The power goes at ten past eleven, in the middle of a sentence. Matthias is telling the woman on the bed that the baby's heartbeat sounds strong when the whole clinic drops into black, and for the length of one breath nobody speaks. Then the generator in the shed behind the building coughs, catches, and the single lamp over the bed returns, yellower and smaller than before.
电在十一点十分断了，就断在一句话说到一半的时候。马蒂亚斯正对床上的女人说，胎儿的心跳听起来很有力，整间诊所忽然陷入一片漆黑，有那么一口气的工夫，谁也没有说话。接着，楼后棚屋里的发电机咳嗽了几声，转了起来，床上方那盏唯一的灯重新亮起，比刚才更黄，也更小。
There is no doctor within an hour's drive, and tonight there is no road either. A tree has come down across the only bridge into the valley, the dispatcher said while the phone still worked, and the ambulance will come when the wind allows it. Had the bridge held, help would have arrived by midnight. Matthias has delivered a hundred and forty babies in this room, and never before has he worked with so little behind him.
一小时车程之内没有医生，今晚连路也没有了。调度员趁电话还通的时候说，一棵树倒下来，压在了通往山谷的唯一一座桥上，救护车要等风小些才能过来。如果桥还在，午夜前援手就能赶到。马蒂亚斯在这间屋子里接生过一百四十个婴儿，却从来没有哪一次，身后的依靠这样少。
The mother, Celeste, walks the length of the room with one hand on the wall. Her husband paces a wider circuit, in and out of the doorway, checking the window at every pass. Each time, he asks whether there is anything he should be doing, and each time Matthias says no, which is the wrong answer. A frightened man needs a task more than he needs comfort.
产妇塞莱斯特一只手扶着墙，在屋里来回走。她丈夫绕的圈子更大，一会儿在门口进出，每次经过都要看一眼窗外。每一回，他都问有没有什么事自己该做，每一回，马蒂亚斯都说没有，而这恰恰是错误的回答。一个害怕的男人，需要一件事做，胜过需要安慰。
At one in the morning Matthias hands him the fuel can. "The generator burns a litre every ninety minutes," he says. "Check it every half hour. If the sound changes, you tell me before you tell anyone else."
凌晨一点，马蒂亚斯把油桶递给了他。“发电机每九十分钟烧一升油，”他说，“每半小时去看一次。要是声音变了，先告诉我，再告诉别人。”
"That's all?"
“就这些？”
"That's the most important job in the building."
“这是整栋楼里最重要的活儿。”
It is nearly true. The man takes the can as if it were something fragile and goes out into the rain, and for the first time all night his shoulders come down.
这话几乎是真的。男人接过油桶，像捧着一件易碎的东西，走进了雨里，整整一夜里，他的肩膀头一回松了下来。
Wedging a torch under his chin, Matthias writes the time on the back of his hand, because the notes are too hard to read in this light. It is the small routines that steady him, not the training: warm towels from the cupboard, hands washed twice, the radio switched off so that he can hear her breathing and the rain at once. If the clinic had a second midwife, he would be sharing the watching. As it is, he rations his attention like fuel, a little for the clock, a little for the lamp, and most for the woman.
马蒂亚斯把手电筒夹在下巴底下，把时间写在手背上，因为这样的光线里，病历实在看不清。让他稳下心来的，是那些小小的惯常动作，而不是受过的训练：从柜子里取出温热的毛巾，把手洗了两遍，关掉收音机，这样他就能同时听到她的呼吸和雨声。要是诊所还有第二位助产士，他们就能轮流守着。可眼下，他像分配燃油一样分配自己的注意力，一点给时钟，一点给灯，大部分给那个女人。
Celeste's breathing changes at four. He knows the new rhythm the way a sailor knows a shift in the wind. "Here we go," he says quietly, and she looks at him with such plain trust that he nearly has to look away.
塞莱斯特的呼吸在四点钟变了。他认得这种新的节奏，就像水手认得风向的转变。“来了，”他轻声说，她看着他，眼神里的信任那样单纯，让他几乎要把目光移开。
Not until the lamp flickers does he think of the engine again. The husband's boots clatter in, rain streaming from his coat. "It's coughing," he says. "Is that bad?"
直到灯闪了一下，他才又想起发动机。丈夫的靴子哐哐地踏进来，雨水顺着外套淌下。“它在咳嗽，”他说，“要紧吗？”
"Put the fuel in. Don't spill it. Come straight back."
“把油加进去。别洒了。马上回来。”
The man goes. The lamp steadies. Not until the engine settles does Matthias realise he has been counting its rhythm along with hers.
男人走了。灯稳了下来。直到发动机平稳下来，马蒂亚斯才发觉，自己一直在数着它的节奏，同时也数着她的。
The rest is quick and unspectacular, the way these things are when a body knows what it is doing. At twenty to six there is a cry, thin and furious, and then a small weight of warmth in the towel against Celeste's chest. Her husband, arriving in the doorway with an empty can and a face wet from the rain or from something else, stops where he is and cannot, for a while, come any closer.
接下来的一切都很快，也平平淡淡，就像身体知道自己该怎么做时的那样。五点四十分，一声啼哭响起，细细的，怒气冲冲，随后，一小团温热的重量落在塞莱斯特胸前的毛巾里。她的丈夫提着空油桶出现在门口，脸上湿漉漉的，不知是雨水，还是别的什么，他在原地停住了，好一会儿，都没能再走近一步。
Matthias checks everything twice, writes the time on the form, and then, because nothing left in the room needs him, he steps outside. The wind has gone. Light is rising behind the hills, grey at first and then the colour of milk, and the road, wet and empty, looks like something nobody has ever used. Behind him the generator runs on, burning the last of its fuel. Somewhere beyond the fallen tree, he can hear the first engine of the morning working its way toward them.
马蒂亚斯把一切检查了两遍，在表格上写下时间，然后，因为屋里已经没有什么需要他了，他走到了外面。风停了。山后升起了光，起初是灰色，后来变成牛奶一样的颜色，那条路湿漉漉、空荡荡，看上去仿佛从来没有人走过。身后，发电机还在运转，烧着最后一点燃油。在倒下的那棵树的另一头，他听见清晨的第一辆车的引擎声，正一点点朝他们驶来。
