The world was changing.
世界在改变。
Sometimes he could no longer see the dead. It had begun a month or two previously, in April or in May. At first it had only happened occasionally, but now it seemed to be happening more and more.
有时候，伯蒂不再能看得见死人，这是从一两个月前，也就是四月或五月开始的。一开始只是偶尔，可现在似乎越来越频繁。
Odd, he thought. He had known that fox since it had been a cub, and the cat had prowled through the graveyard for as long as Bod could remember. They knew him. If they were feeling friendly they even let him pet them.
奇怪。伯蒂很困惑。那只狐狸还是个幼崽时他就认识了，还有那只猫，他自打有记忆以来，就常常见到它在坟场里悄然潜行。它们都认识他，亲昵时甚至会让他抚摸。
Bod wandered over to the northwestern part of the graveyard, to the tangle of ivy that hung from a yew tree and half-blocked the far exit from the Egyptian Walk. He saw a red fox and a large black cat, with a white collar and paws, who sat conversing together in the middle of the path. At Bod’s approach they looked up, startled, then fled into the undergrowth, as if they had been caught conspiring.
伯蒂晃悠到坟场西北边，走向紫杉树下挡住埃及路出口的一大丛常春藤。他看见一只红色狐狸和一只黑色大猫，猫颈部和爪子上的毛是白色的。正在路中间交头接耳的狐狸和猫一见伯蒂靠近，吓得立马蹿进灌木丛，仿佛被人撞破了密谋。
Bod started to slip through the ivy but he found his way blocked. He bent down, pushed the ivy out of the way and squeezed through. He walked down the path carefully, avoiding the ruts and holes until he reached the impressive stone that marked the final resting place of Alonso Tomás Garcia Jones (1837-1905, Traveler Lay Down Thy Staff).
伯蒂想穿过缠结的常春藤，却过不去。他弯下腰，推开挡道的常春藤，用力挤了过去。他小心翼翼地走在路上，避开车辙和坑洞，来到一块华丽的墓碑前。这块墓碑标志着阿隆索·托马斯·加西亚·琼斯（1837—1905，旅人放下了旅杖）的安息之地。
Bod walked over to the pointed stone — tall, carved with upside-down torches, and he waited, but saw no one. He called to Alonso Jones, even knocked on the side of the stone, but there was no response. Bod leaned down, to push his head into the grave and call his friend, but instead of his head slipping though the solid matter like a shadow passing through a deeper shadow, his head met the ground with a hard and painful thump. He called again, but saw nothing and no one, and, carefully, he made his way out of the tangle of greenery and of grey stones and back to the path. Three magpies perched in a hawthorn tree took wing as he passed them.
伯蒂走向高大耸立，带尖顶，雕刻有许多束朝下的火炬的墓碑，等啊等，可一个人也没看到。他呼喊“阿隆索·琼斯”的名字，甚至敲了敲墓碑侧面，也没听到回应。伯蒂弯下腰，想探进墓室喊他的朋友，可他的脑袋没有像过去那样，如同一片阴影穿透一片更深的阴影般顺畅无阻地穿过固体，而是狠狠地撞在地上，疼得要命。他又喊了一声，可什么都没看见。他再度小心翼翼地穿过那片绿植和灰色墓碑纠缠在一起的地带，回到原路上，惊动了停在山楂树上的三只喜鹊。
Bod had been coming down here every few days for several months: Alonso Jones had been all over the world, and he took great pleasure in telling Bod stories of his travels. He would begin by saying, “Nothing interesting has ever happened to me,” then would add, gloomily, “and I have told you all my tales,” and then his eyes would flash, and he would remark, “Except… did I ever tell you about…?” And whatever the next words were: “The time I had to escape from Moscow?” or “The time I lost an Alaskan gold mine, worth a fortune?” or “The cattle stampede on the pampas?,” Bod would always shake his head and look expectant and soon enough his head would be swimming with tales of derring-do and high adventure, tales of beautiful maidens kissed, of evildoers shot with pistols or fought with swords, of bags of gold, of diamonds as big as the tip of your thumb, of lost cities and of vast mountains, of steam-trains and clipper ships, of pampas, oceans, deserts, tundra.
这几个月，他隔三岔五会来这里：阿隆索·琼斯游历过世界各地，他很喜欢给伯蒂讲自己的旅行见闻。一开始他会说：“其实我也没遇到过什么有趣的事…”接着他会忧郁地说：“我所有的故事都和你讲过了。”之后，他会眼睛一亮，话锋一转：“不过…我有没有和你讲过…”无论他接下来要讲什么，无论是“我从莫斯科逃走的故事？”或“我失去了阿拉斯加一处价值连城的金矿？”或“潘帕斯草原上狂奔的野牛？”伯蒂都会摇摇头，一脸期待地听他往下讲。过不了多久，他的小脑袋瓜就会填满勇往直前的故事、激动人心的冒险、被亲吻的美丽少女、与子弹或兵刃缠斗的坏蛋、一袋袋金子、拇指那么大的钻石、失落的城市、崇山峻岭、蒸汽火车、飞剪帆船、潘帕斯草原、海洋、沙漠和苔原。
“Here, boy!” she called. “There’s nasturshalums growing wild over here. Why don’t you pick some for me, and put them over by my stone.”
“过来，孩子！”她喊道，“这儿有一丛旱金莲开得正艳，你何不为我摘上一些，放到我的墓碑前呢？”
So Bod picked the red and yellow nasturtiums, and he carried them over to Mother Slaughter’s headstone, so cracked and worn and weathered that all it said now was,
听闻此言，伯蒂摘下一些红色和黄色的旱金莲，带到屠杀之母的墓碑边。饱经风霜的墓碑布满裂痕，残破不堪，只剩下一个还能看清的字：
He did not see another soul until he reached the graveyard’s southwestern slope, where the familiar shape of Mother Slaughter, tiny in her high bonnet and her cloak, could be seen, walking between the gravestones, head bent, looking at wildflowers.
他没有看到一个灵魂，直到发现坟场的西南坡上屠杀之母那熟悉的瘦小身影。她戴着礼帽，披着披肩，正低头穿行在墓碑间，看着地上的野花。
LAUGH
笑
which had puzzled the local historians for over a hundred years. He put down the flowers in front of the stone, respectfully.
这碑文困扰了当地历史学家一百多年。伯蒂恭恭敬敬地把花放到墓碑前。
Mother Slaughter smiled at him. “You’re a good lad. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.”
屠杀之母向他微笑：“你真是个好孩子，要是没了你，真不知道我们的日子会少多少乐趣。”
“Thank you,” said Bod. Then, “Where is everyone? You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight.”
“谢谢你。”伯蒂说，“其他人呢？你是我今晚见到的第一个人。”
But Mother Slaughter was pursing her lips and tilting her head. Bright old eyes scrutinized Bod from beneath her bonnet. “I called you boy, didn’t I? But time passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s a young man you are now, isn’t it? How old are you?”
屠杀之母抿起唇，歪着脑袋，礼帽下的明亮眼睛审视着伯蒂。“我以前叫你孩子，是吧？可光阴似箭，日月如梭，你现在已经是个年轻人了。你几岁了？”
Mother Slaughter peered at him sharply. “What did you do to your forehead?” she asked.
屠杀之母凝视伯蒂，目光犀利。她问：“你的额头怎么了？”
“I bumped it, on Mr. Jones’s grave. It was solid. I…”
“我撞到了琼斯先生的坟墓，很硬，我…”
“About fifteen, I think. Though I still feel the same as I always did,” Bod said, but Mother Slaughter interrupted, “And I still feels like I done when I was a tiny slip of a thing, making daisy chains in the old pasture. You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“大概十五岁吧，但我仍觉得我和以前一个样。”屠杀之母打断了他：“我也依然觉得自己是那个在老牧场上编织雏菊花环的小姑娘。你还是你，这一点没有改变，但你又一直在变化，对此你怎么做都无法阻止。”
She sat down on her broken stone, and said, “I remember you the night you came here, boy. I says, ‘We can’t let the little fellow leave,’ and your mother agrees, and all of them starts argufying and what-not until the Lady on the Grey rides up. ‘People of the Graveyard,’ she says, ‘Listen to Mother Slaughter. Have you not got any charity in your bones?’ and then all of them agreed with me.” She trailed off, shook her little head, “There’s not much happens here to make one day unlike the next. The seasons change. The ivy grows. Stones fall over. But you coming here… well, I’m glad you did, that’s all.”
屠杀之母坐到自己残破的墓碑上，说：“孩子，我记得你来这里的那一夜。我说‘我们不能丢下这个小不点不管’，你妈妈和我看法一致，其他人则就要不要留下你开始争论不休，直到骑灰马的女士到来。她说‘坟场的各位，请听屠杀之母的话，你们骨子里还有一点慈悲之心吗？’接着所有人都赞同了我的看法。”屠杀之母顿了下，摇了摇头，“这儿不会发生什么特别的事，日复一日，每天都一个样。四季交替，常春藤生长，墓碑倒塌。可你到来了…你能来，我很高兴，我想说的仅此而已。”
She stood up and pulled a grubby piece of linen from her sleeve, spat on it, and reached up as high as she could and scrubbed the blood from Bod’s forehead. “There, that ought to make you look presentable,” she said, severely. “Seeing as I don’t know when next I’ll see you, anyway. Keep safe.”
她站起来，从袖子上扯下一块脏兮兮的亚麻布，吐了口唾沫，尽力踮起脚尖，为伯蒂擦掉额头上的血迹。“这样你才能见人。”她郑重地说，“不知下次何时才能见到你，保重。”
His father took a step forward and said, “Evening, Bod. I trust you are keeping well.”
他的父亲向前迈了一步，说：“晚上好，伯蒂，一切可好？”
Mr. Owens said, “Mistress Owens and I spent our lives wishing that we had a child. I do not believe that we could have ever had a better young man than you, Bod.” He looked up at his son with pride.
欧文斯先生说：“能有个孩子是我太太和我一辈子的愿望，而没想到的是，我们居然能有你这么一个出色的孩子。”他抬起头，自豪地看着自己的儿子。
“Tolerably well,” said Bod, which was what Mr. Owens always said to his friends when they asked him the same question.
“挺好的。”伯蒂说。这正是欧文斯先生听到朋友这么问时一贯的回答。
Bod said, “Well, yes, thank you, but…” He turned to his mother, certain he could get her to tell him what was happening, but she was no longer there. “Where did she go?”
伯蒂说：“嗯，谢谢。可是…”他回头找妈妈，心想妈妈一定能告诉他发生了什么，可妈妈不见了。“妈妈去哪儿了？”
Feeling discomfited in a way he could not remember having felt before, Bod made his way back to the Owenses’ tomb, and was pleased to see both of his parents waiting for him beside it. As he got closer, his pleasure turned into concern: why did Mr. and Mrs. Owens stand like that, arranged on each side of the tomb like characters from a stained-glass window? He could not read their faces.
心怀一种前所未有的困惑，伯蒂走回欧文斯夫妇的坟墓。远远看到父母站在坟墓边上等他，他很开心。可走近后，他的喜悦变成了担忧：为什么站在坟墓两边的欧文斯夫妇就像彩绘玻璃上的人物一样？他们脸上的神情叫人看不透。
“Oh. Yes.” Mr. Owens seemed ill at ease. “Ah, you know Betsy. There’s things, times. When, well, you don’t know what to say. You know?”
“哦。”欧文斯先生看上去不太自在，“她呀，你懂的。总有些东西，有些时候，你不知道该怎么开口，你明白吧？”
“No,” said Bod.
“不明白。”伯蒂说。
“I expect Silas is waiting for you,” said his father, and then he was gone.
“我想赛拉斯正在等你。”说完，欧文斯先生就不见了。
“Watching me?” asked Bod
“观察我？”伯蒂说。
Bod waited on the grey wooden bench, but there was no sign of Silas.
伯蒂坐在灰色长凳上等待，可不见赛拉斯的身影。
“Where are you going?” asked Bod. Then, “Of course I will miss you, wherever you go…”
“你要离开这里吗？”伯蒂问，“我当然会想你，无论你去哪里…”
It was past midnight. Bod began to walk toward the old chapel. The tree that grew out of the gutter on the spire had fallen in the last storm, taking a handful of the slate-black roof tiles with it.
午夜已过，伯蒂向老教堂走去。一棵原本生长在教堂顶部排水沟上的树在上次暴风雨中颓然倒下，还带落了几片黑黢黢的瓦片。
“Watching,” she said. “Does a lady have to tell everything she does?”
“我在观察。”她说，“一位女士非得把她做的事全都如实交代吗？”
“Liza?” said Bod. He had not seen or heard from the witch-girl for over a year — not since the night of the Jacks of All Trades. “Where have you been?”
“丽萨？”伯蒂诧异道。在与杰克们交手的那一夜后，他已经一年多没见过这个小女巫，也没听过她的声音了。“这么长时间，你去哪儿了？”
Liza’s voice, close to his ear, said, “Truly, life is wasted on the living, Nobody Owens. For one of us is too foolish to live, and it is not I. Say you will miss me.”
丽萨的声音近在耳边：“诺伯蒂·欧文斯，说真的，生命在活人身上真是浪费，因为咱俩之中有个人傻到对不起生命。说你会想我。”
The wind gusted. It was late on a summer’s night, when the twilight lasts forever, and it was warm, but still, Bod felt goose-pimples rising on his arms.
一阵风吹来。这是夏日的夜晚，天始终不会很黑，而且很暖和，但伯蒂的手臂上还是起了一层鸡皮疙瘩。
A voice by his ear said, “Say you’ll miss me, you lump-kin.”
一个声音在他耳边响起：“说你会想我，你个笨蛋。”
“Already?” said Silas. He sighed. Bod heard a velvet rustle, then a match was struck, and it flamed, and was used to light two huge candles that sat on great carved wooden candlesticks at the back of the room. In the candlelight, Bod could see his guardian standing beside a large leather chest, of the kind they call a steamer trunk — big enough that a tall man could have curled up and slept inside it. Beside it was Silas’s black leather bag, which Bod had seen before, on a handful of occasions, but which he still found impressive.
“已经什么都看不见了吗？”赛拉斯叹了口气。伯蒂听到天鹅绒的摩挲声，接着一根火柴被擦亮，闪动的火苗点亮了屋子内部精雕细刻的烛台上的两根大蜡烛。借着烛光，伯蒂看到赛拉斯站在一个大皮箱边上，这种款式的皮箱被人们称作轮船衣箱——大到能容下一个人蜷在里面睡觉。大皮箱边是赛拉斯日常携带的黑色皮箱，伯蒂见过几次，仍觉得这个箱子不同寻常。
A breath of wind ruffled his hair, if it was not the touch of her hand, and then he was, he knew, alone on the bench.
一阵微风，也可能是丽萨的手，拂过了伯蒂的头发。然后，他知道，长凳上又只剩他一个人。
“Too stupid,” whispered Liza Hempstock’s voice, and he could feel the touch of her hand on his hand. “Too stupid to live.” The touch of her lips against his cheek, against the corner of his lips. She kissed him gently and he was too perplexed, too utterly wrong-footed, to know what to do. Her voice said, “I will miss you too. Always.”
“你真傻，”丽萨低语，伯蒂感觉到她握住了自己的手，“傻到对不起生命。”丽萨吻了吻他的脸颊、他的嘴角。她吻得那么温柔，让伯蒂困惑不解，不知所措。丽萨的声音说：“我也会想你，永远。”
“Come in, Bod.” It was Silas’s voice.
“进来吧，伯蒂。”赛拉斯的声音响起。
He got up. Bod walked over to the chapel door, lifted the stone beside the porch and pulled out the spare key, left there by a long-dead sexton. He unlocked the big wooden door without even testing to see if he could slip through it. It creaked open, protesting.
他站起身，走向教堂的门，搬开门口的石头，拿出备用钥匙。这把钥匙是一位早已去世的教堂司事留下的。伯蒂用钥匙打开木质大门，试都没试一下能不能直接穿过去。门吱呀一声打开，如同在抗议。
The inside of the chapel was dark, and Bod found himself squinting as he tried to see.
教堂里很暗，伯蒂眯起眼也看得很吃力。
“I can’t see anything,” said Bod. “It’s too dark.”
“我什么都看不见。”伯蒂说，“太黑了。”
“Is this where you sleep?” he asked.
“你在这里头睡觉？”伯蒂问。
“When I am far from my house, yes,” said Silas.
“对，每当我离家很远的时候。”赛拉斯说。
The steamer trunk was lined with whiteness. Bod put a hand into the empty trunk, touched the silk lining, touched dried earth.
大皮箱镶着白边，伯蒂把一只手伸进空空的箱体，摸到了丝绸衬里，还有干燥的泥土。
Silas shook his head. “My house is a long, long way from here,” said Silas. “That is, if it is still habitable. There have been problems in my native land, and I am far from certain what I will find on my return.”
赛拉斯摇摇头，说：“我的家离这儿很远很远，也不知那儿现在还能否居住。我的家乡不太平，回家的路上会遭遇什么，我心里完全没底。”
“You’re going back?” asked Bod. Things that had been immutable were changing. “You’re really leaving? But. You’re my guardian.”
“你要回去？”伯蒂问，不变的事终究要开始改变，“你真的要走？可是，你是我的监护人啊。”
Bod was taken aback: Silas had been here as long as he could remember and before. “Isn’t this your home?”
伯蒂吃了一惊：在他的记忆中，赛拉斯一直待在这个地方。“这儿不是你的家？”
“I was your guardian. But you are old enough to guard yourself. I have other things to protect.”
“我曾经是你的监护人，但你已经长大，能保护自己了，而我还有其他要守护的东西。”
Silas closed the lid of the brown leather trunk, and began to do up the straps and the buckles.
赛拉斯合上棕色大皮箱的盖子，拉紧系带，扣上搭扣。
“Can’t I stay here? In the graveyard?”
“我能留在坟场吗？”
“You must not,” said Silas, more gently than Bod could remember him ever saying anything. “All the people here have had their lives, Bod, even if they were short ones. Now it’s your turn. You need to live.”
“绝对不行。伯蒂，这儿的每一个人都有自己的人生，哪怕朝生夕死。现在轮到你了，你要去经历你自己的人生。”赛拉斯的语气从没这么温柔过。
Silas shook his head.
赛拉斯摇摇头。
“Can I come with you?”
“我能跟你一起走吗？”
“Perhaps.” There was kindness in Silas’s voice, and something more. “And whether you see me or not, I have no doubt that I will see you.” He put the leather trunk against the wall, walked over to the door in the far corner. “Follow me.” Bod walked behind Silas, followed him down the small spiral staircase to the crypt. “I took the liberty of packing a case for you,” Silas explained, as they reached the bottom.
“也许吧。”赛拉斯的声音带着怜爱，还有更多的情绪，“无论你见不见得到我，我无疑会再次见到你。”他把大皮箱靠墙放下，走向角落的门。“跟我来。”伯蒂跟在赛拉斯后头，沿着螺旋向下的小楼梯走向地下室。走到底时，赛拉斯说：“我自作主张，帮你准备了个箱子。”
“Your possessions are all in there,” said Silas.
“你的东西都收在里面。”赛拉斯说。
Silas said, “We do what we have to.” He sounded weary.
“我们恪尽职守。”赛拉斯的声音透着说不出的疲惫。
On top of the box of mildewed hymn books was a small leather suitcase, a miniature twin to Silas’s own.
一箱发霉的赞美诗集上放着一个小皮箱，外观和赛拉斯的皮箱一模一样，不过要小得多。
“Will I see you again?”
“我还能见到你吗？”
“We don’t do enough,” said Silas. “And mostly, we guard the borderlands. We protect the borders of things.”
“我们的任务不多。”赛拉斯说，“主要负责守卫交界之处。”
“You mean like stopping the man Jack and his people?”
“指阻止杰克那帮人之类的？”
Silas said nothing.
赛拉斯没有回答。
“What kind of borders?”
“什么样的交界？”
Bod said, “Tell me about the Honour Guard, Silas. You’re in it. Miss Lupescu was. Who else? Are there a lot of you? What do you do?”
伯蒂说：“赛拉斯，给我讲讲荣誉卫士吧。你是其中的一员，卢佩斯库小姐也是。其他还有谁？人很多吗？你们是做什么的？”
Bod took the wallet, but did not open it.
伯蒂接过钱包，但没有打开。
“It contains money. Enough to give you a start in the world, but nothing more.”
“里面有钱，足够你启程探索这个世界，但仅此而已。”
Silas took a step closer to Bod, which made the youth tilt back his head to look up at the tall man’s pale face. Silas said, “I have not always done the right thing. When I was younger… I did worse things than Jack. Worse than any of them. I was the monster, then, Bod, and worse than any monster.”
赛拉斯向伯蒂靠近一步，伯蒂不由抬起头，望着这个高大男人苍白的脸。赛拉斯说：“我并非一直在做正确的事。当我年轻时…我做的事比杰克可怕得多，我也曾是怪物，伯蒂，比所有怪物都可怕的怪物。”
It did not even cross Bod’s mind to wonder if his guardian was lying or joking. He knew that he was being told the truth. He said, “But you aren’t that any longer, are you?”
伯蒂想都没想赛拉斯是不是在撒谎或开玩笑，他知道赛拉斯说的都是真的。“可你现在已经不坏了，不是吗？”
“But you did the right thing. I mean, stopping the Jacks. They were terrible. They were monsters.”
“可你们做的是对的，我是说阻止杰克他们。他们太可怕了。他们是怪物。”
Silas said, “People can change,” and then fell silent. Bod wondered if his guardian — if Silas — was remembering. Then, “It was an honor to be your guardian, young man.” His hand vanished inside his cloak, reappeared holding a battered old wallet. “This is for you. Take it.”
“人是会变的。”赛拉斯说完便沉默不语，伯蒂觉得他可能在回忆往事。片刻后，赛拉斯接着说：“年轻人，作为你的监护人，我感到非常荣幸。”他把手伸到斗篷下，拿出一个破旧的钱包。“这是给你的，拿着。”
Bod said, “I went to see Alonso Jones today but he wasn’t there, or if he was I couldn’t see him. I wanted him to tell me about distant places he’d visited. Islands and porpoises and glaciers and mountains. Places where people dress and eat in the strangest ways.” Bod hesitated. Then, “Those places. They’re still there. I mean, there’s a whole world out there. Can I see it? Can I go there?”
伯蒂说：“今天我本想去找阿隆索·琼斯，可他不在，也可能是我看不见他了。我想让他给我讲讲他探访过的天南海北、岛屿、海豚、冰川、山脉。人们身着奇装异服，品尝山珍海味。”伯蒂犹豫了一下，“这些地方，它们依然在，我是说，外面有一整个世界。我能走遍世界吗？我能看尽风景吗？”
Bod said, “If I change my mind can I come back here?” And then he answered his own question. “If I come back, it will be a place, but it won’t be home any longer.”
“如果我想法变了，我能回来吗？”伯蒂自问自答，“就算回来，这儿也只是个落脚的地方，而不再是家了。”
Silas said, “Would you like me to walk you to the front gate?”
“你希望我陪你走到大门口吗？”赛拉斯问。
Bod shook his head. “Best if I do it on my own. Um. Silas. If you’re ever in trouble, call me. I’ll come and help.”
伯蒂摇摇头：“我还是自己走吧。嗯，赛拉斯，如果你遇到麻烦了，就叫我，我会去帮你的。”
“I,” said Silas, “do not get into trouble.”
“我，”赛拉斯说，“不会遇到麻烦。”
It was dark in the crypt, and it smelled of mildew and damp and old stones, and it seemed, for the first time, very small.
教堂很暗，还散发着霉味、潮气和陈年石头的味道。平生第一次，伯蒂觉得这里好小。
Silas nodded. “There is a whole world out there, yes. You have a passport in the inner pocket of your suitcase. It’s made out in the name of Nobody Owens. And was not easy to obtain.”
赛拉斯点点头：“当然，外面有一整个世界。你箱子的内袋里有一本护照，写着诺伯蒂·欧文斯的名字，费了好大劲才弄到。”
“No. I don’t suppose you do. But still.”
“我也这么觉得，但还是想和你说。”
Bod said, “I want to see life. I want to hold it in my hands. I want to leave a footprint on the sand of a desert island. I want to play football with people. I want,” he said, and then he paused and he thought. “I want everything.”
他说：“我想看一看世间万物；我想把生命捧于掌心；我想在一个热带荒岛上留下脚印；我想和别人一起踢足球。”他停下来想了想，“我想要一切。”
“Good,” said Silas. Then he put up his hand as if he were brushing away the hair from his eyes — a most uncharacteristic gesture. He said, “If ever it transpires that I am in trouble, I shall indeed send for you.”
“好啊。”赛拉斯说。他抬起手，像是在撩开眼睛上的头发——这动作可不像他。他说：“假如我真的遇到了麻烦，一定告诉你。”
“As you say.”
“借你吉言。”
“Good-bye, Nobody Owens.”
“再见，诺伯蒂·欧文斯。”
One pale, plump figure waited in front of the open gate, and she smiled up at him as he came towards her, and there were tears in her eyes in the moonlight.
一个苍白圆润的身影站在敞开的门边。她冲走近的伯蒂微笑，月光下，她泪眼盈盈。
Bod picked up the little suitcase. He opened the door to let himself out of the crypt, walked back up the gentle slope to the path without looking back.
伯蒂拿起小箱子，打开门走出教堂，头也不回地沿着斜坡走到路上。
“Even though you don’t get into trouble?”
“尽管没那可能？”
There was something at the edge of Silas’s lips that might have been a smile, and might have been regret, and might just have been a trick of the shadows.
赛拉斯的唇角仿佛挂着一抹微笑，或一丝遗憾，但这也可能仅仅是光影的小把戏。
It was well after the gates were locked. He wondered as he reached them if the gates would still let him walk through them, or if he would have to go back into the chapel to get a key, but when he got to the entrance he found the small pedestrian gate was unlocked and wide open, as if it was waiting for him, as if the graveyard itself was bidding him good-bye.
三更半夜，早过了坟场关门的时间。伯蒂不由想，到了门口他还能直接穿过去吗？难不成他还得折回教堂拿钥匙？可当他到门口时，却惊讶地发现供行人出入的小门敞开着，像是在等他，仿佛坟场本身正在与他道别。
“Good-bye, then, Silas.” Bod held out his hand, as he had when he was a small boy, and Silas took it, in a cold hand the color of old ivory, and shook it gravely.
“那么，再见，赛拉斯。”伯蒂伸出手，就同小时候一样。赛拉斯古象牙色的冰凉手掌握住伯蒂的手，郑重地摇了摇。
“See the world,” said Bod. “Get into trouble. Get out of trouble again. Visit jungles and volcanoes and deserts and islands. And people. I want to meet an awful lot of people.”
“饱览大千世界。”伯蒂说，“惹一些麻烦，再从中脱身。探访丛林和火山，沙漠和岛屿。还有人，我想遇到很多很多的人。”
When you wake you’ll see the world
长大后你就会看到整个世界。
“Leave no path untaken,” repeated Bod. “A difficult challenge, but I can try my best.”
“走遍万水千山。”伯蒂默念，“前路千难万险，但我会迎难而上。”
“Face your life
面对生活，
Its pain, its pleasure,
面对生活的痛苦、生活的乐趣，
Mistress Owens made no immediate reply. She stared up at him, and then she began to sing a song that Bod remembered, a song she used to sing him when he was a tiny thing, a song that she had used to lull him to sleep when he was small.
欧文斯太太没有立刻回应。她深情地凝视了伯蒂一会儿，接着启唇唱起一首歌。伯蒂记得这首歌，当他还小时，妈妈经常唱着这首歌哄他睡觉。
Dance a measure,
共舞一曲，
Sleep until you waken
一觉睡到自然醒。
Find your name
找寻你的名字
“Hullo, Mother,” said Bod.
“我来了，妈妈。”伯蒂说。
If I’m not mistaken…”
若我没有说错——
“Sleep my little babby-oh
睡吧，我的小宝贝，
“You’re not,” whispered Bod. “And I shall.”
“你没说错。”伯蒂说，“我会的。”
Mistress Owens rubbed her eyes with a knuckle, then dabbed at them with her apron, and she shook her head. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?” she asked.
欧文斯太太揉了揉眼睛，又用围裙擦了擦，接着摇了摇头。“你接下来有什么打算？”她问。
Then the last lines of the song came back to Mistress Owens, and she sang them to her son.
欧文斯太太终于想起了最后几句歌词，她为儿子唱道：
And buried treasure…”
和埋藏的宝藏。
Leave no path untaken”
走遍万水千山。
“Kiss a lover
亲吻爱人，
He took a step forward, through the gate that took him out of the graveyard. He thought a voice said, “I am so proud of you, my son,” but he might, perhaps, have imagined it.
他向前迈了一步，穿过门，走出坟场。他听到一个声音说：“儿子，我真为你骄傲。”但这也可能是他的幻觉。
There was a passport in his bag, money in his pocket. There was a smile dancing on his lips, although it was a wary smile, for the world is a bigger place than a little graveyard on a hill; and there would be dangers in it and mysteries, new friends to make, old friends to rediscover, mistakes to be made and many paths to be walked before he would, finally, return to the graveyard or ride with the Lady on the broad back of her great grey stallion.
他的箱子里有护照，口袋里有钱。微笑一直在他的唇角上跃动，但笑意之中透着警觉，因为这个世界比山上的一个小坟场要大得多：他会历经险境，也会见证奇迹；他会结识新朋友，会再见老朋友，会犯错误，并在走遍万水千山之后，再度回到坟场，或与骑在矫健灰马宽阔后背上的女士一同驰骋长空。
He tried to put his arms around his mother then, as he had when he was a child, although he might as well have been trying to hold mist, for he was alone on the path.
他张开双臂拥抱母亲，就像小时候那样，尽管他抱住的可能只是一团雾气，因为路上已没了母亲的身影。
The midsummer sky was already beginning to lighten in the east, and that was the way that Bod began to walk: down the hill, towards the living people, and the city, and the dawn.
仲夏的天空，东方渐明。伯蒂走下山坡，走向活人、城市与黎明。
But between now and then, there was Life; and Bod walked into it with his eyes and his heart wide open.
但在此刻与未来之间，存在着生活。伯蒂睁大双眼，敞开心扉，走进了他的生活。
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