Assef’s brow twitched. “Like pride in your people, your customs, your language. Afghanistan is like a beautiful mansion littered with garbage, and someone has to take out the garbage.”	阿塞夫眉頭一鎖：“比如為你的人民、你的習俗、你的語言驕傲。阿富汗就像一座到處扔著垃圾的美麗大廈，得有人把垃圾清走。”
“That’s what you were doing in Mazar, going door-to-door? Taking out the garbage?”	“那就是你在馬扎挨門挨戶所做的？清走垃圾？”
“Precisely.”	“準確無誤。”
“In the west, they have an expression for that,” I said. “They call it ethnic cleansing.”	“在西方，人們有另外一個說法，”我說，“他們管這個叫種族清洗。”
“Do they?” Assef’s face brightened. “Ethnic cleansing. I like it. I like the sound of it.”	“真的嗎？”阿塞夫神色一亮，“種族清洗。我喜歡它。我喜歡它的發音。”
“All I want is the boy.”	“我只想要這個男孩。”
“Ethnic cleansing,” Assef murmured, tasting the words.	“種族清洗。”阿塞夫喃喃自語，品味著這個詞組。
“I want the boy,” I said again. Sohrab’s eyes flicked to me. They were slaughter sheep’s eyes. They even had the mascara--I remembered how, on the day of Eid of qorban, the mullah in our backyard used to apply mascara to the eyes of the sheep and feed it a cube of sugar before slicing its throat. I thought I saw pleading in Sohrab’s eyes.	“我要這個男孩。”我又說了一遍。索拉博的眼睛望著我，那是一雙任人宰殺的羔羊的眼睛，甚至還有眼影——我記得，宰牲節那天，我家院子里面，毛拉在割斷綿羊的喉嚨之前，涂黑它的眼睛，給它吃一塊糖。我認為我從索拉博眼中看到了哀求。
“Tell me why,” Assef said. He pinched Sohrab’s earlobe between his teeth. Let go. Sweat beads rolled down his brow.	“告訴我為什么。”阿塞夫說。他的牙齒輕輕咬著索拉博的耳垂，在上面游走。他的額頭流出汗珠。
“That’s my business.”	“那是我的事情。”
“What do you want to do with him?” he said. Then a coy smile. “Or to him.”	“你想要他干什么呢？”他說，然后露出猥褻的微笑，“或者，想要對他做什么？”
“That’s disgusting,” I said.	“真惡心。”我說。
“How would you know? Have you tried it?”	“你怎么知道？你試過了嗎？”
“I want to take him to a better place.”	“我會帶他到一個更好的地方去。”
“Tell me why.”	“告訴我為什么。”
“That’s my business,” I said. I didn’t know what had emboldened me to be so curt, maybe the fact that I thought I was going to die anyway.	“那是我的事情。”我說。我不知道自己何以變得如此強硬，也許是臨死一搏吧。
“I wonder,” Assef said. “I wonder why you’ve come all this way, Amir, come all this way for a Hazara? Why are you here? Why are you really here?”	“我真奇怪，”阿塞夫說，“我真的很奇怪，為何你那么老遠來？阿米爾，為什么你那么老遠來，就為了一個哈扎拉人？你為什么來這兒？你來這里的真正原因是什么？”
“I have my reasons,” I said.	“我有我的理由。”我說。

阿塞夫眉頭一鎖：“比如為你的人民、你的習俗、你的語言驕傲。阿富汗就像一座到處扔著垃圾的美麗大廈，得有人把垃圾清走。”
“那就是你在馬扎挨門挨戶所做的？清走垃圾？”
“準確無誤。”
“在西方，人們有另外一個說法，”我說，“他們管這個叫種族清洗。”
“真的嗎？”阿塞夫神色一亮，“種族清洗。我喜歡它。我喜歡它的發音。”
“我只想要這個男孩。”
“種族清洗。”阿塞夫喃喃自語，品味著這個詞組。
“我要這個男孩。”我又說了一遍。索拉博的眼睛望著我，那是一雙任人宰殺的羔羊的眼睛，甚至還有眼影——我記得，宰牲節那天，我家院子里面，毛拉在割斷綿羊的喉嚨之前，涂黑它的眼睛，給它吃一塊糖。我認為我從索拉博眼中看到了哀求。
“告訴我為什么。”阿塞夫說。他的牙齒輕輕咬著索拉博的耳垂，在上面游走。他的額頭流出汗珠。
“那是我的事情。”
“你想要他干什么呢？”他說，然后露出猥褻的微笑，“或者，想要對他做什么？”
“真惡心。”我說。
“你怎么知道？你試過了嗎？”
“我會帶他到一個更好的地方去。”
“告訴我為什么。”
“那是我的事情。”我說。我不知道自己何以變得如此強硬，也許是臨死一搏吧。
“我真奇怪，”阿塞夫說，“我真的很奇怪，為何你那么老遠來？阿米爾，為什么你那么老遠來，就為了一個哈扎拉人？你為什么來這兒？你來這里的真正原因是什么？”
“我有我的理由。”我說。