(单词翻译:单击)
听力文本
Today we present the short story "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe. Here is Shep O'Neal with the story.
True! Nervous -- very, very nervous I had been and am!
But why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses -- not destroyed them.
Above all was the sense of hearing. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in the underworld.
How, then, am I mad? Observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain.
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 bird, a vulture -- a pale blue eye, with a film over it.
Whenever it fell on me, my blood ran cold;
and so -- very slowly -- I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and free myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You think that I am mad. Madmen know nothing.
But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely and carefully I went to work!
I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.
And every night, late at night, I turned the lock of his door and opened it – oh, so gently!
And then, when I had made an opening big enough for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed that no light shone out, and then I stuck in my head.
I moved it slowly, very slowly, so that I might not interfere with the old man's sleep.
And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern just so much that a single thin ray of light fell upon the vulture eye.
And this I did for seven long nights -- but I found the eye always closed;
and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who was a problem for me, but his Evil Eye.
On the eighth night, I was more than usually careful in opening the door.
I had my head in and was about to open the lantern, when my finger slid on a piece of metal and made a noise.
The old man sat up in bed, crying out "Who's there?"
I kept still and said nothing. I did not move a muscle for a whole hour.
During that time, I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening -- just as I have done, night after night.
Then I heard a noise, and I knew it was the sound of human terror.
It was the low sound that arises from the bottom of the soul. I knew the sound well.
Many a night, late at night, when all the world slept, it has welled up from deep within my own chest. I say I knew it well.
I knew what the old man felt, and felt sorry for him, although I laughed to myself.
I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first noise, when he had turned in the bed.
His fears had been ever since growing upon him.
When I had waited a long time, without hearing him lie down, I decided to open a little -- a very, very little -- crack in the lantern.
So I opened it. You cannot imagine how carefully, carefully.
Finally, a single ray of light shot from out and fell full upon the vulture eye.
It was open -- wide, wide open -- and I grew angry as I looked at it.
I saw it clearly -- all a dull blue, with a horrible veil over it that chilled my bones;
but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person.
For I had directed the light exactly upon the damned spot.
And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but a kind of over-sensitivity?
Now, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when inside a piece of cotton.
I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my anger.
But even yet I kept still. I hardly breathed. I held the lantern motionless.
I attempted to keep the ray of light upon the eye. But the beating of the heart increased.
It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every second.
The old man's terror must have been extreme! The beating grew louder, I say, louder every moment!
And now at the dead hour of the night, in the horrible silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.
Yet, for some minutes longer I stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst.
And now a new fear seized me -- the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come!
With a loud shout, I threw open the lantern and burst into the room.
He cried once -- once only. Without delay, I forced him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him.
I then smiled, to find the action so far done.
But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a quiet sound.
This, however, did not concern me; it would not be heard through the wall.
At length, it stopped. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the body.
I placed my hand over his heart and held it there many minutes.
There was no movement. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise steps I took for hiding the body.
I worked quickly, but in silence.
First of all, I took apart the body. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
I then took up three pieces of wood from the flooring, and placed his body parts under the room.
I then replaced the wooden boards so well that no human eye -- not even his -- could have seen anything wrong.
There was nothing to wash out -- no mark of any kind -- no blood whatever.
I had been too smart for that. A tub had caught all -- ha! ha!
When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock in the morning.
As a clock sounded the hour, there came a noise 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 said they were officers of the police.
A cry had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of a crime had been aroused; information had been given at the police office,
and the officers had been sent to search the building.
I smiled -- for what had I to fear? The cry, I said, was my own in a dream.
The old man, I said, was not in the country. I took my visitors all over the house.
I told them to search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his room.
I brought chairs there, and told them to rest.
I placed my own seat upon the very place under which lay the body of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. I was completely at ease.
They sat, and while I answered happily, they talked of common things.
But, after a while, I felt myself getting weak and wished them gone.
My head hurt, and I had a ringing in my ears; but still they sat and talked.
The ringing became more severe. I talked more freely to do away with the feeling.
But it continued until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.
I talked more and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do?
It was a low, dull, quick sound like a watch makes when inside a piece of cotton.
I had trouble breathing -- and yet the officers heard it not.
I talked more quickly -- more loudly; but the noise increased.
I stood up and argued about silly things, in a high voice and with violent hand movements. But the noise kept increasing.
Why would they not be gone? I walked across the floor with heavy steps, as if excited to anger by the observations of the men -- but the noise increased.
What could I do? I swung my chair and moved it upon the floor, but the noise continually increased.
It grew louder -- louder -- louder! And still the men talked pleasantly, and smiled.
Was it possible they heard not? No, no! They heard! They suspected! They knew!
They were making a joke of my horror! This I thought, and this I think.
But anything was better than this pain! I could bear those smiles no longer!
I felt that I must scream or die! And now -- again! Louder! Louder! Louder!
"Villains!" I cried, "Pretend no more! I admit the deed! Tear up the floor boards! Here, here! It is the beating of his hideous heart!"
重点解析
1.be about to do 即将做某事
The package is about to come unwrapped.
那个包快散开了。
2.hand over 交出
They scared him into handing over the keys.
他们把他吓得交出了钥匙。
3.sound like 听起来像
That sounds like an agelong story.
这听起来像个久远的故事。
4.walk across 步行穿过
He shouldered his bike and walked across the finish line.
他扛着自行车走过了终点线。
5.decide to 决定
Students may decide to seek tutorial guidance.
学生可以决定寻求导师指导。
参考译文
今天我们来介绍埃德加·爱伦·坡的短篇小说《泄密的心》。演播者谢普·奥尼尔。
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。
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。
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。
我慢慢地探进头去，慢慢地，非常慢地，唯恐搅了老头的美梦。
接着，等我的头全进了门，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。
第八天夜里，我更加小心翼翼地打开了门。
我探进头，正要打开提灯，拇指刚滑到那个锡勾，发出一阵噪声。
那老头从床上一下子坐起身来，大声喊道——“是谁？”
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。
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。我说这声音我很清楚。
我清楚这老头的感受，也同情他，尽管我在心底发笑。
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。
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。
直到从那道小缝中投射出来一丝微弱的光，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。
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！
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。
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。
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，便向警察报了案，
警官们便被派来查看究竟。
我笑了，——我还有什么担心的呢？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。
我把几把椅子拉进房里，请他们坐在那歇歇腿。
我自己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。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。
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。
我该咋办？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！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。”
