The village hall had a wall of small wooden drawers. There were sixty of them. Each drawer held paper envelopes full of seeds.
村里的会堂有一面墙，嵌着一排排小木抽屉，一共六十个。每个抽屉里都装着一个个种子纸袋。
A sign hung above the drawers. It said, "Take seeds. Grow them. Bring seeds back." That was the whole rule. Nobody paid, and nobody signed a paper.
抽屉上方挂着一块牌子，写着：“取走种子。种下它们。再送回种子。”这就是全部规矩。没人付钱，也没人签字。
Hugo worked there on Saturday mornings. He was fifteen. He sorted envelopes, wrote labels and swept the floor. In return, the librarian let him eat the biscuits on the table.
雨果每个星期六上午都在那里干活。他十五岁，负责整理纸袋、写标签、扫地。作为回报，管理员允许他吃桌上的饼干。
His best friend Xavier came every Saturday too. Xavier did not like seeds. He liked the hall. It was quiet and smelled of old wood.
他最好的朋友泽维尔每个星期六也来。泽维尔不喜欢种子，他喜欢这座会堂，这里安静，有旧木头的气味。
In June, Xavier's family decided to move to a city far away. They were going to leave in two weeks. Xavier told Hugo on the steps of the hall. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
六月，泽维尔一家决定搬到很远的城市去，两个星期后就走。泽维尔在会堂的台阶上告诉了雨果。两个人很久都没有说话。
On the last Saturday, Xavier came with a small paper bag. He held it out in both hands. "Open it," he said.
最后一个星期六，泽维尔拿着一只小纸袋来了，双手递过去。“打开看看，”他说。
Inside was a tiny cactus. It sat in a pot the size of an egg cup. It was round and green, with white dots. It was no bigger than a thumb.
里面是一棵小小的仙人掌，种在一个蛋杯大小的花盆里，圆圆的，绿色，带着白点，还没有拇指大。
"This is Pip," said Xavier. "I had him for four years. He never grew."
“这是皮普，”泽维尔说，“我养了它四年，它从来没长大过。”
"Why are you giving him to me?"
“你为什么把它给我？”
"Because he cannot come in the car. My mother says the pot will break." Xavier looked at the floor. "Take care of him, okay?"
“因为它不能坐车去。我妈妈说花盆会碎。”泽维尔低头看着地板。“你要好好照顾它，好吗？”
"Okay."
“好。”
"And one more thing." Xavier pointed at the wall. "Drawer fourteen is empty. It has no seeds. I always looked at it and felt bad."
“还有一件事。”泽维尔指了指墙上。“十四号抽屉是空的，里面没有种子。我每次看到它都觉得难受。”
"What about it?"
“它怎么了？”
"Put something in it by the end of summer. Something from Pip. Put my name on the label." Xavier tried to smile. "Then, when I come back, something has my name."
“夏天结束前，往里面放点东西。从皮普身上来的东西。标签上写我的名字。”泽维尔努力想笑一笑。“这样等我回来时，就有一样东西是用我的名字的。”
Hugo took the little pot. It was very light.
雨果接过小花盆，它非常轻。
"Cactus seeds?" he said. "Pip is too young. He does not even have a flower."
“仙人掌种子？”他说，“皮普太小了，连花都没开过。”
"I know. That is why it is a hard one." Xavier stood up. "Promise?"
“我知道。所以才难。”泽维尔站起来。“答应我？”
"I promise," said Hugo.
“我答应你，”雨果说。
Xavier left on Monday. Hugo did not go to say goodbye. He stayed in his room and did not look out.
泽维尔星期一走了。雨果没有去送别。他待在自己房间里，没有朝外看。
That night, he put Pip on the windowsill in his room. He looked at him for a long time. "Don't worry," he said. "I know what to do."
那天夜里，他把皮普放在房间的窗台上，看了它很久。“别担心，”他说，“我知道该怎么做。”
He did not know at all. So the next morning, he asked the librarian.
其实他一点也不知道。于是第二天早上，他去问管理员。
"Cactus seeds?" She raised her eyebrows. "Pip is very young. He needs sun, and he needs a lot of patience."
“仙人掌种子？”她扬起眉毛。“皮普还很小。它需要阳光，也需要极大的耐心。”
"How much water?"
“要浇多少水？”
"Very little. Once a month, maybe."
“很少很少。也许一个月一次。”
Hugo nodded. But he did not trust the words "very little". He loved Pip, and he wanted him to grow. So he gave him water every morning.
雨果点点头。可是他不信“很少很少”这几个字。他爱皮普，想让它长大，所以每天早晨都给它浇水。
For two weeks, nothing happened. Pip sat on the windowsill and did not change. Hugo watered him and talked to him. He turned the pot to the sun.
两个星期过去了，什么也没发生。皮普待在窗台上，毫无变化。雨果给它浇水，跟它说话，把花盆转向太阳。
Then, in the third week, Hugo touched the base of the cactus. It felt soft. It was not hard like a stone, as it was before. It felt like a wet sponge.
到了第三个星期，雨果摸了摸仙人掌的底部。它是软的，不再像以前那样硬得像石头，摸上去像一块湿海绵。
He felt cold. He ran to the hall with the pot in his hands. He put it on the librarian's table.
他浑身发凉。他捧着花盆跑到会堂，把它放在管理员的桌上。
"What did you do?" she asked.
“你做了什么？”她问。
"I gave him water."
“我给它浇水了。”
"How often?"
“多久一次？”
"Every day."
“每天。”
The librarian closed her eyes for a second. "Oh, Hugo."
管理员闭了一下眼睛。“哦，雨果。”
"Is he dead?"
“它死了吗？”
"Nearly." She took a small knife from her desk. "The bottom is rotten. But the top may be fine. Let me see."
“差不多了。”她从桌上取出一把小刀。“底部烂了，但顶部也许还好。让我看看。”
She cut away the soft parts, one thin slice at a time. Under the green skin, the cactus was brown and wet. She cut and cut. At last, there was only a green piece left. It was the size of a bean.
她一片一片地削掉软烂的部分，每次削薄薄一层。绿皮底下，仙人掌是褐色的，湿漉漉的。她削啊削，最后只剩下一小块绿色，有一粒豆子那么大。
"That is all that is good," she said. "Put it on a dry plate for a week. Do not touch it. Do not water it. Then plant it in dry sand."
“好的只有这么多了，”她说，“放在干盘子上晾一个星期，别碰它，别浇水。然后把它种进干沙里。”
Hugo looked at the small green bean. It was not Pip any more. It was a tiny piece of Pip.
雨果看着那小小的绿豆。它已经不是皮普了，只是皮普的一小块。
"I broke my promise," he said.
“我没有守住我的承诺，”他说。
"Not yet." The librarian gave him a plate. "The summer is not over."
“还没有，”管理员递给他一个盘子。“夏天还没结束呢。”
For the rest of August, Hugo did exactly what she said. He did not water anything. He put the green bean on a plate. Later, he put it in a pot of dry sand. He checked it every morning. Each morning, he felt a little worse.
八月剩下的日子里，雨果完全照她说的做。他什么也没浇，把绿豆放在盘子上，后来又种进一盆干沙里。他每天早晨都去看，每天早晨都觉得更难过一点。
There were no seeds. There were no flowers. There was only the bean in the sand. It did not move.
没有种子，没有花，只有沙里的那粒豆子。它一动不动。
On the last Saturday of the summer, Hugo walked to the hall. He carried the pot under his arm. His feet felt heavy. He opened drawer fourteen. It was empty, with one bent paper label inside.
夏天的最后一个星期六，雨果走去会堂，花盆夹在胳膊下，脚步沉重。他拉开十四号抽屉，里面是空的，只有一张折弯的纸标签。
He took out the label. He found a pencil. Then he stopped. What could he write? "Seeds from Pip" was not true. He had no seeds.
他拿出标签，找来一支铅笔，却停住了。写什么好呢？“皮普的种子”不是真的，他没有种子。
He looked at the pot. Something was different. At the bottom of the bean, a pale line came out. It was a root, thin as a thread.
他看着花盆，有些地方不一样了。豆子的底部，伸出一条淡淡的线。那是一条根，细得像一根线。
Hugo stared at it for a long moment. The cactus was not dead. It grew, very slowly, in a new place.
雨果盯着它看了很久。仙人掌没有死。它在一个新的地方，非常缓慢地生长着。
"That is not a seed," he said quietly.
“这不是种子，”他轻声说。
"No," said the librarian from behind him. She smiled. "But the sign does not say only seeds. Look at it again."
“不是，”管理员在他身后说，她笑了。“可是牌子上写的不只是种子。再看一遍。”
Hugo looked at the sign and read every word twice.
雨果看着牌子，把每个字都读了两遍。
"It says seeds," he said.
“上面写的是种子，”他说。
"It does. But the rule is older than the sign. It is just this: take something, grow it and bring something back."
“是的。可是这个规矩比牌子更古老。它只是这样：取走一样东西，让它生长，再带回一样东西。”
Hugo thought about that. Then he laughed, a short surprised laugh. He wrote on the label in careful letters: "From Xavier's cactus, Pip. Grow me. Bring a piece back. For Xavier."
雨果想了想，然后惊讶地短促地笑了一声。他用工整的字在标签上写道：“来自泽维尔的仙人掌皮普。让我生长。带一块回来。给泽维尔。”
He put the label in drawer fourteen and pushed the drawer shut. He put the little pot on the shelf beside it. It sat in the sun.
他把标签放进十四号抽屉，推上抽屉。他把小花盆放在旁边的架子上，沐浴着阳光。
Then he wrote one word on the drawer card: "Xavier."
然后他在抽屉的名牌上写了一个词：“泽维尔”。
