第一章: 诺伯蒂是怎么来到坟场的 How Nobody Came to the Graveyard
There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.
黑暗中有一只手，握着一把刀。
The knife had done almost everything it was brought to that house to do, and both the blade and the handle were wet.
这把刀已近乎完成被带到这间屋来的所有使命，刀刃和刀柄都已经被鲜血染湿。
The knife had a handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor. If it sliced you, you might not even know you had been cut, not immediately.
刀柄由乌骨制成，打磨得锃亮。刀刃比任何剃刀都来得精致锋利，倘若划过你的皮肤，你甚至不会知晓自己被划伤了，起码无法立刻发觉。
The street door was still open, just a little, where the knife and the man who held it had slipped in, and wisps of nighttime mist slithered and twined into the house through the open door.
临街的门依然开着，只开了一道缝，刀和持刀的男人就是从这道缝溜进来的，随之而入的还有一缕缕在夜间蜿蜒缭绕的雾气。
The man Jack paused on the landing. With his left hand he pulled a large white handkerchief from the pocket of his black coat, and with it he wiped off the knife and his gloved right hand which had been holding it; then he put the handkerchief away. The hunt was almost over. He had left the woman in her bed, the man on the bedroom floor, the older child in her brightly colored bedroom, surrounded by toys and half-finished models. That only left the little one, a baby barely a toddler, to take care of. One more and his task would be done.
杰克之一在楼梯平台上停下脚步，左手从黑色外套的口袋里拉出一块白色大手帕，将刀和戴着手套握着刀的右手擦拭干净，再把手帕收好。猎杀即将告终。他将女人的尸体留在床上，男人的尸体留在卧室地板上，大一点的孩子的尸体留在她色彩鲜艳的卧室里，周围是她的玩具和一些模型的半成品。还剩下小的那个，一个蹒跚学步的小孩，解决掉这一个，他就大功告成了。
He flexed his fingers. The man Jack was, above all things, a professional, or so he told himself, and he would not allow himself to smile until the job was completed.
杰克之一活动了下指关节。毕竟他是专业的，或者说这是他对自己的要求。在工作完成前，他不允许自己露出笑容。
His hair was dark and his eyes were dark and he wore black leather gloves of the thinnest lambskin.
他的头发是黑的，眼睛是黑的，由纤薄的羔羊皮做成的手套也是黑的。
The toddler’s room was at the very top of the house. The man Jack walked up the stairs, his feet silent on the carpeting. Then he pushed open the attic door, and he walked in. His shoes were black leather, and they were polished to such a shine that they looked like dark mirrors: you could see the moon reflected in them, tiny and half full.
小孩的房间在顶楼。杰克之一走上楼梯，落在地毯上的脚步无声无息。他推开阁楼的门，走了进去。他的黑色皮鞋擦得锃亮，闪耀得如同黑色的镜子，映照出小小的弦月。
He could make out the shape of the child in the crib, head and limbs and torso.
他依稀看到婴儿床上孩子的轮廓：头、四肢和躯干。
The crib had high, slatted sides to prevent the child from getting out. Jack leaned over, raised his right hand, the one holding the knife, and he aimed for the chest…
婴儿床四周竖着高高的围挡，以防孩子掉下去。杰克之一向前倾身，右手举起刀，瞄准孩子的胸膛…
The real moon shone through the casement window. Its light was not bright, and it was diffused by the mist, but the man Jack would not need much light. The moonlight was enough. It would do.
真正的月亮透过平开窗照了进来。月光弥散在雾气中，并不明亮，不过杰克之一也不需要太多光亮，这样的月光就够了，足够了。
… and then he lowered his hand. The shape in the crib was a teddy bear. There was no child.
…他又把手放了下来。婴儿床上的人形是只泰迪熊。孩子不在这儿。
The man Jack’s eyes were accustomed to the dim moonlight, so he had no desire to turn on an electric light. And light was not that important, after all. He had other skills.
杰克之一的眼睛已经适应了暗淡的月光，因此他无意打开电灯。光线其实无关紧要，因为他有别的本事。
The man Jack sniffed the air. He ignored the scents that had come into the room with him, dismissed the scents that he could safely ignore, honed in on the smell of the thing he had come to find. He could smell the child: a milky smell, like chocolate chip cookies, and the sour tang of a wet, disposable, nighttime diaper. He could smell the baby shampoo in its hair, and something small and rubbery — a toy, he thought, and then, no, something to suck — that the child had been carrying.
杰克之一嗅了嗅空气，忽略那些由自己带进房间的气味，不理会那些可以放心不管的气味，而是聚精会神地寻找猎物的气息。他闻到了那个孩子的味道：巧克力饼干似的奶味、潮湿的一次性夜用尿布的酸臭味、孩子头发上散发出的儿童洗发水的气味。他还闻到了一个橡胶做的小东西——一个玩具，他心想，不，是个用来吮吸的东西——那个小孩一直含着它。
The child had been here. It was here no longer. The man Jack followed his nose down the stairs through the middle of the tall, thin house. He inspected the bathroom, the kitchen, the airing cupboard, and, finally, the downstairs hall, in which there was nothing to be seen but the family’s bicycles, a pile of empty shopping bags, a fallen diaper, and the stray tendrils of fog that had insinuated themselves into the hall from the open door to the street.
孩子曾在这儿，可现在不在了。杰克之一循着气味走下楼梯，在这栋高而窄的房屋里穿行。他一一查看浴室、厨房、通风橱柜，最后来到楼下的走廊。走廊里看不见别的，只有这家人的几辆自行车、一堆空的购物袋、一块掉在地上的尿布，还有透过紧邻马路的前门缓缓飘入走廊的袅袅雾气。
The man Jack sniffed the air. Then, without hurrying, he began to walk up the hill.
杰克之一嗅了嗅空气，不紧不慢地朝山上走去。
The man Jack made a small noise then, a grunt that contained in it both frustration and also satisfaction. He slipped the knife into its sheath in the inside pocket of his long coat, and he stepped out into the street. There was moonlight, and there were streetlights, but the fog stifled everything, muted light and muffled sound and made the night shadowy and treacherous. He looked down the hill towards the light of the closed shops, then up the street, where the last high houses wound up the hill on their way to the darkness of the old graveyard.
杰克之一轻哼一声，哼声中既有沮丧，又有满足。他把刀插回长外套内袋里的刀鞘，走到路上。路上有月光，也有路灯，可雾气扼住了一切，削弱了光线，压抑了声音，让夜色变得阴森幽暗，暗藏杀机。他看向山下几家打烊的店铺透出的灯光，又抬头看了看马路，几栋高楼依山而建，盘山而上，通往黑暗中的那片老坟场。
That night, he had been woken by the sound of something on the floor beneath him falling with a crash. Awake, he soon became bored, and had begun looking for a way out of his crib. It had high sides, like the walls of his playpen downstairs, but he was convinced that he could scale it. All he needed was a step…
那天夜里，有什么东西砰的一声掉到地板上，吵醒了他。醒来后没多久，他感到很无聊，便开始想办法从婴儿床里爬出去。床四周有高高的围挡，就和楼下的幼儿玩耍围栏一样，但他坚信自己能翻过去。他只需要一个垫脚的东西…
Ever since the child had learned to walk he had been his mother’s and father’s despair and delight, for there never was such a boy for wandering, for climbing up things, for getting into and out of things.
自从这个孩子学会走路以来，他的父母既为之高兴又为之苦恼，因为从来没有哪个孩子这么喜欢爬来爬去、爬上爬下、钻进钻出。
Stairs that went up were tricky things, and he had not yet entirely mastered them. Stairs that went down however, he had discovered, were fairly simple. He did them sitting down, bumping from step to step on his well-padded bottom.
上楼梯很需要技巧，他还没有掌握好，但他发现下楼梯相当容易。他在楼梯顶端坐下，用包得严严实实的屁股一级一级地往下弹，就这么滑了下去。
He pulled his large, golden teddy bear into the corner of the crib, then, holding the railing in his tiny hands, he put his foot onto the bear’s lap, the other foot up on the bear’s head, and he pulled himself up into a standing position, and then he half-climbed, half-toppled over the railing and out of the crib.
他把大大的金色泰迪熊拖到婴儿床的角落，小手抓住床的围挡，一只脚踩在熊的大腿上，另一只脚踩在熊的脑袋上，用力支起身子，半爬半滚地翻过了婴儿床的围挡。
He sucked on his nummer, the rubber pacifier his mother had just begun to tell him that he was getting too old for.
他吮吸着橡胶奶嘴，不过他妈妈刚对他说过，他这个年龄已经不再适合吸奶嘴了。
He landed with a muffled thump on a small mound of furry, fuzzy toys, some of them presents from relations from his first birthday, not six months gone, some of them inherited from his older sister. He was surprised when he hit the floor, but he did not cry out: if you cried they came and put you back in your crib.
一声闷响，他落在一小堆毛茸茸的玩具上。这些玩具中，有些是他一岁生日时亲戚朋友所送的礼物——这还是不到半年前的事，还有一些是他姐姐曾经的玩具。落地时，他吃了一惊，但没有大声哭叫——如果你哭的话，他们会过来把你放回婴儿床。
His diaper had worked itself loose on his journey on his bottom down the stairs, and when he reached the last step, when he reached the little hall and stood up, the diaper fell off. He stepped out of it. He was only wearing a child’s nightshirt. The stairs that led back up to his room and his family were steep, but the door to the street was open and inviting…
他一路用屁股坐着下楼梯，尿布渐渐松了。当他滑到底站起来时，尿布滑落下来。他迈过尿布，身上只剩下一件儿童睡衣。通往他房间和家人卧室的楼梯很陡，而面对马路的门恰好开着，正对他发出邀请…
He crawled out of the room.
他爬出了房间。
The fog was thinner as you approached the top of the hill. The half-moon shone, not as bright as day, not by any means, but enough to see the graveyard, enough for that.
越接近山顶，雾气越稀薄。半轮月亮当空，月光皎洁，虽绝对比不上白天亮堂，但也足以让人看得清坟场。
The child stepped out of the house a little hesitantly. The fog wreathed around him like a long-lost friend. And then, uncertainly at first, then with increasing speed and confidence, the boy tottered up the hill.
孩子有些犹豫地走出房子。雾气缠绕上他的身子，像个失散多年的老朋友。一开始，他心里还有些没底，但走了几步后，他越来越有信心，走得越来越快，摇摇晃晃地上了山。
You could see stones and tombs and vaults and memorial plaques. You could see the occasional dash or scuttle of a rabbit or a vole or a weasel as it slipped out of the undergrowth and across the path.
你能望见石头、墓穴和墓碑。时而会有一只小动物从灌木丛中蹿出来，在路上一阵猛冲或小步疾跑，或是兔子，或是田鼠，或是黄鼠狼。
Look.
瞧。
You would have seen these things, in the moonlight, if you had been there that night.
如果那一晚你在这里，这番月光之下的景象将映入你的眼帘。
You might not have seen a pale, plump woman, who walked the path near the front gates, and if you had seen her, with a second, more careful glance you would have realized that she was only moonlight, mist, and shadow. The plump, pale woman was there, though. She walked the path that led through a clutch of half-fallen tombstones towards the front gates.
也许你还没看见一个面色苍白、体态丰润的女子走在坟场大门边的小路上。如果你看见了她，只需定睛一看，便能察觉她不过是月光、雾和阴影罢了。不过，那个苍白而丰润的女人的确在那儿。她沿着小路穿行过东倒西歪的墓碑，走向大门。
You could see the abandoned funeral chapel, iron doors padlocked, ivy on the sides of the spire, a small tree growing out of the guttering at roof level.
你能望见废弃的墓地教堂、挂锁的铁门、缠绕教堂塔尖的常春藤，还有顶部排水沟里长出的一棵小树。
She crouched down and peered at something on the ground, as a patch of shadow moved into the moonlight, revealing itself to be a grizzled man in his mid-forties. He looked down at his wife, and then looked at what she was looking at, and he scratched his head.
女人蹲下身，凝视着地上的某个东西。她的身旁移来一片阴影，盖住了月光，原来是个头发灰白、四十来岁的男子。男子低头看了看妻子，又顺着她的目光看去，挠了挠头。
The gates were locked. They were always locked at four in the afternoon in winter, at eight at night in summer. Spike-topped iron railings ran around part of the cemetery, a high brick wall around the rest of it. The bars of the gates were closely spaced: they would have stopped a grown man from getting through, even stopped a ten-year-old child…
大门上了锁，冬日通常下午四点上锁，夏日则是晚上八点。带尖刺的铁篱笆包住了部分坟场，其余部分由高高的砖墙围住。大门上的栏杆缝隙很窄：别说是成年人了，十岁小孩都钻不过去。
“Owens!” called the pale woman, in a voice that might have been the rustle of the wind through the long grass. “Owens! Come and look at this!”
“欧文斯！”面色苍白的女人大喊，声音听来如同瑟瑟微风吹过高高的草地。“欧文斯！你快过来看！”
And at that moment the thing he was inspecting seemed to catch sight of Mrs. Owens, for it opened its mouth, letting the rubber nipple it was sucking fall to the ground, and it reached out a small, chubby fist, as if it were trying for all the world to hold on to Mrs. Owens’s pale finger.
这一刻，男人打量的东西吸引了欧文斯太太全部的注意力。小东西张开嘴，橡胶奶嘴落在地上。他伸出肉嘟嘟的小手，像是想拼命抓住欧文斯太太苍白的手指。
“Mistress Owens?” he said, for he came from a more formal age than our own. “Is that what I think it is?”
“欧文斯太太？”男人用语恭敬，因为他生时的年代比我们更讲究礼节，“这就是你叫我过来看的东西？”
“Of course it’s a baby,” said his wife. “And the question is, what is to be done with it?”
“那还用说？”欧文斯太太说，“问题在于，我们该拿他怎么办？”
“Strike me silly,” said Mr. Owens, “if that isn’t a baby.”
“我没看错吧？”欧文斯先生说，“这是个小孩吗？”
A chilly breeze blew across the graveyard, scattering the fog in the lower slopes of the place (for the graveyard covered the whole of the top of the hill, and its paths wound up the hill and down and back upon themselves). A rattling: someone at the main gate of the graveyard was pulling and shaking it, rattling the old gates and the heavy padlock and chain that held them.
一阵寒凉的微风吹过坟场，吹散了低坡上的雾气（坟场占据整个山头，坟场里外的路顺着山势蜿蜒曲折）。哐啷！坟场大门那儿有人在拉着门使劲摇晃，让老旧的大门、沉重的挂锁和锁链哐啷作响。
“I daresay that is a question, Mistress Owens,” said her husband. “And yet, it is not our question. For this here baby is unquestionably alive, and as such is nothing to do with us, and is no part of our world.”
“这的确是个问题。不过，这个问题不归我们管。因为这个小孩无疑还活着，也就是说他不属于我们的世界，和我们毫无干系。”
“Look at him smile!” said Mrs. Owens. “He has the sweetest of smiles,” and with one insubstantial hand she stroked the child’s sparse blond hair. The little boy giggled with delight.
“你看，他笑了！他笑得多甜啊。”欧文斯太太用虚幻的手摸了摸小男孩稀疏的金发。小男孩开心地咯咯直笑。
“There now,” said Owens, “it’s the babe’s family, come to bring him back to the loving bosom. Leave the little man be,” he added, because Mrs. Owens was putting her insubstantial arms around the toddler, smoothing, stroking.
见欧文斯太太仍用虚幻的双臂抱着小男孩，轻柔地安抚他，欧文斯先生说：“来了，这孩子的家人来了，要把他接回母亲温暖的怀抱。我们就把他放在这里吧。”
“Come on, Mistress Owens. Leave it be. There’s a dear,” said Mr. Owens, when he saw a ghost, and his mouth dropped open, and he found himself unable to think of anything to say.
“快点啊，亲爱的，别管他了。”欧文斯先生说。这时他看到一个幽灵，吓得张大了嘴，脑子突然一片空白，说不出话来。
Mrs. Owens said, “He dun’t look like nobody’s family, that one.” The man in the dark coat had given up on rattling the main gates and was now examining the smaller side gate. It, too, was well-locked. There had been some vandalism in the graveyard the previous year, and the council had Taken Steps.
欧文斯太太说：“那人看上去不像他的家人。”来者是个黑衣男子，他已放弃摇晃大门，转而对小一些的侧门下手。侧门也锁得严严实实。去年坟场发生了几起破坏公物的案子，坟场理事会便采取了应对措施。
You might think — and if you did, you would be right — that Mr. Owens should not have taken on so at seeing a ghost, given that Mr. and Mrs. Owens were themselves dead and had been for a few hundred years now, and given that the entirety of their social life, or very nearly, was spent with those who were also dead. But there was a difference between the folk of the graveyard and this: a raw, flickering, startling shape the grey color of television static, all panic and naked emotion which flooded the Owenses as if it was their own. Three figures, two large, one smaller, but only one of them was in focus, was more than an outline or a shimmer. And the figure said, My baby! He is trying to harm my baby!
也许你会想——如果你真这么想，你就猜对了：欧文斯先生不会因为见着个幽灵就大惊失色，毕竟他和欧文斯太太本身就是幽灵。已经差不多两百年了，他们全部的社会生活，或近乎全部，都是和死人一起度过的。可眼前的人影和坟场里的那帮家伙并不一样：闪烁不定，原始、瘆人且灰扑扑的，就像电视里的静电雪花。彻骨的惊慌和赤裸裸的情绪涌入欧文斯夫妇心中，令他们感同身受。三个人影，两大一小，可只有一人看得清模样，另外两人只有闪烁的模糊轮廓。那个相对清楚的人影喊道：我的孩子！他要害我的孩子！
“What did he do to you?” asked Mrs. Owens, but she was not certain that the ghost could hear her. Recently dead, poor love, she thought. It’s always easier to die gently, to wake in due time in the place you were buried, to come to terms with your death and to get acquainted with the other inhabitants. This creature was nothing but alarm and fear for her child, and her panic, which felt to the Owenses like a low-pitched screaming, was now attracting attention, for other pale figures were coming from all over the graveyard.
“他对你做了什么？”欧文斯太太问，但她不确定幽灵能否听到。刚去世不久的可怜人哪，安详地死去总是更轻松些：在被埋葬的地方适时地醒来，与死亡妥协，与同住的人们相识。而在这个女人心中，却只有因为担心孩子而产生的惊慌与恐惧。在欧文斯夫妇的感知中，女人的慌乱就像一声低沉的尖叫。这种慌乱吸引了其他人的注意，数个苍白的身形正从坟场各处赶来。
A clattering. The man outside was hauling a heavy metal garbage can across the alley to the high brick wall that ran around that part of the graveyard.
哐啷！坟场外的男人使劲拖动一个沉重的金属垃圾桶，沿着小路走向环绕部分坟场的高耸砖墙。
“Protect my son!” said the ghost, and Mrs. Owens thought it was a woman. Of course, the babe’s mother.
请保护我的儿子！幽灵说。欧文斯太太觉得这是个女人，毫无疑问，她是这个孩子的母亲。
“Who are you?” Caius Pompeius asked the figure. His headstone was now only a weathered lump of rock, but two thousand years earlier he had asked to be laid to rest on the mound beside the marble shrine, rather than to have his body sent back to Rome, and he was one of the most senior citizens of the graveyard. He took his responsibilities extremely seriously. “Are you buried here?”
“你是谁？”凯厄斯·庞培问。他的墓碑饱受日晒雨淋，如今只余一块残破的石头。两千年前，他曾要求将自己葬在大理石圣殿边的山丘上，而非将遗体运回罗马。他是坟场里最德高望重的几个人之一，对自己肩负的责任尤为严肃。“你被葬在了这里吗？”
There was a thump and a crash from the high wall beside the alley. The garbage can had fallen. A man clambered up onto the top of the wall, a dark outline against the mist-smudged streetlights. He paused for a moment, then climbed down the other side, holding on to the top of the wall, legs dangling, then let himself fall the last few feet, down into the graveyard.
小路边的高墙那儿传来一声闷响，紧接着砰的一声巨响。垃圾桶倒了。那个男人吃力地爬上围墙，在雾蒙蒙的街灯下映出一个灰暗的轮廓。他停了一会儿，从墙的另一侧爬下，手抓墙顶，双腿晃荡。离地不过几英尺，他手一松就落了下来。
“Of course she’s not! Freshly dead by the look of her.” Mrs. Owens put an arm around the woman-shape and spoke to it privately, in a low voice, calm and sensible.
“当然不是！瞧她那样子，一看就是刚死不久。”欧文斯太太搂住女人的肩，与她悄声说话，语气低沉、平静而理智。
“But my dear,” Mrs. Owens said to the shape, now all that was left of the three shapes that had appeared in the graveyard. “He’s living. We’re not. Can you imagine…”
“可是，亲爱的，”欧文斯太太对三个幽灵中唯一没消失的母亲说，“他是个活人，可我们不是，你能想象…”
The child was looking up at them, puzzled. It reached for one of them, then the other, finding nothing but air. The woman-shape was fading fast.
小男孩正望着上方的两人，一脸困惑。他伸手够向其中一人，又够向另一人，触及的却只有空气。母亲的身形在飞速消散。
“Yes,” said Mrs. Owens, in response to something that no one else had heard. “If we can, then we will.” Then she turned to the man beside her. “And you, Owens? Will you be a father to this little lad?”
“我愿意。”欧文斯太太答应了什么事，但没人听见，“我们会尽己所能。”她转向身边的丈夫，问：“欧文斯，你怎么想？你愿意成为这个小不点的爸爸吗？”
“Sure as I ever have been of anything,” said Mrs. Owens.
“百分之百想好了。”欧文斯太太说。
“We never had a child,” said his wife. “And his mother wants us to protect him. Will you say yes?”
“我们从没有过孩子。”欧文斯太太说，“他的母亲希望我们保护好他，你愿意吗？”
“Will I what?” said Owens, his brow crinkling.
“愿意什么？”欧文斯先生皱起眉头。
The man in the black coat had tripped in the tangle of ivy and half-broken headstones. Now he got to his feet and walked forward more carefully, startling an owl which rose on silent wings. He could see the baby and there was triumph in his eyes.
黑衣男人被缠结的常春藤和残破的墓碑绊倒了。站起身后，他愈加小心翼翼地前行，但依然惊动了一只猫头鹰。猫头鹰无声地张开翅膀，飞上高空。黑衣男人看到了孩子，眼神中流露出胜利的喜悦。
“Did you hear that?” Mrs. Owens asked the flickering shape in the graveyard, now little more than an outline, like distant summer lightning in the shape of a woman. It said something to her that no one else could hear, and then it was gone.
“你听到了吗？”欧文斯太太对那个闪烁不定、只剩下轮廓的身影说。这身影就像夏日天际处一道形如女人的闪电。女人对欧文斯太太说了几句悄悄话，接着便消失了。
“Then yes. If you’ll be its mother, I’ll be its father.”
“那就这么办吧。如果你当了他的妈妈，那我就是他的爸爸了。”
“She’ll not come here again,” said Mr. Owens. “Next time she wakes it’ll be in her own graveyard, or wherever it is she’s going.”
“她不会再回来了。”欧文斯太太说，“下次醒来时，她会在自己的坟场里，或在她前去的其他地方。”
Owens knew what his wife was thinking when she used that tone of voice. They had not, in life and in death, been married for over two hundred and fifty years for nothing. “Are you certain?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
一听妻子的语气，欧文斯先生便明白了她的心思。他们那跨越生死、持续二百五十多年的婚姻并不是摆设。“你想好了？”他问，“真想好了？”
He blinked and sniffed the air. Something had happened, but he had no idea what it was. He growled in the back of his throat, like a beast of prey, angry and frustrated.
杰克之一眨了眨眼睛，嗅了嗅空气。有什么事发生了，可他完全没有头绪。他从喉咙深处发出一声咆哮，如同一头困兽，愤怒而懊恼。
To the man Jack, walking through the graveyard towards them on a path, his knife already in his hand, it seemed as if a swirl of mist had curled around the child, in the moonlight, and that the boy was no longer there: just damp mist and moonlight and swaying grass.
至于杰克之一，他正沿着坟场的小径向他们走来，刀已握在手里。月光下，他看到小男孩仿佛被一团雾气萦绕，随即便消失了，只留下月光、潮湿的雾气和摇曳的草。
The graveyard kept its secrets.
坟场会保守自己的秘密。
“Hullo?” called the man Jack, wondering if perhaps the child had stepped behind something. His voice was dark and rough, and there was an odd edge to it, as if of surprise or puzzlement at hearing himself speak.
“有人吗？”杰克之一大喊，心想那个孩子也许会从什么东西后面走出来。他的声音低沉粗糙，透着一种古怪的尖刻，如同惊讶或困惑于听到自己的说话声。
Mrs. Owens bent down to the baby and extended her arms. “Come now,” she said, warmly. “Come to Mama.”
欧文斯太太在孩子身边弯下腰，伸出双臂，温和地说：“来吧，宝贝，来妈妈怀里。”
The man Jack was tall. This man was taller. The man Jack wore dark clothes. This man’s clothes were darker. People who noticed the man Jack when he was about his business — and he did not like to be noticed — were troubled, or made uncomfortable, or found themselves unaccountably scared. The man Jack looked up at the stranger, and it was the man Jack who was troubled.
杰克之一很高，说话的男人也很高。杰克之一身穿深色衣服，男人的衣服颜色更深。杰克不喜欢办事时被人看见，而看见他的人往往会心神不安，浑身难受，或心生莫名其妙的恐惧。杰克看着这位陌生人，心神不安的反倒是他自己。
“Hello?” he called, again. He hoped to hear a baby cry or utter a half-word, or to hear it move. He did not expect what he actually heard, a voice, silky smooth, saying,
“有人吗？”他再次大喊，指望能听到一个孩子啼哭、咿呀或移动的声响。他万万没料到，他听到的是某个人丝滑的嗓音。
“Can I help you?”
“你需要帮助吗？”
“It was just a baby,” said the man Jack. “I was just passing, when I heard a baby cry, and I looked through the gates and I saw him. Well, what would anyone do?”
“我要找的是个小孩。我路过时碰巧听到孩子的哭声，就透过大门看见了他。你说其他人撞见这一幕会怎么做？”
“I applaud your public-spiritedness,” said the stranger. “Yet if you managed to find this child, how were you planning to get out of here with it? You can’t climb back over the wall holding a baby.”
“我为你的公德心鼓掌。”陌生人说，“可就算你找到了那个小孩，你打算怎么离开这儿？你没法带着一个孩子翻过高墙。”
“I was looking for someone,” said the man Jack, slipping his right hand back into his coat pocket, so the knife was hidden, but there if he needed it.
“我在找一个人。”杰克之一边说边把右手悄悄放进外套口袋。这样一来刀就藏了起来，但随时准备出鞘。
“In a locked graveyard, at night?” said the stranger.
“大晚上的，在一片上了锁的坟场？”陌生人反问。
“I would have called until someone let me out,” said the man Jack.
“我会大声喊叫，直到有人来帮我们出去。”杰克之一说。
A heavy jingling of keys. “Well, that would have been me, then,” said the stranger. “I would have had to let you out.” He selected one large key from the key ring, said “Follow me.”
一串沉甸甸的钥匙丁零作响。“哦，那么那个人应该就是我了。请你跟着我离开这里。”陌生人从钥匙环上挑出一把大钥匙，“跟我来。”
The man Jack walked behind the stranger. He took his knife from his pocket. “Are you the caretaker, then?”
杰克之一跟在陌生人后面，从口袋里拿出刀。“你是守墓人吧？”
“Am I? Certainly, in a manner of speaking,” said the stranger. They were walking towards the gates and, the man Jack was certain, away from the baby. But the caretaker had the keys. A knife in the dark, that was all it would take, and then he could search for the child all through the night, if he needed to.
“守墓人？不妨就这么说吧。”他们向大门走去，杰克之一确定自己正离那个孩子越来越远。那个守墓人有钥匙，只需在黑暗中给他一刀，钥匙就到手了。接下来，他就能彻底搜查这片坟场，找寻那个孩子的下落。
The man Jack thought.
杰克之一想了想。
“If there was a baby,” said the stranger, without looking back, “it wouldn’t have been here in the graveyard. Perhaps you were mistaken. It’s unlikely that a child would have come in here, after all. Much more likely that you heard a nightbird, and saw a cat, perhaps, or a fox. They declared this place an official nature reserve, you know, thirty years ago, around the time of the last funeral. Now think carefully, and tell me you are certain that it was a child that you saw.”
“如果真有个小孩，”陌生人说，“那也不可能在坟场里。你弄错了吧，毕竟一个孩子不可能进这儿来。你更有可能听到了一只夜鸟的叫声，看到了一只野猫或一只狐狸。你知道吗？他们宣称这儿是一片官方自然保护区，那是大约三十年前，举办最后一场葬礼的时候。现在你好好想想，再告诉我你确信自己看到了一个小孩。”
He raised the knife.
他举起刀。
The man Jack stood outside the gates to the graveyard. The stranger stood inside the gate, and he locked it again, and put the key away.
杰克之一站在坟场的侧门外。陌生人站在侧门内，锁好门，收好钥匙。
The stranger unlocked the side gate. “A fox,” he said. “They make the most uncommon noises, not unlike a person crying. No, your visit to this graveyard was a mis-step, sir. Somewhere the child you seek awaits you, but he is not here.” And he let the thought sit there, in the man Jack’s head for a moment, before he opened the gate with a flourish. “Delighted to have made your acquaintance,” he said. “And I trust that you will find everything you need out there.”
陌生人打开侧门的锁，说：“是只狐狸吧。狐狸会发出稀奇古怪的叫声，与人的哭声有几分相像。先生，你不该浪费时间来这片坟场，你找的孩子正在别的地方等你。”等杰克之一把这个想法消化了一会儿后，陌生人优雅地打开门，说：“很高兴认识你。相信你在外面能找到你想要的一切。”
“Where are you going?” asked the man Jack.
“你要去哪儿？”杰克之一问。
“There are other gates than this,” said the stranger. “My car is on the other side of the hill. Don’t mind me. You don’t even have to remember this conversation.”
“这里还有别的门。”陌生人说，“我的车在山的另一边，不必管我。你根本没必要记住这次谈话。”
“No,” said the man Jack, agreeably. “I don’t.” He remembered wandering up the hill, that what he had thought to be a child had turned out to be a fox, that a helpful caretaker had escorted him back out to the street. He slipped his knife into its inner sheath. “Well,” he said. “Good night.”
“对，没必要。”杰克之一表示赞同，回想起刚才发生的事：晃荡到山上，发现自己所以为的孩子原来是只狐狸，一个好心的守墓人护送他回到路上。他让刀滑入内鞘，说：“就这样吧，晚安。”
“A good night to you,” said the stranger whom Jack had taken for a caretaker.
“晚安。”被杰克之一当作守墓人的陌生人说。
The man Jack set off down the hill, in pursuit of the infant.
杰克之一动身下山，继续寻找那个孩子。
From the shadows, the stranger watched Jack until he was out of sight. Then he moved through the night, up and up, to the flat place below the brow of the hill, a place dominated by an obelisk and a flat stone set into the ground dedicated to the memory of Josiah Worthington, local brewer, politician and later baronet, who had, almost three hundred years before, bought the old cemetery and the land around it, and given it to the city in perpetuity. He had reserved for himself the best location on the hill — a natural amphitheater, with a view of the whole city and beyond — and had insured that the graveyard endured as a graveyard, for which the inhabitants of the graveyard were grateful, although never quite as grateful as Josiah Worthington, Bart., felt they should have been.
身处阴影之中，陌生人望着杰克之一离去，直到望不见为止。随后他开始在夜色中移动，不断上行，来到山脊之下的一块平地。平地上立着一块方尖碑和一块平板石，用来纪念约西亚·沃辛顿——当地的啤酒酿造者、政治家，后来成了准男爵。大约三百年前，约西亚买下了老坟场和周围的土地，并永久地捐献给了城区。他为自己留下了山上最好的地方——一座能将整个城镇及更远的景致尽收眼底的天然环形剧场。他还作出承诺，让坟场永远保持现在的状态，这让坟场的居民感激不尽，尽管这感激从未达到约西亚所期许的程度。
“No,” said Mrs. Owens. “I can’t.”
“不，我不觉得。”欧文斯太太说。
Josiah Worthington was speaking. He said, “My dear madam. Your obduracy is quite, is… well, can’t you see how ridiculous this is?”
约西亚·沃辛顿说：“尊敬的夫人，您真是倔得可以…难道您不觉得这荒谬至极吗？”
Mr. Owens had seen Josiah Worthington in the flesh back when they were both alive, had in fact made several pieces of fine furniture for the Worthington manor house, out near Inglesham, and was still in awe of him.
欧文斯先生在世时就见过约西亚·沃辛顿，还为他位于英格沙姆附近的庄园住宅打造了好几件精致的家具，并依然对他心怀敬意。
The stranger reached them as silently as the fog itself, and he watched the proceedings unfold, from the shadows, and he said nothing.
陌生人悄悄靠近他们，像雾气一样悄无声息。他站在阴影中，一言不发地关注事态发展。
There were, all told, some ten thousand souls in the graveyard, but most of them slept deep, or took no interest in the night-to-night affairs of the place, and there were less than three hundred of them up there, in the amphitheater, in the moonlight.
据说坟场里有一万来个鬼魂，但大多数在沉眠，或对这地方日复一日发生的事失了兴趣。在月光下的环形剧场里，只有不到三百个鬼魂。
She was sitting, cross-legged, on the ground, and the living child was sleeping in her lap. She cradled its head with her pale hands.
她盘腿而坐，活人小男孩正睡在她的大腿上。她用苍白的手护住小男孩的头。
“What Mistress Owens is trying to say, sir, begging your honor’s pardon,” said Mr. Owens, standing beside her, “is that she dun’t see it that way. She sees it as doing her duty.”
“请阁下原谅，欧文斯太太想说的是，”站在妻子旁边的欧文斯先生说，“她没往您说的那方面想，她认为这是她的责任。”
“His mama gave the boy to me,” said Mrs. Owens, as if that was all that needed to be said.
“他的母亲把他交给了我。”欧文斯太太说，仿佛她要说的仅此一句。
“Her duty?” Josiah Worthington, Bart., shook his head, as if to dislodge a strand of cobweb. “Your duty, ma’am, is to the graveyard, and to the commonality of those who form this population of discarnate spirits, revenants and suchlike wights, and your duty thus is to return the creature as soon as possible to its natural home — which is not here.”
“她的责任？”准男爵约西亚攱沃辛顿摇了摇头，像是要甩掉一根蛛丝。“夫人，您所要负责的，是这片坟场，还有这儿的一众人。脱离肉体的灵魂啦，亡灵啦，鬼魅之类的。因此，您的职责是尽快把这个生命送回他现实的家中，而不是把他留在这里。”
Mrs. Owens’s eyes burned. “I can look after him,” she said, “as well as his own mama. She already gave him to me. Look: I’m holding him, aren’t I? I’m touching him.”
欧文斯太太怒目而视：“我能照顾他，和他的亲生母亲照顾得一样好。他的母亲已经将他托付给了我。瞧，我正抱着他是吧？我正在抚摸他。”
“Which,” said Caius Pompeius, stiffly, “is precisely the point. What will you feed him? How can you care for him?”
“嗯，”凯厄斯·庞培毫不留情地说，“说到点上了。你喂他吃什么？你怎么照顾他？”
“My dear woman…”
“我尊敬的夫人…”
“I am not your dear woman,” said Mrs. Owens, getting to her feet. “Truth to tell, I don’t even see why I am even here, talking to you fiddle-pated old dunderheads, when this lad is going to wake up hungry soon enough — and where am I going to find food for him in this graveyard, I should like to know?”
“我不是你的什么尊敬的夫人。”欧文斯太太站起身，“说实话，我真想不明白，小不点马上就要饿醒了，我为什么还在跟你这个老糊涂胡搅蛮缠？在坟场这么个地方，我上哪儿给他找吃的去啊？”
Mother Slaughter’s mouth became a tiny O. “But,” she said. Then she said, “But I never.”
屠杀之母的嘴张成一个小小的圆。“但是，”她顿了顿，“我永远不会同意。”
“Here,” said Mrs. Owens. “We could give him the Freedom of the Graveyard.”
“就这儿啊，”欧文斯太太说，“我们能给予他在坟场里自由行动的权利。”
“That is true,” said Caius Pompeius. “But he wasn’t alive.”
“话是这么说，”凯厄斯·庞培说，“可他又不是个活人。”
“Now, see reason, Betsy,” said Mother Slaughter, a tiny old thing, in the huge bonnet and cape that she had worn in life and been buried wearing. “Where would he live?”
“好啦，明理些。”屠杀之母说。她是个瘦小的老太太，戴着宽大的系带女帽，披着披肩。帽子和披肩她在世时穿过，下葬时也穿在身上。“你说他能在哪儿生活呢？”
Josiah Worthington said, “You do, Silas?”
约西亚·沃辛顿说：“赛拉斯，你真这么想？”
“Well, why not? It en’t the first time we’d’ve given the Freedom of the Graveyard to an outsider.”
“为什么啊？这又不是我们第一次将在坟场里自由行动的权利给一个外人。”
And with that, the stranger realized that he was being drawn, like it or not, into the conversation and, reluctantly, he stepped out of the shadows, detaching from them like a patch of darkness. “No,” he agreed. “I am not. But I take Mrs. Owens’s point.”
话说到这份上，陌生人意识到不论自己情愿与否，他已经卷入这场谈话。他无可奈何地从阴影里走出来，如同从阴影中剥离出的一块黑斑。“没错，”他说，“我不是活人，但我赞成欧文斯太太的想法。”
“I do. For good or for evil — and I firmly believe that it is for good — Mrs. Owens and her husband have taken this child under their protection. It is going to take more than just a couple of good-hearted souls to raise this child. It will,” said Silas, “take a graveyard.”
“没错。不管是出于好意还是出于恶意，我坚信是出于好意，欧文斯夫妇会保护这个孩子。不过要养大这个孩子仅仅靠一对好心肠的夫妇是不够的，这需要靠整片坟场一齐出力。”
“You are a wise woman,” said Silas. “I see why they speak so highly of you.” He couldn’t push the minds of the dead as he could the living, but he could use all the tools of flattery and persuasion he possessed, for the dead are not immune to either. Then he came to a decision. “Very well. If Mr. and Mrs. Owens will be his parents, I shall be his guardian. I shall remain here, and if I need to leave I shall ensure that someone takes my place, bringing the child food and looking after him. We can use the crypt of the chapel,” he added.
“您真是一位聪明的女士。”赛拉斯说，“我算是明白为什么他们对您的评价那么高了。”他无法像改变活人的想法一样改变死人的想法，但他仍能使用奉承和劝服两大法宝，死人对此并不具备免疫力。他作了个决定：“好，如果欧文斯夫妇要当他的父母，那我就当他的监护人吧。我会留在这里，如果有事要离开，我会找人接替我照顾孩子，给他带吃的。我们可以利用教堂的地下室。”
“And what of food, and the rest of it?”
“那食物怎么办？还有别的七七八八的事呢？”
“I can leave the graveyard and return. I can bring him food,” said Silas.
“我可以自由出入坟场。我能给他带食物。”赛拉斯说。
“But,” expostulated Josiah Worthington. “But. A human child. A living child. I mean. I mean, I mean. This is a graveyard, not a nursery, blast it.”
“可是，”约西亚有沃辛顿劝道，“可是，这是个人类孩子，活生生的孩子。我是说，我是说这里是一片坟场，不是一所托儿所，该死。”
“Exactly,” said Silas, nodding. “A very good point, Sir Josiah. I couldn’t have put it better myself. And for that reason, if for no other, it is vital that the child be raised with as little disruption as possible to the, if you’ll forgive the expression, the life of the graveyard.” With that he strolled over to Mrs. Owens, and he looked down at the infant asleep in her arms. He raised an eyebrow. “Does he have a name, Mrs. Owens?”
“没错，”赛拉斯点点头，“您说得对极了，约西亚阁下。就算是我，也没法表达得更贴切。正因如此，在养大这个孩子的过程中，要尽量不让他破坏，请原谅我用词不当，不让他破坏坟场的生活。”他慢步走向欧文斯太太，低头看她怀里的小男孩，挑起一边眉毛，问，“欧文斯太太，他有名字吗？”
“That’s all very well you saying that,” said Mother Slaughter. “But you comes and you goes and nobody keeps track of you. If you went off for a week, the boy could die.”
“那真是太好了。”屠杀之母说，“可是你来无影去无踪的，如果你离开一个星期，孩子可能就饿死了。”
“Well, then,” said Silas. “His old name won’t be of much use to him now, anyway. There are those out there who mean him harm. Suppose we pick a name for him, eh?”
“这样的话，”赛拉斯说，“反正他原来的名字也没什么用了，而且坟场外头还有人想伤害他，就由我们给他起个新名字吧。”
Josiah Worthington said, “He looks more like my head gardener, Stebbins. Not that I’m suggesting Stebbins as a name. The man drank like a fish.”
约西亚·沃辛顿说：“他看上去更像我的园丁主管斯特宾。我不是说要给他起斯特宾这个名字。那家伙能把酒当水喝。”
“Not that his mother told me,” she said.
“他的母亲没有告诉我。”
“Then Nobody it is,” said Silas. “Nobody Owens.”
“那就叫他诺伯蒂[1]吧。”赛拉斯拍板决定，“诺伯蒂·欧文斯。”【注：[1]诺伯蒂为Nobody的音译。上文欧文斯太太说“他长得不像任何人，只像他自己”（He looks like nobody but himself），因此赛拉斯为他取了这个名字。】
“He looks like nobody but himself,” said Mrs. Owens, firmly. “He looks like nobody.”
她坚定地说：“他长得不像任何人，只像他自己。”
“He looks like my nephew Harry,” said Mother Slaughter, and it seemed then as if the whole graveyard was about to join in, each inhabitant offering his or her own comparisons between the infant and someone long forgotten, when Mrs. Owens broke in.
“他看上去像我的外甥亨利。”屠杀之母说。坟场的居民纷纷加入其中，将小男孩与某个许久未忆起的故人相比较，直到欧文斯太太打断了他们。
It was then that, as if responding to the name, the child opened its eyes wide in wakefulness. It stared around it, taking in the faces of the dead, and the mist, and the moon. Then it looked at Silas. Its gaze did not flinch. It looked grave.
话音刚落，宛如在回应这个名字，小男孩睁大眼睛，完全醒转过来。他环视四周，看着一张张逝者的脸，看着蒙蒙雾气和皎皎明月。随后他转向赛拉斯，目光毫不畏缩，反而有些深沉。
Caius Pompeius stepped over and eyed the child. “He looks a little like my proconsul, Marcus. We could call him Marcus.”
凯厄斯·庞培走过来，看了一眼孩子，提议道：“他看上去有点像我的地方总督马库斯，就叫他马库斯吧。”
“His name. And a good name,” Silas told her. “It will help to keep him safe.”
“诺伯蒂是他的名字，一个好名字。”赛拉斯对她说，“这有助于他平安长大。”
“And what kind of a name is Nobody?” asked Mother Slaughter, scandalized.
“诺伯蒂算得上个名字？”屠杀之母不敢苟同。
“I don’t want trouble,” said Josiah Worthington. The infant looked up at him and then, hungry or tired or simply missing his home, his family, his world, he screwed up his tiny face and began to cry.
“我不想卷入麻烦。”约西亚·沃辛顿说。小男孩抬头看他，接着，也许是饿了或累了，也许是想念他的家、他的家人或他的世界，他小脸一皱，哭了起来。
Mrs. Owens waited outside the funeral chapel. It had been decreed over forty years before that the building, in appearance a small church with a spire, was a listed building of historical interest. The town council had decided that it would cost too much to renovate it, a little chapel in an overgrown graveyard that had already become unfashionable, so they had padlocked it, and waited for it to fall down. Ivy covered it, but it was solidly built, and it would not fall down this century.
欧文斯太太在墓地教堂外等候。四十多年前，这座带尖顶的小教堂被列入历史名胜建筑，但市议会觉得，这个位于杂草丛生的坟场中且设计早已过气的教堂翻新起来成本太高，就索性给它上了挂锁，等待它有朝一日自然坍塌，但爬满常春藤的教堂建得很结实，至少在这个世纪是不会坍塌的。
“Leave us,” said Caius Pompeius to Mrs. Owens. “We will discuss this further without you.”
“请你回避一下。”凯厄斯·庞培对欧文斯太太说，“我们还得再讨论讨论。”
The child had fallen asleep in Mrs. Owens’s arms. She rocked it gently, sang to it an old song, one her mother had sung to her when she was a baby herself, back in the days when men had first started to wear powdered wigs. The song went,
孩子已经在欧文斯太太的怀里睡着了。欧文斯太太轻轻摇动双臂，哼唱一首老歌。这首歌是在她还是个小宝宝时妈妈唱给她听的，那得回溯到欧洲贵族刚开始戴卷边假发的年代。这首歌是这么唱的：
“Here we go, Mistress Owens,” he said. “Lots of good things for a growing boy. We can keep it in the crypt, eh?”
“进来看看，欧文斯太太。”赛拉斯说，“这么多好东西，一个正一天天长大的男孩恰好用得着。咱们就把他放在地下室吧。”
Sleep my little babby-oh
睡吧，我的小宝贝
If I’m not mistaken.
若我没有说错
Dance a measure,
共舞一曲
Sleep until you waken
一觉睡到自然醒
And Mrs. Owens sang all that before she discovered that she had forgotten how the song ended. She had a feeling that the final line was something in the way of “and some hairy bacon,” but that might have been another song altogether, so she stopped and instead she sang him the one about the Man in the Moon who came down too soon, and after that she sang, in her warm country voice, a more recent song about a lad who put in his thumb and pulled out a plum, and she had just started a long ballad about a young country gentleman whose girlfriend had, for no particular reason, poisoned him with a dish of spotted eels, when Silas came around the side of the chapel, carrying a cardboard box.
欧文斯太太唱着唱着，却怎么也想不起结尾的歌词，最后一句似乎是“和长毛的培根”，可这好像又和另一首歌混了。她只好停下换了一首歌，讲一个月亮上的男人掉了下来。唱完后，她用温暖的乡音唱了一首时代更近的歌，讲一个伙计把大拇指放进嘴里，拔出来后变成了一颗李子。随后她又唱起一首长长的民谣，讲一位年轻的乡村绅士被女友无缘无故用一盘斑点鳗鱼给毒死了。她刚刚开始唱时，赛拉斯手拿一个硬纸盒，来到了教堂边。
Find your name
找寻你的名字
and buried treasure…
和埋藏的宝藏…
When you’re grown you’ll see the world
长大后你就会看到世界
Kiss a lover,
亲吻爱人
The padlock fell off in his hand and he pulled open the iron door. Mrs. Owens walked inside, looking dubiously at the shelves, and at the old wooden pews tipped up against a wall. There were mildewed boxes of old parish records in one corner, and an open door that revealed a Victorian flush toilet and a basin, with only a cold tap, in the other.
他打开挂锁，拉开铁门。欧文斯太太走了进去，犹疑地看着里头的架子和靠墙的几张老旧的木质教堂长椅。一个墙角有几个发霉的箱子，装着教区的历史记录。另一个墙角有扇敞开的门，露出一个维多利亚风格的抽水马桶和一个洗脸盆，洗脸盆只安装了一个冷水水龙头。
“We can put the food here,” said Silas. “It’s cool, and the food will keep longer.” He reached into the box, pulled out a banana.
“食物可以存放在这里。”赛拉斯说，“这儿很凉爽，食物能保存得更久。”他打开盒子，拿出一根香蕉。
The infant opened his eyes and stared.
小男孩睁开眼睛，看着这一切。
“And what would that be when it was at home?” asked Mrs. Owens, eyeing the yellow and brown object suspiciously.
“这是个什么东西？”欧文斯太太狐疑地盯着这个黄褐色的东西。
“It’s a banana. A fruit, from the tropics. I believe you peel off the outer covering,” said Silas, “like so.”
“这是一根香蕉，一种热带水果，外皮可以剥下来，就像这样。”
The child — Nobody — wriggled in Mrs. Owens’s arms, and she let it down to the flagstones. It toddled rapidly to Silas, grasped his trouser-leg and held on.
小男孩诺伯蒂在欧文斯太太怀里扭来扭去，见此，欧文斯太太就把他放到了地上。只见他跌跌撞撞地快步走向赛拉斯，抓住他的裤脚不肯放手。
Silas passed it the banana.
赛拉斯把香蕉递给他。
“I’ve absolutely no idea,” said Silas, who consumed only one food, and it was not bananas. “You could make up a bed in here for the boy, you know.”
“我完全没概念。”赛拉斯说。他只吃一种食物，但不是香蕉。“你可以在这里给小男孩弄张床。”
“I’ll do no such thing, with Owens and me having a lovely little tomb over by the daffodil patch. Plenty of room in there for a little one. Anyway,” she added, concerned that Silas might think she was rejecting his hospitality, “I wouldn’t want the lad disturbing you.”
“我不打算那么做，我和我先生在水仙花田边有座可爱的小坟墓，那儿空间很大，足够养育这个小家伙了。再说，”欧文斯太太担心自己拒绝赛拉斯的好意不太妥，便客气地说，“我不想让他给你添麻烦。”
Mrs. Owens watched the boy eat. “Ba-na-na,” she said, dubiously. “Never heard of them. Never. What’s it taste like?”
欧文斯太太看着诺伯蒂吃香蕉。“香蕉？”她半信半疑，“从没听说过。什么味道？”
“He wouldn’t.”
“他不会的。”
The boy was done with his banana. What he had not eaten was now smeared over himself. He beamed, messy and apple-cheeked.
小男孩吃完香蕉，弄得全身都是香蕉糊糊。他开心地笑了，脸颊红扑扑的。
“Narna,” he said, happily.
“蕉蕉。”他高兴地说。
“What a clever little thing he is,” said Mrs. Owens. “And such a mess he’s made! Why, attend, you little wriggler…” and she picked the lumps of banana from his clothes and his hair. And then, “What do you think they’ll decide?”
“真是个聪明的小家伙。”欧文斯太太不禁感叹，“不过破坏力也够强的！弄得这一团糟。唉，你这个小鬼头啊…”她拿掉男孩衣服和头发上的香蕉皮，问赛拉斯：“你说他们会怎么决定？”
“I don’t know.”
“不知道。”
“Although I have been a great many things in my time,” said Silas, “I have never been a mother. And I do not plan to begin now. But I can leave this place…”
“我一生中曾有过各种身份，”赛拉斯说，“但从未做过母亲，现在也没这打算。不过我可以离开这里…”
“I can’t give him up. Not after what I promised his mama.”
“我不能抛弃他，因为我向他母亲承诺过。”
Mrs. Owens said simply, “I cannot. My bones are here. And so are Owens’s. I’m never leaving.”
欧文斯太太当即打断：“我不会，我的尸骨在这里，欧文斯先生也是。我永远不会离开。”
“It must be good,” said Silas, “to have somewhere that you belong. Somewhere that’s home.” There was nothing wistful in the way he said this. His voice was drier than deserts, and he said it as if he were simply stating something unarguable. Mrs. Owens did not argue.
“那一定很棒，能有一个归属之地，能有一个家。”赛拉斯的语气丝毫不带伤感，他的声音比沙漠还要干燥，听上去只是在陈述一件不容争辩的事。欧文斯太太没有辩驳。
“Do you think we will have long to wait?”
“我们还要等很久吗？”
Up in the amphitheater on the side of the hill, the debate continued. That it was the Owenses who had got involved in this nonsense, rather than some flibbertigibbet johnny-come-latelies, counted for a lot, for the Owenses were respectable and respected. That Silas had volunteered to be the boy’s guardian had weight — Silas was regarded with a certain wary awe by the graveyard folk, existing as he did on the borderland between their world and the world they had left. But still, but still…
山坡上的环形剧场里，大伙儿仍争论得热火朝天，主要原因是卷入这件荒唐事的是欧文斯夫妇，而不是一个轻虑浅谋、轻举妄动的新来者。欧文斯夫妇值得尊重，也得到了大家的尊重，同时赛拉斯主动担当男孩的监护人也有所分量——坟场的人对赛拉斯心怀敬畏，因为他身处这个世界和活人世界的交界地带。可即便如此…
“Not long,” said Silas, but he was wrong about that.
“不会太久。”赛拉斯说。但他错了。
It was late autumn when the daybreak was long in coming. Although the sky was still dark, cars could now be heard starting up further down the hill, and as the living folk began to drive to work through the misty night-black morning, the graveyard folk talked about the child that had come to them, and what was to be done. Three hundred voices. Three hundred opinions. Nehemiah Trot, the poet, from the tumbled northwestern side of the graveyard, had begun to declaim his thoughts on the matter, although what they were no person listening could have said, when something happened; something to silence each opinionated mouth, something unprecedented in the history of that graveyard.
眼下时值深秋，天亮得很晚。天色尤暗之时，山脚下就传来了汽车发动的声音。活人们正驱车上班，行驶在薄暮中，穿行在薄雾里，而坟场的居民仍在讨论那个突如其来的孩子，商量该拿他怎么办。三百个声音，三百种意见。来自坟场破落的西北面的诗人尼赫迈亚·特罗特正在发表自己的见解，尽管在场者都听得一头雾水。可这时发生了一件事，足以让每一张坚持己见的嘴闭上。这件事对坟场来说史无前例。
A graveyard is not normally a democracy, and yet death is the great democracy, and each of the dead had a voice, and an opinion as to whether the living child should be allowed to stay, and they were each determined to be heard, that night.
坟场通常没有明确的民主制度，但死亡是绝对民主的，每个死人都有发言权，都要就是否允许这个活人孩子留下来予以表态。这一夜，他们每个人都决心要发出自己的声音。
They knew her, the graveyard folk, for each of us encounters the Lady on the Grey at the end of our days, and there is no forgetting her.
他们认识她，坟场的居民们都认识她。在生命告终之时，每个人都会见到这名骑着灰马的女子，从此再也不会忘记。
Her face was serene, and peaceful.
她的脸色平静而安详。
A huge white horse, of the kind that the people who know horses would call a “grey,” came ambling up the side of the hill. The pounding of its hooves could be heard before it was seen, along with the crashing it made as it pushed through the little bushes and thickets, through the brambles and the ivy and the gorse that had grown up on the side of the hill. The size of a Shire horse it was, a full nineteen hands or more. It was a horse that could have carried a knight in full armor into combat, but all it carried on its naked back was a woman, clothed from head to foot in grey. Her long skirt and her shawl might have been spun out of old cobwebs.
一匹高大的灰马[2]缓缓走上山坡。未看到它前，嗒嗒的马蹄声早已传来，夹杂着它一路走来的动静。它穿过矮树林和灌木丛，踏过长满荆棘、常春藤和金雀花的小山坡。这是一匹夏尔马，高达一米九，兴许还不止，完全能载着一位全副武装的骑士冲锋陷阵，可它光秃秃的背上却骑着一个女人。女人从头到脚一身灰，身着仿佛由陈年蛛丝编织而成的长裙和披肩。【注：[2]“灰马”这一说法出自《新约·启示录》。白马象征纯洁和胜利；红马象征流血和战争；黑马象征灾难；灰马象征死亡。】
The horse paused beside the obelisk. In the east the sky was lightening gently, a pearlish, pre-dawn luminescence that made the people of the graveyard uncomfortable and made them think about returning to their comfortable homes. Even so, not a one of them moved. They were watching the Lady on the Grey, each of them half-excited, half-scared. The dead are not superstitious, not as a rule, but they watched her as a Roman Augur might have watched the sacred crows circle, seeking wisdom, seeking a clue.
灰马在方尖碑边停下。东方天空渐渐发亮，黎明前珍珠般的微光让坟场的居民很不舒服，让他们想回到舒适的家中。即便如此，也没有一人动身。他们望着灰马女子，半是兴奋，半是恐惧。死人通常不迷信，但此刻他们注视女子的样子正如同注视圣鸦群的古罗马占卜师，想借此寻得智慧，觅得线索。
And she spoke to them.
她开口说话了。
That, at least, was what the folk of the graveyard who had been on the hillside that night claimed had happened.
至少，当晚亲身经历的坟场居民是这么描述的。
In a voice like the chiming of a hundred tiny silver bells she said only, “The dead should have charity.” And she smiled.
“死者也要乐善好施。”清脆悦耳的声音如同一百个小银铃一齐奏响，说完她微微一笑。
The horse, which had been contentedly ripping up and masticating a clump of thick grass, stopped then. The lady touched the horse’s neck, and it turned. It took several huge, clattering steps, then it was off the side of the hill and cantering across the sky. Its thunderous hooves became an early rumble of distant thunder, and in moments it was lost to sight.
那匹刚扯起一丛浓密的草、心满意足地大口咀嚼的夏尔马停了下来。女子摸了摸马脖子。灰马掉转身，嗒嗒嗒地迈了几大步，从山坡上腾空而起，缓步跃过天穹。雷鸣般的马蹄声渐行渐远，化作远方蓄势待发的隆隆雷响。不一会儿，它就消失在了视野之外。
The debate was over and ended, and, without so much as a show of hands, had been decided. The child called Nobody Owens would be given the Freedom of the Graveyard.
争论就此告终，连个举手表决也没有就下了定论：那个叫诺伯蒂·欧文斯的孩子有权在坟场里自由行动。
Mother Slaughter and Josiah Worthington, Bart., accompanied Mr. Owens to the crypt of the old chapel, and they told Mrs. Owens the news.
屠杀之母和准男爵约西亚·沃辛顿陪同欧文斯先生来到老教堂的地下室，把这个消息告诉了欧文斯太太。
She seemed unsurprised by the miracle. “That’s right,” she said. “Some of them dun’t have a ha’porth of sense in their heads. But she does. Of course she does.”
欧文斯太太似乎对这个奇迹毫不惊讶。“这就对了。”她说，“有些人一点儿都不懂情理。但她懂，她当然懂。”
Before the sun rose on a thundering grey morning the child was fast asleep in the Owenses’ fine little tomb (for Master Owens had died the prosperous head of the local cabinetmaker’s guild, and the cabinetmakers had wanted to ensure that he was properly honored).
这天早晨雷声隆隆，天色灰暗，太阳还未升起，孩子正在欧文斯太太精致的小坟墓里酣睡。（欧文斯先生死前是当地家具木匠协会的会长，木匠们希望他带着荣耀入土。）
In the little town at the bottom of the hill the man Jack was getting increasingly angry. The night had been one that he had been looking forward to for so long, the culmination of months — of years — of work. And the business of the evening had started so promisingly — three people down before any of them had even had a chance to cry out. And then…
在山脚下的小城镇，杰克之一越想越生气。这一夜他期盼已久，几个月，乃至数年的准备都在此一举。昨夜的任务开展得那么顺利——三个人连喊叫的机会都没有就被干掉了。然后…
Silas went out for one final journey before the sunrise. He found the tall house on the side of the hill, and he examined the three bodies he found there, and he studied the pattern of the knife-wounds. When he was satisfied he stepped out into the morning’s dark, his head churning with unpleasant possibilities, and he returned to the graveyard, to the chapel spire where he slept and waited out the days.
日出之前，赛拉斯完成了最后一件事。他发现了山坡上那座高房子，检查了屋里的三具尸体，研究了刀口的形状，直到满意为止。他走出房子，步入黎明前的黑暗，为一些糟糕的可能性而心烦意乱。他回到坟场，上到教堂尖顶，一边睡觉，一边等待白昼过去，黑夜降临。
He did not need to tell the Convocation he had failed.
不必告诉组织他失手了。
Then it had all gone so maddeningly wrong. Why on earth had he gone up the hill when the child had so obviously gone down the hill? By the time he had reached the bottom of the hill, the trail had gone cold. Someone must have found the child, taken it in, hidden it. There was no other explanation.
然后发生的事就完全脱离了掌控，让他抓狂。明明那孩子只可能下山，他为什么还要上山？等他从山上赶到山下，痕迹早已淡去。一定有人先找到了孩子，带走他并藏了起来。没有别的解释。
Anyway, he told himself, edging under a shopfront as the morning rain came down like tears, he had not failed. Not yet. Not for years to come. There was plenty of time. Time to tie up this last piece of unfinished business. Time to cut the final thread.
早晨的雨如泪珠般洒下，杰克之一在一家店的屋檐下踱步，告诉自己：你没有失败，还有好几年呢，你有充裕的时间来了结这个未完成的任务，剪断最后一根线。
A crack of thunder rang out, loud and sudden as a gunshot, and the rain began in earnest. The man Jack was methodical, and he began to plan his next move — the calls he would need to pay on certain of the townsfolk, people who would be his eyes and ears in the town.
一声炸雷响在天边，震耳欲聋，如同炮弹出膛，紧接着大雨倾泻而下。杰克之一有条不紊地思索下一步计划——他得去跟镇上的几个人打声招呼，那几个人是他在镇上的眼线。
It was not until the police sirens sounded and first a police car, then an ambulance, then an unmarked police car with a siren blaring, sped past him on their way up the hill that, reluctantly, the man Jack turned up the collar of his coat, put his head down, and walked off into the morning. His knife was in his pocket, safe and dry inside its sheath, protected from the misery of the elements.
警笛响了起来，来了一辆警车，又来了辆救护车，接着一辆警笛高鸣但没有标记的警车从他身边呼啸而过，向山上驶去。杰克之一只好拉高衣领，低下头，步入早晨的雨幕。他的刀放在口袋里的刀鞘中，安全而干燥，免受雨淋之苦。
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