and what now caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived the object thereupon. I approached it, and touched it with my hand. It was a black cat—a very large one—fully as large as Pluto, and closely resembling him in every respect but one. Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of his body; but this cat had a large, although indefinite splotch of white, covering nearly the whole region of the breast.

Upon my touching him, he immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand, and appeared delighted with my notice. This, then, was the very creature of which I was in search. I at once offered to purchase it of the landlord; but this person made no claim to it—knew nothing of it—had never seen it before.

I continued my caresses, and, when I prepared to go home, the animal evinced a disposition to accompany me. I permitted it to do so; occasionally stooping and patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the house it domesticated itself at once, and became immediately a great favorite with my wife.

For my own part, I soon found a dislike to it arising within me. This was just the reverse of what I had anticipated; but I know not how or why it was—its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed. By slow degrees, these feelings of disgust and annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred. I avoided the creature; a certain sense of shame, and the remembrance of my former deed of cruelty, preventing me from physically abusing it. I did not, for some weeks, strike, or otherwise violently ill use it; but gradually—very gradually—I came to look upon it with unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious presence, as from the breath of a pestilence.

What added, no doubt, to my hatred of the beast, was the discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like Pluto, it also had been deprived of one of its eyes. This circumstance, however, only endeared it to my wife, who, as I have already said, possessed, in a high degree, that humanity of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the source of many of my simplest and purest pleasures.

With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for myself seemed to increase. It followed my footsteps with a pertinacity which it would be difficult to make the reader comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would crouch beneath my chair, or spring upon my knees, covering me with its loathsome caresses. If I arose to walk it would get between my feet and thus nearly throw me down, or, fastening its long and sharp claws in my dress, clamber, in this manner, to my breast. At such times, although I longed to destroy it with a blow, I was yet withheld from so doing, partly by a memory of my former crime, but chiefly—let me confess it at once—by absolute dread of the beast.

This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil-and yet I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it. I am almost ashamed to own—yes, even in this felon' s cell, I am almost ashamed to own—that the terror and horror with which the animal inspired me, had been heightened by one of the merest chimaeras it would be possible to conceive. My wife had called my attention, more than once, to the character of the mark of white hair, of which I have spoken, and which constituted the sole visible difference between the strange beast and the one I had destroyed. The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had been originally very indefinite; but, by slow degrees—degrees nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my reason struggled to reject as fanciful—it had, at length, assumed a rigorous distinctness of outline. It was now the representation of an object that I shudder to name—and for this, above all, I loathed, and dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster had I dared—it was now, I say, the image of a hideous—of a ghastly thing—of the Gallows! —oh, mournful and terrible engine of Horror and of Crime—of Agony and of Death!

And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere Humanity. And a brute beast—whose fellow I had contemptuously destroyed—a brute beast to work out for me—for me a man, fashioned in the image of the High God—so much of insufferable wo! Alas! Neither by day nor by night knew I the blessing of Rest any more! During the former the creature left me no moment alone; and, in the latter, I started, hourly, from dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing upon my face, and its vast weight—an incarnate Night-Mare that I had no power to shake off—incumbent eternally upon my heart!

Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within me succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole intimates—the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The moodiness of my usual temper increased to hatred of all things and of all mankind; while, from the sudden, frequent, and ungovernable outbursts of a fury to which I now blindly abandoned myself, my uncomplaining wife, she was the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.

One day she accompanied me, upon some household errand,into the cellar of the old building which our poverty compelled us to inhabit.

试读结束[说明：试读内容隐藏了图片]

下载完整电子书