The alarm rang at a quarter past three, and Grigor almost threw his phone across the room. It was his first summer job. He had already decided that nobody should be awake at this hour. His mother had left toast on the table. He ate it standing up, still half asleep, and cycled through the empty streets.
闹钟在三点一刻响起，格里戈尔差点把手机扔到房间另一头。这是他第一份暑期工。他早就认定，这个钟点不该有人醒着。妈妈在桌上给他留了吐司。他站着吃完，人还迷迷糊糊的，就骑车穿过空荡荡的街道。
The bakery smelled of warm butter and yeast. The lights were on in the back. The head baker was a tall woman with flour up to her elbows. She looked at him once and said, "Wash your hands. Apron is on the hook." Then she turned back to her dough. That was the whole welcome.
面包房里弥漫着温热的黄油和酵母的香味。后面的灯亮着。主厨是一位高个子女人，面粉一直沾到手肘。她看了他一眼，说：“洗手。围裙在挂钩上。”然后她又转回去揉她的面团。这就是全部的欢迎仪式。
The first week went badly. On Monday, Grigor forgot to set the timer and burned a whole tray of rolls. They came out of the oven as black as coal. On Wednesday, he dropped a bag of flour. A white cloud covered the floor, the shelves and one very surprised radio. The head baker said nothing. She just handed him a broom.
第一周过得很糟。周一，格里戈尔忘了设定计时器，烤焦了整整一盘面包卷。它们从烤箱里出来时黑得像煤炭。周三，他摔了一袋面粉。一团白云盖住了地板、架子，还有一台吓了一大跳的收音机。主厨什么也没说，只是递给他一把扫帚。
He was sure she wanted to fire him. The other bakers talked and joked while they worked, but she hardly spoke at all. When she did, it was short: "Colder water." "Fold, don't push." "Again." Grigor kept thinking that he might quit by Friday if nothing improved.
他确信她想开除他。其他面包师一边干活一边说说笑笑，她却几乎不开口。开口的时候，也都很简短：“水再凉一点。”“折，别推。”“再来。”格里戈尔一直在想，要是情况没有好转，也许到周五他就不干了。
Still, he came back every morning. He cleaned the tables before anyone asked him to. He watched her hands. She turned the dough a quarter turn and pressed it with the heel of her palm. At home, he practiced with bread dough in the kitchen, and his little sister ate the mistakes.
可他还是每天早上都回来。他不等别人吩咐，就主动把桌子擦干净。他留意着她的双手。她把面团转四分之一圈，再用手掌根部压下去。回到家，他在厨房里用面团练习，他的小妹妹把做坏的都吃了。
On Friday, the bakers were busy with a big order for a wedding. The head baker pointed at a huge bowl of dough and then at the long table. "You," she said. "Shape these. Alone."
周五，面包师们正忙着一份婚礼的大订单。主厨指了指一大盆面团，又指了指长桌。“你，”她说，“把这些整形。一个人做。”
Grigor's stomach dropped. "All of them? There must be forty loaves."
格里戈尔的心一沉。“全部吗？这得有四十个面包吧。”
"Forty loaves," she said, and she walked away.
“四十个面包，”她说完就走开了。
He worked for an hour without looking up. His loaves were not perfect, but they were round, tight and even. When he finished, the head baker walked slowly along the table and checked each one. At the end, she picked up the last loaf, turned it over in her hands, and nodded once.
他埋头干了一个小时，一次也没抬头。他做的面包不算完美，但圆润、紧实、大小均匀。他做完后，主厨沿着长桌慢慢走过，一个一个地检查。最后，她拿起最后一个面包，在手里翻过来看了看，点了一下头。
"Same time on Monday," she said. Then she gave him a small piece of warm bread from the first tray. "Eat. You have earned it."
“周一还是这个时间，”她说。然后她从第一盘面包里掰了一小块热面包给他。“吃吧。这是你应得的。”
