Bjorn made his promise on his first morning at Hale and Daughter. He had not even hung up his coat.
比约恩是在“黑尔父女店”上班的第一个早晨许下那个承诺的。那时他连外套都还没来得及挂好。
The shop was small, with a green door and three sewing machines in a row by the window. The tailor, a calm man with silver pins in his sleeve, stood on a chair. He was reaching for a violin in a faded blue case. Bjorn counted its strings. There were only three.
那是一家小店，有一扇绿色的门，窗边一字排开三台缝纫机。裁缝是个沉稳的男人，袖口上别着银色的大头针，此刻正站在一把椅子上，伸手去够一把褪了色的蓝色琴盒里的小提琴。比约恩数了数琴弦，只有三根。
"Careful!" said Bjorn, and he held the chair with both hands.
“小心！”比约恩说着，用双手扶住了椅子。
"Thank you," said the tailor. He climbed down and looked at the violin with a worried face. "The fourth string broke last month. My daughter comes home on Friday for the shop's birthday. She plays this violin better than anyone, and I told her it would be ready."
“谢谢你，”裁缝说。他爬下来，愁眉不展地看着那把小提琴。“第四根弦上个月断了。星期五我女儿要回家来过店庆。她拉这把琴比谁都好，我跟她说过会把琴准备好的。”
"Then you need a new string," said Bjorn.
“那您需要一根新弦，”比约恩说。
"The music shop is on the other side of town. It closes at six, and I close at half past." The tailor sighed. "Every evening I think, I will go tomorrow."
“乐器行在城的另一头。它六点关门，我六点半才收工。”裁缝叹了口气。“每天晚上我都想，明天去吧。”
Bjorn was new, and he badly wanted to be useful. "I'll go for you," he said. "I promise. You will have your string by Friday."
比约恩是新来的，一心想帮上忙。“我替您去，”他说，“我保证。星期五之前您一定能拿到弦。”
"That is very kind of you." The tailor wrote a note in neat handwriting and gave Bjorn two coins. Bjorn put them in his pocket and patted it twice, so he would not forget.
“你真是太好心了。”裁缝用工整的字迹写了张字条，又给了比约恩两枚硬币。比约恩把它们放进口袋，还拍了两下，免得忘记。
Bastien had watched all of this from his stool by the cutting table. He was seventeen, and he had worked at the shop for a year. He liked to give advice slowly.
巴斯蒂安一直坐在裁剪台旁的凳子上看着这一切。他十七岁，已经在店里干了一年。他喜欢慢条斯理地给人提建议。
"Never promise anything in this shop," he said, when the tailor had gone. "Something always happens."
“在这家店里，千万别随便许诺，”裁缝一走，他就说，“总会出点什么事。”
"What could happen?" asked Bjorn.
“能出什么事？”比约恩问。
Bastien only smiled and threaded a needle.
巴斯蒂安只是笑了笑，低头穿起一根针。
On Tuesday, the tailor sent Bjorn across town with three coats. He came back after the music shop had closed. On Wednesday, a customer arrived at five with a torn jacket and a very long story. Bjorn stayed to hold the cloth. On Thursday, he ran all the way to the music shop and reached it at ten past six. The door was locked, and a man inside was turning off the lights.
星期二，裁缝派比约恩带着三件外套穿过半座城去送货。他回来时，乐器行已经关门了。星期三，下午五点来了一位顾客，拿着一件撕破的夹克，还讲了一个很长很长的故事，比约恩留下来帮忙按着布料。星期四，他一路飞奔去乐器行，赶到时已是六点十分。门锁上了，里面有个男人正在关灯。
"Tomorrow morning," Bjorn told himself. "First thing."
“明天早上，”比约恩对自己说，“头一件事就是去。”
On Friday he stood outside the music shop at five to nine, with the coins in his fist. At nine the door stayed shut. At ten past, he noticed a card in the window. It said, in thick black letters, CLOSED ALL DAY FOR COUNTING. BACK ON MONDAY.
星期五，他八点五十五分就站在了乐器行门外，拳头里攥着那两枚硬币。九点整，门还是关着。九点十分，他发现橱窗里有一张卡片，上面用粗黑的大字写着：全天盘点歇业，周一恢复营业。
Bjorn read it three times. Then he sat down on the step.
比约恩把它读了三遍，然后一屁股坐在了台阶上。
His promise had one problem: it was now ten o'clock, and the tailor's daughter was arriving at one. The shop's birthday party began at four. A violin with three strings would be a sad thing to put on the table.
他的承诺现在只剩一个问题：已经十点了，而裁缝的女儿一点就到。店庆聚会四点开始。桌上摆一把只有三根弦的小提琴，那就太让人难过了。
He walked back slowly. When he came through the green door, Bastien looked up from a sleeve.
他慢吞吞地走回去。他穿过绿色的门时，巴斯蒂安正好从一只袖子上抬起头来。
"You have no string," said Bastien.
“你没买到弦，”巴斯蒂安说。
"The shop is closed."
“店关门了。”
"I told you. Something always happens." Bastien put down his needle, though, and he did not look pleased with himself. "Where is the tailor?"
“我早说过了。总会出点什么事。”不过，巴斯蒂安放下了手里的针，脸上也没有一点得意的神色。“裁缝先生呢？”
"He went to meet his daughter. He will be back at half past twelve."
“他去接女儿了。十二点半回来。”
"Then we have two hours." Bastien stood up. "Let me think. What is a string?"
“那我们有两个小时。”巴斯蒂安站了起来。“让我想想。弦是什么？”
"A string is a thing you buy at the music shop," said Bjorn.
“弦是在乐器行买的东西，”比约恩说。
"No. A string is something thin and strong that you pull very tight." Bastien walked to the shelf of thread and picked up a fat brown spool. "The tailor uses this for the buttons on winter coats. It would hold a horse."
“不对。弦是又细又结实、可以绷得很紧的东西。”巴斯蒂安走到线架前，拿下一大卷粗粗的棕色线轴。“裁缝先生用这个给冬天的外套钉扣子。它能吊得住一匹马。”
Bjorn stared at him. "You want to put sewing thread on a violin?"
比约恩瞪着他。“你想把缝纫线装到小提琴上？”
"I want to keep your promise," said Bastien. "Fetch the violin."
“我想让你信守承诺，”巴斯蒂安说，“去把小提琴拿来。”
They tried one strand first. Bastien tied it to the little peg and turned it. The thread went tight, and then it snapped with a sharp twang and flicked him on the nose.
他们先试了一股线。巴斯蒂安把它系在小琴轴上，拧动琴轴。线绷紧了，随后“嘣”的一声脆响断开，弹在他的鼻子上。
"Ow," said Bastien. He rubbed his nose and looked thoughtful. "Too thin. Let's use six."
“哎哟，”巴斯蒂安说。他揉了揉鼻子，若有所思。“太细了。用六股。”
They twisted six strands together on the cutting table, turning them like a rope. Bjorn held one end while Bastien held the other. The result was thick and a little hairy, and it looked nothing like a real string. Bastien rubbed it with the tailor's block of wax. Then he rubbed it with chalk, so that the bow would grip it.
他们在裁剪台上把六股线拧在一起，像搓绳子那样转着。比约恩攥着一头，巴斯蒂安攥着另一头。搓出来的东西又粗又有点毛糙，一点也不像真正的琴弦。巴斯蒂安用裁缝的蜡块擦了擦它，接着又用粉笔擦了一遍，好让琴弓能咬住它。
"Why chalk?" asked Bjorn.
“为什么要用粉笔？”比约恩问。
"Because I have no better idea," said Bastien.
“因为我也想不出更好的办法了，”巴斯蒂安说。
He tied the new string to the violin. For half an hour he turned the peg, a little at a time. He played the guitar at home, so he knew how to tune by ear. He hummed a note, plucked the thread and frowned. Then he turned the peg again. Bjorn brought him water and did not say a word.
他把新弦系到了小提琴上。半个小时里，他一点一点地拧着琴轴。他在家里弹吉他，所以懂得凭耳朵调音。他哼出一个音，拨了拨那根线，皱起眉头，又拧了拧琴轴。比约恩给他端来水，一句话也没说。
At twelve, the thread finally sang the right note.
十二点整，那根线终于唱出了正确的音。
Bjorn lifted the bow and drew it across the four strings. The sound was warm and slightly rough, like a voice that had just woken up. It was not perfect, but it was a violin.
比约恩举起琴弓，在四根弦上拉了一下。声音温暖而略带粗粝，像一个刚睡醒的人的嗓音。它算不上完美，但确确实实是一把小提琴。
"It works," he whispered.
“成了，”他小声说。
"Look at the shelf," said Bastien.
“看看架子，”巴斯蒂安说。
A fine white cloud was drifting up from the new string. Every stroke of the bow shook loose a little more chalk. It settled on the violin, on the table and on Bjorn's sleeve.
一团细细的白雾正从新弦上飘起来。琴弓每拉一下，就抖落更多粉笔灰，落在小提琴上、桌子上，还有比约恩的袖子上。
"Oh," said Bjorn.
“哦，”比约恩说。
"It is only chalk," said Bastien. "We will brush it off."
“只是粉笔而已，”巴斯蒂安说，“刷掉就行了。”
They had just started to brush when the green door opened. The tailor came in with a young woman. She had his calm eyes and a bag on her shoulder. Behind them, the other workers carried in a cake and paper cups for the party. Everyone stopped in the doorway.
他们刚开始刷，绿色的门就开了。裁缝走了进来，身边跟着一位年轻女子。她有着和他一样沉稳的眼睛，肩上背着一个包。他们身后，其他工人端着蛋糕和聚会用的纸杯鱼贯而入。所有人都停在了门口。
"I have to tell you something," said Bjorn, and his voice shook a little. "I promised you a string. The music shop was closed, so I did not buy one. This one is made of button thread."
“我得跟您说件事，”比约恩说，声音有点发抖，“我答应过给您买一根弦。乐器行关门了，所以我没买成。这一根是用纽扣线做的。”
The tailor looked at the violin, and then he looked at the white dust on Bjorn's sleeve.
裁缝看了看小提琴，又看了看比约恩袖子上的白灰。
"You had a promise to keep," he said slowly. "And you kept it in a way I would never have thought of."
“你有一个承诺要守，”他缓缓地说，“而你用了一种我永远想不到的方式守住了它。”
His daughter put down her bag. "May I?" she asked.
他的女儿放下了包。“我可以试试吗？”她问。
Bjorn handed her the violin. She tucked it under her chin, tested the new string and laughed softly. Then she began to play. It was a simple tune, quick and light, and the room grew quiet. Bastien stood very straight beside the cutting table.
比约恩把小提琴递给了她。她把琴夹在下巴底下，试了试新弦，轻轻笑了起来。然后她开始演奏。那是一支简单的曲子，轻快而灵巧，屋子里安静了下来。巴斯蒂安笔直地站在裁剪台旁。
With each long stroke, a small white puff rose from the fourth string. It floated over her hands and landed on her sleeve and her chin. By the end of the first verse, she had a white moustache.
随着每一次长长的运弓，第四根弦上都会升起一小团白烟，飘过她的双手，落在她的袖子和下巴上。第一段还没拉完，她就长出了一撮白胡子。
One of the workers started to laugh. Then another did, and then the tailor had to sit down. His daughter kept playing, with chalk in her hair and tears of laughter on her cheeks. She finished the whole tune.
一个工人先笑了起来，接着另一个也笑了，然后裁缝不得不坐了下来。他的女儿继续拉着，头发里沾着粉笔灰，脸颊上挂着笑出来的眼泪。她把整支曲子拉完了。
"It's the best violin I have ever played," she said at last, wiping her chin. "It just needs a brush."
“这是我拉过的最好的小提琴，”她终于说，一边擦着下巴，“只是需要刷一刷。”
"Hale and Daughter has a violin that sneezes," said the tailor.
“黑尔父女店有一把会打喷嚏的小提琴了，”裁缝说。
The party was loud and happy. The chalk string lasted all afternoon, and the daughter played three more tunes. Each time, a white cloud followed the bow, and each time the guests cheered.
聚会热闹又快乐。那根粉笔弦撑了整整一个下午，女儿又拉了三支曲子。每一次，一团白云都跟着琴弓飘起，每一次，客人们都欢呼起来。
When everyone had gone home, Bjorn stayed to sweep the floor. He took a clean cloth and wiped the white dust from the top shelf. Then he laid the violin in its faded blue case. He left the lid open.
大家都回家以后，比约恩留下来扫地。他拿了一块干净的布，把最上层架子上的白灰擦干净。然后，他把小提琴放回那只褪色的蓝色琴盒里，让盖子敞开着。
