TCODG|道连·格雷的自白-1.1（中英对照）
啊啊啊，是我喜欢的混合了尘世与彼世苦闷的味道！【欣喜地翕动鼻翼
道连·格雷的自白
S01E01 This World Our Hell 此间地狱
听译：@两斤硫酸铜
翻译：@两斤硫酸铜
润色：@Eudossia
校对：@两斤硫酸铜 @Eudossia @戚润薇 @哈姆林的透明子
Synopsis梗概
Paris, 1900. One of DorianGray's oldest friends is on his deathbed, locked away in a room at thenotorious Hotel D'Alsace, where he is fighting a duel to the death. And whenDorian comes to visit him one last time, both men realise they may never beallowed to check out…
1900年的巴黎。道连·格雷一位老友身陷弥留，人被困在臭名昭著的阿尔萨斯旅馆的一间房里，与死神进行最后的搏斗。就在道连这最后一次探望之际，两人意识到他们也许永远也退不成房了……
Note: The Confessions of Dorian Graycontains adult material and is not suitable for younger listeners.
注意：《道连格雷的自白》含成人内容，儿童不宜。
Written By: David Llewellyn
编剧：大卫·勒韦林
Directed By: Scott Handcock
导演：斯科特·汉德考克
Cast演员
Alexander Vlahos (Dorian Gray)
亚历山大·维拉赫斯（饰演道连·格雷）
Steffan Rhodri (Oscar Wilde)
斯戴凡·罗德里（饰演奥斯卡·王尔德）
Marilyn Le Conte (Genevieve Moreau)
玛丽琳·勒孔特（饰演热娜维耶芙·莫罗）
David Blackwell (Robert Ross)
大卫·布莱克维尔（饰演罗伯特·罗斯）
Sophie Melville (Isabelle)
苏菲·梅尔维尔（饰演伊莎贝尔）
1.01
道连·格雷 Dorian Gray
巴黎。1900年十一月。而今我们管那个年代叫Belle Époque，美好时代。表面尽管美好，我却一直觉得此地别有一番丑陋。
Paris.November 1900. Nowadays we call it the BelleÉpoque, the Beautiful Era. But for all its surface beauty I always thoughtthere was something uniquely ugly about the place.
所有城市无不伫于骸骨之上，但我再想不到哪个地方能像巴黎一样，能给人这样一种体会：那仿佛是你不断地在跨越坟头。
Everycity’s built on top of bones but I can’t think of any other place where youfeel it quite like Paris, as if you’re perpetually crossing over someone’s grave.
我要去那里探访一位故友。消息已传到伦敦，说他已是无力回天，又据传至多只剩下几日可活。于是我连夜动身，乘夜车由滑铁卢站出发，夜晚经多佛，于次日正午前后抵达巴黎。我探到，我的朋友下榻拉丁区的阿尔萨斯旅店。
Iwas there to visit an old friend. News had reached London – he was dying. They say he had days left at best. So I travelled through the night. Minight trainout of Waterloo, night crossing from Dover. Got to Paris around midday. I foundmy friend staying in the Latin Quarter at the Hotel d'Alsace.
哦，阿尔萨斯旅店。此地不可不说是颇为……名声昭著。阿尔萨斯旅店是人们销声匿迹的去处。噢，我明白，那会巴黎城中尽是被放逐之人。但若是连巴黎都承不住你的丑名，那你最好直奔阿尔萨斯旅店。
Oh…theHotel d’Alsace. He’d had what you might call a…reputation. It was where people went to disappear. Oh I know, Paris was full of exiles back then. But when youwere too scandalous even for Paris, you headed straight for the Hotel d’Alsace.
旅店的经理是位寡妇，芳名热娜维耶芙·莫罗。她的亡夫加斯顿·莫罗是个声名狼藉的无政府主义者，早在1892年便与断头台夫人共效于飞去了。这位妻子也是流言缠身。我最喜欢的那个版本里，她将丈夫业已干瘪的头颅存在了她衣柜顶上的旧帽盒里，也是人之常情嘛。
The manageress was this widow, Genevieve Moreau. Her husband, the late Gaston Moreau was a notorious anarchist who danced with the Madame Guillotine in 1892.And there were all sorts of rumours about his wife. My favourite was the one inwhich she kept his mummified head on top of her wardrobe in an old hat box, asyou do.
热娜维耶芙·莫罗Genevieve Moreau
“您好，有何贵干？”
Yes,may I help you?
Dorian
“您好。我有位朋友大概住在这里，我想要上门一访。”
Bonjour. I believe a friend of mine isstaying here. I was hoping to visit him.
Genevieve Moreau
“您的朋友是哪位？”
Who is your friend?
Dorian
“王尔德。奥斯卡·王尔德。”
Wilde. Oscar Wilde.
Genevieve Moreau
“我们这里没有叫这个名字的客人。”
We have no one of that name staying here.
Dorian
“是吗？那塞巴斯汀·梅莫特呢？”
Really? How about Sebastian Melmoth?
Genevieve Moreau
“梅莫特？”
Melmoth?
Dorian
“没错，塞巴斯汀。”
Yes, Sebastian.
Genevieve Moreau
“请稍等。唔……梅莫特，塞巴斯汀。对，他住在我们这里，但梅莫特先生身体状况很糟糕。”
One moment. Hmm…Melmoth, Sebastian. Oui,he is staying with us, but Monsieur Melmoth is most unwell.
Dorian
“我听说是如此。
So I've been told.
我来这里也是为了这个原因，我能和他的朋友罗斯先生谈谈吗？”
Well, that’s why I’m here. Perhaps I can speak with his friend, Monsieur Ross?
Genevieve Moreau
“罗斯先生出远门，去了尼斯。”
Monsieur Ross is away, in Nice.
Dorian
“啊，好吧，既然如此，我想梅莫特先生会乐意有人陪伴左右。能劳您带我去他房间吗？”
Ah, well, in that case, I’m sure Monsieur Melmoth would love the company. Would you be so kind as to take me to hisrooms?
她不情不愿地带我走上五层楼梯，直至旅店顶楼，来到了阁楼上的房间里，我的朋友正住在此处。
Begrudgingly,she took me up five flights of stairs, right to the top of the hotel, and intothe attic room, where my old friend was residing.
老天——他的房间啊。再没有什么东西的气味可与枯败的玫瑰相较。再没有哪种花死时的味道这样令人恐怖。还有那房里的空气——那空气是陈朽的，带着陈年旧汗那浓烈的刺鼻气味，让房间里早早就有了死亡的气息。
God... his room. There’s no smell quite like wilting roses. No other flower that smells so horrible when it’s dying. And the air, the air was stale. It had this citrusytang of old sweat so the room already smelled of death.
而且，那房间实在太过逼仄。我指的是所有那些怪异的拐角，角落里的蛛网，还有那些小小的、破落的窗户。
And it was so small, that room. All the funny angles, the cobwebs in the corners and the tiny, grubby little windows.
他的医生从眼镜上方瞥了我一眼，抬高眉毛，接着动了动鼻子。但在我说明自己是千里迢迢从伦敦赶来后，他同意了让我们独处，即是只有几分钟，也已经不错了。
Hisdoctor gave me a look over the top of his glasses, all raised eyebrows and flared nostrils. But when I told him I’d come all the way from London, heagreed to leave us alone, if only for a few minutes.
尽管已有奥斯卡病入膏肓的消息，我还是没料到会看到这样的他。在一间这样的房子里，形容枯槁。我几乎认不出他的样子。
Evenwhen the news of Oscar’s condition had been so bleak, I hadn't expected to see him like this. In a room like this,so thin and gaunt. I barely recognised him.
奥斯卡·王尔德 Oscar Wilde
“道连？是你吗？”
Dorian? Is it you?
Dorian
“对，奥斯卡，是我。”
Yes, Oscar, it's me.
Oscar Wilde
“我的孩子！我没……没想到……我还以为你……请坐下吧。”
Myboy! I haven't…h…I thought you were…
Please, sit down.
Dorian
“如此说来，你还是在用塞巴斯汀·梅莫特的假名行走，是吗？”
So…Still travelling as Sebastian Melmoth, I see?
Oscar Wilde
“哦，我的又一张面具罢了。即使我是在客乡流亡。在巴黎的英国记者太多了。你也知道，他们什么都往报纸上登。你如今的护照上又写的是什么名字？”
Oh,another of my masks. Even in exile. There are too many English journalists in Paris, and as you know, they'll print anything. And what name is on your passport these days?
Dorian
“约翰。约翰·格雷。”
John. John Gray.
Oscar Wilde
“太好了！你还保留了你的姓氏，你那颇为合宜的姓氏。”
Wonderful! You kept your surname, your rather apt surname.
Dorian
“合宜？”
Apt?
Oscar Wilde
“格雷，灰色。这名字的模棱两可。既非全黑，亦非全白。你该用你的真名。不仅如此，你该躲在人们的眼皮子底下。”
Gray. The ambiguity of it. Neither wholly black nor white. You should use your true name. More so, hide in plain sight.
Dorian
“你是说，像你这样？”
As you do, you mean?
Oscar Wilde
“我毕竟不是虚构人物，道连。他们知道我是真实存在的。哦，他们不一定乐意相信这点，但他们的心里也确实明白。我还是不敢相信你已经在这儿了。我正发着烧，时常神思不属。请告诉我你不是幻象！”
I am not a work of fiction, Dorian. People know that I am real. Oh, they may not wish to believe it but they know. I still can’t believe you’re here. My fever,I imagine things. Tell me you’re not a hallucination.
Dorian
“我不是幻象。”
I'm not.
Oscar Wilde
“噢，我的孩子！我美丽的道连！让你看到我在这个地方，成了这么一副样子，我实在是惭愧。”
Oh my boy! My beautiful Dorian! I'm so sorry for you to see me like this, in this place.
Dorian
“这地方看上去也还好。”
It seems pleasant enough.
Oscar Wilde
“别捡好听的敷衍我了。事实就可悲在，哪怕这种破地方，我的钱都不够住到死那天。”
Don't patronise me. The sad truth is, even in this squalor, I am dying beyond my means.
Dorian
“死，噢，别这样，奥斯卡。你只是发了个烧。我确信，你只要休息够了——”
Dying, oh come now, Oscar. You have a fever. I'm sure given plenty of rest-
Oscar Wilde
“都说了，别敷衍我！”
I told you not to patronise me.
1.02
Oscar Wilde
“我们上次见面后到如今，又有多少年了？”
How many years is it, since we last met?
Dorian
“唔……九年？也许十年？”
Hmm…Nine? Maybe ten?
Oscar Wilde
“十载岁月。再瞧瞧我。四十二岁看起来就像个老头子一样了，但你——”
Adecade. And look at me. Forty two years of age and I look like an old man, but you-
Dorian
“奥斯卡。你四十六了。”
Oscar. You're forty six.
Oscar Wilde
“啊……我从来就骗不了你。你知道吗，我也是从我母亲那儿学来的。她总是在年龄上撒谎，她那么喜欢骗人，那么喜欢伪装。她过世了，你知道吗？”
Ah…I never could fool you. You know, I got that from my mother. She always lied about her age, so fond of deceptions, of masks. She passed away, you know?
Dorian
“唔……我知道。”
Hmm…I know.
Oscar Wilde
“那时我还陷在那红色地狱。他们把她葬在了公地里。我连块墓石都买不起。死了那么多人呵。我的母亲。我的哥哥。奥布里。康斯坦斯。我可怜的康斯坦斯。我被死亡环绕。但你，瞧瞧你，你一如你我初遇那日一般年青英俊。你还记得吗？”
While I was in that red Hell. When they buried her it was in common ground. I couldn't even afford a headstone. Andthere were so many deaths. My mother. My brother. Aubrey. Constance. My poor, poor Constance. I am surrounded by death. But you, look at you, as handsome and youthful as the day we met. Do you remember?
Dorian
“仿佛就在昨日。”
As if it were yesterday.
Oscar Wilde
“那会康斯坦斯和我正在度蜜月。弗朗切斯卡在但丁的作品里是怎么说的来着？Nessun maggior dolore. Che ricordarsi del tempo felice. Nella miseria. (但丁原文) 没什么比在潦倒时想起幸福时光更痛苦的事。”
Constance and I were on our honeymoon. What is it Francesca says in Dante? Nessun maggior dolore. Che ricordarsi deltempo felice. Nella miseria. There is nothing worse than remembering happy times, when one is wretched.
“那天早上我出门散步，正巧找到了离这里不远的那家漂亮的小书店，就在伊萨特路。而你在那里，翻着一本黄色封面的书。”
I'd stepped out for a morning stroll and stumbled quite by accident upon that charming little bookshop, not far from here, on the RueIsard. And you were there, thumbing through the pages of a book bound in yellow paper.
道连Dorian
“《逆天》。”
À Rebours.
Oscar Wilde
“《逆天》，我读过的最美也最毒的书。是你推荐给我的，你记得吗？我当时正在找《高老头》，你就建议我试些更……你怎么说的来着？”
À Rebours. The most beautiful and poisonous book I ever read. You recommended it to me, do you remember? I was looking for Le Père Goriot, and you suggested that I try something a little more… What was it you said?
Dorian
“唔……我问你读过德·巴尔扎克的作品没，你说你读过了。于是我就说，那好吧，也许你该尝试点新东西。”
Hmm…Well, I asked if you had read de Balzac, you told me you had. And so I said,well then, perhaps you should try something new.
Oscar Wilde
“新东西。没错，新东西。那一刻在各种意义上都改变了我的人生。”
Something new. Yes, something new. That moment changed my life. In so many ways.
Dorian
“变得更好了，还是更糟了？”
For better or worse?
Oscar Wilde
“更好了，也更糟了。”
For better and worse.
Dorian
“我也是如此。”
Mine, too.
Oscar Wilde
“我知道，我很抱歉。”
I know, and I am sorry.
Dorian
“有什么可道歉的？”
Forwhat?
Oscar Wilde
“我害你臭名昭著。”
Your notoriety.
Dorian
“奥斯卡，你只是让我的名字昭著了。你真以为伦敦社会会相信你的小说是改编自真人真事的？”
Anotorious name, Oscar, that’s all you gave me. Do you really think London society would believe your novel could be based upon a true story?
Oscar Wilde
“我想你是对的。写出这样一本书不算什么，说服世界相信这是虚事，才是胜利。你还记得《每日纪事报》上是怎么说的吗？”
I suppose you're right. To have written such a book was nothing…to convince the world it was a work of fiction was a triumph. Do you remember what the Daily Chronicle said of it?
Dorian
“每字每句都记忆犹新。‘一本诞生自法国颓废主义者的麻风文学作品。此书毒害人心，精神失格与道德败坏的瘴臭无比浓厚。’”
Word for word. '…A tale spawned from the leprous literature of the French Décadents- a poisonous book, the atmosphere of which is heavy with the mephitic odours of moral and spiritual putrefaction.'
Oscar Wilde
“‘精神失格与道德败坏的瘴臭。’哦，我确实享受这论断。但他们说错了，道连，我现在意识到了。我的小说，我的书，是一种绝对道德。这是一本关于救赎的书。
'Themephitic odours of moral and spiritual putrefaction.' Oh I did enjoy that. Butthey were wrong, Dorian. I realise now, that my novel, my book was one of absolute morality. It is the story of redemption.
Dorian
“救赎？”
Redemption?
Oscar Wilde
“没错。你瞧，我做过的最大善事就是让道连——我书中的道连——把匕首插入了画布里。”
Yes. You see, the kindest thing I ever did was to have Dorian, the Dorian in my book, drive a dagger through the canvas.
Dorian
“从此了断了自我。”
There by killing himself.
Oscar Wilde
“正是。”
Yes.
Dorian
“这么说你觉得我死了更好？”
So you think I’d be better off dead?
Oscar Wilde
“并非如此。但我确实为你担忧。”
Not at all. But I do worry for you.
Dorian
“何出此言？”
How so?
Oscar Wilde
“我才四十四岁……”
Well, I am only forty four years of age-
Dorian
“奥斯卡……”
Oscar…
Oscar Wilde
“好吧，但我有那么多后悔的事。我很好奇，如果你不会死亡，你身后将会有多少遗憾？”
Very well, but I have so many regrets. And I wonder, if you cannot age, and you cannot die, how many regrets you will gather about you?
Dorian
“你我都知道我的遗憾会有什么下场。它们都被刻到了一幅画上，在千里以外一个上锁的房间里积灰。”
We know what happens to my regrets, Oscar. They are etched onto a painting, gathering dust in a locked room, a great many miles from here.
Oscar Wilde
“噢道连。那些不是你的遗憾。它们是你的罪恶。是你走上岔路的过去。除非你的肖像不仅让你永葆青春，还能让你遗忘过去，你的遗憾会盘桓不去的。我们各是自己的恶魔。我们把这个世界变作了自己的地狱。”
Oh Dorian. Those aren’t your regrets. They’re your sins. Your digressions. Unless your portrait grants you amnesia as well as youth, your regrets linger. We are each our own devil. And we make this world our Hell.
Dorian
“人应当吸收生活的色彩，而忘掉它的细节。”
One should absorb the colour of life, but one should never remember its details.
Oscar Wilde
“这是我说的。”
That's one of mine.
Dorian
“正是。”
It is.
Oscar Wilde
“但你总不可能还相信这种说法。”
But you can't possibly still believe that.
Dorian
“有时候我能相信。有时候我想我也只能相信。
Sometimes I can. Sometimes I think I have to.
1.03
Oscar Wilde
“噢道连，没有灵魂的男孩，没什么比人的灵魂更珍贵的了。尘世间没有什么能与之相比。但你有你的美貌，还会永远拥有这美貌，待世人已经遗忘了奥斯卡·王尔德，你也还会活在这世上。”
Oh Dorian, the boy without a soul, and there’s nothing more precious than the human soul. Nor any earthly thing that can be weighed with it. But you have your beauty, and you shall have it forever, and you shall still be alive whenthe world has quite forgotten Oscar Wilde.
Dorian
“世人永远不会忘记奥斯卡·王尔德。”
The world shall never forget Oscar Wilde.
Oscar Wilde
“我倒希望我能有你这份信心。你知道吗，我年轻时曾到访美国。真是个糟糕得极妙的地方。西行时，我们在密苏里州圣约瑟夫市一个小镇停留。几天前杰西·詹姆斯才刚在自家客厅被枪杀，这事就发生在这镇子里。花上几美分，你就能买到一张他在棺材里安躺的照片；花上一美金，你就能买到他被杀的那个房间里沾着血的木地刨花。那里的人，他们把这流浪汉、谋杀犯看作人民的英雄，十足把他当成了侠盗罗宾汉。”
I wish I shared your confidence. You know, as a young man, I visited the United States of America. Wonderfully awful place. And while travelling west westopped in a town of Saint Joseph, Missouri. Only a few days earlier Jesse James had been gunned down in his own sitting room, right there in the town. For a few cents, one could buy a photograph of him ensconced in his coffin. Fora dollar, one could have blood-stained wood shaving from the floor of the very room where he was killed. And the people there, they treated him, this vagabond, this murderer, as a folk hero, a veritable Robin Hood.
Dorian
“世人都爱反骨之辈。”
All the world loves a rogue.
Oscar Wilde
“可不是嘛？可他们带我去那该死的监狱的路上，我们在克拉彭车站停下来时，我却被那里的围观群众嘲弄了整整三十分钟，仿佛我是史上最大的恶人。世人挑他们要爱、要铭记的离群之人时可挑剔得很。他们已经宣告我的言语是不道德的。我的话剧再也不能在西区上演。我的作品无人阅读。我会被遗忘的。你向四周看看。这像是一个伟人弥留之际的床榻吗？”
Doesn't it? And yet, when they were taking me to the ruddy jail, we stopped at Clapham Junction, and for thirty minutes I was jeered at by the crowds there as if I were the very worst villain to draw breath. The world, Dorian, is selective inthe rogues it chooses to love, and those it chooses to remember. They have declared my words immoral. My plays are no longer performed in the West End. My works go unread. I will be forgotten. Look around you. Is this the deathbed of a great man.
Dorian
“你好像已经确信你一定会死了。”
You seem to be very certain that you're dying.
Oscar Wilde
“这房间受到了诅咒。这里的空气是停滞的。天花板潮湿极了。而我正和我的壁纸将一决高下，不是他死，就是我亡。”
This room is cursed. The air in here is stagnant. The ceiling is riddled with damp. And my wallpaper and I are fighting aduel to the death. One of us has to go.
Dorian
“噢，奥斯卡，从来都是美学家。”
Oh Oscar, ever the esthete.
Oscar Wilde
“我是认真的。他们说我是出现了幻觉。说是发烧造成的。但晚上，壁纸上的花纹……”
I'm serious. They tell me I'm seeing things. That I'm hallucinating. That it's my fever but at night, in its patterns-
Dorian
“什么？你看到什么了？”
What? What do you see?
Oscar Wilde
“你去过阿尔及尔吗？”
Have you ever visited Algiers?
Dorian
“很久以前去过。”
Yes, a long time ago.
Oscar Wilde
“自然。从前日子过得更安乐，离天降之灾还很远的时候，波西和我去过那里。好一个辉煌的城市。环着海港的房屋被刷得粉白，空气中弥漫大麻的芳香，宣礼人以高歌召唤信众。那里有个市集，是在老城区内的一个露天市场，摆摊卖蔬果、毛毯和各种各样的饰品、雕塑，在某一摊位上我们看到了一个小塑像。极可怕的玩意。我问那是什么，店主是个没牙的老头，他一点英语都不会，但以法语回答，“Démon de Babylone.”巴比伦的恶魔。不知道它为何选择出现在阿尔及利亚。总之波西想要我买下它，但那东西，那丑陋的造物让我毛骨悚然。我们火速离开了。”
Of course. Well, in happier days, long before things turned so terribly bad, Bosieand I were there. Such a dazzling city. White-washed houses around the harbour,the scent of Hashish, the muezzin singing the call to prayer. And there was amarket place, a sook in the older part of town, stalls selling fruit and vegetables and rugs and all manners of ornaments and carvings, and on one ofthese stalls we saw a figurine. The most ghastly looking thing. I asked what itwas and the stall holder, this toothless old man, he had no English but in French he replied, ‘Démon de Babylone.’ A Babylonian demon. No idea what it was doing in Algeria of all places.Anyway Bosie wanted me to buy it but that thing, that hideous creature made my flesh crawl. We moved on, briskily.
Dorian
“这和你那壁纸有什么关系？”
And what does that have to do with your wallpaper?
Oscar Wilde
“我在壁纸的花纹里看到了那张脸。和我在阿尔及尔集市上看到的那张牙舞爪的脸如出一辙。不仅仅一张，而是上百张。上百张脸。”
In its pattern I see that face. The same snarling face I saw it in the sook of Algiers. And not one but hundreds of them. Hundreds of faces.
Dorian
“脸？我恐怕得说我看不见。我只看见花纹了。”
Faces? I'm afraid I don't see them. I only see the pattern.
Oscar Wilde
“不是现在。晚上。那些脸只有晚上会出现。只有我晚上一个人时会出现。”
Not now. At night. The faces only appear at night. When I'm alone.
Dorian
“那可能他们说得没错。如你的朋友还有医生所言，可能真的是脑热作怪。”
Well then perhaps they're right. Your friends, the doctor. Perhaps it is the fever.
Oscar Wilde
“不，道连，这些不是幻视。我看见他们的脸，我听到他们的声音了。他们……会告诉我些事情。”
No, Dorian, these are not visions. I see their faces and I hear them. They… tell me things.
Dorian
“什么？他们告诉你什么？”
What? What do they tell you?
Oscar Wilde
“他们与死者同在。他们被死者环绕。被我所爱之人环绕。有时我能听到他们尖叫着我的名字。”
They are with the dead. They are surrounded by the dead. By the people I've loved. And sometimes I hear them screaming my name.
Dorian
“嗯，怎么了？”
Yes, what is it?
Genevieve Moreau
“是女仆来了，先生，她来打扫你们的房间。快去，麻利点。”
The maid, monsieur, she has come to clean your room. Alors vas-y, et dépêche-toi.
Isabelle
“不好意思，先生，对不起。不好意思。”
Excuse-moi, monsieur, désolé. Excuse-moi.
Oscar Wilde
“没事，别担心。”
C'est pas grave, ne t'inquiète pas.
Dorian
“莫罗夫人，我正想问问您。”
I was wondering, Madame Moreau?
Genevieve Moreau
“嗯？”
Yes?
Dorian
“不知您会不会刚巧有间空房？你瞧，我决定待在巴黎了，至少待上几天吧。”
Would you happen to have a spare room? You see, I've decided to stay in Paris, for atleast a few days.
Genevieve Moreau
“于是您希望住在本店？”
And you wish to stay here?
Dorian
“没错。”
Yes.
Genevieve Moreau
“我想我们有您可以住的房间。您的行李呢？”
I believe we have a room for you. Your belongings?
Dorian
“我会派人送来。”
I'll have them sent.
Genevieve Moreau
“很好。伊莎贝尔，够了，来。”
Very well. Isabelle, ça suffit. Viens.
Isabelle
“是，夫人”
Oui, Madame.
Dorian
“真奇怪。”
Very strange.
Oscar Wilde
“你说什么？”
What's that?
Dorian
“那经理总是四处跟着那女仆吗？”
Does the manageress always follow the maid around like that?
Oscar Wilde
“向来如此。我想她是个注重细节的人吧。”
Always. A stickler for detail, I believe.
Dorian
“唔……我也这么想。”
Hmm…I'll say.
Oscar Wilde
“所以……我们是要比邻而居了。”
So…We shall be neighbours then.
Dorian
“没错。”
We shall.
Oscar Wilde
“真是绝妙的消息。我实在孤单极了。罗比去了尼斯，我发现自己如今又少有朋友。那些还没死的都装作我已经死了。悲伤就是我的新世界，道连。悲伤，还有悲伤教给我们的一切。”
This is excellent news. I've been so terribly alone. With Robbie in Nice, and I find myself with so few friends these days. Those who aren't dead act as if I am. Sorrow is my new world, Dorian. Sorrow, and all it teaches us.
Dorian
事情是这样的，如果是别人，可能会更怀疑奥斯卡的故事，把它当作发烧惹来的噩梦打发掉。但即便他病了，他依然神志清醒。无论事实真相如何，奥斯卡是真的相信他在那个房间里看到了什么东西。
Now, anyone else might have been more skeptical and dismissed Oscar's story as a nightmare brought on by his fever. But even though he was ill he was still lucid. Whatever the truth was, Oscar genuinely believed he had seen something in that room.
1.04
Dorian
于是，当晚在奥斯卡休息时，我到巴黎的街上游荡去了。你能偷听到各种语言的对话。打麻将的老大爷说一口粤语。俄罗斯无政府主义者和反对派唱着祝酒歌。摩洛哥人和阿尔及利亚人叫卖珠宝。
And so, that evening, as Oscar got some rest I wandered the streets of Paris. You could overhear conversations in almost every language. Old men, talking Cantonese and playing Mahjong. Russian anarchist and dissident singing drinking songs. Moroccans and Algerians peddling jewelry.
我到卡巴莱歌舞厅里喝了苦艾酒，看了舞女表演，在表演中场休息时和几个本地人聊了起来。问他们知不知道阿尔萨斯旅店的什么事。大部分人根本不愿与我谈，用一句“滚开”赶我走。但那些和我说话的，大多说得玄之又玄。他们说，阿尔萨斯旅店是人消失的地方。
At the CabaretI drank absinthe, watched some dancing girls, and in the show's interval I got chatting to some of the locals, asked them what they knew about the Hotel d'Alsace. Most of them refused to speak to me at all, shooing me away with their Foutre le camp. But those who did, answered enigmatically. The d'Alsace was, they said, a place where menvanish.
“你是说他们会逃走？从那里赶上第一班出巴黎的火车然后从此消失？”
You mean they run away? Catch the first train out of Paris and disappear?
不，不，他们说，他们会消失，像变成了空气。他们还提及几个人名，那个谋杀了自己妻子的外地医生，因为偷窃被通缉的图鲁斯来的律师，登记入住之后就再没人见过。还有其他人。各行各业的人。
No, no, they said, they vanish, as if into thin air. They mentioned names, the provincial doctor who murdered his wife, the solicitor from Toulouse, wanted for larceny, checked in and never seen again.There were others, too. People from every walk of life.
我听够了。十一月的寒气渗人，而苦艾酒可温暖少许，我裹寒爬上小山来到了尚未建成的圣心教堂的矗立之处，教堂外层裹满脚手架。我往下望着夜里的城市。南边是埃菲尔铁塔，被一千盏明灯照亮，但丑陋至极。灯下全是黑色的大梁和铆钉。
I'd heard enough. In the cold November air, but warmed a little by the absinthe, I climbed the hill to where the unfinished Basilica de Sacre Coeur stood, clad inscaffolding. And I looked out over the city at night. To the south was the Eiffel Tower, lit up with a thousand bulbs, but ugly. All dark metal girdersand rivets beneath the lights.
也许是因为奥斯卡那个关于市集里的阴森小塑像的故事，但是，那晚我看着埃菲尔铁塔，就好像见了巴别塔，让我心中充满了强烈的畏惧感。
Maybe it was Oscar's story about the gruesome little figurine in the market, but, looking at the Eiffel Tower that night, I saw the Tower of Babel, and it filledme with an immense sensation of dread.
联系到之后在未建成教堂的阴影里发生的事，我只能说，哪怕在圣地，人也只能靠陌生人的慷慨来满足胃口。
And what happened next, in the shadows around the unfinished Basilica, well, let's just say, even on sacred ground, one's appetites can only be satisfied by the generosity of strangers.
我回旅店回晚了，莫罗夫人已经在门口等我，像已经在那里等了一晚一样。靠近时，她引我回想起了我先前听到的所有闲言碎语。人们说的那些神秘消失的人，或者她藏在帽盒里的头颅。那一刻看见她的表情，我能相信一切人能想象得出的故事。她很不高兴。
I was late getting back to the Hotel, Madam Moreau was waiting for me at thedoor, as if she'd been stood there waiting for me all night. As I approached, I was reminded of all the whispers I'd heard earlier. All the talk of my sterious disappearances, or that head that she kept in that hat box. And to see her facein that moment, I could believe every story imaginable. She was not happy.
Genevieve Moreau
“我们阿尔萨斯旅店没有门禁是你走运了。已经很晚了——”
You are lucky we do not have a curfew here at the Hotel d'Alsace. Il est très tard-
Dorian
“对，我知道，我诚挚地道歉，夫人。下不为例？”
Yeah, I know, and my most sincere apologies, Madame. It shan't happen again?
Genevieve Moreau
“对。下不为例。”
Non. It shall not.
Dorian
终于得以独处了。夜里的战绩让我分了分神，我很欢迎，但现在回到了旅店里，我又感觉到了。我之前感受过的那种感觉。一种……不安？空气中的某些东西让我感到恶心。在奥斯卡的房间里，我误以为那是因为有将死之人在房内。但如今我孤身一人，依然感受到了它。我拢起窗帘，熄灭灯火，在黑暗中盯着天花板躺了感觉有好几个小时。
Aloneat last. The night's exploits had been a welcomed distraction, but now, back inthe hotel, I felt it again. That same sensation I've had before. An… unease? Something in the air had made me feel sick. In Oscar's room, I'd mistaken it for the presence of a dying man. But now I was alone and I still felt it. Idrew the curtains, turned out the lights and for what felt like hours, laid there in darkness staring up at the ceiling.
那声音。我永远忘不了那声音。
That sound. I will never forget that sound.
1.05
如果我是别的时候听到，或者在别的房间听到那声音。它于我就不会有任何意义。只是耗子在壁脚板后面急匆匆地跑动，或者壁纸受潮卷曲。但这里就不一样了。阿尔萨斯这里不一样。
If I'd heard it any other night, or in any other room. It wouldn't have meant athing. Just mice scuttling behind the skirting boards, the wallpaper curling with damp. Not here. Not in the d'Alsace.
“有人吗？有人吗？谁在那里？是谁？”
Hello? Hello? Who is there? Who is that?
“是谁在开玩笑吗？一点也不好笑。”
This isn't funny, if this is somebody's idea of a joke.
我下了床，点亮油灯。那声音是从谁那里发出来的？
I got out of the bed and lit the oil lamp. And who was that sound coming from?
我刚追到声音的源头，声音就又出现了。是从房间另一个角落里发出的。
Nosooner had I followed it to its source, then it came again. From another cornerof the room.
“是谁？你在哪？回答我！”
Who is that? Where are you? Answer me!
然后我就看到了。影子动了。是光影的把戏？
ThenI saw it. A movement. A trick of the light?
必须是这样。是影子在壁纸的花纹上舞动。
Well, it had to be. Shadows dancing on the patterns in the wallpaper.
我一动不动地站住。把灯放到了床头柜上。灯里的火苗瞬间不动了，四周的影子停止了动作。
I stood perfectly still. Placed the lamp down on my bedside table. The flame inside instantly settled, and the shadows around stopped moving.
但是，花纹并没有停下动作。
The pattern, however, did not.
“不可能。这不可能。”
Impossible.That's impossible.
慢慢地，花纹聚集到了一起，所有阿拉伯式样的复叶和蕨类植物花纹融合为一张脸。不，不是一张脸，而是许许多多龇牙咧嘴、咬牙切齿的滴水兽脸。我见过的最丑恶的东西。
Slowly, the patterns came together, all those arabesque fronds and ferns merging to form a face. No, not one face, but many gargoyles that snarled and gnashed their teeth. The most hideous things I've ever seen.
“噢不，不，不。不，你们是什么？你们是什么？”
Ohno, no, no. No, what are you? What are you?
它们并不以言语说话，而是借助思绪。用它们放置在我面前的幻象说话。我爱过错过的人的脸，那些已经逝去的人的脸。我连一秒都不能待下去了。
When they spoke it wasn't in words, but thoughts. Visions that they put in front ofme. The faces of those I've loved and lost, faces of those who died. I couldn't stay there a second longer.
房门被锁了。我被困在了房里。不管我往哪里走，往哪里看，它们就在那里，就在我面前，在空中像烟雾一样舞动，还有那气味……
The door was locked. I was trapped. No matter where I went, no matter where Ilooked, they were there, right in front of me, dancing in the air like smokeand the smell…
噢我不知道我以为它闻起来该是什么味，硫磺味或者磷味吧，但绝不是那个味道。不管它们是什么，它们可真是臭极了，像腐烂的血肉，像屠场外的臭水沟。
Oh I don't know what I thought it should smell like, sulfur perhaps or phosphorous, but it wasn't that. Whatever they were, they stank, rotting flesh and blood, like the gutters outside of an abattoir.
“不，不。不，现在还不要。不是这么约好的。我要的是生命，不是这个。”
No, no. No, not now. This wasn't the deal. I wanted life, not this.
我以为我到了偿命的一日，以为这些生物，这些恶魔是来收我那幅画像的费用的。
I thought I'd reached the day when my death would be repaid, that these creatures, these demons, were there to collect the fee for my painting.
噢我大错特错。他们一个个向我展示了我所做过的每一件糟糕的事，我做过的每件败坏我灵魂的事。每次轻慢。每次辱人。每场无情的情爱。每个暴行。
Oh I was wrong. One by one they showed me every terrible thing I've ever done, everything I've done to corrupt my soul. Every slight. Every insult. Every callous love affair. Every act of violence.
“停下。求求你。拜托。停下来。”
Make it stop. Please. Please. Make it stop.
我听到了房间外面、这四壁以外的某处的尖叫声。一阵哀号。绝望的寡妇在她丈夫的坟前发出的那种声音。不只是一把声音，而是一百万把。百万人在哀悼，好像他们知道了什么我不知道的事，知道了某些如果活人知道了，连世界都会被撕裂的秘密。
And from somewhere beyond that room, somewhere far beyond its walls, I heardscreaming. A wail. The sound a desperate widow makes when she's beside herhusband's grave. And not one voice, but millions. Millions of people grieving,as if they all knew something I didn't, some secret that would tear the world apart if the living were ever to learn it.
Genevieve Moreau
“伊莎贝尔。十六号房。”
Isabelle. Chambre seize.
Isabelle
“是，夫人。”
Oui, Madame.
Genevieve Moreau
“快来。”
Vien.
Isabelle
“是，夫人。”
Oui, Madame.
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生？格雷先生！”
Monsieur Gray? Monsieur Gray!
Dorian
“看到我，你好像很惊讶。”
You seem surprised to see me.
Genevieve Moreau
“伊莎贝尔。快来我这。”
Isabelle. Viens ici.
Isabelle
“是，夫人。”
Oui, Madame.
Dorian
“噢，没有那个必要了。”
Oh that won't be necessary.
“伊莎贝尔，不好意思，让我们俩独处一会吧。”
Isabelle, excuse us a moment.
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生？你这是什么意思？”
Monsieur Gray? What is the meaning of this?
Dorian
“我想这是我该问你的问题。”
I think that's the question I should be asking you.
Genevieve Moreau
“我不明白。”
I do not understand.
Dorian
“噢，我想你十分明白我在说什么。”
Oh I think you know what it is I’m talking about.
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生，我须得问问，你昨晚有没有人……陪你？”
Monsieur Gray, I must ask, did you have…company with you last night?
Dorian
“有人陪？你让我进来的，女人，你我都清楚，我昨晚是一个人。”
Company? You let me in, woman, you know as well as I did that I was quite alone.
Genevieve Moreau
“但——”
But-
Dorian
“这么说……原来如此。如果你是一个人待在房里，就会出事。”
So…that's it. If you're alone in the room, that's when it happens.
Genevieve Moreau
“把门打开，格雷先生。”
Open the door, Monsieur Gray.
Dorian
“所以你才到哪个房间都跟着她，跟着那女仆。你不会让她一个人待在房里的。”
And that's why you follow her, the maid, from room to room. You won't allow her to be alone in the room.
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生，你马上给我打开这道门！”
Monsieur Gray, open the door this instant!
Dorian
“壁纸上那些……东西，它们是什么？”
What are they, those…things in the wallpaper?
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生，你在胡言乱语些什么！”
Monsieur Gray, you are making no sense!
Dorian
“莫罗夫人，我这辈子遇到过许多撒谎的人，也遇到过许多骗子，他们全都比你有说服力。那些失踪的人。那些凭空消失不见的住客。是那些东西抓走他们的，是吗？是吗？”
Madame Moreau, I've met many liars and confidence tricksters in my life and they wereall more convincing than you. The disappearances. The guests who simply vanish. It's those creatures that take them, isn't it? Isn't it?
Genevieve Moreau
“我喘不过气了。”
I can't breathe.
Dorian
“莫罗夫人，你安心吧，我杀过人的，也能再次下手。所以你就告诉我吧，它们是什么？”
Madame Moreau, let me assure you, I have killed before, and I will do so again. So tellme, what are they?
Genevieve Moreau
“你不知道你搅和到什么事情里来了。”
You do not know what you are meddling with.
Dorian
“你倒试试跟我说。”
Try me.
Genevieve Moreau
“他们比你想象的任何东西都强大。”
They are more powerful than anything you can imagine.
Dorian
“但它们到底是什么？”
But what are they?
1.06
Genevieve Moreau
“它们是癣疥。比这个世界还要古老，比时间还要古老。它们来自彼方。它们在巴比伦时代之前就已经开始把数不清的魂灵带往地下世界了。”
Les galeux. Older than the world, older thantime. They're from the other side. They have taken countless souls into the underworld since the days of Babylon before.
Dorian
“巴比伦。巴比伦？不，不，这是，这——”
Babylon. Babylon? No, no, this is, this is-
我们在巴黎。它们在巴黎做什么？”
We're in Paris. What are they doing in Paris?
Genevieve Moreau
“看看你周遭吧，格雷先生。巴黎不是巴比伦又是什么呢？这罪恶、腐败、虚荣的巢穴。如今还有什么地方更适合它们？”
Look around you, Monsieur Gray. What is Paris if it is not Babylon? A den of sin, corruption, vanity. What better place for them now?
Dorian
“腐败？等客人都走了，等他们都消失了，被带走了，又怎么样？他们的行李会怎样？你会把他们留下的东西都偷走吗？”
Corruption? And when the guests have gone. When they've vanished, been taken, what then? What happens to their belongings? Do you steal what's left behind?
Genevieve Moreau
“格雷先生，我是个穷寡妇，如今又是困难时期。”
Monsieur Gray, I am a poor widow, and these are difficult times.
Dorian
“噢，你简直令我作呕。那声音——”
Oh, I feel sick. That sound-
Genevieve Moreau
“别让我同情那些被带走的人，格雷先生。他们迈过那门槛之前就已经决定了自己的命运。”
Don't ask me to have sympathy for those who are taken, Monsieur Gray. They have sealed their own fates before they even stepped across the threshold.
Dorian
“嘘……你听不到吗？”
Shhh-Don’t you hear it?
Genevieve Moreau
“不。这不可能。这儿有我们两个人呢。”
Non. That is impossible. There are two of us here.
Dorian
“我们两个人，是，算是吧。那些东西是来索取我的灵魂的，不是吗？但我的灵魂既不是他们可取去的，也非我本人能予出的。我早在很久以前就把自己的灵魂卖给出价更高那位了，莫罗夫人。”
Two of us, yes. In a manner of speaking. Those things came for my soul, didn't they? But it was neither theirs to take nor mine to give. I sold my soul a verylong time ago, Madam Moreau, to a higher bidder.
Genevieve Moreau
“但这就意味着——”
But, that means-
Dorian
“正是。如今，你是确确实实完完全全的孤身一人了。这里再没别的灵魂。”
Exactly. Right now, you are to all intents and purposes, alone. There isn't another soul here.
Genevieve Moreau
“不！伊莎贝尔！放我出去！”
No! Isabelle! Let me out of here!
Dorian
“你哪儿也别想去。”
You're going nowhere.
Genevieve Moreau
“伊莎贝尔！伊莎贝尔！救我！去叫人！快！”
No! Isabelle! Isabelle! Aide-moi! Cherchezquelqu'un! Vite!
Dorian
之后发生的事，这么说吧，就像我过去做过的所有噩梦融为了一个。那壁纸就像昨晚一样活了过来。但这次，这次不一样。晚上我一个人的时候，它们前来讥讽嘲弄了我，给我看了我不想看的东西。但和莫罗夫人一起在那里，它们就像能闻到血腥味一样，从壁纸里出来了，像一群蜂拥的蝗虫。
What happened next, well, it was like every nightmare I've ever had rolled into one. The paper, it came alive, as it had the night before. But this time, this timeit was different. In the night when I was alone, they came and they taunted me, showed me things I didn't want to see. But there, with Madam Moreau, it waslike they could smell blood, and they came out of the paper like a swarm of locusts.
随后蓦然间，我便是孤身一人了。再无灵魂。
And suddenly, I was alone. Not another single soul.
Isabelle
“莫罗夫人？莫罗夫人去哪儿了？”
Madame Moreau? Où est Madame Moreau?
Dorian
“莫罗夫人不在这里。莫罗夫人离开了。联系你们东家——”
Madam Moreau isn't here. Madam Moreau has gone. Contact the proprietor-
“脸系……驴店的……老板”
Contacter les...propriétairede...hôtel-
（Contactez le propriétaire de l'hôtel. 联系旅店的老板。）
“告诉他们，阿尔萨斯旅店需要一个新经理了。”
Tell them they need a new manager at the Hotel d'Alsace.
Isabelle
“是的，先生。”
Oui, Monsieur.
Dorian
那天中午晚些时候，奥斯卡的朋友罗伯特·罗斯从尼斯赶回来了。我们之前就见过面，那也是许多年之前的事了。当时，他肯定只有……大概，二十岁左右？他见到我后吃了一惊。
Later that afternoon, Oscar's friend Robert Ross returned from Nice. We'd met before, years ago. When he must have been…only twenty? He was surprised to see me.
罗伯特·罗斯 Robert Ross
“格雷先生？我们以前见过，是不是？”
Mister Gray? We've met before, haven't we?
Dorian
“是的。在查尔斯·赫斯的伦敦书店里。”
We have. Charles Hirsch's bookshop in London.
Robert Ross
“我想也是，可那是很多年前的事了。”
I thought as much, but that was years ago.
Dorian
“确实。”
It was.
Robert Ross
“但怎么——？你看起来一点都没长年纪。你到底是怎么——”
But how- ? You don't look any older. How on earth are you s-
Dorian
“现在不是问问题的时候，罗伯特，奥斯卡病得很重。您该去他那里。”
Now is not the time for questions, Robert, Oscar is very ill. You should go to him.
Robert Ross
“当然，但你——
Of course, but you-
你要离开了？”
You're leaving us?
您的行李还——”
You have your luggage-
Dorian
“抱歉，这次上门拜访的确事出匆忙。但告辞之前，我必须得劝您，一定要为奥斯卡寻一位神父来。”
A flying visit, I'm afraid. But before I go, I must urge you, you must find apriest for Oscar.
Robert Ross
“找神父？”
A priest
© Hello, Sunflower | Powered by LOFTER