English Original
Alan Austen, as nervous as a kitten, went up certain dark and creaky stairs in the neighborhood of Pell Street, and peered about for a long time on the dime landing before he found the name he wanted written obscurely on one of the doors.
He pushed open this door, as he had been told to do, and found himself in a tiny room, which contained no furniture but a plain kitchen table, a rocking-chair, and an ordinary chair. On one of the dirty buff-coloured walls were a couple of shelves, containing in all perhaps a dozen bottles and jars. An old man sat in the rocking-chair, reading a newspaper. Alan, without a word, handed him the card he had been given.
"Sit down, Mr. Austen," said the old man very politely. "I am glad to make your acquaintance."
"Is it true," asked Alan, "that you have a certain mixture that has-er-quite extraordinary effects?"
"My dear sir," replied the old man, "my stock in trade is not very large-I don't deal in laxatives and teething mixtures-but such as it is, it is varied. I think nothing I sell has effects which could be precisely described as ordinary."
"Well, the fact is..." began Alan.
"Here, for example," interrupted the old man, reaching for a bottle from the shelf. "Here is a liquid as colourless as water, almost tasteless, quite imperceptible in coffee, wine, or any other beverage. It is also quite imperceptible to any known method of autopsy."
"Do you mean it is a poison?" cried Alan, very much horrified.
"Call it a glove-cleaner if you like," said the old man indifferently. "Maybe it will clean gloves. I have never tried. One might call it a life-cleaner. Lives need cleaning sometimes."
"I want nothing of that sort," said Alan.
"Probably it is just as well," said the old man. "Do you know the price of this? For one teaspoonful, which is sufficient, I ask five thousand dollars. Never less. Not a penny less."
"I hope all your mixtures are not as expensive," said Alan apprehensively.
"Oh dear, no," said the old man. "It would be no good charging that sort of price for a love potion, for example. Young people who need a love potion very seldom have five thousand dollars. Otherwise they would not need a love potion."
"I am glad to hear that," said Alan.
"I look at it like this," said the old man. "Please a customer with one article, and he will come back when he needs another. Even if it is more costly. He will save up for it, if necessary."
"So," said Alan, "you really do sell love potions?"
"If I did not sell love potions," said the old man, reaching for another bottle, "I should not have mentioned the other matter to you. It is only when one is in a position to oblige that one can afford to be so confidential."
"And these potions," said Alan. "They are not just-just-er-"
"Oh, no," said the old man. "Their effects are permanent, and extend far beyond the mere casual impulse. But they include it. Oh, yes they include it. Bountifully, insistently. Everlastingly."
"Dear me!" said Alan, attempting a look of scientific detachment. "How very interesting!"
"But consider the spiritual side," said the old man.
"I do, indeed," said Alan.
"For indifference," said the old man, "they substitute devotion. For scorn, adoration. Give one tiny measure of this to the young lady-its flavour is imperceptible in orange juice, soup, or cocktails-and however gay and giddy she is, she will change altogether. She will want nothing but solitude and you."
"I can hardly believe it," said Alan. "She is so fond of parties."
"She will not like them any more," said the old man. "She will be afraid of the pretty girls you may meet."
"She will actually be jealous?" cried Alan in a rapture. "Of me?"
"Yes, she will want to be everything to you."
"She is, already. Only she doesn't care about it."
"She will, when she has taken this. She will care intensely. You will be her sole interest in life."
"Wonderful!" cried Alan.
"She will want to know all you do," said the old man. "All that has happened to you during the day. Every word of it. She will want to know what you are thinking about, why you smile suddenly, why you are looking sad."
"That is love!" cried Alan.
"Yes," said the old man. "How carefully she will look after you! She will never allow you to be tired, to sit in a draught, to neglect your food. If you are an hour late, she will be terrified. She will think you are killed, or that some siren has caught you."
"I can hardly imagine Diana like that!" cried Alan, overwhelmed with joy.
"You will not have to use your imagination," said the old man. "And, by the way, since there are always sirens, if by any chance you should, later on, slip a little, you need not worry. She will forgive you, in the end. She will be terribly hurt, of course, but she will forgive you-in the end."
"That will not happen," said Alan fervently.
"Of course not," said the old man. "But, if it did, you need not worry. She would never divorce you. Oh, no! And, of course, she will never give you the least, the very least, grounds for-uneasiness."
"And how much," said Alan, "is this wonderful mixture?"
"It is not as dear," said the old man, "as the glove-cleaner, or life-cleaner, as I sometimes call it. No. That is five thousand dollars, never a penny less. One has to be older than you are, to indulge in that sort of thing. One has to save up for it."
"But the love potion?" said Alan.
"Oh, that," said the old man, opening the drawer in the kitchen table, and taking out a tiny, rather dirty-looking phial. "That is just a dollar."
"I can't tell you how grateful I am," said Alan, watching him fill it.
"I like to oblige," said the old man. "Then customers come back, later in life, when they are better off, and want more expensive things. Here you are. You will find it very effective."
"Thank you again," said Alan. "Good-bye."
"Au revoir," said the man.
中文翻译
艾伦·奥斯汀紧张得像只小猫，爬上佩尔街附近一段又黑又吱呀作响的楼梯，在昏暗的楼梯平台上张望了很久，才在一扇门上找到了那个模糊不清的名字。
他按照指示推开门，发现自己置身于一个狭小的房间，里面除了一张简陋的厨房桌子、一把摇椅和一把普通椅子外，没有其他家具。一面脏兮兮的浅黄色墙壁上钉着几个架子，总共大概放了十几个瓶瓶罐罐。一位老人坐在摇椅里看报纸。艾伦一言不发，递上了别人给他的卡片。
“请坐，奥斯汀先生，”老人非常有礼貌地说。“很高兴认识您。”
“请问，”艾伦问道，“您是不是有一种……呃……效果非常特别的混合物？”
“我亲爱的先生，”老人回答，“我的存货不多——我不卖泻药和出牙粉之类的东西——但现有的这些，种类多样。我想我卖的东西，其效果都不能被精确地描述为普通。”
“嗯，事实上是……”艾伦开口说。
“比如这个，”老人打断他，从架子上拿下一个瓶子。“这是一种像水一样无色的液体，几乎无味，混在咖啡、葡萄酒或任何其他饮料中都难以察觉。任何已知的尸检方法也完全检测不到它。”
“您的意思是这是毒药？”艾伦惊恐地叫道。
“你愿意的话，可以叫它手套清洁剂，”老人漠不关心地说。“也许它能清洁手套。我从没试过。也可以叫它生命清洁剂。生命有时也需要清洁。”
“我不要那种东西，”艾伦说。
“可能这样也好，”老人说。“你知道这个的价格吗？一茶匙就足够了，我要价五千美元。绝不少收。一分钱都不能少。”
“我希望您所有的混合物都不这么贵，”艾伦忧心忡忡地说。
“哦，天哪，当然不，”老人说。“比如，对爱情药水收那种价格可没什么好处。需要爱情药水的年轻人很少能有五千美元。否则他们就不需要爱情药水了。”
“听您这么说我很高兴，”艾伦说。
“我是这么看的，”老人说。“用一件商品取悦一位顾客，当他需要另一件时就会再来。即使那件更昂贵。如果有必要，他会为此攒钱。”
“那么，”艾伦说，“您真的卖爱情药水？”
“如果我不卖爱情药水，”老人说着，伸手去拿另一个瓶子，“我就不会向您提另一件事了。只有当一个人有能力提供帮助时，他才负担得起如此推心置腹。”
“那这些药水，”艾伦说，“它们不只是——只是——呃——”
“哦，不，”老人说。“它们的效果是永久性的，远远超出了仅仅是偶然的冲动。但它们也包含冲动。哦，是的，它们包含。慷慨地、持续不断地、永恒地。”
“天哪！”艾伦说，试图摆出一副科学超然的样子。“多么有趣！”
“但要考虑精神层面，”老人说。
“我确实在考虑，”艾伦说。
“用奉献取代冷漠，”老人说。“用爱慕取代轻蔑。给那位年轻女士一小剂这个——它的味道在橙汁、汤或鸡尾酒中都察觉不到——无论她现在多么活泼轻浮，她都会彻底改变。她将只渴望独处和你。”
“我简直不敢相信，”艾伦说。“她那么喜欢派对。”
“她不会再喜欢了，”老人说。“她会害怕你可能遇到的漂亮女孩。”
“她真的会嫉妒？”艾伦狂喜地叫道。“嫉妒我？”
“是的，她会想成为你的一切。”
“她已经是了。只是她不在乎。”
“等她服下这个，她就会在乎了。她会强烈地在乎。你将成为她生命中唯一的兴趣。”
“太棒了！”艾伦叫道。
“她会想知道你做的一切，”老人说。“一天中发生在你身上的所有事。每一句话。她会想知道你在想什么，你为什么突然微笑，你为什么看起来悲伤。”
“那就是爱！”艾伦叫道。
“是的，”老人说。“她会多么细心地照顾你！她绝不会让你疲惫，让你坐在穿堂风里，让你忽视饮食。如果你迟到一小时，她会吓坏。她会以为你被杀了，或者被某个妖女勾走了。”
“我简直无法想象戴安娜会那样！”艾伦叫道，欣喜若狂。
“你不需要动用你的想象力，”老人说。“顺便说一下，既然世上总有妖女，万一你以后稍有失足，也不必担心。她最终会原谅你。当然，她会非常受伤，但她最终会原谅你。”
“那不会发生的，”艾伦热切地说。
“当然不会，”老人说。“但如果发生了，你也不必担心。她绝不会和你离婚。哦，不会！而且，当然，她也绝不会给你哪怕一丁点、最微小的理由让你——不安。”
“那么，”艾伦说，“这种神奇的混合物多少钱？”
“它不像手套清洁剂，或者我有时称之为生命清洁剂的东西那么贵，”老人说。“不。那个是五千美元，一分不能少。得比你年长的人，才会沉迷于那种东西。得为此攒钱。”
“但爱情药水呢？”艾伦说。
“哦，那个，”老人说着，打开厨房桌子的抽屉，拿出一个看起来相当脏的小瓶子。“那个只要一美元。”
“我无法表达我有多么感激，”艾伦看着他灌满瓶子时说。
“我喜欢帮忙，”老人说。“这样顾客以后生活更宽裕时，就会回来买更贵的东西。给你。你会发现它非常有效。”
“再次感谢您，”艾伦说。“再见。”
“再会，”老人说。