It was our third time playing the Godfather theme since lunch, so I was looking around at the tourists seated across the piazza to see how many of them might have been there the last time we’d played it. People don’t mind hearing a favourite more than once, but you can’t have it happen too often or they start suspecting you don’t have a decent repertoire. At this time of year, it’s usually okay to repeat numbers. The first hint of an autumn wind and the ridiculous price of a coffee ensure a pretty steady turnover of customers. Anyway, that’s why I was studying the faces in the piazza and that’s how I spotted Tibor.
这是午饭后我们第三次演奏《教父》了，我扫视了一下坐在广场上的游客，想看看大概有多少是听过之前一次的。经典的歌曲人们不介意多听一遍，但不能太频繁，不然他们就会怀疑你是不是没有其他节目了。每年到了这个时候，重复一些曲目通常没什么问题。渐起的秋风和贵得离谱的咖啡总是让客人换了一批又一批。总之，这就是为什么我会去注意广场上的面孔，意外地发现了蒂博尔。
He was waving his arm and I thought at first he was waving to us, but then I realised he was trying to attract a waiter. He looked older, and he’d put on some weight, but he wasn’t hard to recognise. I gave Fabian, on accordion right next to me, a little nudge and nodded towards the young man, though I couldn’t take either hand off my saxophone just then to point him out properly. That was when it came home to me, looking around the band, that apart from me and Fabian, there was no one left in our line-up from that summer we’d met Tibor.
他正挥舞着手臂，一开始我以为他是在跟我们挥手，后来发现他是在招呼服务生。他看上去比以前老，还胖了些，但不难认出来。我用胳膊肘轻轻地推了推身边拉手风琴的费边，摆头示意他注意那个年轻人，因为当时我没法从萨克斯上腾出手来指给他看。就在这时，当我环顾乐队时，突然间发现：我们认识蒂博尔的那年夏天，当时在乐队里的那群人就只剩下我和费边了。
When we finished our number, Fabian gave me a dirty look, annoyed I’d nudged him during his “special passage”– not a solo exactly, but one of those rare moments when the violin and clarinet have stopped, I’m blowing just quiet notes in the background, and he’s holding the tune together on his accordion. When I tried to explain, pointing out Tibor, now stirring his coffee beneath a parasol, Fabian seemed to have trouble remembering him. In the end, he said:
这首歌演完了，费边狠狠地瞪了我一眼，怪我在他的“特别片段”推了他——算不上独奏，却是一段小提琴和单簧管难得停下来的时候，我的萨克斯以柔和的音符给他伴奏，由他的手风琴把持调子。我跟他解释，把蒂博尔指给他看，这会儿蒂博尔正在阳伞下搅动着咖啡。费边想了好一会儿才认出他来，说：
Okay, that was all of seven years ago, but it was still a shock. Playing together every day like this, you come to think of the band as a kind of family, the other members as your brothers. And if every now and then someone moves on, you want to think he’ll always stay in touch, sending back postcards from Venice or London or wherever he’s got to, maybe a Polaroid of the band he’s in now — just like he’s writing home to his old village. So a moment like that comes as an unwelcome reminder of how quickly things change. How the bosom pals of today become lost strangers tomorrow, scattered across Europe, playing the Godfather theme or “Autumn Leaves” in squares and cafes you’ll never visit.
没错，那是七年前的事了，可我还是感到不小的震撼。像这样天天在一起演出，渐渐地你会把乐队当作家，把乐队里的其他成员当作你的兄弟。当时不时有人离开的时候，你就会想他们会一直保持联系，从威尼斯、伦敦或其他地方寄明信片回来，抑或是寄一张目前所在乐队的照片——就像给老家写信一样。因此想到以前的乐队就剩我们两个人，不禁令人感慨世事无常。今日的知己明日就变成失去联络的陌路人，分散在欧洲各地，在你永远不会去的广场和咖啡厅里演奏着《教父》或者《秋叶》。
“Of course not,” I said. “Don’t you remember? That all came to an end at the time.”
“当然不在了，”我说。“你不记得了？事情那个时候就结束了。”
I was disappointed Fabian hadn’t shown more interest, but I suppose he’d never been one of those particularly concerned about the young cellist. Fabian, you see, he’s only ever played in bars and cafes. Not like Giancarlo, our violin player at that time, or Ernesto, who was our bass player. They’d had formal training, so to them someone like Tibor was always fascinating. Maybe there was a tiny bit of jealousy there — of Tibor’s top-drawer musical education, of the fact that his future was still in front of him. But to be fair, I think it was just that they liked to take the Tibors of this world under their wing, look after them a little, maybe prepare them for what lay ahead, so when the disappointments came they wouldn’t be quite so hard to take.
我很失望费边对蒂博尔的出现不怎么感兴趣，不过我想他跟其他人不一样，从来就不曾对这个年轻的大提琴手有特别的兴趣。是这样的，费边只是个在酒吧和咖啡厅里演出的乐手，不像詹卡洛，我们当时的小提琴手，或者欧内斯托，当时的贝司手，他们是受过专业训练的，所以他们对蒂博尔这样的人总是很感兴趣。也许是有一点点的嫉妒在里面——嫉妒蒂博尔受过顶级的音乐教育，嫉妒他还有大好的前途。但平心而论，我觉得他们只是想保护像蒂博尔这样的人，给他们一些帮助，甚至让他们对未来做好准备，这样，当事情不尽人意的时候，他们就不会太接受不了。
“Ah yes, the boy with the cello. I wonder if he’s still with that American woman.”
“啊，对了，那个拉大提琴的小子。不知道他是不是还跟那个美国女人在一起。”
Fabian shrugged, his attention now on his sheet music, and then we were starting our next number.
费边耸耸肩，把注意力放到他的乐谱上，不一会儿我们开始演奏下一首歌。
That summer seven years ago had been an unusually warm one, and even in this city of ours, there were times you could believe we were down on the Adriatic. We played outdoors for over four months — under the cafe awning, facing out to the piazza and all the tables — and I can tell you that’s hot work, even with two or three electric fans whirring around you. But it made for a good season, plenty of tourists passing through, a lot from Germany and Austria, as well as natives fleeing the heat down on the beaches. And that was the summer we first started noticing Russians. Today you don’t think twice about Russian tourists, they look like everyone else. But back then, they were still rare enough to make you stop and stare. Their clothes were odd and they moved around like new kids at school. The first time we saw Tibor, we were between sets, refreshing ourselves at the big table the cafe always kept aside for us. He was sitting nearby, continually getting up and repositioning his cello case to keep it in the shade.
七年前的那个夏天异常炎热，即便在这个城市有时也感觉像是在亚得里亚海。我们要在室外演出四个多月——在咖啡店的遮阳篷底下，面对着广场和所有的桌子——告诉你吧，干这活儿热得不得了，就算有两三台电扇在你旁边呼呼地吹。可是这倒带来了好生意，游客熙熙攘攘，很多是从德国和奥地利来的。本地的居民也跑到沙滩上来乘凉。那年夏天我们还开始留意到俄国人。如今看见俄国游客不稀奇，他们和其他游客没什么两样。可当时俄国人还很罕见，让人不禁停下来看几眼。他们穿着古怪，像学校里新来的小孩子一般不自在。我们第一次见到蒂博尔是在幕间休息的时候，我们在一旁咖啡厅为我们准备的一张大桌子旁休息喝饮料。他就坐在旁边，不停地起来摆弄琴箱，不让太阳照到。
“Look at him,” Giancarlo said. “A Russian music student with nothing to live on. So what does he do? Decides to waste his money on coffees in the main square.”
“瞧他，”詹卡洛说。“俄国来的穷音乐学生。他在这儿做什么呢？打算把所有的钱都扔在广场的咖啡上吗？”
“No doubt a fool,” Ernesto said. “But a romantic fool. Happy to starve, so long as he can sit in our square all afternoon.”
“准是个傻瓜，”欧内斯托说。“但是个浪漫的傻瓜。为了在广场上坐一下午宁可饿肚子。”
He was thin, sandy-haired and wore unfashionable spectacles — huge frames that made him look like a panda. He turned up day after day, and I don’t remember how exactly it happened, but after a while we began to sit and talk with him in between sets. And sometimes if he came to the cafe during our evening session, we’d call him over afterwards, maybe treat him to some wine and crostini.
他瘦瘦的，浅褐色头发，戴着一副老土的厚框眼镜，活像只熊猫。他每天都来，我不记得究竟是怎么起的头，只记得过了一段时间我们开始在幕间休息时和他坐在一起聊天。有时他在我们晚上演出的时候过来，演出结束以后我们会把他叫来，请他喝杯酒，或者吃烤面包片什么的。
We soon discovered Tibor was Hungarian, not Russian; that he was probably older than he looked, because he’d already studied at the Royal Academy of Music in London, then spent two years in Vienna under Oleg Petrovic. After a rocky start with the old maestro, he’d learnt to handle those legendary temper tantrums and had left Vienna full of confidence — and with a series of engagements in prestigious, if small, venues around Europe. But then concerts began to get cancelled due to low demand; he’d been forced to perform music he hated; accommodation had proved expensive or sordid.
不久我们就知道了蒂博尔不是俄国人，是匈牙利人；他的实际年龄要比长相大一些，他在伦敦的皇家音乐学院学习过，然后在维也纳待了两年，师从奥列格·彼得罗维奇。经过一开始痛苦的适应期后，他学会了应付大师出了名的坏脾气，信心满满地离开维也纳——应邀到欧洲一些不大、但是很有名的地方演出。可是后来由于演出市场不景气，演出逐渐被取消；他开始被迫演奏一些他讨厌的音乐；住的地方也又贵又脏。
So our city’s well-organised Arts and Culture Festival — which was what brought him here that summer — had been a much-needed boost, and when an old friend from the Royal Academy had offered him a free apartment for the summer down near the canal, he’d taken it up without hesitation. He was enjoying our city, he told us, but cash was always a problem, and though he’d had the occasional recital, he was now having to think hard about his next move.
于是乎我们这里精心组织的文化艺术节——那年夏天他正是为此而来——就成了他最需要的助推器。当皇家学院的一个老朋友愿意夏天把运河旁的一间公寓借给他时，他毫不犹豫就答应了。他说他很喜欢我们的城市，可是钱永远是个问题，虽然他偶尔有些演出，但现在他不得不好好考虑下一步怎么走了。
It was after a while of listening to these worries that Giancarlo and Ernesto decided we should try and do something for him. And that was how Tibor got to meet Mr. Kaufmann, from Amsterdam, a distant relative of Giancarlo’s with connections in the hotel world.
听说了蒂博尔的烦恼以后不久，詹卡洛和欧内斯托决定：我们应该为他做些事情。就这样蒂博尔见到了阿姆斯特丹来的考夫曼先生，詹卡洛的一个远房亲戚，在酒店界有点关系。
I remember that evening very well. It was still early in the summer, and Mr. Kaufmann, Giancarlo, Ernesto, all the rest of us, we sat indoors, in the back room of the cafe, listening to Tibor play his cello. The young man must have realised he was auditioning for Mr. Kaufmann, so it’s interesting now to remember how keen he was to perform that night. He was obviously grateful to us, and you could see he was pleased when Mr. Kaufmann promised to do what he could for him on his return to Amsterdam. When people say Tibor changed for the worse that summer, that his head got too big for his own good, that this was all down to the American woman, well, maybe there’s something in that.
我仍然清楚地记得那个晚上。那时还是初夏，考夫曼先生、詹卡洛、欧内斯托，还有乐队里其他所有的人，我们坐在咖啡厅的里屋，听蒂博尔拉琴。年轻人一定是知道这是考夫曼先生的试听，所以那天晚上表演得特别卖力，现在回想起来真是有意思。他显然很感激我们，当考夫曼先生答应回阿姆斯特丹以后会尽力帮助他的时候，他的喜悦之情溢于言表。大家说那年夏天蒂博尔开始走下坡路，说他头脑发热、不知好歹，说都是因为那个美国女人，咳，也许不无道理。
She was beaming broadly, everything in her manner suggesting they already knew each other. In fact it was only his natural shyness that stopped him greeting her. Then she placed a hand on his shoulder, as though he’d failed some test but was being forgiven anyway, and said:
女人笑嘻嘻地看着他，那样子好像他们认识似的。只不过蒂博尔天性害羞，才没有跟她打招呼。女人把一只手搭到他的肩上，像是在原谅一个考试不及格的学生，说：
He’d forgotten about her and was preparing to get back to his room for a couple of hours’ practice before his neighbour came in for lunch and turned on that radio, when suddenly there was the woman standing in front of him.
不久蒂博尔就把她给忘了，准备回去，在邻居回家吃午饭、开起收音机前练两个小时琴。突然那女的站到他面前。
Tibor had become a ware of the woman while sipping his first coffee of the day. At that moment, the piazza was pleasantly cool — the cafe end remains shaded for much of the morning — and the paving stones were still wet from the city workers’ hoses. Having gone without breakfast, he’d watched enviously while at the next table she’d ordered a series of fruit-juice concoctions, then — apparently on a whim, for it wasn’t yet ten o’clock — a bowl of steamed mussels. He had the vague impression the woman was, for her part, stealing glances back at him, but hadn’t thought too much about it. “She looked very pleasant, beautiful even,” he told us at the time. “But as you see, she’s ten, fifteen years older than me. So why would I think anything was going on?”
一天，蒂博尔喝着第一杯咖啡，注意到了那个女人。那时广场上还挺凉快——早上大部分时候咖啡馆的尽头都照不到太阳——洒过水的石块路面还湿湿的。蒂博尔没有吃早饭，所以眼红地看着隔壁的女人点了好几种混合果汁，后来又要了一盘蒸贻贝——肯定是一时兴起点的，因为那时还不到十点。他隐约觉得那女的也在偷偷看他，可他没有放在心上。“她长得不错，甚至算得上漂亮，”那时蒂博尔这么对我们说。“可你们瞧，她比我大十、十五岁。所以我干吗要胡思乱想呢？”
The woman laughed, then suddenly seated herself in the chair in front of him. “You say that like you’ve had a whole string of engagements lately,” she said, a hint of mockery in her voice.
那女的笑了一声，突然在他面前坐了下来。“说得好像你最近演出很多似的，”女人略带讥讽地说道。
“If that is so, I’ve given you a misleading impression. The recital you attended was my only one in two months.”
“如果您这么觉得，恐怕我给了您错误的印象。您看的那场独奏会是我最近两个月唯一的一次演出。”
“A good crowd? There were only twenty-four people.”
“观众不少？那天才二十四个人。”
“Thank you,” he replied, even as he realised how foolish this might sound. Then when the woman just went on beaming down at him, he said: “Oh yes, the San Lorenzo church. That’s correct. I did indeed give a recital there.”
“谢谢，”他答道，但心里知道自己的回答傻乎乎的。看见那女的还是低头朝着他笑，他又说道：“哦，是的，圣洛伦佐教堂。没错。我确实在那里演出过。”
“I should not complain. Still, it wasn’t a good crowd. Tourists with nothing better to do.”
“我不应该抱怨。可是观众实在不多。都是些没有其他事可做的游客。”
“I was at your recital the other day. At San Lorenzo.”
“几天前我看了你的独奏会。在圣洛伦佐。”
“It was the afternoon. It was good for an afternoon recital.”
“那是下午。下午的独奏会能有那些人算不错了。”
“But you’re just starting out,” she said. “You’re doing fine to get any engagements at all. And that was a good crowd the other day.”
“可是你才刚开始，”女的说。“有演出就是好事。而且那天观众不少。”
“Oh! You shouldn’t be so dismissive. After all, I was there. I was one of those tourists.” Then as he began to redden — for he hadn’t meant to give offence — she touched his arm and said with a smile: “You’re just starting out. Don’t worry about audience size. That’s not why you’re performing.”
“哦！别这么瞧不起人。毕竟我在那里。我也是游客之一。”蒂博尔脸红了——因为他无意冒犯——这时那女的拍了拍他的手臂，微笑着说道：“你才刚开始。别在意有多少观众。你不是为了这个演出的。”
“You have it. Most definitely. You have… potential.”
“没错。你行。你有……这个潜力。”
“Oh? Then why am I performing if not for an audience?”
“哦？若不是为了观众，那我为了什么演出呢？”
“I have it?”
“我行？”
He stifled a brusque laugh that came to his lips. He felt more reproach towards himself than for her, for he had expected her to say “genius” or at least “talent” and it immediately struck him how deluded he’d been to expect such a comment. But the woman was continuing:
蒂博尔差点儿很没礼貌地笑出声来。他不怪那女的，更多的是怪他自己。他本以为对方会说“天赋”，或至少是“才能”，可马上转念想到：他希望对方这么评价自己是多么的愚蠢。然而那女的继续说道：
“That’s not what I said. What I’m saying to you is that at this stage in your career, twenty in the audience or two hundred, it doesn’t matter. Should I tell you why not? Because you’ve got it!”
“我不是这个意思。我想说的是在你事业的这个阶段，二十个观众还是两百个观众，没有关系。为什么？因为你行！”
“At this stage, what you’re doing is waiting for that one person to come and hear you. And that one person might just as easily be in a room like that one on Tuesday, in a crowd of just twenty people…”
“现阶段，你要做的是等有人来听见你的音乐。这个人很可能就在周二那天的那间屋子里，在那二十个人里面……”
“You refer to the man from the recording company?”
“您是指唱片公司的？”
“There were twenty-four, not including the organisers…”
“是二十四个人，不包括组织者……”
“Recording? Oh no, no. That’ll take care of itself. No, I mean the person who’ll make you blossom. The person who’ll hear you and realise you’re not just another well-trained mediocrity. That even though you’re still in your chrysalis, with just a little help, you’ll emerge as a butterfly.”
“唱片公司？哦，不，不是。用不着操心那个。不，我指能挖掘你潜力的人。听了你的音乐，知道你不是又一个训练有素的平庸之才的人。知道虽然你现在还只是一枚茧，但只要些许帮助，就可以破茧成蝶。”
“Twenty-four, whatever. What I’m saying is that numbers don’t matter right now. What matters is that one person.”
“二十四，随便。我的意思是目前观众的人数不重要。重要的是那一个人。”
“Oh, come on! I can see you’re a proud young man. But it doesn’t look to me like you have so many mentors falling over themselves to get to you. At least not ones of my rank.”
“哦，拜托！我看得出来你是个自尊心很强的年轻人，可我不觉得会经常有导师主动来找你。至少不是我这个级别的。”
“I see. By any chance, might you be this person?”
“我懂您的意思了。您是不是碰巧就是那个人？”
It occurred to him then that he was in the midst of making a colossal blunder, and he considered the woman’s features carefully. She’d now removed her sunglasses, and he could see a face that was essentially gentle and kind, yet with upset and perhaps anger not far away. He went on looking at her, hoping he’d soon recognise her, but in the end he was forced to say:
这时，蒂博尔突然意识到自己可能在犯一个大错。他仔细端详着那个女人的脸。那女的已把墨镜摘下，她的脸温柔友善，但带着失望，甚至是些许愤怒。蒂博尔直盯着她看，脑子里拼命在想她是谁，但最后他只能说道：
“I’m Eloise McCormack,” she announced with a smile, and held out her hand. Unfortunately, the name meant nothing to Tibor and he found himself in a quandary. His first instinct was to feign astonishment, and he actually said: “Really. This is quite amazing.” Then he pulled himself together, realising such bluffing was not only dishonest, but likely to lead to embarrassing exposure within seconds. So he sat up straight and said:
“我叫埃洛伊丝·麦科马克，”她微笑着说道，伸出一只手来。可惜这个名字对蒂博尔来说毫无意义，他不知该如何是好。他的第一反应是假装惊讶，他说：“真的。太惊讶了。”可他马上就振作起来，知道这种谎话不仅不诚实，而且几秒钟内就会被揭穿的，那样更加尴尬。于是他坐直了身子，说道：
“I’m very sorry. You are perhaps a distinguished musician?”
“很抱歉。您大概是位著名的音乐家？”
“Well… that’s commendably frank.” Despite her words, she was clearly affronted, and her ebullience seemed to drain away. After an awkward moment, he said again:
“呃……真是诚实可嘉。”虽然她嘴上这么说，但显然觉得受到了冒犯，没有了之前的热情。两人尴尬地沉默了片刻，蒂博尔接着说道：
“A mission?”
“使命感？”
She nodded, her gaze drifting across the square.
她点点头，目光游移到广场上。
“You are a distinguished musician, yes?”
“您是著名音乐家，没错吧？”
“Like you,” she said quickly. “Cello. That’s why I came in. Even if it’s a humble little recital like yours, I can’t help myself. I can’t walk by. I have a sense of mission, I guess.”
“和你一样，”那女的很快地说道。“大提琴。所以我才会进去听。即便是那天那种不起眼的小音乐会，我也忍不住要去听，不能走开。我想我有一种使命感。”
“Miss McCormack, it’s an honour to meet you. I realise this will seem unbelievable to you, but I beg you to make allowances both for my youth and for the fact that I grew up in the former Eastern bloc, behind the Iron Curtain. There are many film stars and political personalities who are household names in the West, of whom, even today, I remain ignorant. So you must forgive me that I do not know precisely who you are.”
“麦科马克小姐，很荣幸见到您。我知道您一定会觉得不可思议，然而是这样，我还年轻，而且是在冷战时期的东欧、在铁幕下长大的，很多西欧人家喻户晓的电影明星和政治人物，我至今还一无所知。所以请您原谅，我并不知道您是谁。”
“Once again I must apologise,” he said. “It was indeed an honour that someone like you should come to my recital. And may I ask your instrument?”
“我再次向您道歉，”蒂博尔说。“像您这样的人会来看我的演出真是我的荣幸。请问您演奏什么乐器？”
“Maybe the other instruments too. But I’m a cellist, so I listen to other cellists, and when I hear something going wrong… You know, the other day, I saw some young musicians playing in the lobby of the Museo Civico and people were just rushing past them, but I had to stop and listen. And you know, it was all I could do to stop myself going right up to them and telling them.”
“其他乐器可能也有。但我是一个大提琴手，所以我也听其他大提琴手的。当我听出毛病的时候……你瞧，有一次，我看见一群年轻人在科雷尔博物馆的大厅演奏，大家都从他们身边匆匆走过去，我却停下来听他们演奏。我极力控制住自己没有走到他们面前去跟他们说。”
“Excuse me, but is it just we cellists who are guilty of this misguided performance? Or do you refer to all musicians?”
“抱歉，是只有我们大提琴手犯有这个毛病，还是指所有的音乐家？”
“I don’t know what else to call it. I want all cellists to play well. To play beautifully. So often, they play in a misguided way.”
“我不知道还有别的什么叫法。我希望每个大提琴手都能拉好琴。拉出优美的琴。他们的演奏方法常常被误导了。”
She leaned back in her seat for the first time and gazed at some children, over by the central fountain, noisily soaking one another. Eventually, Tibor said:
那女的第一次靠到椅背上，看着在中央喷泉泼水嬉闹的孩子们。最后蒂博尔打破沉默，说道：
“They were making errors?”
“他们拉错了？”
“Not errors exactly. But… well, it just wasn’t there. It wasn’t nearly there. But there you go, I ask too much. I know I shouldn’t expect everyone to come up to the mark I set for myself. They were just music students, I guess.”
“不算是。但……咳，就是没有。就是少了。不过你瞧，我要求太高了。我知道我不应该要求每个人都达到我给自己定的水平。我想他们还只是音乐学院的学生。”
She smiled, but then the next moment her face became very serious. “I did,” she said. “I really did. Because when I heard you, I could hear the way I once was. Forgive me, this is going to sound so rude. But the truth is, you’re not quite on the correct path just now. And when I heard you, I so wanted to help you find it. Sooner rather than later.”
她微笑了一下，但马上变得非常严肃。“没错，”她说道。“我确实想。因为当我听你演奏的时候，我听见了以前的我。恕我直言，你现在的路子不对。当我听你演奏的时候，我很想帮你走上正轨。宜早不宜迟。”
“You felt this urge also on Tuesday perhaps. The urge to come up to me and make your suggestions.”
“星期二那天您大概也有这种冲动吧。想过来找我把您的意见说出来。”
“Petrovic, yes,” she said. “Petrovic, in his day, was a very respectable musician. And I know that to his students he must still appear a considerable figure. But to many of us now, his ideas, his whole approach…” She shook her head and spread out her hands. Then as Tibor, suddenly speechless with fury, continued to stare at her, she once again placed a hand on his arm. “I’ve said enough. I’ve no right. I’ll leave you in peace.”
“彼得罗维奇，是，”对方说道。“彼得罗维奇在他的鼎盛时期是一位非常令人尊敬的音乐家。我也知道在他的学生心里，他一定仍然是一位重要的人物。可是对我们很多人来说，如今他的想法，他那整套方法……”她摇摇头，两手一摊。一时间蒂博尔气得说不出话来，只是瞪着她。那女的又一次把一只手搭在他的胳膊上，说：“我说得够多了。我没有权利。我不再打扰你了。”
“I must point out, I have been tutored by Oleg Petrovic.” Tibor stated this flatly and waited for her response. To his surprise, he saw her trying to suppress a smile.
“我必须声明，我接受过奥列格·彼得罗维奇的指导。”蒂博尔平静地说道，等着对方的反应。他惊奇地看见那女的强忍着没笑出来。
This hotel, the grandest in our city, stands at the opposite end of the square from the cafe, and she now pointed it out to Tibor, smiled, and began to walk off towards it. He was still watching her when she turned suddenly near the central fountain, startling some pigeons, gave him a wave, then continued on her way.
这家全城最好的酒店坐落在广场的另一头，与咖啡店相对。那女的微笑着指给蒂博尔看，然后迈步朝酒店走去。蒂博尔一直看着她，快到中央喷泉时，那女的突然转过身来，惊起一群鸽子。她朝蒂博尔挥挥手才继续往前走。
Over the next two days he found himself thinking about the encounter many times. He saw again the smirk around her mouth as he’d so proudly announced Petrovic’s name and felt the anger rising afresh. But on reflection, he could see he had not really been angry on his old teacher’s behalf. It was rather that he had become accustomed to the idea that Petrovic’s name would always produce a certain impact, that it could be relied upon to induce attention and respect: in other words, he’d come to depend on it as a sort of certificate he could brandish around the world. What had so disturbed him was the possibility that this certificate didn’t carry nearly the weight he’d supposed.
接下来的两天，这次会面在蒂博尔的脑海里挥之不去。他又想起当他那么自豪地说出彼得罗维奇的名字时她嘴角的冷笑，心里的怒火又烧了起来。回想那时的情景，蒂博尔知道他并不是为他旧日的老师感到生气，而是他已经习惯认为彼得罗维奇这个名字一定会产生效果，他可以依靠彼得罗维奇这个名字得到关注和尊敬：换句话说，他把这个名字当作向世人炫耀的证书。让他感到如此不安的是这个证书也许并不像他原来想的那么有分量。
She rose to her feet and this action soothed his anger; Tibor had a generous temperament and it wasn’t in his nature to remain cross with people for long. Besides, what the woman had just said about his old teacher had struck an uncomfortable chord deep within him — thoughts he’d not quite dared to express to himself. So when he looked up at her, his face showed confusion more than anything else.
她站了起来，这个动作平息了蒂博尔的怒火；蒂博尔天生一副好脾气，从不会对别人耿耿于怀。再者，那女人刚才说的关于他旧日老师的那番话触到了他内心深处一根隐隐作痛的心弦——一些他一直不敢面对的想法。因此，当蒂博尔抬头看着那女人时，他脸上更多的是迷惑。
“Look,” she said, “you’re probably too angry with me just now to think about this. But I’d like to help you. If you do decide you want to talk this over, I’m staying over there. At the Excelsior.”
“瞧，”那女的说道，“我这么说你一定很生气。可我想帮你。要是你决定想谈一谈，我就住在那里。怡东酒店。”
He kept remembering too her parting invitation, and during those hours he sat in the square, he found his gaze returning to the far end, and the grand entrance of the Excelsior Hotel, where a steady stream of taxis and limousines drew up in front of the doorman.
他还念念不忘那女的临别时的邀请。当他坐在广场上时，他的视线不时游移到广场的另一端，怡东酒店的大门口，出租车和豪华轿车在门口不停地迎来送往。
Finally, on the third day after his conversation with Eloise McCormack, he crossed the piazza, entered the marbled lobby and asked the front desk to call her extension. The receptionist spoke into the phone, asked his name, then after a short exchange, passed the receiver to him.
终于，那次会面后的第三天，蒂博尔穿过广场，走进酒店的大理石大堂，请前台拨打那女人的分机号。前台拨通电话，问蒂博尔名字，说了几句以后就把话筒递给他。
“I’m so sorry,” he heard her voice say. “I forgot to ask you your name the other day and it took me a while to figure out who you were. But of course I haven’t forgotten you. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about you an awful lot. There’s so much I’d like to talk through with you. But you know, we have to do this right. Do you have your cello? No, of course you don’t. Why don’t you come back in an hour, exactly one hour, and this time bring your cello. I’ll be waiting here for you.”
“对不起，”蒂博尔听见那女人的声音说。“那天我忘了问你的名字，一下子没想起来你是谁。可我当然没有忘记你。其实我一直在想你。我有好多话想对你说。但是要知道，我们得把这事给做对了。你带着琴吗？没有，当然没有了。你一个小时以后再过来吧，一个小时整，到时把琴带上。我在这里等你。”
“Play for me. Play me something you played at your recital.”
“拉琴给我听。拉些你在独奏会上拉的曲子。”
When he returned to the Excelsior with his instrument, the receptionist immediately indicated the elevators and told him Miss McCormack was expecting him.
当蒂博尔带着乐器回到怡东酒店时，前台马上把电梯指给他看，告诉他麦科马克小姐在等他。
The idea of entering her room, even in the middle of the afternoon, had struck him as awkwardly intimate, and he was relieved to find a large suite, the bedroom closed off entirely from view. The tall French windows had boarded shutters, for the moment folded back, so the lace curtains moved in the breeze, and he could see that by stepping through onto the balcony, he’d find himself looking over the square. The room itself, with its rough stone walls and dark wood floor, had almost a monastic air about it, softened only partially by the flowers, cushions and antique furniture. She, in contrast, was dressed in T-shirt, tracksuit trousers and trainers, as though she’d just come in from running. She welcomed him with little ceremony — no offer of tea or coffee — and said to him:
想到在大下午进她的房间，蒂博尔觉得很不好意思，好在麦科马克小姐的房间是一间大套房，卧室锁着，看不见。高大的落地窗外装有两扇木质遮阳板，此时打开着，所以蕾丝窗帘随风摇摆。蒂博尔发现走到阳台上就可以俯视广场。房间里粗糙的石墙和深色的木地板，感觉非常朴素，只有花、垫子和古典式家具作为装饰。相反，女主人穿着T恤衫、田径裤和运动鞋，像刚跑步回来。她什么招待也没有——没有茶也没有咖啡——就说：
She had indicated a polished upright chair carefully placed in the centre of the room, so he sat down on it and unpacked his cello. Rather disconcertingly, she sat herself in front of one of the big windows so that he could see her almost exactly in profile, and she continued to stare into the space before her all the time he tuned up. Her posture didn’t alter as he began to play, and when he came to the end of his first piece, she didn’t say a word. So he moved quickly to another piece, and then another. A half-hour went by, then a whole hour. And something to do with the shaded room and its austere acoustics, the afternoon sunlight diffused by the drifting lace curtains, the background hubbub rising from the piazza, and above all, her presence, drew from him notes that held new depths, new suggestions. Towards the end of the hour, he was convinced he’d more than fulfilled her expectations, but when he had finished his last piece, and they had sat in silence for several moments, she at last turned in her chair towards him and said:
她指了指端正地摆放在屋子中央的一把光亮的直椅，蒂博尔坐下来，拿出琴。那女的则在一扇大窗户前坐下，整个人侧对着蒂博尔，让人感觉不太自在。蒂博尔调音的时候，那女的一直都看着窗外。他开始弹了，那女的姿势也没有改变。第一支曲子弹完了，女人不发一言，于是他紧接着演奏下一首，然后又是一首。半个小时过去了，然后一个小时过去了。昏暗的房间、简陋的音效、飘动的蕾丝窗帘掩映下的午后阳光、远远传来的广场上的嘈杂声，但最主要的是那个女人的存在，使他的音符有了新的深度和含义。快一小时的时候，蒂博尔深信他的表现超出了对方的预期。然而当他演奏完最后一曲时，两个人默默地坐了好一会儿，那女的才终于转向他，说道：
“Yes, I understand exactly where you are. It won’t be easy, but you can do it. Definitely, you can do it. Let’s start with the Britten. Play it again, just the first movement, and then we’ll talk. We can work through this together, a little at a time.”
“是，我知道你现在是什么样一个情况了。这事儿不容易，可是你做得到。你一定做得到。我们从布里顿[1]开始吧。那一曲再弹一遍，第一乐章就好，然后我们聊聊。我们一起努力，每次进步一点。”【注：[1] 本杰明·布里顿（1913—1976），英国著名作曲家。】
When he heard this, he felt an impulse just to pack away his instrument and leave. But then some other instinct — perhaps it was simply curiosity, perhaps something deeper — overcame his pride and compelled him to start playing again the piece she had requested. When after several bars she stopped him and began to talk, he again felt the urge to leave. He resolved, just out of politeness, to endure this uninvited tutorial for at most another five minutes. But he found himself staying a little longer, then longer again. He played some more, she talked again. Her words would always strike him initially as pretentious and far too abstract, but when he tried to accommodate their thrust into his playing, he was surprised by the effect. Before he realised, another hour had gone by.
听了她的话，蒂博尔真想马上收拾东西走人。可是另一种本能——也许仅仅是好奇，也许是其他更深层次的东西——压过了他的自尊心，迫使他开始重新演奏那女的叫他弹的曲子。他刚拉了几小节，那女的就叫他停下来，开始讲。蒂博尔再次想起身走人。出于礼貌，他决定对这不请自来的指导最多再忍五分钟。可是他发现自己没有离开，多待了一会儿，然后又多待了一会儿。他又拉了几小节，那女的又接着说。她的话一开始总是让人觉得狂妄又很抽象，但当他试着把她的意思表现在音乐里的时候，他发现效果惊人。就这样，不知不觉又一个小时过去了。
“I could suddenly see something,” he explained to us. “A garden I’d not yet entered. There it was, in the distance. There were things in the way. But for the first time, there it was. A garden I’d never seen before.”
“我突然间看见了什么东西，”蒂博尔这么跟我们说。“一座我没进去过的花园。就在那里，在远处。有东西挡着我的去路。可第一次有这么一个花园。一个我从来没见过的花园。”
The sun had almost set when he finally left the hotel, crossed the piazza to the cafe tables, and allowed himself the luxury of an almond cake with whipped cream, his sense of elation barely contained.
当他终于离开酒店，穿过广场来到咖啡厅的时候，太阳已经快落山了。他犒赏了自己一份掼奶油杏仁蛋糕，喜悦之情一览无余。
For the next several days, he returned to her hotel each afternoon and always came away, if not with the same sense of revelation he’d experienced on that first visit, then at least filled with fresh energy and hope. Her comments grew bolder, and to an outsider, had there been one, might have seemed presumptuous, but Tibor was no longer capable of regarding her interventions in such terms. His fear now was that her visit to the city would come to an end, and this thought began to haunt him, disturbing his sleep, and casting a shadow as he walked out into the square after another exhilarating session. But whenever he tentatively raised this question with her, the replies were always vague and far from reassuring. “Oh, just until it gets too chilly for me,” she had said once. Or another time: “I guess I’ll stay as long as I’m not bored here.”
接下来的几天，蒂博尔每天下午都到酒店去，回来的时候，虽不像第一次那样有茅塞顿开之感，但至少是精神焕发、信心满满。麦科马克小姐的评论越来越大胆，旁观者（若有这么个旁观者的话）也许会觉得她的话太过分了，可是现在当她打断他的演奏时，蒂博尔再也不会这样想了。如今他害怕的是麦科马克小姐什么时候会离开这个城市。这个问题开始在他心里萦绕，让他睡不好觉，在每一次愉快的交流过后，当他走出酒店、走进广场时，在他心头投下一层阴影。可是每次蒂博尔试探地问她的时候，她的回答总是含含糊糊，不能让蒂博尔安心。“哦，等天凉到我受不了的时候，”一次她这么说道。还有一次：“我想我会一直待到我觉得烦为止。”
“But what’s she like herself?” we kept asking him. “On the cello. What’s she like?”
“可她自己呢？”我们一直问他。“她的琴拉得怎么样？”
The fact was, even at that first session, Tibor had been curious to hear her play, but had been too intimidated to ask her to do so. He’d felt only a tiny nudge of suspicion when, looking around her room, he’d seen no sign of her own cello. After all, it was perfectly natural she wouldn’t bring a cello on holiday with her. And then again, it was possible there was an instrument — perhaps a rented one — in the bedroom behind the closed door.
事实是，从第一次指导开始，蒂博尔就想听麦科马克小姐演奏，可是不好意思开口。他看了看麦科马克小姐的房间，没有大提琴的影子，心里有些生疑。可毕竟度假时没把琴带着是很正常的。而且，也有可能确有一把琴——可能是租来的——在关着的卧室的门后。
The first time we raised this question, Tibor didn’t answer us properly, just saying something like: “She told me she was a virtuoso, right from the start,” then changing the subject. But when he realised we wouldn’t let it go, he sighed and began to explain it to us.
我们第一次问他这个问题的时候，蒂博尔并没有好好地回答我们，只是说“她一开始就跟我说她是一个大师”之类的话，然后就把话题转到别的地方去了。可我们揪着问题不放，他只好叹了口气，跟我们解释。
But as he’d continued to return to the suite for further sessions, the suspicions had grown. He’d done his best to push them out of his mind, for by this time, he’d lost any lingering reservations about their meetings. The mere fact that she was listening to him seemed to draw fresh layers from his imagination, and in the hours between these afternoon sessions, he’d often find himself preparing a piece in his mind, anticipating her comments, her shakes of the head, her frown, the affirming nod, and most gratifying of all, those instances she became transported by a passage he was playing, when her eyes would close and her hands, almost against her will, began shadowing the movements he was making. All the same, the suspicions wouldn’t go away, and then one day he came to the room and the bedroom door had been left ajar. He could see more stone walls, what looked to be a medieval four-poster bed, but no trace of a cello. Would a virtuoso, even on holiday, go so long without touching her instrument? But this question, too, he pushed out of his mind.
然而随着他一次次来到这里练琴，这种疑问越来越强烈。蒂博尔努力不去想这些，因为他原本对他们的会面还有所保留，现在统统没有了。麦科马克小姐只听不拉，似乎给了蒂博尔想象的空间。在不去麦科马克小姐那里的时间里，蒂博尔发觉自己常常在脑子里准备着曲子，想象着她会怎么评论，想象着她摇头、皱眉，或者肯定地点点头。可最让人开心的还数看到她陶醉在自己的音乐里，闭着眼睛，手跟着他假装拉起来。然而，他心里的疑问一直挥之不去。一天，他走进麦科马克小姐的套房，卧室的门半掩着。他看见房间里的石墙、一张中世纪风格的四柱床，可没有大提琴的影子。一个大师就算是在度假，也这么久不碰她的乐器吗？可蒂博尔同样把这个问题赶出了脑海。
As the summer went on, they began to prolong their conversations by coming over to the cafe together after their sessions, and she’d buy him coffees, cakes, sometimes a sandwich. Now their talk was no longer just about music — though everything always seemed to come back to it. For instance, she might question him about the German girl he’d been close to in Vienna.
夏日一天天过去，渐渐地，他们练习完了以后还要到咖啡厅里来继续交谈。麦科马克小姐给他买咖啡，买蛋糕，或者三明治。如今他们不仅仅谈论音乐——虽然每每都会回到音乐上来。比如，麦科马克小姐会问蒂博尔与他在维也纳相好的德国女孩的事。
“You mean you never became physically intimate? That doesn’t mean you weren’t in love with her.”
“你的意思是你们从来没有亲密的肢体接触？这并不代表你不爱她。”
“But when you played me the Rachmaninov yesterday, you were remembering an emotion. It was love, romantic love.”
“可是昨天你拉拉赫玛尼诺夫的时候，你想起了一段感情。是爱，罗曼蒂克的爱。”
“But you must understand, she was never my girlfriend,” he would tell her. “We were never like that.”
“可您要知道，她不是我的女朋友，”蒂博尔说。“我们从没正式交往。”
“No, Miss Eloise, that is incorrect. I was fond of her, certainly. But we were not in love.”
“不，麦科马克小姐，不是的。我当然喜欢她。可是我们没有相恋。”
“No, that is absurd. She was a good friend, but we did not love.”
“不，太荒谬了。我们是好朋友，但不是恋人。”
“But you play that passage like it’s the memory of love. You’re so young, and yet you know desertion, abandonment. That’s why you play that third movement the way you do. Most cellists, they play it with joy. But for you, it’s not about joy, it’s about the memory of a joyful time that’s gone for ever.”
“但是你拉那一段的时候就像在回忆一段恋情。你还这么年轻就已经知道抛弃、离别。所以你会那样演奏第三乐章。大多数大提琴手演奏那一段时都是喜悦的。但是在你看来，那不是喜悦，而是追忆一去不复返的快乐时光。”
She would laugh much more easily now than in the first days of their friendship, and she developed the habit, when they stepped out of the Excelsior and crossed the piazza, of linking her arm through his. This was the point at which we first started noticing them, a curious couple, he looking so much younger than he actually was, she looking in some ways motherly, in other ways “like a flirty actress,” as Ernesto put it. In the days before we got to talking with Tibor, we used to waste a lot of idle chat on them, the way men in a band do. If they strolled past us, arm in arm, we’d look at each other and say: “What do you think? They’ve been at it, yes?” But having enjoyed the speculation, we’d then shrug and admit it was unlikely: they just didn’t have the atmosphere of lovers. And once we came to know Tibor, and he began telling us about those afternoons in her suite, none of us thought to tease him or make any funny suggestions.
如今麦科马克小姐的笑容比他们刚认识的时候自然得多。她还养成了走出酒店时挽着蒂博尔的手走过广场的习惯。我们就是这样开始注意他们的，奇怪的一对，男的长相比实际年龄年轻许多，女的有时像个母亲，有时又像个“风骚的女演员”（欧内斯托语）。认识蒂博尔之前，我们总爱拿他们俩来嚼舌根。看见他们手挽着手从我们面前信步走过，我们交换一下眼神，说道：“你们觉得呢？他们好上了吧？”可是乐完了以后，我们还是耸耸肩，承认不像：他们没有恋人的感觉。认识蒂博尔以后，听了他给我们讲他每天下午在她套房里的事，我们就不再消遣他，或者拿他开玩笑了。
They had conversations like this, and he was often tempted to question her in return. But just as he’d never dared ask Petrovic a personal question in the whole time he’d studied under him, he now felt unable to ask anything of substance about her. Instead, he dwelt on the little things she let fall — how she now lived in Portland, Oregon, how she’d moved there from Boston three years ago, how she disliked Paris “because of its sad associations” — but drew back from asking her to expand.
他们的交谈就像这样子。蒂博尔也很想回问她的事。可是就像他跟着彼得罗维奇学习的时候，他不敢问老师一个私人问题一样，如今他也没有勇气问她的私事。蒂博尔只是问些她无意中提到的小事——她现在怎么会住在俄勒冈州的波特兰，三年前她怎么从波士顿搬到那里，为什么她“因为有不好的回忆”而讨厌巴黎——但从不深究。
Then one afternoon when they were sitting in the square with coffee and cakes, she began to talk about a man who wanted to marry her. His name was Peter Henderson and he ran a successful business in Oregon selling golfing equipment. He was smart, kind, well respected in the community. He was six years older than Eloise, but that was hardly old. There were two young children from his first marriage, but things had been settled amicably.
一天下午，他们坐在广场上喝着咖啡、吃着蛋糕，她讲起了一个想跟她结婚的男子。那人名叫彼得·亨德森，在俄勒冈州做高尔夫器材生意，做得很成功。他聪明、亲切，受到邻里的爱戴。他比埃洛伊丝大六岁，但这点年龄差不算大。他跟前妻生有两个孩子，但事情已经妥善解决了。
“So,” said Tibor. “You are spending the summer contemplating your future.”
“这么说，”蒂博尔说道。“这个夏天你在考虑你的未来。”
“You do not love this Peter?”
“您不喜欢他？”
“So now you know what I’m doing here,” she said with a nervous laugh he’d never heard from her before. “I’m hiding out. Peter has no idea where I am. I guess it’s cruel of me. I called him last Tuesday, told him I was in Italy, but I didn’t say which city. He was mad at me and I guess he’s entitled to be.”
“现在你知道我在这里干什么了吧，”她说道，不安地笑了笑，蒂博尔还没见过她这样子笑。“我在躲他。彼得不知道我在哪里。我想我很残忍。上周二我给他打了电话，告诉他我在意大利，但没说在哪个城市。他很生我的气，我想他有权生气。”
“This Peter. He is a music lover?”
“这个彼得。他喜欢音乐吗？”
“Not really. I’m just hiding.”
“不算是。我只是在躲着他。”
She shrugged. “He’s a nice man. And I don’t have a lot of other offers on the table.”
她耸耸肩。“他是个好人。再说，我也没其他什么人可选。”
“Oh… Where I live now, he would certainly count as one. After all, he goes to concerts. And afterwards, in the restaurant, he says a lot of nice things about what we just heard. So I guess he’s a music lover.”
“哦……在我现在住的地方，他当然算是喜欢音乐的。至少他去听音乐会。然后到餐厅吃饭的时候，他会就刚刚听的东西大加赞美。所以我想他是喜欢音乐的。”
She didn’t bring Peter up again, but now, after that exchange, a new dimension had opened in their relationship. When she had those quiet moments of thought after he’d finished playing, or when, sitting together in the piazza, she became distant, staring off past the neighbouring parasols, there was nothing uncomfortable about it, and far from feeling ignored, he knew his presence there beside her was appreciated.
她没有再提起彼得。可是从那以后，他们的关系又加深了一些。当他演奏完、她陷入沉思的时候，当他们一起坐在广场上，她看着旁边的阳伞默不做声的时候，蒂博尔一点儿也不会觉得不自在。他知道麦科马克小姐不是不理睬他，反而是感谢有他在。
“He knows it won’t always be easy, living with a virtuoso.” She gave a sigh. “That’s been the problem for me all my life. It won’t be easy for you either. But you and me, we don’t really have a choice. We have our paths to follow.”
“他知道跟一个音乐大师一起生活不容易。”她叹了口气。“我一辈子都有这个问题。你也一样。可是你和我，我们别无选择。我们有我们的路要走。”
One afternoon when he’d finished playing a piece, she asked him to play again one short passage — just eight bars — from near the close. He did as asked and saw the little furrow remain on her forehead.
一天下午，蒂博尔拉完一曲后，麦科马克小姐叫他把接近尾声的一个八小节再拉一遍。他照做了，然后看见麦科马克小姐仍旧微微地皱着眉。
“But he… appreciates you?”
“可是他……欣赏您吗？”
“That doesn’t sound like us,” she said, shaking her head. As usual, she was sitting in profile to him in front of the big windows. “The rest of what you played was good. All the rest of it, that was us. But that passage there…” She did a little shudder.
“拉的不是我们，”她摇摇头，说。麦科马克小姐和平常一样坐在落地窗前侧对着蒂博尔。“其他部分都很好。剩下的全部都是我们。可是这一小段……”她轻轻地哆嗦了一下。
He played it again, differently, though not at all sure what he was aiming for, and wasn’t surprised to see her shake her head again.
他用不同的方法又演奏了一遍，但其实并不清楚他到底应该怎么拉，所以看见麦科马克小姐再次摇头他不奇怪。
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You must express yourself more clearly. I do not understand this ‘not us.'”
“请原谅，”蒂博尔说道。“请您说得明白一点。我不明白您说的‘不是我们’是什么意思。”
“You mean you want me to play it myself? Is that what you’re saying?”
“你是要我示范给你看吗？你是这意思吗？”
She’d spoken calmly, but as she now turned to face him, he was aware of a tension descending on them. She was looking at him steadily, almost challengingly, waiting for his answer.
她的语气平静，转过脸来看着蒂博尔，蒂博尔感到气氛紧张。她目不转睛地看着他，近乎挑战，等着他回答。
Eventually he said: “No, I’ll try again.”
最后，蒂博尔说道：“不是，我再试一次。”
“No…” He shook his head with what he hoped looked like nonchalance. “No. I think it works well, what we’ve always done. You suggest verbally, then I play. That way, it’s not like I copy, copy, copy. Your words open windows for me. If you played yourself, the windows would not open. I’d only copy.”
“没有……”蒂博尔摇摇头，努力装作若无其事的样子。“没有。我觉得现在这样很好。您口述，我拉琴。这样我才不是在模仿、模仿、模仿。您的话给我打开了一扇扇窗子。要是您来拉，窗子就不会打开。我就只是在模仿。”
“But you’re wondering why I don’t just play it myself, aren’t you? Borrow your instrument and demonstrate what I mean.”
“可你在想我为什么不示范给你看，对不对？为什么不借你的琴来说明我的意思。”
She considered this, then said: “You’re probably right. Okay, I’ll try and express myself a little better.”
麦科马克小姐想了想，说：“也许你说得对。好吧，我尽量解释得明白一点。”
And for the next few minutes she talked — about the distinction between epilogues and bridging passages. Then when he played those bars once more, she smiled and nodded approvingly.
接下来的几分钟，麦科马克小姐跟他解释乐曲的尾声与桥段的差别。然后蒂博尔把那一小段又拉了一遍，麦科马克小姐笑了笑，赞许地点点头。
“It’s a good instrument. It has a fine voice. But since I’ve never so much as touched it, I can’t really judge it.”
“这是把好琴。声音不错。可我碰都没碰过，说不准。”
He knew then she was again moving towards that territory, and he quickly looked away, saying:
蒂博尔知道她又在试图闯入那个领域，马上把目光转向别处，说道：
He found he could no longer relax during a conversation with her for fear she would hijack it and bring it back onto this territory. Even during their most enjoyable exchanges, a part of his mind would have to remain on guard, ready to shut her off if she found yet another opening. Even so, he couldn’t divert her every time, and he’d simply pretend not to hear when she said things like: “Oh, it would be so much easier if I could just play it for you!”
蒂博尔发现他再也不能无忧无虑地与麦科马克小姐交谈了。他害怕麦科马克小姐重新提起这件事，又回到那里。即便是在他们交谈甚欢的时候，蒂博尔大脑的一部分也在提防着，她一想从别的突破口转到那里去，蒂博尔马上把门关上。即便如此，蒂博尔也不是每一次都能把话题转开，于是当她说：“哦，要是我能示范给你看就容易多了！”之类的话时，他只能装作没听见。
“For someone of your stature, it would not be an adequate instrument. Even for me, now, it is barely adequate.”
“它不适合像您这种地位的人。就算是我，现在也感觉不太够用了。”
But from that little exchange on, something shadowy had entered their afternoons. Perhaps it had been there all along, but now it was out of the bottle and hovered between them. Another time, when they were sitting in the piazza, he’d been telling her the story of how the previous owner of his cello had come by it in the Soviet Union days by bartering several pairs of American jeans. When he’d finished the story, she looked at him with a curious half-smile and said:
然而这个小插曲以后，他们的下午时光就蒙上了一层阴影。也许阴影一直都在，只不过现在不小心从瓶子里跑出来，萦绕着他们。又有一次，他们坐在广场上，蒂博尔说起他的大提琴的前一任主人怎么在苏联时代用几条美国牛仔裤换得这把琴。故事讲完以后，麦科马克小姐似笑非笑地看着他，说：
Towards the end of september — there was now a chill in the breeze — Giancarlo received a phone call from Mr. Kaufmann in Amsterdam; there was a vacancy for a cellist in a small chamber group at a five-star hotel in the centre of the city. The group played in a minstrels’ gallery overlooking the dining room four evenings a week, and the musicians also had other “light, non-musical duties” elsewhere in the hotel. Board and accommodation terms were available. Mr. Kaufmann had immediately remembered Tibor and the post was being held open for him. We gave Tibor the news straight away — in the cafe the very evening of Mr. Kaufmann’s call — and I think we were all taken aback by the coolness of Tibor’s response. It was certainly a contrast to his attitude earlier in the summer, when we’d fixed up his “audition” with Mr. Kaufmann. Giancarlo, in particular, became very angry.
九月下旬——风渐渐转凉——詹卡洛接到考夫曼先生从阿姆斯特丹打来的电话：在市中心的一家五星级饭店里一支小型室内乐队需要一个大提琴手。乐队在一个俯瞰餐厅的音乐席上演奏，一周演出四次。除了演出，乐手们在酒店里还有其他“与音乐无关的、轻松的工作”，包食宿。考夫曼先生马上想到蒂博尔，把空缺给他留着。我们立即把这个消息告诉蒂博尔——就在考夫曼先生打来电话的当晚，在咖啡厅里——我想大家都被蒂博尔的冷淡反应吓了一跳。与之前我们安排考夫曼先生对他进行“试听”时判若两人。尤其是詹卡洛非常生气。
“So what is it you have to think over so carefully?” he demanded of the boy. “What were you expecting? Carnegie Hall?”
“你还有什么好考虑的？”他质问蒂博尔。“你想要什么样儿的？卡内基音乐厅？”
“I’m not ungrateful. Nevertheless, I must give this matter some thought. To play for people while they chat and eat. And these other hotel duties. Is this really suitable for someone like me?”
“我不是不领情。可我总得考虑一下。给在吃饭聊天的人演奏，还有酒店的其他工作，是不是真的适合我？”
Giancarlo was hardly satisfied by this — he’d expected fawning gratitude, after all — but he went off all the same to call back Mr. Kaufmann. During the whole of this discussion that evening, Eloise McCormack had not been mentioned, but it was clear to us all her influence was behind everything Tibor had been saying.
詹卡洛对这个结果一点儿都不满意——他原本期望蒂博尔会对他感恩戴德——可他还是去给考夫曼先生打了电话。整个晚上，没有人提起埃洛伊丝·麦科马克，然而大家都清楚蒂博尔会说那些话都是因为她。
“I’ll give this matter careful thought,” he said in the end. “Perhaps you will kindly tell Mr. Kaufmann I will give him my decision within three days.”
“我会好好考虑的，”最后他说道。“麻烦你转告考夫曼先生，我会在三天之内给他答复。”
Giancarlo always lost his temper too quickly, and now the rest of us had to stop him from grabbing Tibor by his jacket and shouting into his face. Some of us even felt obliged to take the boy’s side, pointing out it was his life, after all, and that he was under no obligation to take any job he was uncomfortable with. Things eventually calmed down, and Tibor then began to agree the job had some good points if viewed as a temporary measure. And our city, he pointed out rather insensitively, would become a backwater once the tourist season was over. Amsterdam at least was a cultural centre.
詹卡洛是个容易冲动的人，我们大家赶紧拦住他，不让他抓住蒂博尔的衣服，冲他大嚷。我们当中的一些人帮蒂博尔说话，说毕竟这是他自己的事，他没有义务接受他觉得不合适的工作。事情终于平静下来，这时蒂博尔也说这份工作若作为一份临时工作，也是有诸多优点的。他冷冷地指出，这座城市过了旅游旺季就是一潭死水，阿姆斯特丹好歹是个文化中心。
Tibor had never told Eloise about his audition with Mr. Kaufmann. He’d been on the verge of doing so many times, but had always drawn back, and the deeper their friendship had grown, the more it seemed a betrayal that he’d ever agreed to such a thing. So naturally Tibor felt no inclination to consult Eloise about these latest developments, or even allow her any inkling of them. But he’d never been good at concealment, and this decision to keep a secret from her had unexpected results.
蒂博尔从未跟埃洛伊丝提起考夫曼先生的试听。他好几次想把事情说出来，却总是开不了口。他们的友谊越深，蒂博尔就越觉得若他接受了这份工作就像是背叛了埃洛伊丝。因此蒂博尔自然不会把事情的最新进展与埃洛伊丝商量，甚至都没有让她知道。可是蒂博尔从来就不善于隐藏秘密，他决定不让埃洛伊丝知道这件事，却发生了意想不到的事。
“That woman’s turned him into an arrogant little shit,” Ernesto said after Tibor had left. “Let him take that attitude with him to Amsterdam. He’ll soon get a few corners knocked off him.”
“那个女人把他变成了一个不知天高地厚的小笨蛋，”蒂博尔离开以后欧内斯托说。“让他就这副德性去阿姆斯特丹吧。很快他就会尝到苦头了。”
It was unusually warm that afternoon. He’d come to the hotel as usual, and begun to play for her some new pieces he’d been preparing. But after barely three minutes, she made him stop, saying:
那天下午异常暖和。蒂博尔像往常一样来到酒店，开始把他准备的新曲子演奏给埃洛伊丝听。但是刚拉了三分钟，埃洛伊丝就叫他停下，说道：
“There’s something wrong. I thought it when you first came in. I know you so well now, Tibor, I could tell, almost from the way you knocked on the door. Now I’ve heard you play, I know for certain. It’s useless, you can’t hide it from me.”
“你有心事，你一进来我就看出来了。我现在很了解你了，蒂博尔，我几乎从你敲门的声音就能听出来。听你拉琴以后，我更肯定了。没用的，你瞒不过我。”
“Really?” He looked at her in astonishment.
“真的？”蒂博尔惊讶地看着她。
“This is something we can’t keep running away from. You always try to avoid it, but it’s no use. I want to discuss it. The whole of this past week, I’ve been wanting to discuss it.”
“这件事我们逃避不了。你一直在回避这个问题，没用的。我想谈一谈。这一个星期以来，我一直想谈一谈。”
He was in some dismay, and lowering his bow, was about to make a clean breast of everything, when she put up her hand and said:
蒂博尔沮丧地放下琴弓，正准备和盘托出时，埃洛伊丝举起一只手，说道：
“Yes,” she said, and moved her chair so that for the first time she was directly facing him. “I never intended to deceive you, Tibor. These last few weeks, they haven’t been the easiest for me, and you’ve been such a dear friend. I’d so hate it if you thought I ever meant to play some cheap trick on you. No, please, don’t try and stop me this time. I want to say this. If you gave me that cello right now and asked me to play, I’d have to say no, I can’t do it. Not because the instrument isn’t good enough, nothing like that. But if you’re now thinking I’m a fake, that I’ve somehow pretended to be something I’m not, then I want to tell you you’re mistaken. Look at everything we’ve achieved together. Isn’t that proof enough I’m no fake anything? Yes, I told you I was a virtuoso. Well, let me explain what I meant by that. What I meant was that I was born with a very special gift, just as you were. You and me, we have something most other cellists will never have, no matter how hard they practise. I was able to recognise it in you, the moment I first heard you in that church. And in some way, you must have recognised it in me too. That’s why you decided to come to this hotel that first time.”
“对，”她说道，并且把椅子转过来，第一次正对着蒂博尔。“我从没有要骗你，蒂博尔。过去这几周，我很不好受，你是这么好的一个朋友。若你觉得我是个无耻的骗子，我会非常非常难过的。不，求你，别再拦着我了。我要说出来。如果现在你把琴给我，叫我拉，我只能说不行，我拉不了。不是因为那把琴不好，不是的。要是你现在觉得我是一个骗子、我是一个冒牌货，那我要告诉你，你错了。看看我们一起取得的成绩。难道还不足以证明我是货真价实的？没错，我跟你说我是一个大师。好吧，我来解释一下我这么说的意思。我天生拥有非常特殊的天赋，像你一样。你和我，我们拥有其他大多数大提琴手没有的东西，这种东西不管他们怎么努力练习，都没法得到。我在教堂里第一次听你演出时，就在你身上看见了这种东西。而你一定也从哪里看出我身上的这种东西，所以你当初才会决定到酒店来找我。”
“So you believe yourself to be a special cellist,” he said after a moment. “A virtuoso. The rest of us, Miss Eloise, we have to take our courage in our hands and we unwrap ourselves, as you put it, all the time unsure what we will find underneath. Yet you, you do not care for this unwrapping. You do nothing. But you are so sure you are this virtuoso…”
“这么说您相信自己将来会成为一名特别的大提琴演奏家，”片刻的沉默之后蒂博尔说道。“一位大师。我们其他人，埃洛伊丝小姐，按您的话说，我们得鼓起勇气挖掘自己，却始终不确定能挖到什么。而您，您不在乎什么挖掘。您什么都不做。但您很肯定自己是个大师……”
“There aren’t many like us, Tibor, and we recognise each other. The fact that I’ve not yet learned to play the cello doesn’t really change anything. You have to understand, I am a virtuoso. But I’m one who’s yet to be unwrapped. You too, you’re still not entirely unwrapped, and that’s what I’ve been doing these past few weeks. I’ve been trying to help you shed those layers. But I never tried to deceive you. Ninety-nine per cent of cellists, there’s nothing there under those layers, there’s nothing to unwrap. So people like us, we have to help each other. When we see each other in a crowded square, wherever, we have to reach out for one another, because there are so few of us.”
“像我们这种人不多，蒂博尔，而我们认识了彼此。就算我还没学会拉琴，又有什么关系。你得明白，我确实是一个大师。只是我的才能还没得到挖掘。你也一样，你的才能还没有被完全挖掘出来。这就是我这几周以来一直在做的事情，帮你剥去外面的表层。但是我从没有要骗你。百分之九十九的大提琴手表层下面没东西了，没有才能可挖。所以我们这类人应该互相帮助。当我们在一个拥挤的广场，还是别的什么地方发现对方时，应该主动伸出援手，因为像我们这样的人太少了。”
He noticed that tears had appeared in her eyes, but her voice had remained steady. She now fell silent and turned away from him again.
蒂博尔发现她的眼睛里噙着泪水，但声音却始终平稳。如今她不说话了，再次把脸转开。
“Forgive me,” Tibor interrupted, now more gently. “You say you played the cello as a child. But today…”
“请原谅，”蒂博尔打断埃洛伊丝，但语气没有刚才那么冲了。“你是说你小时候拉过琴。可现在……”
“I haven’t touched the instrument since I was eleven. Not since the day I explained to Mom I couldn’t continue with Mr. Roth. And she understood. She agreed it was much better to do nothing and wait. The crucial thing was not to damage my gift. My day may still come though. Okay, sometimes I think I’ve left it too late. I’m forty-one years old now. But at least I haven’t damaged what I was born with. I’ve met so many teachers over the years who’ve said they’d help me, but I saw through them. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell, Tibor, even for us. These teachers, they’re so… professional, they talk so well, you listen and at first you’re fooled. You think, yes, at last, someone to help me, he’s one of us. Then you realise he’s nothing of the kind. And that’s when you have to be tough and shut yourself off. Remember that, Tibor, it’s always better to wait. Sometimes I feel bad about it, that I still haven’t unveiled my gift. But I haven’t damaged it, and that’s what counts.”
“我从十一岁以后就再也没碰过琴了，从我向我母亲解释我不能再跟罗斯先生学琴的那天起。她理解。她同意最好等等，先什么都别做。最重要的是不要破坏我的天赋。总有一天我的时机会到。好吧，有时候我也觉得拖得太久了。我今年四十一了。可至少我没有破坏我与生俱来的那些东西。这些年来我遇到了多少自称能帮助我的老师，可是我把他们看透了。就算是我们，有时候也很难辨别出来，蒂博尔。这些人，他们太……太专业了，他们讲得头头是道，你听着，然后就被骗了，以为，啊，终于有人能帮我了，他跟我们是一类。可后来你就知道他根本不是。这个时候你就得坚决地把自己关起来。记住，蒂博尔，宁可再等一等。有时候我也感到痛苦，我的才华还没被挖掘出来。可我也还没把它给毁了，这才是最重要的。”
“Please don’t be angry. I know it sounds a little crazy. But that’s how it is, it’s the truth. My mother, she recognised my gift straight away, when I was tiny. I’m grateful to her for that at least. But the teachers she found for me, when I was four, when I was seven, when I was eleven, they were no good. Mom didn’t know that, but I did. Even as a small girl, I had this instinct. I knew I had to protect my gift against people who, however well-intentioned they were, could completely destroy it. So I shut them out. You’ve got to do the same, Tibor. Your gift is precious.”
“请别生气。我知道我说的像疯话。可我说的是真的，事实就是如此。我母亲在我很小的时候就发现了我的天赋。我至少很感激她这一点。可是她给我找的那些老师，我四岁的那个，七岁的，十一岁的，统统不好。妈妈不知道，可我知道。虽然我还只是个孩子，可是我有这种直觉。我知道我得保护我的天赋，不让别人给毁了，不管这些人多么好心。于是我把这些人统统赶走了。你也一样，蒂博尔。你的天赋很宝贵。”
“It’ll do you good,” she said quietly. “But don’t stay away too long. We still have a lot to do.”
“放个假好，”麦科马克小姐平静地说。“可别去太久。我们还有很多事要做。”
He eventually played for her a couple of the pieces he’d prepared, but they couldn’t retrieve their usual mood and they ended the session early. Down in the piazza, they drank their coffee, speaking little, until he told her of his plans to leave the city for a few days. He’d always wanted to explore the surrounding countryside, he said, so now he’d arranged a short holiday for himself.
蒂博尔终于把他准备的曲子拉了两首给麦科马克小姐听，但是两个人心情都不好，就早早结束了练习。他们来到广场上喝咖啡，很少说话，直到蒂博尔告诉麦科马克小姐他打算离开这里几天。他说他一直想到附近的乡村去走一走，所以给自己安排了一个短假。
He’d not been entirely truthful about his going away: he hadn’t yet made any arrangements. But after leaving Eloise that afternoon, he went home and made several phone calls, eventually reserving a bed at a youth hostel in the mountains near the Umbrian border. He came to see us at the cafe that night, and as well as telling us about his trip — we gave him all kinds of conflicting advice about where to go and what to see — he rather sheepishly asked Giancarlo to let Mr. Kaufmann know he’d like to take up the job offer.
蒂博尔说他要离开不全是实话：他还什么都没准备。但是那天下午与埃洛伊丝道别以后，他回到家里，打了几通电话，最后在翁布里亚附近山区的一家青年旅馆订了一张床位。那天晚上他来咖啡厅里看我们，同时告诉我们他准备去旅行——我们七嘴八舌地告诉他应该去哪里、应该看些什么——他还怯怯地请詹卡洛告诉考夫曼先生说他愿意接受那份工作。
He reassured her he’d be back within a week at the most. Nevertheless, there was still something uneasy in her manner as they parted.
蒂博尔保证说他顶多一个星期就回来。可当他们分手的时候，麦科马克小姐的样子还是有些不安。
Tibor had a pleasant enough break in our countryside. He didn’t tell us much about it, other than that he’d made friends with some German hikers, and that he’d spent more than he could afford in the hillside trattorias. He came back after a week, looking visibly refreshed, but anxious to establish that Eloise McCormack had not left the city during his absence.
蒂博尔在附近的乡村度过了一个不错的假期。他没有告诉我们多少旅行见闻，只说和几个徒步旅行的德国游客交了朋友，在山坡上的小饭馆多花了些钱。他去了一个星期，回来以后明显精神了许多，但也急于想知道埃洛伊丝·麦科马克是不是还在这里。
The tourist crowds were beginning to thin by then, and the cafe waiters were bringing out terrace heaters to place among the outdoor tables. On the afternoon of his return, at their usual time, Tibor took his cello to the Excelsior again, and was pleased to discover not only that Eloise was there waiting for him, but that she’d obviously missed him. She welcomed him with emotion, and just as someone else, in a surfeit of affection, might have plied him with food or drink, she pushed him into his usual chair and began impatiently unpacking the cello, saying: “Play for me! Come on! Just play!”
那时游客已经逐渐变少，店里的服务生也把室外暖气搬了出来、放在餐桌旁。蒂博尔回来的那天下午就拿着琴，在跟平时一样的时间，来到怡东酒店。他高兴地发现埃洛伊丝不仅在等他，而且看得出来还在想念他。埃洛伊丝热情地欢迎他，就好像一般人激动的时候会拿一大堆吃的或者喝的招待客人一样，埃洛伊丝一把把蒂博尔推到他平时坐的那把椅子上，迫不及待地打开琴盒，说：“拉琴给我听！快点！快拉吧！”
“What else can I do?” he said to us. “By the time I get back, I’ll have no money left at all.”
“不然我能怎么办？”他说。“等我回来就分文不剩了。”
They had a wonderful afternoon together. He’d worried beforehand how things would be, after her “confession” and the way they’d last parted, but all the tension seemed simply to have evaporated, and the atmosphere between them felt better than ever. Even when, after he’d finished a piece, she closed her eyes and embarked on a long, stringent critique of his performance, he felt no resentment, only a hunger to understand her as fully as possible. The next day and the day after, it was the same: relaxed, at times even jokey, and he felt sure he’d never played better in his life. They didn’t allude at all to that conversation before he’d gone away, nor did she ask about his break in the countryside. They only talked about the music.
他们在一起度过了一个愉快的下午。来之前蒂博尔还在担心在她“坦白”了以后，在他们上次那样分手了以后，事情会变成什么样。但是所有的紧张好像都消失了，他们之间的气氛比以前更融洽了。即便是在他拉完一曲，埃洛伊丝闭着眼睛，开始长篇大论、尖刻地批评他的演奏的时候，他也不觉得生气，只希望自己尽可能地理解她的意思。第二天、第三天都一样：气氛轻松，有时还开开玩笑。蒂博尔觉得自己的琴从来没拉得这么好过。他们没有再提起他离开之前的那次谈话，埃洛伊丝也没有问起他在乡下的旅行。他们只谈论音乐。
Then on the fourth day after his return, a series of small mishaps — including a leaking toilet cistern in his room — prevented him going to the Excelsior at the usual hour. By the time he came past the cafe, the light was fading, the waiters had lit the candles inside the little glass bowls, and we were a couple of numbers into our dinner set. He waved to us, then went on across the square towards the hotel, his cello making him look like he was limping.
到了他回来以后的第四天，接二连三的小意外——包括他房里马桶的蓄水池漏水了——害他没法准时到怡东酒店去。等他从咖啡厅走过去的时候，天已经开始暗了，服务生已经把小玻璃碗里的蜡烛点亮了，我们也已经演奏了两个晚餐的节目。他朝我们挥挥手，穿过广场朝酒店走去，因为背着琴，走起路来看上去一瘸一拐的。
“Tibor, I’m so glad you’ve come. I was just telling Peter everything about you. That’s right, Peter’s found me at last!” Then she called into the room: “Peter, he’s here! Tibor’s here. And with his cello too!”
“蒂博尔，真高兴你来了。我正把你的事说给彼得听呢。没错，彼得终于找到我了！”说完，她朝屋里喊道，“彼得，他来了！蒂博尔来了。还带着琴！”
He noticed the receptionist hesitate slightly before phoning up to her. Then when she opened the door, she greeted him warmly, but somehow differently, and before he had a chance to speak, she said quickly:
蒂博尔注意到前台在打电话给埃洛伊丝之前稍稍犹豫了一下。埃洛伊塞打开门，热情地欢迎他，但感觉跟平时不太一样。不等蒂博尔开口，埃洛伊丝就很快地说道：
Tibor sipped the champagne, aware that Peter had pulled up for him, by chance, his usual “cello chair.” Eloise had vanished somewhere, and for a while, Tibor and Peter made conversation, their glasses in their hands. Peter seemed kindly and asked a lot of questions. How had it been for Tibor growing up in a place like Hungary? Had it been a shock when he’d first come to the West?
蒂博尔抿了一口酒，注意到彼得给他的椅子刚好是他平时坐的那把“琴椅”。埃洛伊丝不知哪里去了，只剩蒂博尔和彼得一面喝酒一面聊天。彼得很友善的样子，问了很多问题。他问蒂博尔是怎么在匈牙利那样的地方长大的。他刚到西欧来的时候有没有感到震撼？
“No hiding from me,” said Peter. Then he was pulling up a chair for Tibor, pouring him a glass of champagne from an ice-bucket on the cabinet. “Come on, Tibor, help us celebrate our reunion.”
“别想躲着我，”说着，彼得拉来一把椅子请蒂博尔坐下，从壁橱上的冰桶里给他倒了一杯香槟。“来吧，蒂博尔，为我们庆祝重逢。”
As Tibor stepped into the room, a large, shambling, greying man in a pale polo shirt rose to his feet with a smile. He gripped Tibor’s hand very firmly and said: “Oh, I’ve heard all about you. Eloise is convinced you’re gonna be a big star.”
蒂博尔走进房间，看见一个穿着浅色开领短袖衬衫、身材高大、步履蹒跚、头发灰白的男人微笑着站了起来。彼得紧紧地握住蒂博尔的手说：“哦，我听说了你所有的事。埃洛伊丝肯定你将来会是个大明星。”
“Peter’s persistent,” she was saying. “I knew he’d find me in the end.”
“彼得不肯放弃，”埃洛伊丝说。“我就知道他迟早会找到我的。”
“Yes, she did. I understand she has a lot of natural gifts.”
“是，她说过。我知道她很有天赋。”
“Oh, you can never say too late,” Tibor said.
“哦，永远不会太迟，亨德森先生，”蒂博尔说。
“You’re right. Never say too late. Too late is always just an excuse. No, the truth is, I’m a busy man, and I tell myself I’m too busy to learn French, to learn an instrument, to read War and Peace. All the things I’ve always wanted to do. Eloise used to play when she was a kid. I guess she told you about that.”
“说得对。永不言迟。说太迟了永远只是借口。不，事实是，我是个大忙人，我对自己说我太忙了，没时间学法语，没时间学乐器，没时间读《战争与和平》等等我一直想做的事。埃洛伊丝小时候拉过琴，我想她跟你说了。”
“I’d love to play an instrument,” Peter said. “You’re so lucky. I’d like to learn. A little late now though, I guess.”
“会乐器真好，”彼得说。“你真幸运。我也想学。可我想有点迟了。”
“Oh, she sure does. Anyone who knows her will be able to see that. She has such sensitivity. She’s the one who should be having those lessons. Me, I’m just Mr. Banana Fingers.” He held up his hands and laughed. “I’d like to play piano, but what can you do with hands like these? Great for digging the earth, that’s what my people did for generations. But that lady” — he indicated towards the door with his glass — “now she’s got sensitivity.”
“哦，没错。认识她的人都看得出来。她有对音乐的敏感。她就应该学音乐。至于我，我只是个香蕉手。”他举起手，笑了。“我想弹钢琴，可这手怎么弹？倒是很适合挖土，我家祖祖辈辈就是干这个的。可那位女士”——他用拿着酒杯的手指了指房门——“她有对音乐的敏感。”
Eventually, Eloise emerged from the bedroom in a dark evening dress and a lot of jewellery.
埃洛伊丝终于从房里出来了，穿着一件深色晚礼服，戴着满身珠宝。
Tibor said he should be going; that he could see he was keeping the couple from their dinner. This was met by protests from both of them, and Peter said:
蒂博尔说他得走了；他看得出来他耽搁他们去吃晚饭了。他的话遭到了两人的反对，彼得说：
Peter held out his hands and looked pleadingly at Tibor. “Now tell me, Tibor. Did I say a single word to you about golf?”
彼得伸出手，恳求地看着蒂博尔。“告诉我，蒂博尔。我跟你提起过高尔夫一个字吗？”
“Peter, don’t bore Tibor,” she said. “He’s not interested in golf.”
“彼得，别烦蒂博尔了，”她说。“他对高尔夫不感兴趣。”
“Now look at me. Do I look like I’m dressed for dinner?”
“看看我。我这打扮像要去吃饭吗？”
“You can’t leave without playing something. I’ve been hearing so much about your playing.”
“你得给我们弹点什么才能走。我听说了很多你的琴技。”
And though Tibor thought he looked perfectly decent, he gave the laugh that seemed expected of him. Then Peter said:
虽然蒂博尔觉得彼得这样穿就很得体，但他还是会意地笑了。彼得又说道：
In the lift, they smiled affectionately at each other, but didn’t speak. When they came outside, they found the piazza lit up for the night. Local kids, back from their holidays, were kicking balls, or chasing each other around the fountain. The evening passeggiata was in full flow, and I suppose our music would have come drifting through the air to where they were standing.
电梯里，他们脉脉地相视而笑，但没有说话。他们走出酒店，发现广场上已经华灯初上。放暑假回来的当地孩子们有的在踢球，有的在喷泉边追逐嬉戏。夜晚的行人熙来攘往，我想我们的音乐应该传到了他们的耳朵里。
Confused, Tibor had actually started to unfasten his cello case, when Eloise said firmly, some new quality in her voice:
蒂博尔不知如何是好，打开琴盒正准备把琴拿出来，突然听见埃洛伊丝坚定地说道，语气跟刚刚不太一样：
“Tibor’s right. Time’s getting on. The restaurants in this town, they don’t keep your table if you don’t come on time. Peter, you get yourself dressed. Maybe a shave too? I’ll see Tibor out. I want to speak with him in private.”
“蒂博尔说得对。时间不早了。这里的饭店你不准时去的话，他们不会给你留着位置的。彼得，去换衣服吧。也许把脸也刮一下？我送蒂博尔出去。我想和他单独谈谈。”
“In a few days. I suppose I will.”
“我想过几天就会回去了吧。”
“Yes. That’s important.”
“是的，很重要。”
“For both. However, I don’t suppose there will be many teachers in Portland, Oregon, who could teach you.”
“都有。不过我想在俄勒冈波特兰没有多少人能教您。”
“I guess so.” For an instant, she looked at him earnestly, then looked away. “I guess so,” she said again.
“我想是吧。”一时间埃洛伊丝严肃地看着蒂博尔，但马上把脸转开了。“我想是吧，”她重复道。
“When you were getting ready just now. We were talking not of golf, but of music lessons.”
“刚才您换衣服的时候，我们不是在聊高尔夫，我们在聊学音乐。”
“I wish you much happiness. He is a kind man. Also a music lover. That’s important for you.”
“我衷心地祝您幸福。他是个好人。而且喜欢音乐。这点对您来说很重要。”
She gave a laugh. “Like I said, it’s difficult for people like us.”
她笑了一声。“就像我说的，我们这类人不好过。”
“Well, that’s it,” she said, eventually. “He’s found me, so I guess he deserves me.”
“咳，就是这样了，”她终于开口说道。“他找到了我，所以我想他应该得到我。”
“He is a most charming person,” Tibor said. “You intend to return to America now?”
“他很有魅力，”蒂博尔说。“那您要回美国去了？”
“Oh really? You mean for him or for me?”
“哦，真的？他学还是我学？”
“You intend to marry?”
“您要结婚？”
“Yes, I appreciate that. After these last few weeks, I appreciate that more than ever.” Then he added: “Miss Eloise, there is something I must tell you before we part. I will soon leave for Amsterdam, where I have been given a position in a large hotel.”
“是，我明白。经过这几周我更加明白这个道理。”蒂博尔停顿了一下，接着说道，“埃洛伊丝小姐，我们道别之前我有件事情要告诉您。我很快就要去阿姆斯特丹了。我在那里的一家大酒店里找到了一份工作。”
“No. I will play in a small chamber group in the hotel dining room. We will entertain the hotel guests while they eat.”
“不是。我要在酒店餐厅的小乐队里演出。在客人吃饭的时候提供娱乐。”
“And I hope also,” he said, “you’ll be very happy with Mr. Peter.”
“我也祝愿您与彼得先生过得幸福。”蒂博尔说。
“You’re going to be a porter?”
“你要去当门卫？”
He was watching her carefully and saw something ignite behind her eyes, then fade away. She laid a hand on his arm and smiled.
蒂博尔凝视着埃洛伊丝，看见她的眼睛里闪过一道火花，然后慢慢褪去。她一手搭在蒂博尔的手臂上，笑了。
“Well then, good luck.” Then she added: “Those hotel guests. They’ve got some treat coming up.”
“那祝你好运。”她停顿了一下，又补充道，“那些酒店里的客人有耳福了。”
For another moment, they remained standing there together, just beyond the pool of light cast by the front of the hotel, the bulky cello between them.
一时间他们俩默默地站在那里，站在酒店前门的灯光照不到的地方，硕大的提琴立在他们中间。
“I hope so too,” she said and laughed again. Then she kissed him on the cheek and gave him a quick hug. “You take care of yourself,” she said.
“我也希望如此。”埃洛伊丝说道，又笑了笑。接着她亲了亲蒂博尔的脸颊，给了他一个匆匆的拥抱，说道：“保重。”
“I hope so.”
“希望如此。”
Tibor thanked her, then before he quite realised it, he was watching her walking back towards the Excelsior.
蒂博尔道了声谢，不等他反应过来，就只看见埃洛伊丝走进怡东酒店的背影。
Tibor left our city soon after that. The last time we had drinks with him, he was clearly very grateful to Giancarlo and Ernesto for his job, and to us all for our friendship, but I couldn’t help getting the impression he was being a little aloof with us. A few of us thought this, not just me, though Giancarlo, typically, now took Tibor’s side, saying the boy had just been feeling excited and nervous about this next step in his life.
不久之后蒂博尔就离开了这里。他最后一次跟我们喝酒时好好地感谢了詹卡洛和欧内斯托帮他找到这份工作，也感谢我们大家的友谊，但我不由得感觉他的态度有点冷淡。不只我，其他人也这么想，可是直性子的詹卡洛现在又站在蒂博尔一边，说他只是对人生的这下一步感到兴奋、紧张。
“Excited? How can he be excited?” Ernesto said. “He’s spent the summer being told he’s a genius. A hotel job, it’s a comedown. Sitting talking to us, that’s a comedown too. He was a nice kid at the start of the summer. But after what that woman’s done to him, I’m glad we’re seeing the back of him.”
“兴奋？他怎么可能兴奋？”欧内斯托说。“整个夏天他都被别人叫做天才。到酒店工作是委屈了他。坐在这里跟我们聊天也是委屈了他。夏天刚到那会儿他还是个好孩子。可那女人对他做了那些事以后，我很高兴能看见他回来。”
Like I said, this all happened seven years ago. Giancarlo, Ernesto, all the boys from that time except me and Fabian, they’ve all moved on. Until I spotted him in the piazza the other day, I hadn’t thought about our young Hungarian maestro for a long time. He wasn’t so hard to recognise. He’d put on weight, certainly, and was looking a lot thicker around the neck. And the way he gestured with his finger, calling for a waiter, there was something — maybe I imagined this — something of the impatience, the off-handedness that comes with a certain kind of bitterness. But maybe that’s unfair. After all, I only glimpsed him. Even so, it seemed to me he’d lost that youthful anxiety to please, and those careful manners he had back then. No bad thing in this world, you might say.
我说过了，这是七年前的事了。詹卡洛、欧内斯托，当时乐队里的其他人，除了我和费边都走了。我很久没再想起我们这位年轻的匈牙利天才，直到那天偶然在广场上发现他。他没怎么变，只是胖了些，脖子粗了好一圈。他用手指头招呼服务生的动作——也许是我的想象——有些不耐烦，有些粗鲁，自然而然就有些愤恨。我这么说可能不公平，毕竟我只瞥了他几眼。但我还是觉得他似乎失去了年轻时的快活劲儿和以前认认真真的态度。你可能会说在这世上这不是什么坏事。
I would have gone over and talked with him, but by the end of our set he’d already gone. For all I know, he was here only for the afternoon. He was wearing a suit — nothing very grand, just a regular one — so perhaps he has a day job now behind a desk somewhere. Maybe he had some business to do nearby and came through our city just for old times’ sake, who knows? If he comes back to the square, and I’m not playing, I’ll go over and have a word with him.
我本想过去跟他聊聊，可是等表演结束，他已经走了。据我所知，他只在广场上待了一个下午。他穿着西装——不是什么特别好的，普通西装而已——所以我猜他现在白天在哪里坐办公室。他可能是到附近办事，想起以前的时光，顺路到这里来一下，谁知道？要是他再到广场上来时我不在演出的话，我一定过去跟他聊聊。
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