English Original
In the process of recalling my college days, I am reminded of that momentous occasion during my first year at St Montague's, when, by some irksome and malign fate, I discovered myself sharing the confines of the school library with three well-read scholars of that time. These loathsome fellows I normally would avoid at all costs, but owing to the atrocious February weather I was compelled to gain welcome warmth beside that roaring fire.
"What is your name, young chap?" I was asked, by a large scholar wearing a three-piece suit of pin-stripes. His enquiry wore a ghastly cloak of supposed superiority and rank, which I kind of expected, as I was a mere first year student at that particular time.
"Grim Shaw," I told him, and as I uttered my name I surveyed the three pairs of beady eyes which were fixed upon my being. I detected a vast amount of arrogance beyond those staring sockets.
"A common name," sneered the fellow, whose own name I knew to be Rhodes-Fotheringham. As I have mentioned, he was large, with a reddened, chubby face and whiskers that hid his stiff upper lip completely. It appeared as if he owned the bottom one only, and I reckoned this to be quite comical, although I dared not to chuckle in their presence.
"Well, Grim Shaw," snarled the second chap, whose name was Blake, and who was exactly as tiresome as Rhodes-Fotheringham, "my chums and I were in the process of recounting horrific tales of ghosts and apparitions. If you wish to remain in our company, you must endure this."
"And not go fleeing from the room in fright!" added the third monster, a scoundrel by the name of Atkinson.
I endeavored not to be afraid, which was not a simple task, as the trio themselves were sufficient to cause a shivering sensation inside me. We were all seated, with discreet distances between each, in huge Victorian armchairs facing the blazing flames of the log fire. The library itself was enormous, and must have contained thousands of books on all subjects. Including the topic of ghosts.
"I remember one chap," said Rhodes-Fotheringham, a cigar of eager proportions in his ample hand, "whose name I cannot recall. He regularly encountered the ghostly figure of an old man in a pale-colored nightgown, who was prone to walking up and down the stairs of the chap's home, and with his head held under his arm!"
Excessive gasps left the mouths of Blake and Atkinson, whilst I myself remained silent and breathless. Rhodes-Fotheringham's features became hidden in the midst of an awful-smelling cloud of cigar smoke, providing an eerie vision of his face, and at that moment I wondered whether he himself was a dreadful phantom.
"Anyway," he continued, with the smoke drifting in the direction of the fireplace, "this chap could stand it no longer and subsequently decided to take his own life by shooting himself in the head with a pistol. Now it is rumored that he himself haunts that house."
His two companions seemed quite unsettled by this story, and as the flames crackled in the hearth they each took a copious mouthful of the brandy that was readily available nearby. Then Blake appeared to decide that he was not to be outdone by his friend.
"That is a pretty gruesome tale, old chap," he said in a quavering voice, "but allow me to relate the story of the man whose wife gave birth to an apparition."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Rhodes-Fotheringham, with peculiar puffed cheeks. He appeared to be somewhat perturbed by Blake's proclamation, and I noticed how agitated he became as his companion continued the tale.
"It is indeed true," said Blake, who, in contrast to Rhodes-Fotheringham, was of a thin shape, and was clutching his brandy glass tightly the whole time. "This apparition grew to a fine old age, until he reached a maturity he could not improve on, and now he haunts the church in which his parents had married."
Again, a strange air filled the room, and an odd nervousness prevailed in the three figures that flanked me. I remember thinking how chilling and sinister were those three fellows, to the point where I began to feel rather frightened. However, I attempted not to reveal this, as I sat with clenched fists upon that armchair, gazing into the leaping flames opposite my position in that library.
"That is an impressive story," said Atkinson. I had never seen a chap as tall and gangly as he was. His weird-looking legs protruded from that chair, stretched out before him like two huge clothes-props, and behind his gold-rimmed spectacles I observed the most evil pair of grey eyes.
"What about this then, chaps," he said, grasping the opportunity to tell his own grotesque tale. "A soldier in the Great War was lurking in the trenches, with bullets whizzing around his ears, when suddenly he noticed beside him his own ghost. It was identical in every detail, and he was naturally astonished. Seconds later this poor chap was struck in the head by an enemy shot, and was killed instantly. But strangely, he recalls then holding his own dying figure in his arms, for he had taken over the form of the apparition that was beside him!"
"My good God!" cried Rhodes-Fotheringham, with an obvious alarm.
I then looked at Blake, who appeared so petrified he was speechless. I found it quite odd that these three chaps knew so much about ghosts. They seemed to be more than mere students of the college, and indeed I morbidly started to fear what exactly they were. However, I quickly dismissed these thoughts, and seized the chance to reveal some ideas of my own.
"This is all preposterous!" I shouted above the blaze of the fire.
"What?" demanded Blake, who suddenly regained his powers of speech upon hearing my unwelcome exclamation.
"I have never heard of anyone who saw the ghost on the stairs. How do you know this if he shot himself? The same with the soldier in the war. He was dead just seconds after supposedly seeing his own ghost, so how do you know this? And as for the fellow whose wife gave birth to a phantom. That is pure drivel of the finest water!"
Rhodes-Fotheringham was in such an intolerable rage that I thought he would explode before my eyes, and the other two were not far behind in their ire. Each of them was blazing more intensely than the fire was!
"Get out of here!" yelled Rhodes-Fotheringham in a tremendous, booming voice. "And do not return! You are far from worthy of our company!"
This request -- or rather, this command -- seemed quite popular amongst the three of them, and so it was with a trembling demeanor that I proceeded to leave the library. A chilling silence ensued as I slowly stepped away from them and the fireplace. However, I believe I succeeded in astounding my trio of companions, for I departed from that room without opening the door.
中文翻译
回忆大学生活时，我总会想起在圣蒙塔格大学第一年时发生的一件大事。由于某种恼人而恶意的命运安排，我发现自己不得不与当时三位博学的学生共享学校图书馆。这些讨厌的家伙我平时会不惜一切代价避开，但那年二月的天气糟透了，我被迫到那熊熊燃烧的炉火旁取暖。
“你叫什么名字，小伙子？”一个穿着细条纹三件套西装的大个子学生问我。他的询问带着一种令人不快的、自以为是的优越感和等级感，这我早有预料，因为那时我只是个新生。
“格里姆·肖，”我告诉他。说出名字时，我扫视着那三双紧盯着我的小眼睛。我从那些凝视的眼窝中察觉到了巨大的傲慢。
“一个俗气的名字，”那个家伙嘲笑道，我知道他叫罗兹-福瑟林汉姆。如前所述，他身材高大，面色红润，脸庞圆胖，胡须完全遮住了他僵硬的上唇。看起来他好像只有下嘴唇似的，我觉得这很滑稽，但不敢在他们面前笑出来。
“好吧，格里姆·肖，”第二个家伙咆哮着说，他叫布莱克，和罗兹-福瑟林汉姆一样令人厌烦，“我和朋友们正在讲关于鬼魂和幽灵的恐怖故事。如果你想和我们待在一起，就必须忍受这个。”
“而且不许吓得从房间里逃跑！”第三个叫阿特金森的恶棍补充道。
我努力不让自己害怕，但这并非易事，因为这三人本身就足以让我内心颤抖。我们都坐在巨大的维多利亚式扶手椅上，面向燃烧的原木火焰，彼此间保持着谨慎的距离。图书馆本身非常巨大，肯定收藏了成千上万本各种主题的书籍，包括鬼魂主题。
“我记得有个人，”罗兹-福瑟林汉姆说，他肥厚的手里夹着一支粗大的雪茄，“名字我记不清了。他经常遇到一个穿着浅色睡衣的老人的鬼影，那鬼影总在他家的楼梯上上下下走动，而且头夹在胳膊底下！”
布莱克和阿特金森发出夸张的喘息声，而我则保持沉默，屏住呼吸。罗兹-福瑟林汉姆的面容隐没在一团难闻的雪茄烟雾中，他的脸呈现出一种怪异的景象，那一刻我怀疑他本人是否就是一个可怕的幽灵。
“总之，”他继续说道，烟雾飘向壁炉的方向，“这家伙再也受不了了，随后决定用手枪朝自己头部开枪自杀。现在有传言说他自己就在那所房子里闹鬼。”
他的两个同伴似乎对这个故事感到相当不安，当炉膛里的火焰噼啪作响时，他们各自喝了一大口手边的白兰地。然后布莱克似乎决定不能被朋友比下去。
“这是个相当可怕的故事，老兄，”他用颤抖的声音说，“但请允许我讲述那个妻子生下一个幽灵的人的故事。”
“天哪！”罗兹-福瑟林汉姆惊呼道，脸颊奇怪地鼓了起来。他似乎对布莱克的宣告有些不安，我注意到当他的同伴继续讲述时，他变得多么焦躁。
“这确实是真的，”布莱克说，与罗兹-福瑟林汉姆相反，他身材瘦削，并且一直紧紧抓着他的白兰地酒杯。“这个幽灵一直长到很老的年纪，直到他达到无法再提升的成熟状态，现在他在他父母结婚的教堂里出没。”
再次，一种奇怪的气氛充满了房间，一种古怪的紧张感笼罩着我身旁的这三个人。我记得当时在想，这三个人是多么令人不寒而栗和阴险，以至于我开始感到相当害怕。然而，我试图不表露出来，我紧握双拳坐在扶手椅上，凝视着图书馆里我对面跳跃的火焰。
“这是个令人印象深刻的故事，”阿特金森说。我从未见过像他这样又高又瘦的人。他那看起来怪异的双腿从椅子上伸出来，像两根巨大的晾衣杆一样伸在他面前，在他金边眼镜后面，我观察到一双极其邪恶的灰色眼睛。
“那听听这个怎么样，伙计们，”他说，抓住机会讲述他自己怪诞的故事。“第一次世界大战时，一个士兵潜伏在战壕里，子弹在他耳边呼啸而过，突然他注意到自己身边出现了他自己的鬼魂。每个细节都一模一样，他自然大吃一惊。几秒钟后，这个可怜的家伙被敌人的子弹击中头部，当场死亡。但奇怪的是，他记得当时抱着自己垂死的躯体，因为他已经接管了身边那个幽灵的形态！”
“我的老天！”罗兹-福瑟林汉姆喊道，带着明显的惊恐。
我然后看向布莱克，他看起来吓呆了，说不出话来。我觉得很奇怪，这三个人对鬼魂知道得这么多。他们似乎不仅仅是大学的学生，事实上我开始病态地害怕他们到底是什么。然而，我很快打消了这些念头，抓住机会表达我自己的想法。
“这一切都太荒谬了！”我在熊熊火焰之上喊道。
“什么？”布莱克质问道，听到我这不受欢迎的惊呼，他突然恢复了说话的能力。
“我从未听说过有人在楼梯上见过鬼。如果他开枪自杀了，你们怎么知道这件事？战争中的那个士兵也一样。他在据说看到自己的鬼魂后几秒钟就死了，那你们怎么知道这个？至于那个妻子生了个幽灵的家伙。那纯粹是胡说八道！”
罗兹-福瑟林汉姆怒不可遏，我以为他会在我眼前爆炸，另外两人的怒火也紧随其后。他们每个人燃烧的怒火都比炉火更猛烈！
“滚出去！”罗兹-福瑟林汉姆用洪亮、低沉的声音吼道。“别再回来！你根本不配和我们为伍！”
这个请求——或者更确切地说，这个命令——似乎很受他们三人的欢迎，于是我带着颤抖的举止准备离开图书馆。当我慢慢从他们和壁炉旁走开时，一阵令人不寒而栗的寂静随之而来。然而，我相信我成功地惊呆了我的三位同伴，因为我离开那个房间时没有开门。