Even the whorehouse was down there, nothing on the surface but a wooden shack no bigger than a privy, with a red lantern hung over the door. On the Wall, he'd heard men call the whores "buried treasures." He wondered whether any of his brothers in black were down there tonight, mining. That was oathbreaking too, yet no one seemed to care.
就连妓院也在地下，从地面上看，它们只是比厕所大不了多少的小木屋，门上挂了盏红灯笼。长城上守军把妓女们叫做“地底的宝藏”，他不禁揣测今晚有多少黑衣弟兄在下面挖宝呢？这当然也算是一种背誓，只是无人在意。
Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad?
直到把村子远远地抛在后面，琼恩方才再次减速。这时，他和母马都已经满身大汗。于是他跳下马背，只觉浑身发抖，灼伤的手更是疼痛。树丛下有大堆融雪，在月光下映射发亮，涓滴细流从中淌出，汇聚成浅浅的小池。琼恩蹲下来，双手合掌，捧起雪水。融雪冰冷刺骨，他喝了几口，接着洗脸，直洗得两颊发麻。他感觉到头昏脑胀，手指也好几天没有痛得这么厉害。我做得没错，他告诉自己，可我为何这么难受？
The horse was well lathered, so Jon took the lead and walked her for a while. The road was scarcely wide enough for two riders to pass abreast, its surface cut by tiny streams and littered with stone. That run had been truly stupid, an invitation to a broken neck. Jon wondered what had gotten into him. Was he in such a great rush to die?
马儿仍旧气喘吁吁，于是琼恩牵它走了一段。道路很窄，只能勉强容两人并肩而骑，表面更被细小沟渠所切割，布满碎石。刚才那样狂奔委实愚蠢，分明就是自找麻烦，稍不小心就会摔断脖子。琼恩不禁纳闷，自己究竟怎么搞的？就这么急着寻死么？
