Lucian had been the orchestra's librarian for six years. His job was simple: before each rehearsal, he put the right pages on every music stand. For years it had worked perfectly. Then, in October, pages began to vanish.
卢西安当管弦乐团的乐谱管理员已经六年了。他的工作很简单：每次排练前，把正确的谱页放到每个谱架上。多年来，这件事一直做得十分完美。然后，到了十月，谱页开始消失了。
The first time, two pages of the second violin part were missing. Lucian blamed himself and searched the cupboard twice. The next week, three pages of the cello part had disappeared. The week after that, some viola pages went missing. He was sure now that it was not an accident.
第一次，第二小提琴声部少了两页。卢西安怪自己，把柜子翻了两遍。下一个星期，大提琴声部少了三页。再下一个星期，中提琴的几页不见了。他现在可以肯定，这不是意外。
He started to keep a list. The missing pages were always the hard ones, full of fast runs and tricky rhythms. Whoever took them had left the pens, the stands and even the chocolate in the drawer. It had to be a player who wanted something specific.
他开始做记录。不见的总是难的那几页，满是快速的跑动音型和复杂的节奏。拿走它们的人，把笔、谱架，甚至抽屉里的巧克力都留了下来。那一定是一个想要特定东西的演奏者。
"Maybe somebody is selling them," joked the flute player. Lucian didn't laugh. Nothing about the pages looked valuable, and he was beginning to feel like a very bad detective.
“说不定有人在卖呢。”长笛手开玩笑说。卢西安没有笑。这些谱页看上去一点都不值钱，而他已经开始觉得自己是个非常糟糕的侦探了。
On Thursday he arrived at the hall an hour early. He hid in the storage room with the door open a crack. At six o'clock, a young woman slipped in. She took a few pages from the cupboard and tucked them carefully into her bag. Lucian stepped out of the shadows.
星期四，他提前一个小时到了礼堂。他躲进储藏室，把门留了一条缝。六点钟，一位年轻的女子溜了进来。她从柜子里拿了几页谱子，小心地塞进自己的包里。卢西安从阴影里走了出来。
"Excuse me," he said. She turned bright red. It was Fiorella, the new viola player, who had joined in September.
“打扰一下。”他说。她的脸一下子涨得通红。那是菲奥雷拉，九月刚加入的新中提琴手。
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm not a fast reader. I was afraid everybody would notice I was behind. So I took the hard pages home to practise. I always brought them back. Well, almost always."
“真对不起，”她说，“我读谱速度不快。我怕大家都会发现我落在后面。所以我把难的谱页拿回家去练习了。我总是会还回来的。嗯，几乎总是。”
Lucian sat down on a box. He felt relieved and a little silly. "You could have asked me, you know," he said. "I would have made you copies on the first day."
卢西安在一只箱子上坐了下来。他觉得松了口气，也有点傻气。“你知道吗，你本来可以来问我的，”他说，“第一天我就会给你复印的。”
"I didn't want people to know."
“我不想让别人知道。”
"Half of this orchestra practises at home," he said. "That is exactly what we are supposed to do."
“这个乐团里有一半的人都在家里练习，”他说，“这正是我们应该做的。”
The next week, a thick folder with Fiorella's name on it was waiting on her stand. Inside were clear copies of every difficult page, a full week early. She opened it, found the first line, and played the opening bar softly before anyone else arrived.
下一个星期，一个贴着菲奥雷拉名字的厚文件夹，在她的谱架上等着她。里面是每一页难谱的清晰复印件，足足提前了一个星期。她打开它，找到第一行，趁别人还没到，轻轻拉响了开头的那一小节。
