By: Edgar Allan Poe
Motto： Art is long and Time is fleeting
And our hearts, though stout and brave
Still， like muffled drums， are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
——LONGFELLOW
TRUE！- nervous — very,very dreadfully nervous I had been and am； but why will you say that I am mad？The disease had sharpened my senses — not destroyed — not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute。 I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How，then，am I mad?Hearken！ and observe how healthily — how calmly I can tell you the whole story。
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！ He had the eye 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 myself of the eye forever。
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，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 his 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. And every morning,when the day broke,I went boldly into the chamber,and spoke courageously to him,calling him by name in a hearty tone，and inquiring how he has passed the night。 So you see he would have been a very profound old man,indeed，to suspect that every night，just at twelve，I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door。 A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine。 Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers - of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph。 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。
I had my head in，and was about to open the lantern,when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening，and the old man sprang up in bed,crying out - “Who’s there？”
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle，and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down。 He was still sitting up in the bed listening； - just as I have done，night after night,hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan,and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror。 It was not a groan of pain or of grief - oh，no！ — it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe。 I knew the sound well。 Many a night，just at midnight，when all the world slept，it has welled up from my own bosom，deepening,with its dreadful echo，the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt，and pitied him，although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise，when he had turned in the bed。 His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless，but could not. He had been saying to himself — “It is nothing but the wind in the chimney — it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or “It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp。” Yes，he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions： but he had found all in vain。 All in vain; because Death，in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him，and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel — although he neither saw nor heard — to feel the presence of my head within the room。
When I had waited a long time，very patiently,without hearing him lie down，I resolved to open a little - a very，very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it — you cannot imagine how stealthily，stealthily - until,at length a simple dim ray，like the thread of the spider，shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye。
It was open - wide，wide open - and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness — all a dull blue，with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones； but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person： for I had directed the ray as if by instinct，precisely upon the damned spot.
And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense?— now，I say,there came to my ears a low,dull,quick sound，such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton。 I knew that sound well，too。 It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury，as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.
But even yet I refrained and kept still。 I scarcely breathed。 I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve。 Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker,and louder and louder every instant。 The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder，I say，louder every moment！ - do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous： so I am。 And now at the dead hour of the night，amid the dreadful silence of that old house，so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror。 Yet，for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still。 But the beating grew louder，louder！ I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me - the sound would be heard by a neighbour！ The old man's hour had come！ With a loud yell，I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once — once only。 In an instant I dragged him to the floor，and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily，to find the deed so far done。 But,for many minutes，the heart beat on with a muffled sound。 This，however，did not vex me； it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased。 The old man was dead。 I removed the bed and examined the corpse。 Yes，he was stone,stone dead。 I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes。 There was no pulsation。 He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more。
If still you think me mad，you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned,and I worked hastily，but in silence。 First of all I dismembered the corpse。 I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber，and deposited all between the scantlings。 I then replaced the boards so cleverly,so cunningly，that no human eye - not even his — could have detected any thing wrong。 There was nothing to wash out - no stain of any kind — no blood—spot whatever。 I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all — ha！ ha！
When I had made an end of these labors，it was four o’clock — still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour，there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart，— for what had I now to fear?There entered three men,who introduced themselves，with perfect suavity，as officers of the police。 A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night； suspicion of foul play had been aroused； information had been lodged at the police office，and they （the officers） had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled，- for what had I to fear?I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek，I said，was my own in a dream。 The old man，I mentioned，was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house。 I bade them search — search well。 I led them，at length,to his chamber. I showed them his treasures，secure,undisturbed。 In the enthusiasm of my confidence，I brought chairs into the room,and desired them here to rest from their fatigues,while I myself，in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph,placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied。 My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat，and while I answered cheerily，they chatted of familiar things。 But，ere long,I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached，and I fancied a ringing in my ears： but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct： — It continued and became more distinct： I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness - until，at length，I found that the noise was not within my ears。
No doubt I now grew very pale； — but I talked more fluently，and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased - and what could I do?It was a low,dull，quick sound - much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton。 I gasped for breath - and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly - more vehemently； but the noise steadily increased。 I arose and argued about trifles，in a high key and with violent gesticulations； but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone？I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides，as if excited to fury by the observations of the men - but the noise steadily increased. Oh God！ what could I do？I foamed - I raved - I swore！ I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting,and grated it upon the boards，but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder - louder — louder！ And still the men chatted pleasantly,and smiled. Was it possible they heard not？Almighty God！ - no，no！ They heard! - they suspected！ - they knew! - they were making a mockery of my horror！-this I thought，and this I think。 But anything was better than this agony！ Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die！ and now — again! — hark! louder！ louder! louder！ louder！
“Villains！” I shrieked，“dissemble no more! I admit the deed! — tear up the planks！ here,here! — It is the beating of his hideous heart！”
《泄密的心》
埃德加·爱伦·坡
真的--紧张——非常紧张，极度紧张,以前，现在，都是这样。可你为什么硬说我疯了呢?这毛病反倒把我的感觉弄得更灵敏了-—没失灵-—也没麻木。特别是听觉，最好不过了。天上人间的一切声息尽在我的耳鼓里，我还听见地狱中的许多事物。那么,我疯了吗?听着！你看我气色多好——多么镇定自若地把这一切给你和盘托出。
这点子最初怎么进入我的脑海的，是说不上来了，但这点子一出现，就日夜萦绕着我，没啥目的，没啥觊觎。我喜欢那个老头,他从没伤害过我，从没侮辱过我。对他的金子，我更无非分之想。我想是由于他的那只眼睛吧！眼睛，就是这东西!他的一只眼睛酷似鹰眼——一只淡蓝色的眼睛，覆以一层薄翳。只要这只眼睛看到我，我就不寒而栗.于是，渐渐地—-一来二去——我便拿定主意要他的命,这样就可以使自己永远摆脱那只眼睛。
你看，这就是问题的关键。你以为我疯了,可疯子是啥都不懂的。可惜你没看见我，可惜你没看到我干得多漂亮-—那么审慎，那么周详,伪装得多么巧妙.杀死老头之前的那一周里,我对他是体贴备至。每天夜里，大约午夜时分，我转动门闩，把门拨开——噢,极轻微地！然后，我把门推开，推到我的头那么宽,再放进去一盏黑乎乎的提灯，灯遮的严实合缝,光一点都透不出来-—然后我再探进头去。噢，要是看到我有多么巧妙地探进头去，你定会发笑的！我慢慢地探进头去,慢慢地，非常慢地，唯恐搅了老头的美梦。用了一个钟头的时间,我才把头探进门缝，刚好能看见他平躺在床上。哈！——疯子有这脑瓜吗？接着,等我的头全进了门，我就小心翼翼地打开提灯,-—哦，十分地小心翼翼——小心翼翼（因为折合之处会发出声响）——我把提灯掀开一条缝隙，一道细细的灯光落在了那只鹰眼上。我就这样一连搞了七个长夜--每天夜里，就在午夜时分——但我发现那只眼睛总是闭着,因此也就没法做那活儿，因为这样他就不是折磨我的那个老头了，折磨我的是那只可恶的眼睛.每天清晨，天刚破晓,我就大摇大摆地走进他的房间，仗着胆跟他说话，亲热地叫他的名字，问他这一宿是怎么过的。所以你看，这老头并非老谋深算之辈,他万没想到我会每天夜里,就在十二点，趁他熟睡的时候去窥视他。
第八天夜里,我更加小心翼翼地打开了门。钟表上的分针都比我的手移动快。这天晚上我才生平第一次感到自己本事如此了得——有如此脑瓜。就要得手了,我几乎不能自已.想想看,我来到门前，打开门，一点一点地，而他连做梦也想不到我有如此秘密之举或非常之想。想到这里，我竟暗自发起笑来.可能是给他听到了,因为他在床上突然翻了个身，像是吃了一惊。你或许以为我会就此打住吧—-可是我偏没。他的房间里漆黑一片，伸手难见五指，(因为百叶窗关得严严的，以防强盗），所以我清楚他看不见门开了个缝，我就这样一点一点地往前推着门。
我探进头，正要打开提灯，拇指刚滑到那个锡勾,那老头从床上一下子坐起身来，大声喊道—-“哪一个？”
我静静地站在原地，一声不吭.整整一个钟头，我纹丝没动,但同时也没听见他躺下。他还坐在那儿,在听动静，正如我以前一样,夜复一夜地，倾听着墙缝里报死虫的叫声。
不一会儿，我听到一声轻微的呻吟，我知道这是极度恐惧才有的呻吟,这不是疼痛或悲伤的呻吟——哦,不是！——这是吓得魂飞魄散时从灵魂深处发出的那种压抑的低吟之声。这声我很清楚.多少个夜晚，就在午夜时分,当万籁俱寂之时，这声音就从我自己的内心响起并越来越大，伴随着那骇人的回声,加剧着那使我狂乱的恐怖。我说这声音我很清楚，我清楚这老头的感受，也同情他，尽管在心底发笑。听到他在床上翻了个身,我清楚他自打一听到那轻微的声音起就一直警觉地躺着.老头内心的恐惧不断增长,他曾尽量把这些恐惧想象成子虚乌有，却做不到。他曾对自己说——“不就是烟囱里的风嘛”——“也就是个耗子穿过地板吧”，或者,“不过是蟋蟀发出一声叫罢了”。是的,他尽量用这些猜测之词来安慰自己，但他发现这都白费心机，全都白费心机，因为死神在逼近老头时，已带着自己的黑暗之影向他悄然逼近，罩住了这个冤魂.正是这种未曾察觉的阴影的忧伤之力让他感受到——尽管他看不见也听不着—-感受到房间里我的头的存在。
我等了许久，非常地耐心,还是没有听到他躺下,便决意打开一点——把提灯打开一个非常非常小的缝儿.我就这样打开了一个小缝儿—-你想象不出我是多么的神不知鬼不觉——直到，也就是那么一丝微弱的光,像蜘蛛拉出的细丝，从那道小缝中投射出来，照到老头的那只鹰眼上。
那只眼睛睁着——很大，睁得很大—-我凝视着,怒火中烧。我看得再清楚不过了-—一团暗淡的蓝色，蒙着一层可怕的薄膜,令人胆战心寒，我全然不见老头的脸或他整个人，因为我好像本能地把光线分毫不差地投在了那个该死的地方。
噢，我没跟您说过你错把我当作疯子，其实那只是我的感官过于敏锐而已吗？——现在,跟您说吧，我的耳边传来一阵低沉、单调、迅疾的声音，像是裹在棉花里的手表发出的声音.这声音我也很清楚,这就是那老头的心跳声。这加剧了我的怒火，正如咚咚的战鼓激励着战士的勇气.
即便如此，我还是克制着自己,一动不动.我连大气都不喘。我稳稳地持着灯，看看自己能多么稳当地把光线照在那只眼睛上.这会儿，那可恶的扑通扑通的心跳声加剧了。这跳声一下快过一下，一声高过一声。老头的恐惧一定是到了极点！跳声越来越大，跟你说吧，一声高过一声！——弄明白我的意思了吗?我跟您说过我紧张，我是紧张。而此刻在这死一般的静夜，在这古屋的可怕的寂静中,声音如此的莫名其妙,使我产生了一股无法抑制的恐惧,但我还是又克制、又静立了几分钟，可那跳声越来越大了，越来越大。我想那颗心定是要爆炸了。现在，我心头生出一种新的焦虑-—这声音会被邻里听到的！这老头死期至矣！我发出一声喊，唰地打开提灯，噌地跳进屋内。他只尖叫了一声——就一声。我旋即把他拽到地上，拖过沉重的床压在他的身上.活儿干得这么利索，我轻快地笑了起来.不过，一连好几分钟，那颗心脏都带着压抑的声音跳动着.这倒没激恼我，这声音隔着墙是听不到的。终于，心跳声停止了，老头死了。我挪开床，查看了他的尸体。是的，他已经死了，死就了。我伸出手，放在他的心脏上，在那搁了好几分钟。没有心跳了。他已经死就了.他那只眼睛不会再烦我了。
你要是还以为我疯了,等我把藏匿尸首时的精细审慎描述一番，你就不这么认为了。夜色阑珊，我麻利地忙活着，当然是悄无声息.我先是把尸体大卸八块，割下头,砍下手，卸下脚.
然后我又从房间的地板上掀起三块地板，把肢解的尸体都放在间隙中，然后又把木板放回原处，极为利落，极为巧妙，人的眼睛，就算是他的那只眼睛，也看不出任何蛛丝马迹。没什么要刷洗的--没有污迹，没有任何血迹，我干得一丝不苟，一个大桶全装下了——哈，哈!
这些活干好后,都四点了——天色还是黑如午夜。正在时钟报点之时，大门外传来了敲门声。我漫不经心地去开门,-—我现在还有什么担心的呢?进来了三个人，他们温文尔雅地自我介绍,说是警局的警官。邻里半夜听到一声尖叫，怀疑发生了暴行，便向报了案，他们(警官们)便被派来查看究竟。
我笑了，——我还有什么担心的呢？我对几位先生表示了欢迎。那叫声，我说,是我自己在梦中发出的。我谈到那老头，说他到乡下去了。我带着他们三位把房子搜了个遍。我让他们搜查-—好好搜查.最后，我把他们领到了他的房间.我把他的细软给他们看,东西都安然无恙，完好无损.我信心满满,竟把几把椅子拉进房里,请他们坐在那歇歇腿，而我自己，则由于自己的杰作而肆无忌惮起来，把座位就放在下面藏有老头尸首的地方。
警官们颇为满意，我的举止已令他们信服。我是异常地轻松。他们坐着，聊着家常里短，我则是对答如流。但不久,我就觉得自己面色苍白起来，盼着他们走。我头疼起来，觉得有股耳鸣之声，但他们还是坐在那，还谈着。耳鸣声越来越清晰—-这声音持续不断,越发清晰了。为了驱除这种感觉，我越发恣肆地说着话，可这声音还是不断，更加分明了——终于，我发现那声音并不是源于我的双耳.
无疑，我已面色惨白—-但我越发滔滔不绝地说着话，还提高了嗓门。而这声音却有增无减-—我该咋办？这是一阵低沉、单一、迅疾的声音——特别像是裹在棉花里的手表发出的声音。我喘着粗气-—但警官们并没有听到这声音。我说得更快了—-越发激越了，可那声音仍在加强。我站起身，态度激烈、手舞足蹈地为琐事争论着,可那声音越发加强了。他们怎么就不走呢？我迈着重重的脚步在地板上来回踱着步子，似乎是被他们的言论激怒了——可那声音仍在增强。哦,天啊，我该咋办?我吐沫飞溅—-我胡言乱语——我赌咒发誓!我晃动着我坐下的那把椅子，椅子磨在地板上吱吱嘎嘎，但那声音却盖过了这一切,在持续增强着。声音越来越大——越来越大--越来越大！而那几个人依旧在海侃神聊,还在嘻嘻哈哈.他们可能听不到吗？万能的上帝！——不，不！他们听到了!——他们猜到了!-—他们知道了！——他们在拿我的恐惧取乐！——我当时如是想，现在仍如是想。不过没有比这更痛苦的了,没有比这种奚落更折磨人的了！我再也忍受不了这几个伪君子的哂笑了！我觉得我得喊出来，要不就会死于非命！——这当儿-—又来了！——你听！越来越大!越来越大!越来越大！越来越大！——
“坏蛋!”我尖叫道。“别装腔作势了！我招供！揭开这几块地板!——这儿，这儿！——这就是那颗可恶的心脏的跳动。”下载本文
