Then came a wintry evening when he trudged beside Francois as the sheep ran down from the pastures to their folds, and Francois said, with a heavy sigh, “It is a pity, little Guillaume, that you have not the power to play upon the flute as your grandfather could, for my fingers, that I wounded at the sheep-shearing in the spring, have become stiff, and I can no longer make the notes sound as they should. It is too bad. Who is to play the noels at the Feast? There is none to do it in Maussane. This very evening I must go in to Monsieur le Cure, and tell him that for me it is now quite impossible.”
一個寒冷的夜晚，當羊從牧場跑到羊圈時，他艱難地走在弗朗索瓦斯身邊，弗朗索瓦斯重重地嘆了口氣說，“很遺憾，小紀堯姆，你沒有能力像你祖父那樣吹笛子，因為我春天剪羊毛時受傷的手指，現在已經僵硬了，我不能再發出應有的聲音了。我再也不能讓音符發出應有的聲音了。太糟糕了。宴會上誰來演諾爾斯？這里沒有人可以在茂森做這件事。就在今天晚上，我必須進去見本堂神甫先生，告訴他對我來說，現在是完全不可能了?！?/p>
Even in spite of this, Guillaume could not speak for shyness; he could only walk by Francois’s side with a choking in his throat, and a swifter beating of the heart. Soon they reached the priest’s house. Francois knocked at the door; it opened, and he went in.
盡管如此，紀堯姆還是說不出他的羞怯；他只能在弗朗索瓦斯身邊走著，喉嚨哽住了，心跳加快了。不久他們就到了牧師的家。弗朗索瓦斯敲了敲門；門開了，他走了進去。
Guillaume stood outside as one whose feet are chained. Through the half-open window he could hear the grave voices of Monsieur le Cure and Francois. Although he could not hear a word they said, he knew as well as if he had done so, what disappointment they felt. Surging up from the depths of his being was a desire to draw out his grandfather’s flute from his breast, to play upon it, to show them that the Feast of Noel need not go by, after all, without the music that had always helped to make it beautiful.
紀堯姆站在外面，雙腳像被鏈子鎖住一樣。從半開著的窗子里，他可以聽到本堂神甫先生和弗朗索瓦斯低沉的聲音。盡管他一個字也聽不見他們在說什么，但他清楚地知道，他們感到多么失望。從他的內心深處涌起一種渴望，要把他祖父的笛子從他的胸膛里抽出來，在上面吹奏，向他們表明，諾埃爾的宴會需要音樂，而音樂總是有助于使變得美麗。
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