Jorge had sold honey at the Saturday market for eleven years. His stall was small, but he knew most of his customers by name. Then, one spring morning, a new stall appeared right next to his. It sold honey too.
豪尔赫在周六集市上卖蜂蜜已经十一年了。他的摊位不大，但大多数顾客他都叫得出名字。后来，在一个春天的早晨，一个新摊位就出现在他的旁边。它也卖蜂蜜。
The woman who ran it was called Xenia. She had a blue tent, neat rows of jars, and a sign saying "Fresh from the hills." Jorge looked at his own sign, which was old and a little crooked.
摊主是一位名叫谢尼娅的女士。她有一顶蓝色的帐篷，一排排整齐的罐子，还有一块写着“来自山丘的新鲜蜂蜜”的牌子。豪尔赫看了看自己的牌子，又旧，又有点歪。
For weeks, the two of them competed. When Jorge lowered his prices, Xenia lowered hers. When she offered free samples on tiny wooden spoons, he painted a new sign covered in bees. They said good morning to each other, but nothing more.
好几个星期，两人一直在竞争。豪尔赫降价，谢尼娅也降价。她用小木勺提供免费试吃，他就画了一块画满蜜蜂的新牌子。他们互相说早安，但也仅此而已。
Jorge told himself that he didn't care. Still, he went home tired every Saturday. He had begun to wonder whether the market was big enough for two honey sellers.
豪尔赫对自己说他不在乎。可是每个星期六他回到家都很疲惫。他开始怀疑，这个集市是不是大到容得下两个卖蜂蜜的。
One afternoon in June, the sky turned grey, and the rain came down hard. People ran for cover while the sellers rushed to protect their tables. Then a strong gust of wind caught Xenia's tent. One pole snapped, and the blue cloth fell over her jars.
六月的一个下午，天色变灰，大雨倾盆而下。人们跑去躲雨，摊主们忙着保护自己的桌子。接着一阵强风吹到谢尼娅的帐篷上。一根杆子断了，蓝色的布盖在了她的罐子上。
Jorge didn't stop to think. He ran across and held up the broken pole with one arm. "Bring the jars under my tent, quickly!"
豪尔赫没有停下来想。他跑过去，用一只手臂撑住断掉的杆子。“快把罐子搬到我的帐篷下面来！”
Together they carried every box to his side. Soon they were standing in a small, dry space, wet through and out of breath.
他们一起把每一个箱子都搬到了他这边。很快，两人站在一小块干燥的地方，浑身湿透，上气不接下气。
"I thought you hated me," Xenia said.
“我还以为你恨我呢，”谢尼娅说。
"I thought the same about you," Jorge answered, and he laughed for the first time in weeks.
“我对你也是这么想的，”豪尔赫回答，几个星期来第一次笑了。
While the rain drummed on the roof, they tried each other's honey. Hers was pale and flowery, from the hills. His was dark and strong, from the orchards in the valley.
雨点敲打着棚顶，他们尝了尝彼此的蜂蜜。她的颜色浅，带着花香，来自山丘。他的颜色深，味道浓，来自山谷里的果园。
"People think all honey tastes the same," Xenia said. "If they could try both side by side, they would see the difference."
“人们以为所有的蜂蜜都是一个味道，”谢尼娅说，“要是能把两种放在一起尝，他们就会发现不同。”
"We could sell them together," Jorge said slowly. "A little box with two jars."
“我们可以一起卖，”豪尔赫慢慢地说，“做一个小盒子，里面放两罐。”
The next Saturday, a new sign hung over the two stalls: "Two Farms, One Tasting Box." Xenia had painted the letters, and Jorge had painted the bees. By noon, half the boxes were gone.
下个星期六，两个摊位上方挂起了一块新牌子：“两家农场，一盒品鉴”。字是谢尼娅写的，蜜蜂是豪尔赫画的。到中午，一半的盒子已经卖完了。
"Same time next week?" Xenia asked, counting the coins.
“下周同一时间？”谢尼娅一边数着硬币一边问。
"Same place," Jorge said. "But bring a stronger pole."
“老地方，”豪尔赫说，“不过，带根更结实的杆子来。”
