The bag room of the bus station is quiet at night. Olwen likes it that way. She sits behind the long counter and counts bags. The station has twelve gates, and all of them are dark.
长途汽车站的行李寄存室，夜里很安静。奥尔文喜欢这样。她坐在长长的柜台后面清点行李。车站有十二个检票口，此刻全都黑着。
There are four hundred shelves. Each one holds a suitcase, a box or a sleeping bag. Every item has a paper ticket with a number.
这里有四百个货架。每个架子上放着一只行李箱、一个盒子或一个睡袋。每件东西上都挂着一张写有编号的纸条。
Shelf nine is different. It has no ticket. A long brass case lies on it. A card hangs from the handle. The card says, "Aim at the star that waits."
九号货架不一样。它没有纸条。架上躺着一只长长的黄铜箱子，提手上挂着一张卡片，卡片上写着：“瞄准那颗在等待的星。”
Olwen found the case on her first night, six years ago. She opened it. Inside lay a telescope. It was small and heavy and cold. It pointed up at the glass roof.
奥尔文是六年前的第一个夜班发现这只箱子的。她打开了它。里面躺着一架望远镜，小小的，沉甸甸的，冰凉冰凉。它正对着玻璃屋顶。
Olwen put her eye to the small glass. She saw a very small star. It was not bright. It was not near the moon. It looked like a grain of salt on a black plate.
奥尔文把眼睛凑到小小的镜片上。她看见一颗很小很小的星星。它不亮，也不在月亮附近。它像黑盘子上的一粒盐。
She checked her star chart, and the star was not on it. The chart showed a bright star close by. The telescope pointed away from it, at the wrong one.
她查了查星图，星图上没有这颗星。图上在它附近有一颗很亮的星。望远镜没有对着那颗亮星，而是指向了另一颗，似乎指错了。
Olwen turned the tube. The bright star slid into view for a second. Then the tube swung back slowly, like a hand. She let go, and it stayed on the grain of salt.
奥尔文转动镜筒。那颗亮星在视野里滑过片刻。随后镜筒像一只手一样慢慢摆了回去。她一松手，它就停在了那粒盐上。
"Strange," she said to the empty room. Then she closed the case and went back to the counter. She told nobody. Nobody asked about shelf nine.
“真奇怪，”她对着空荡荡的房间说。然后她合上箱子，回到柜台后面。她没有告诉任何人。也没有人问起过九号货架。
Tonight is different. At two o'clock, a bus driver comes in. He is tall and tired, and his coat smells of oil. He puts his lunch box on the counter. He wants to leave it for an hour.
今晚不一样。凌晨两点，一位公交司机走了进来。他个子高，一脸疲惫，外套上有一股机油味。他把饭盒放在柜台上，想寄存一个小时。
"What is in that case?" he asks. He points at shelf nine.
“那个箱子里是什么？”他问。他指着九号货架。
"A telescope."
“一架望远镜。”
"Can I look?"
“我能看看吗？”
Olwen waits. Then she shrugs. "Be careful. It is old."
奥尔文等了等，然后耸了耸肩。“小心点，它很旧了。”
The driver lifts the tube and puts it to his eye. He turns it left. He turns it right. He frowns.
司机拿起镜筒，凑到眼前。他往左转，又往右转，皱起了眉头。
"I want to see the bright one," he says. "My wife says it is a lucky star."
“我想看那颗亮的，”他说，“我老婆说那是颗幸运星。”
"Then turn it to the bright one."
“那就把它转向那颗亮的。”
"I try. It does not stay." He tries again. The tube swings back by itself. "It is broken."
“我试了。它停不住。”他又试了一次。镜筒自己摆了回去。“它坏了。”
"Maybe."
“也许吧。”
The driver holds out the telescope. He looks at the clock. "I have to go. Someone else can try."
司机把望远镜递出来，看了看钟。“我得走了。让别人试试吧。”
A young man sits on the bench near the counter. He has a folder on his knees. He reads the same page again and again. He looks up.
柜台旁的长椅上坐着一个年轻人。他膝盖上放着一个文件夹，同一页纸读了一遍又一遍。他抬起头来。
"Can I try?" he says.
“我能试试吗？”他问。
The driver hands him the telescope. "It does not work."
司机把望远镜递给他。“它不管用。”
The young man holds the tube in both hands. He looks. His shoulders go down.
年轻人双手握住镜筒，往里看了看。他的肩膀垮了下来。
"I only see a small gray dot," he says. "I want a star with a name. A strong one. I have a job interview at nine tomorrow. I need luck."
“我只看到一个灰色的小点，”他说，“我想要一颗有名字的星，一颗强大的星。我明天早上九点有个面试，我需要好运。”
He pushes the tube toward the bright star. It slides back. He pushes harder, and it slides back again.
他把镜筒朝那颗亮星推去。镜筒滑了回来。他用力更大，它又滑了回来。
"Useless," he says. He is not angry. He only sounds tired. "Here."
“没用，”他说。他并不生气，只是听上去很累。“给你。”
He gives the telescope to a woman who walks past the bench. She has a mop. She cleans the floor of the station every night. Her cart is old and loud.
他把望远镜递给了路过长椅的一位女士。她拿着一把拖把。她每天夜里都来打扫车站的地面，她的清洁车又旧又吵。
"Oh, I do not need that," she says. But she takes it anyway. She holds it up to the glass roof.
“哦，我用不着这个，”她说。可她还是接了过去，朝玻璃屋顶举了起来。
She looks for a long time. Her lips move, and Olwen cannot hear the words.
她看了很久。她的嘴唇动着，奥尔文听不见她在说什么。
"The star is too small," the woman says at last. "I wish it was bigger. I wish it was gold."
“这颗星太小了，”女士终于说，“我希望它再大一点。我希望它是金色的。”
She hands the telescope back to Olwen. Then she goes on with her mop. The driver takes his lunch box and leaves. The young man follows him out.
她把望远镜还给奥尔文，然后继续拖地。司机拿起饭盒走了。年轻人跟着他出了门。
Olwen sits for a while with the tube across her knees. Three people look through it tonight. Each one wants something bright. Each one gets only a grain of salt.
奥尔文坐了好一会儿，镜筒横在膝头。今晚有三个人看过它。每个人都想要明亮的东西。每个人看到的都只是一粒盐。
"Maybe nobody wants you," she says to the telescope. "Maybe you wait for the wrong person."
“也许没有人想要你，”她对望远镜说，“也许你在等一个不对的人。”
The telescope does not answer. It only points at the roof.
望远镜没有回答。它只是指着屋顶。
At half past five, the sky begins to turn pale. The first buses leave. The doors of the station open and close. Olwen puts the telescope back in its case. She sets the case on shelf nine.
五点半，天空开始泛白。头班车陆续出发。车站的门开了又关。奥尔文把望远镜放回箱子里，再把箱子放回九号货架。
Then the street door opens, and a woman steps into the room.
这时，街边的门开了，一位女子走进了房间。
She is about Olwen's age. She wears a green coat. She has no bag and no ticket. She stands by the door for a moment. She seems unsure about the room.
她和奥尔文年纪相仿，穿着一件绿色大衣。她没有行李，也没有纸条。她在门边站了片刻，似乎对这个房间有些拿不准。
"Good morning," says Olwen. "Can I help you?"
“早上好，”奥尔文说，“需要帮忙吗？”
"My name is Dasha." The woman looks around. "I think I left something here. I do not know when."
“我叫达莎。”女子环顾四周。“我想我有东西落在这儿了。我不知道是什么时候。”
"What is it?"
“是什么东西？”
"I do not know either." Dasha smiles. It is a shy smile. "But I think I will know it when I see it."
“我也不知道。”达莎笑了笑，笑得有点腼腆。“不过我想，看到的时候我就会知道。”
She walks past the counter. She walks past the first shelf and the second. She does not look at the numbers. At shelf nine, she stops.
她走过柜台，走过第一个货架和第二个货架。她不看上面的编号。走到九号货架前，她停住了。
"There," says Dasha.
“在那儿，”达莎说。
Olwen's heart beats fast. She lifts the brass case from the shelf. Dasha opens it with careful fingers.
奥尔文的心怦怦直跳。她把黄铜箱子从架子上取下来。达莎用小心的手指打开了它。
"A telescope," she says. "It is a good one."
“一架望远镜，”她说，“是架好望远镜。”
"It points at the wrong star," says Olwen. "Three people try it tonight. They all want the bright one."
“它指的是一颗不对的星，”奥尔文说，“今晚有三个人试过。他们都想看那颗亮的。”
"The bright one?" Dasha laughs softly. "Everyone wants that one."
“那颗亮的？”达莎轻轻笑了。“人人都想要那一颗。”
She does not turn the tube. She does not even try to move it. She lifts the small glass to her eye. She looks up at the glass roof.
她没有转动镜筒，甚至没有试着去动它。她把眼睛凑到小小的镜片上，朝玻璃屋顶望去。
For a long moment, the room is silent. Olwen hears the clock on the wall. She hears a bus engine far outside.
房间里静了很久。奥尔文听得见墙上钟的滴答声，也听得见远处传来的公交引擎声。
"Oh," Dasha says. "There you are."
“哦，”达莎说，“原来你在这儿。”
"Which star is it?"
“是哪颗星？”
"The one nobody picks." Dasha does not take her eye from the glass. "It is small and it is plain. I always look at that one. It never asks for anything."
“没人选的那一颗。”达莎的眼睛没有离开镜片。“它又小又普通。我总是看它。它从不向我索取任何东西。”
Then something happens. Olwen sees it from the counter. A small point of light blinks in the glass roof above them. It blinks once, and then once again.
接着，奥尔文在柜台后看到了一件事。玻璃屋顶上方，有一个小小的光点闪了一下，然后又闪了一下。
Dasha lowers the telescope. Her eyes are wet, but she smiles.
达莎放下望远镜。她的眼睛湿了，可她在微笑。
"Thank you for keeping it," she says. She closes the case and holds it against her coat.
“谢谢你替我保管它，”她说。她合上箱子，把它抱在大衣前。
"Wait," Olwen says. "How do you know it is yours?"
“等一下，”奥尔文说，“你怎么知道这是你的？”
Dasha looks at her for a long time. She does not answer. She nods at the street door.
达莎看了她很久。她没有回答，只朝街边的门点了点头。
Outside, at gate nine, a bus waits with its lights off. Olwen does not know the bus. It has no number on the front. Its doors are open, and the inside is dark and warm.
外面的九号检票口，停着一辆熄了灯的公交车。奥尔文不认识这辆车。车头没有路线号。车门敞开着，里面又暗又暖。
Dasha walks out with the case. Olwen watches the doors close.
达莎提着箱子走了出去。奥尔文看着车门关上。
