[美]安布羅斯·比爾斯/Ambrose Bierce
安布羅斯·比爾斯（Ambrose Bierce，1842-1914），美國恐怖、靈異小說家，生於俄亥俄州梅格斯縣的一個貧苦農民家庭。參加過南北戰爭，這段不平凡的經曆為他後來的文學創作打下了堅實的基礎。戰爭結束後，他開始了一個編輯兼作家的忙碌生涯。他早期的作品主要是隨筆和諷刺性短詩，也包括一些小說，人生觀比較悲觀，被人們稱為“辛辣比爾斯”。
“我這個人不像你們有些醫生那麽迷信，有些醫生既喜歡玩弄‘科學人士’的頭銜，又迷信那些非科學的東西。”霍弗振振有詞地說著，好像在反駁控告自己的人，其實根本沒有人控告他，“坦白地說，在你們醫生中間，確實有一些人——確切地說，是極少數的人相信人的靈魂不會在這個世界上消失，相信那些被你們隨便地叫做‘鬼怪’的幽靈。在這一點上，我和你們不一樣。但是，我十分相信，活著的人有時候可以在他根本沒有出現的地方被人們看見。當然，這個人肯定曾經在這個地方居住過。可能是由於他在那個地方居住了好長一段時間，也可能是他對周圍的影響太強烈，因此，周圍的萬事萬物都留下了他的印記。說實在的，我知道一個人的性格和品質能夠對他所處的環境產生極大的影響。如果有人長期受他的影響，那麽一段時間之後，這個受他影響的人的眼裏就會浮現出他的身影。毋庸置疑，這種能影響周圍環境的性格和品質必須是恰當的、正確的；能夠浮現他的身影的眼睛也不是隨便某個人的眼睛，必須是恰當的人的眼睛——比如說，我的眼睛。”
“哈哈，不錯，必須是恰當的眼睛，這樣的眼睛能把感覺傳送到不恰當的大腦。”弗雷利大夫笑著說。
“謝謝，您這話說得還算客氣。當然了，人們總喜歡說那些使對方滿意的話。”
“請原諒我的冒昧，不過，剛才你說你確實知道這種事情。這聽起來像話中有話，不是嗎？如果你不介意，不妨給大家講一講你是怎麽知道的。”
“我知道你們會把它叫作幻覺，”霍弗說道，“不過也沒關係。”緊接著，他開始講述他經曆的那個故事。
“你們都知道，去年夏天，我曾到一個名叫梅裏迪安的小鎮避暑度假。我原本打算借宿在一個親戚家裏，可是不巧的是，這個親戚突然生病了，所以，我不得不重新尋覓其他的住所。克服了種種困難之後，我終於找到了一套閑置的寓所，於是租了下來。這套寓所曾住著一個古怪的醫生，名叫曼納林。幾年前，他突然離家外出，從此便失去了消息，連這寓所的代理人也不知道他的下落。這套房子是那個醫生自己建造的，他與一個老仆人一起住在裏麵，一住就是十年。但是來找他看病的人一直寥寥無幾，所以，沒過幾年他就徹底放棄了醫生這個行當。不僅如此，他幾乎從社會中消失了，過著與世隔絕的生活，成了一個名副其實的隱士。我從一個鄉村醫生那裏獲得了一些關於他的情況——這個鄉村醫生大概是唯一與曼納林有過聯係的人。他告訴我，曼納林在隱退期間，曾致力於一係列非同尋常的研究。後來，他把這些研究成果寫成了一本書。但可惜的是，這本書沒有獲得同行專家的認可。究其本質原因，是那些同行專家認為曼納林的精神有些不正常。我沒有看過那本書，現在也記不起它的書名了。不過，我倒是聽說那本書詳細說明了一個令人震驚的理論。曼納林堅持認為，許多人的死亡日期可以在他們的身體還健康的情況下進行準確預測。一般來說，預測的時間可能比真正死亡的時間要早幾個月。不過，我想，最多也不會超過十八個月。當地有傳言，說他曾經進行過數例死亡預測，或者按你們的說法叫做死亡診斷。奇怪的是，凡被曼納林預測過死亡日期的人，都在曼納林告誡他們的日期突然死去，並且死因不明。不過，話又說回來，所有這些都與我真正要說的無關，所以，你們就把它當作醫生的笑談吧。
“寓所經過布置，與曼納林居住時一模一樣。但是這種環境，對於一個既非隱士又非搞學問的人來說，顯得過於陰鬱了。而且，我覺得這種環境特征已經感染了我，或者更確切地說，這間屋子之前的居住者的某些特征感染了我。因為，我覺得我總是處在一種前所未有的憂鬱情緒之中，而我的天性並非如此。我想，這種狀態肯定不是孤獨造成的。在這套寓所裏，沒有什麽仆人和我一起居住。不過，我也習慣了，因為在我自己的家裏，本來就沒有仆人和我同住。你們也知道，我一貫喜歡擁有自己的一片天地，雖然不是為了做什麽研究，但是，我的確沉迷於讀書的生活。不管是什麽原因，反正寓所裏的那種氛圍令人失落，你甚至會覺得有種邪惡的東西正在向你逼近。尤其是當我待在曼納林的書房裏時，這種感覺最為強烈。事實上，那間書房是整個寓所中最敞亮、最通風的一個房間。書房裏掛著一張曼納林真人大小的畫像，而書房裏的一切似乎也全在這幅畫像的控製之下。不過除此之外，這張畫像也沒有什麽特別之處。畫像裏的曼納林氣質非凡，五官端正，五十歲左右的樣子，頭發灰白，臉頰滋潤，眼睛中透著陰鬱和嚴肅。畫像中一直有某種東西在吸引我的注意力，我對這個人的形象也越來越熟悉，久而久之，他就像鬼魂一樣纏著我，在腦海中揮之不去。
“有一天晚上，我拿著一盞油燈（曼納林的寓所還沒有煤氣燈）回臥室，途中經過這間書房。跟往常一樣，我在畫像前停了下來。在燈光下，畫像仿佛呈現出一種前所未有的表情，那種表情真是難以用語言來形容。當時我非但沒有覺得害怕，反而對它產生了興趣。於是，我把油燈從畫像的一側移到另一側，想看一下光線的變化會給畫像表情帶來何種影響。就在觀察畫像的時候，我突然有一種想回頭看的衝動。當我回頭看時，隻見一個男人穿過房間徑直向我走來！他的身體越來越近，當與油燈近在咫尺時，我借著燈光定睛一看，原來他正是曼納林本人。當時的情景讓我感覺仿佛是整幅畫像在地麵移動一樣。
“‘對不起’，我當時有點兒不高興，冷冷地對那個男人說，‘我好像沒有聽見你敲門。’
“他從離我一臂遠的地方走過去，並且舉起右手食指，做了個告誡的手勢，然後一句話沒說，又走出了房間。但是，我沒有看清楚他到底是怎麽出去的，就像我沒弄明白他是怎麽進來的一樣。
“當然，不用我告訴你們，你們肯定會說這就是所謂的那種‘幻覺’，而我稱之為‘幽靈’。因為那個書房僅有兩扇門，其中的一扇門緊鎖著，另一扇門則通往臥室，但臥室並沒有出口啊。不過，我意識到這一點後的感受與整件事並沒有太多的聯係，所以我也就不贅述了。
“毫無疑問，在你們看來，這似乎隻是很普通的‘鬼故事’，一個根據傳統藝術大師創立的常規思維模式編造的‘鬼故事’。如果情況真的如此，即便他編造的故事是真的，我也不會在這裏多費口舌講這些了。可是，事實是另外一個樣子，曼納林還活著。因為，今天我還在聯邦大街上和他碰過麵，他在人群中與我擦肩而過。”
霍弗終於講完了自己經曆的故事，然後，兩個人都陷入了沉默，弗雷利大夫漫不經心地用手指敲打著桌子。
“今天你看見他的時候，他說了些什麽嗎？”弗雷利大夫問道，“也就是一些能夠讓你確定他還沒有死的話？”
霍弗的眼睛瞪得很大，沒有回答弗雷利大夫的問題。
“也許他做了什麽手勢，擺出了什麽姿態？”弗雷利大夫繼續問道，“比如說舉起一根手指，做個告誡的動作什麽的。他不是曾經就這樣做過嗎？——這是他在說一些嚴肅問題時的習慣性動作。——譬如，要宣布一個診斷結論什麽的。”
“沒錯，他的確做了個手勢，就像他的幽靈在書房裏做的那個一樣。可是，天哪，難道你認識他？”顯然霍弗緊張起來了。
“是的，我認識他，我曾經讀過他寫的書，而且，將來每個醫生都要讀他的書。這本書也是本世紀醫學領域最突出、最重要的著作之一。你的猜測沒錯，我確實認識他，因為三年前我曾經找他看過病。不過，他早已經死了。”
霍弗一下子從椅子上跳了起來，一副驚慌失措的樣子。他在房間裏踱著大步，然後走向自己的朋友，顫抖著問道：“弗雷利大夫，你是不是有什麽話想對我說——從一個醫生的角度？”
“我沒什麽要說的，霍弗先生。不用擔心，你是我見過的最健康的人了。作為你的朋友，我勸你還是回家去吧。你的小提琴拉得那麽好，就像是個天使，回家拉幾首輕鬆活潑的曲子，忘掉這件該死的事情吧。”
就在第二天，人們發現霍弗死在了自己的房間裏。死的時候，小提琴還搭在他的脖子上，琴弓搭在弦上，他的麵前擺著肖邦《葬禮進行曲》的譜子……
"I am not so superstitious as some of your physicians-men of science， as you are pleased to be called，"said Hawver， replying to an accusation that had not been made."Some of you-only a few， I confess-believe in the immortality of the soul， and in apparitions which you have not the honesty to call ghosts. I go no further than a conviction that the living are sometimes seen where they are not， but have been-where they have lived so long， perhaps so intensely， as to have left their impress on everything about them.I know， indeed， that one's environment may be so affected by one's personality as to yield， long afterward， an image of one's self to the eyes of another.Doubtless the impressing personality has to be the right kind of personality as the perceiving eyes have to be the right kind of eyes-mine， for example."
"Yes， the right kind of eyes， conveying sensations to the wrong kind of brains，"said Dr Frayley， smiling.
"Thank you， one likes to have an expectation gratified；that is about the reply that I supposed you would have the civility to make."
"Pardon me. But you say that you know.That is a good deal to say， don't you think？Perhaps you will not mind the trouble of saying how you learned."
"You will call it an hallucination，"Hawver said，"but that does not matter."And he told the story.
"Last summer I went， as you know， to pass the hot weather term in the town of Meridian. The relative at whose house I had intended to stay was ill， so I sought other quarters.After some difficulty I succeeded in renting a vacant dwelling that had been occupied by an eccentric doctor with the name of Mannering， who had gone away years before， no one knew where， not even his agent.He had built the house himself and had lived in it with an old servant for about ten years.His practice， never very extensive， had after a few years been given up entirely.Not only so， but he had withdrawn himself almost altogether from social life and become a recluse.I was told by the village doctor， about the only person with whom he held any relations， that during his retirement he had devoted himself to a single line of study， the result of which he had expounded in a book that did not commend itself to the approval of his professional brethren， who， indeed， considered him not entirely sane.I have not seen the book and cannot now recall the title of it， but I am told that it expounded a rather startling theory.He held that it was possible in the case of many a person in good health to forecast his death with precision， several months in advance of the event.The limit， I think， was eighteen months.There were local tales of his having exerted his powers of prognosis， or perhaps you would say diagnosis；and it was said that in every instance the person whose friends he had warned had died suddenly at the appointed time， and from no assignable cause.All this， however， has nothing to do with what I have to tell；I thought it might amuse a physician.
"The house was furnished， just as he had lived in it. It was a rather gloomy dwelling for one who was neither a recluse nor a student， and I think it gave something of its character to me-perhaps some of its former occupant's character；for always I felt in it a certain melancholy that was not in my natural disposition， nor， I think， due to loneliness.I had no servants that slept in the house， but I have always been， as you know， rather fond of my own society， being much addicted to reading， though little to study.Whatever was the cause， the effect was dejection and a sense of impending evil；this was especially so in Dr Mannering's study， although that room was the lightest and most airy in the house.The doctor's life-size portrait in oil hung in that room， and seemed completely to dominate it.There was nothing unusual in the picture；the man was evidently rather good looking， about fifty years old， with iron-grey hair， a smooth-shaven face and dark， serious eyes.Something in the picture always drew and held my attention.The man's appearance became familiar to me， and rather"haunted"me.
"One evening I was passing through this room to my bedroom， with a lamp-there is no gas in Meridian. I stopped as usual before the portrait， which seemed in the lamplight to have a new expression， not easily named， but distinctly uncanny.It interested but did not disturb me.I moved the lamp from one side to the other and observed the effects of the altered light.While so engaged I felt an impulse to turn round.As I did so I saw a man moving across the room directly toward me！As soon as he came near enough for the lamplight to illuminate the face I saw that it was Dr Mannering himself；it was as if the portrait were walking！
"'I beg your pardon，'I said， somewhat coldly，'but if you knocked I did not hear.'
"He passed me， within an arm's length， lifted his right forefinger， as in warning， and without a word went on out of the room， though I observed his exit no more than I had observed his entrance.
"Of course， I need not tell you that this was what you will call a hallucination and I call an apparition. That room had only two doors， of which one was locked；the other led into a bedroom， from which there was no exit.My feeling on realizing this is not an important part of the incident.
"Doubtless this seems to you a very commonplace'ghost story'-one constructed on the regular lines laid down by the old masters of the art. If that were so I should not have related it， even if it were true.The man was not dead；I met him today in Union Street.He passed me in a crowd."
Hawver had finished his story and both men were silent. Dr Frayley absently drummed on the table with his fingers.
"Did he say anything today？"he asked，"anything from which you inferred that he was not dead？"
Hawver stared and did not reply.
"Perhaps，"continued Frayley，"he made a sign， a gesture-lifted a finger， as in warning. It's a trick he had-a habit when saying something serious-announcing the result of a diagnosis， for example."
"Yes， he did-just as his apparition had done. But， good God！did you ever know him？"
Hawver was apparently growing nervous.
"I knew him. I have read his book， as will every physician some day.It is one of the most striking and important of the century's contributions to medical science.Yes， I knew him；I attended him in an illness three years ago.He died."
Hawver sprang from his chair， manifestly disturbed. He strode forward and back across the room；then approached his friend， and in a voice not altogether steady， said："Doctor， have you anything to say to me-as a physician？"
"No， Hawver， you are the healthiest man I ever knew. As a friend I advise you to go to your room.You play the violin like an angel.Play it， play something light and lively.Get this cursed bad business off your mind."
The next day Hawver was found dead in his room， the violin at his neck， the bow upon the string， his music open before him at Chopin's Funeral March.