On Fame’s mad voyage by the wind of praise,
With what a shifting gale1 your course you ply2,
For ever sunk too low, or borne too high!
Who pants for glory finds but short repose3,
A breath revives him, and a breath o’er-throws.
Pope.
Here the Marquis concluded his adventures. Lorenzo, before He could determine on his reply, past some moments in reflection. At length He broke silence.
‘Raymond,’ said He taking his hand, ‘strict honour would oblige me to wash off in your blood the stain thrown upon my family; But the circumstances of your case forbid me to consider you as an Enemy. The temptation was too great to be resisted. ’Tis the superstition4 of my Relations which has occasioned these misfortunes, and they are more the Offenders6 than yourself and Agnes. What has past between you cannot be recalled, but may yet be repaired by uniting you to my Sister. You have ever been, you still continue to be, my dearest and indeed my only Friend. I feel for Agnes the truest affection, and there is no one on whom I would bestow7 her more willingly than on yourself. Pursue then your design. I will accompany you tomorrow night, and conduct her myself to the House of the Cardinal8. My presence will be a sanction for her conduct, and prevent her incurring9 blame by her flight from the Convent.’
The Marquis thanked him in terms by no means deficient10 in gratitude11. Lorenzo then informed him that He had nothing more to apprehend12 from Donna Rodolpha’s enmity. Five Months had already elapsed since, in an excess of passion, She broke a blood-vessel13 and expired in the course of a few hours. He then proceeded to mention the interests of Antonia. The Marquis was much surprized at hearing of this new Relation: His Father had carried his hatred14 of Elvira to the Grave, and had never given the least hint that He knew what was become of his eldest15 Son’s Widow. Don Raymond assured his friend that He was not mistaken in supposing him ready to acknowledge his Sister-inlaw and her amiable16 Daughter. The preparations for the elopement would not permit his visiting them the next day; But in the meanwhile He desired Lorenzo to assure them of his friendship, and to supply Elvira upon his account with any sums which She might want. This the Youth promised to do, as soon as her abode17 should be known to him: He then took leave of his future Brother, and returned to the Palace de Medina.
The day was already on the point of breaking when the Marquis retired18 to his chamber19. Conscious that his narrative20 would take up some hours, and wishing to secure himself from interruption on returning to the Hotel, He ordered his Attendants not to sit upfor him. Consequently, He was somewhat surprised on entering his Antiroom, to find Theodore established there. The Page sat near a Table with a pen in his hand, and was so totally occupied by his employment that He perceived not his Lord’s approach. The Marquis stopped to observe him. Theodore wrote a few lines, then paused, and scratched out a part of the writing: Then wrote again, smiled, and seemed highly pleased with what He had been about. At last He threw down his pen, sprang from his chair, and clapped his hands together joyfully21.
‘There it is!’ cried He aloud: ‘Now they are charming!’
His transports were interrupted by a laugh from the Marquis, who suspected the nature of his employment.
‘What is so charming, Theodore?’
The Youth started, and looked round. He blushed, ran to the Table, seized the paper on which He had been writing, and concealed23 it in confusion.
‘Oh! my Lord, I knew not that you were so near me. Can I be of use to you? Lucas is already gone to bed.’
‘I shall follow his example when I have given my opinion of your verses.’
‘My verses, my Lord?’
‘Nay26, I am sure that you have been writing some, for nothing else could have kept you awake till this time of the morning. Where are they, Theodore? I shall like to see your composition.’
Theodore’s cheeks glowed with still deeper crimson27: He longed to show his poetry, but first chose to be pressed for it.
‘Indeed, my Lord, they are not worthy28 your attention.’
‘Not these verses, which you just now declared to be so charming?
Come, come, let me see whether our opinions are the same. I promise that you shall find in me an indulgent Critic.’
The Boy produced his paper with seeming reluctance29; but the satisfaction which sparkled in his dark expressive30 eyes betrayed the vanity of his little bosom31. The Marquis smiled while He observed the emotions of an heart as yet but little skilled in veiling its sentiments. He seated himself upon a Sopha: Theodore, while Hope and fear contended on his anxious countenance32, waited with inquietude for his Master’s decision, while the Marquis read the following lines.
LOVE AND AGE
The night was dark; The wind blew cold;
Anacreon, grown morose33 and old,
Sat by his fire, and fed the chearful flame:
Sudden the Cottage-door expands,
And lo! before him Cupid stands,
Casts round a friendly glance, and greets him by his name.
‘What is it Thou?’ the startled Sire
In sullen34 tone exclaimed, while ire
With crimson flushed his pale and wrinkled cheek:
‘Wouldst Thou again with amorous35 rage
Inflame36 my bosom? Steeled by age,
Vain Boy, to pierce my breast thine arrows are too weak.
‘What seek You in this desart drear?
No smiles or sports inhabit here;
Ne’er did these vallies witness dalliance sweet:
Eternal winter binds37 the plains;
Age in my house despotic reigns38,
My Garden boasts no flower, my bosom boasts no heat.
‘Begone, and seek the blooming bower39,
Where some ripe Virgin40 courts thy power,
Or bid provoking dreams flit round her bed;
On Damon’s amorous breast repose;
Wanton-on Chloe’s lip of rose,
Or make her blushing cheek a pillow for thy head.
‘Be such thy haunts; These regions cold
Avoid! Nor think grown wise and old
This hoary41 head again thy yoke42 shall bear:
Remembering that my fairest years
By Thee were marked with sighs and tears,
I think thy friendship false, and shun43 the guileful44 snare45.
‘I have not yet forgot the pains
I felt, while bound in Julia’s chains;
The ardent46 flames with which my bosom burned;
The nights I passed deprived of rest;
The jealous pangs47 which racked my breast;
My disappointed hopes, and passion unreturned.
‘Then fly, and curse mine eyes no more!
Fly from my peaceful Cottage-door!
No day, no hour, no moment shalt Thou stay.
I know thy falsehood, scorn thy arts,
Distrust thy smiles, and fear thy darts48;
Traitor49, begone, and seek some other to betray!’
‘Does Age, old Man, your wits confound?’
Replied the offended God, and frowned;
(His frown was sweet as is the Virgin’s smile!)
‘Do You to Me these words address?
To Me, who do not love you less,
Though You my friendship scorn, and pleasures past revile50!
‘If one proud Fair you chanced to find,
An hundred other Nymphs were kind,
Whose smiles might well for Julia’s frowns atone51:
But such is Man! His partial hand
Unnumbered favours writes on sand,
But stamps one little fault on solid lasting52 stone.
‘Ingrate! Who led Thee to the wave,
At noon where Lesbia loved to lave?
Who named the bower alone where Daphne lay?
And who, when Caelia shrieked53 for aid,
Bad you with kisses hush54 the Maid?
What other was’t than Love, Oh! false Anacreon, say!
‘Then You could call me — “Gentle Boy!
“My only bliss55! my source of joy!” —
Then You could prize me dearer than your soul!
Could kiss, and dance me on your knees;
And swear, not wine itself would please,
Had not the lip of Love first touched the flowing bowl!
‘Must those sweet days return no more?
Must I for aye your loss deplore56,
Banished57 your heart, and from your favour driven?
Ah! no; My fears that smile denies;
That heaving breast, those sparkling eyes
Declare me ever dear and all my faults forgiven.
‘Again beloved, esteemed58, carest,
Cupid shall in thine arms be prest,
Sport on thy knees, or on thy bosom sleep:
My Torch thine age-struck heart shall warm;
My Hand pale Winter’s rage disarm60,
And Youth and Spring shall here once more their revels61 keep.’ —
A feather now of golden hue62
He smiling from his pinion25 drew;
This to the Poet’s hand the Boy commits;
And straight before Anacreon’s eyes
The fairest dreams of fancy rise,
And round his favoured head wild inspiration flits.
His bosom glows with amorous fire
Eager He grasps the magic lyre;
Swift o’er the tuneful chords his fingers move:
The Feather plucked from Cupid’s wing
Sweeps the too-long-neglected string,
While soft Anacreon sings the power
and praise of Love.
Soon as that name was heard, the Woods
Shook off their snows; The melting floods
Broke their cold chains, and Winter fled away.
Once more the earth was deckt with flowers;
Mild Zephyrs63 breathed through blooming bowers64;
High towered the glorious Sun, and poured the blaze of day.
Attracted by the harmonious65 sound,
Sylvans and Fauns the Cot surround,
And curious crowd the Minstrel to behold66:
The Wood-nymphs haste the spell to prove;
Eager They run; They list, they love,
And while They hear the strain, forget the Man is old.
Cupid, to nothing constant long,
Perched on the Harp67 attends the song,
Or stifles68 with a kiss the dulcet69 notes:
Now on the Poet’s breast reposes70,
Now twines71 his hoary locks with roses,
Or borne on wings of gold in wanton circle floats.
Then thus Anacreon — ‘I no more
At other shrine72 my vows73 will pour,
Since Cupid deigns74 my numbers to inspire:
From Phoebus or the blue-eyed Maid
Now shall my verse request no aid,
For Love alone shall be the Patron of my Lyre.
‘In lofty strain, of earlier days,
I spread the King’s or Hero’s praise,
And struck the martial75 Chords with epic76 fire:
But farewell, Hero! farewell, King!
Your deeds my lips no more shall sing,
For Love alone shall be the subject of my Lyre.
The Marquis returned the paper with a smile of encouragement.
‘Your little poem pleases me much,’ said He; ‘However, you must not count my opinion for anything. I am no judge of verses, and for my own part, never composed more than six lines in my life: Those six produced so unlucky an effect that I am fully22 resolved never to compose another. But I wander from my subject. I was going to say that you cannot employ your time worse than in making verses. An Author, whether good or bad, or between both, is an Animal whom everybody is privileged to attack; For though All are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. A bad composition carries with it its own punishment, contempt and ridicule77. A good one excites envy, and entails78 upon its Author a thousand mortifications. He finds himself assailed79 by partial and ill-humoured Criticism: One Man finds fault with the plan, Another with the style, a Third with the precept80, which it strives to inculcate; and they who cannot succeed in finding fault with the Book, employ themselves in stigmatizing81 its Author. They maliciously82 rake out from obscurity every little circumstance which may throw ridicule upon his private character or conduct, and aim at wounding the Man, since They cannot hurt the Writer. In short, to enter the lists of literature is wilfully83 to expose yourself to the arrows of neglect, ridicule, envy, and disappointment. Whether you write well or ill, be assured that you will not escape from blame; Indeed this circumstance contains a young Author’s chief consolation84: He remembers that Lope de Vega and Calderona had unjust and envious85 Critics, and He modestly conceives himself to be exactly in their predicament. But I am conscious that all these sage86 observations are thrown away upon you. Authorship is a mania87 to conquer which no reasons are sufficiently88 strong; and you might as easily persuade me not to love, as I persuade you not to write. However, if you cannot help being occasionally seized with a poetical89 paroxysm, take at least the precaution of communicating your verses to none but those whose partiality for you secures their approbation90.’
‘Then, my Lord, you do not think these lines tolerable?’ said Theodore with an humble91 and dejected air.
‘You mistake my meaning. As I said before, they have pleased me much; But my regard for you makes me partial, and Others might judge them less favourably92. I must still remark that even my prejudice in your favour does not blind me so much as to prevent my observing several faults. For instance, you make a terrible confusion of metaphors94; You are too apt to make the strength of your lines consist more in the words than sense; Some of the verses only seem introduced in order to rhyme with others; and most of the best ideas are borrowed from other Poets, though possibly you are unconscious of the theft yourself. These faults may occasionally be excused in a work of length; But a short Poem must be correct and perfect.’
‘All this is true, Segnor; But you should consider that I only write for pleasure.’
‘Your defects are the less excusable. Their incorrectness may be forgiven in those who work for money, who are obliged to compleat a given task in a given time, and are paid according to the bulk, not value of their productions. But in those whom no necessity forces to turn Author, who merely write for fame, and have full leisure to polish their compositions, faults are impardonable, and merit the sharpest arrows of criticism.’
The Marquis rose from the Sopha; the Page looked discouraged and melancholy95, and this did not escape his Master’s observation.
‘However’ added He smiling, ‘I think that these lines do you no discredit96. Your versification is tolerably easy, and your ear seems to be just. The perusal97 of your little poem upon the whole gave me much pleasure; and if it is not asking too great a favour, I shall be highly obliged to you for a Copy.’
The Youth’s countenance immediately cleared up. He perceived not the smile, half approving, half ironical98, which accompanied the request, and He promised the Copy with great readiness. The Marquis withdrew to his chamber, much amused by the instantaneous effect produced upon Theodore’s vanity by the conclusion of his Criticism. He threw himself upon his Couch; Sleep soon stole over him, and his dreams presented him with the most flattering pictures of happiness with Agnes.
On reaching the Hotel de Medina, Lorenzo’s first care was to enquire99 for Letters. He found several waiting for him; but that which He sought was not amongst them. Leonella had found it impossible to write that evening. However, her impatience100 to secure Don Christoval’s heart, on which She flattered herself with having made no slight impression, permitted her not to pass another day without informing him where She was to be found. On her return from the Capuchin Church, She had related to her Sister with exultation101 how attentive102 an handsome Cavalier had been to her; as also how his Companion had undertaken to plead Antonia’s cause with the Marquis de las Cisternas. Elvira received this intelligence with sensations very different from those with which it was communicated. She blamed her Sister’s imprudence in confiding104 her history to an absolute Stranger, and expressed her fears lest this inconsiderate step should prejudice the Marquis against her. The greatest of her apprehensions105 She concealed in her own breast. She had observed with inquietude that at the mention of Lorenzo, a deep blush spread itself over her Daughter’s cheek. The timid Antonia dared not to pronounce his name: Without knowing wherefore, She felt embarrassed when He was made the subject of discourse106, and endeavoured to change the conversation to Ambrosio. Elvira perceived the emotions of this young bosom: In consequence, She insisted upon Leonella’s breaking her promise to the Cavaliers. A sigh, which on hearing this order escaped from Antonia, confirmed the wary107 Mother in her resolution.
Through this resolution Leonella was determined108 to break: She conceived it to be inspired by envy, and that her Sister dreaded109 her being elevated above her. Without imparting her design to anyone, She took an opportunity of dispatching the following note to Lorenzo; It was delivered to him as soon as He woke.
‘Doubtless, Segnor Don Lorenzo, you have frequently accused me of ingratitude111 and forgetfulness: But on the word of a Virgin, it was out of my power to perform my promise yesterday. I know not in what words to inform you how strange a reception my Sister gave your kind wish to visit her. She is an odd Woman, with many good points about her; But her jealousy112 of me frequently makes her conceive notions quite unaccountable. On hearing that your Friend had paid some little attention to me, She immediately took the alarm: She blamed my conduct, and has absolutely forbidden me to let you know our abode. My strong sense of gratitude for your kind offers of service, and . . . Shall I confess it? my desire to behold once more the too amiable Don Christoval, will not permit my obeying her injunctions. I have therefore stolen a moment to inform you, that we lodge113 in the Strada di San Iago, four doors from the Palace d’Albornos, and nearly opposite to the Barber’s Miguel Coello. Enquire for Donna Elvira Dalfa, since in compliance114 with her Father-inlaw’s order, my Sister continues to be called by her maiden115 name. At eight this evening you will be sure of finding us: But let not a word drop which may raise a suspicion of my having written this letter. Should you see the Conde d’Ossorio, tell him . . . I blush while I declare it . . .
Tell him that his presence will be but too acceptable to the sympathetic Leonella.
The latter sentences were written in red ink, to express the blushes of her cheek, while She committed an outrage116 upon her virgin modesty117.
Lorenzo had no sooner perused119 this note than He set out in search of Don Christoval. Not being able to find him in the course of the day, He proceeded to Donna Elvira’s alone, to Leonella’s infinite disappointment. The Domestic by whom He sent up his name, having already declared his Lady to be at home, She had no excuse for refusing his visit: Yet She consented to receive it with much reluctance. That reluctance was increased by the changes which his approach produced in Antonia’s countenance; nor was it by any means abated120 when the Youth himself appeared. The symmetry of his person, animation121 of his features, and natural elegance122 of his manners and address, convinced Elvira that such a Guest must be dangerous for her Daughter. She resolved to treat him with distant politeness, to decline his services with gratitude for the tender of them, and to make him feel, without offence, that his future visits would be far from acceptable.
On his entrance He found Elvira, who was indisposed, reclining upon a Sopha: Antonia sat by her embroidery123 frame, and Leonella, in a pastoral dress, held ‘Montemayor’s Diana.’ In spite of her being the Mother of Antonia, Lorenzo could not help expecting to find in Elvira Leonella’s true Sister, and the Daughter of ‘as honest a painstaking124 Shoe-maker, as any in Cordova.’ A single glance was sufficient to undeceive him. He beheld125 a Woman whose features, though impaired126 by time and sorrow, still bore the marks of distinguished127 beauty: A serious dignity reigned128 upon her countenance, but was tempered by a grace and sweetness which rendered her truly enchanting129. Lorenzo fancied that She must have resembled her Daughter in her youth, and readily excused the imprudence of the late Conde de las Cisternas. She desired him to be seated, and immediately resumed her place upon the Sopha.
Antonia received him with a simple reverence130, and continued her work: Her cheeks were suffused131 with crimson, and She strove to conceal24 her emotion by leaning over her embroidery frame. Her Aunt also chose to play off her airs of modesty; She affected132 to blush and tremble, and waited with her eyes cast down to receive, as She expected, the compliments of Don Christoval. Finding after some time that no sign of his approach was given, She ventured to look round the room, and perceived with vexation that Medina was unaccompanied. Impatience would not permit her waiting for an explanation: Interrupting Lorenzo, who was delivering Raymond’s message, She desired to know what was become of his Friend.
He, who thought it necessary to maintain himself in her good graces, strove to console her under her disappointment by committing a little violence upon truth.
‘Ah! Segnora,’ He replied in a melancholy voice ‘How grieved will He be at losing this opportunity of paying you his respects! A Relation’s illness has obliged him to quit Madrid in haste: But on his return, He will doubtless seize the first moment with transport to throw himself at your feet!’
As He said this, his eyes met those of Elvira: She punished his falsehood sufficiently by darting133 at him a look expressive of displeasure and reproach. Neither did the deceit answer his intention. Vexed134 and disappointed Leonella rose from her seat, and retired in dudgeon to her own apartment.
Lorenzo hastened to repair the fault, which had injured him in Elvira’s opinion. He related his conversation with the Marquis respecting her: He assured her that Raymond was prepared to acknowledge her for his Brother’s Widow; and that till it was in his power to pay his compliments to her in person, Lorenzo was commissioned to supply his place. This intelligence relieved Elvira from an heavy weight of uneasiness: She had now found a Protector for the fatherless Antonia, for whose future fortunes She had suffered the greatest apprehensions. She was not sparing of her thanks to him who had interfered135 so generously in her behalf; But still She gave him no invitation to repeat his visit.
However, when upon rising to depart He requested permission to enquire after her health occasionally, the polite earnestness of his manner, gratitude for his services, and respect for his Friend the Marquis, would not admit of a refusal. She consented reluctantly to receive him: He promised not to abuse her goodness, and quitted the House.
Antonia was now left alone with her Mother: A temporary silence ensued. Both wished to speak upon the same subject, but Neither knew how to introduce it. The one felt a bashfulness which sealed up her lips, and for which She could not account: The other feared to find her apprehensions true, or to inspire her Daughter with notions to which She might be still a Stranger. At length Elvira began the conversation.
‘That is a charming young Man, Antonia; I am much pleased with him. Was He long near you yesterday in the Cathedral?’
‘He quitted me not for a moment while I staid in the Church: He gave me his seat, and was very obliging and attentive.’
‘Indeed? Why then have you never mentioned his name to me? Your Aunt lanched out in praise of his Friend, and you vaunted Ambrosio’s eloquence136: But Neither said a word of Don Lorenzo’s person and accomplishments137. Had not Leonella spoken of his readiness to undertake our cause, I should not have known him to be in existence.’
She paused. Antonia coloured, but was silent.
‘Perhaps you judge him less favourably than I do. In my opinion his figure is pleasing, his conversation sensible, and manners engaging. Still He may have struck you differently: You may think him disagreeable, and . . .’.
‘Disagreeable? Oh! dear Mother, how should I possibly think him so? I should be very ungrateful were I not sensible of his kindness yesterday, and very blind if his merits had escaped me. His figure is so graceful138, so noble! His manners so gentle, yet so manly139! I never yet saw so many accomplishments united in one person, and I doubt whether Madrid can produce his equal.’
‘Why then were you so silent in praise of this Phoenix140 of Madrid?
Why was it concealed from me that his society had afforded you pleasure?’
‘In truth, I know not: You ask me a question which I cannot resolve myself. I was on the point of mentioning him a thousand times: His name was constantly upon my lips, but when I would have pronounced it, I wanted courage to execute my design. However, if I did not speak of him, it was not that I thought of him the less.’
‘That I believe; But shall I tell you why you wanted courage? It was because, accustomed to confide141 to me your most secret thoughts, you knew not how to conceal, yet feared to acknowledge, that your heart nourished a sentiment which you were conscious I should disapprove142. Come hither to me, my Child.’
Antonia quitted her embroidery frame, threw herself upon her knees by the Sopha, and hid her face in her Mother’s lap.
‘Fear not, my sweet Girl! Consider me equally as your Friend and Parent, and apprehend no reproof143 from me. I have read the emotions of your bosom; you are yet ill-skilled in concealing144 them, and they could not escape my attentive eye. This Lorenzo is dangerous to your repose; He has already made an impression upon your heart. ’Tis true that I perceive easily that your affection is returned; But what can be the consequences of this attachment145? You are poor and friendless, my Antonia; Lorenzo is the Heir of the Duke of Medina Celi. Even should Himself mean honourably146, his Uncle never will consent to your union; Nor without that Uncle’s consent, will I. By sad experience I know what sorrows She must endure, who marries into a family unwilling147 to receive her. Then struggle with your affection: Whatever pains it may cost you, strive to conquer it. Your heart is tender and susceptible148: It has already received a strong impression; But when once convinced that you should not encourage such sentiments, I trust, that you have sufficient fortitude149 to drive them from your bosom.’
Antonia kissed her hand, and promised implicit150 obedience151. Elvira then continued.
‘To prevent your passion from growing stronger, it will be needful to prohibit Lorenzo’s visits. The service which He has rendered me permits not my forbidding them positively152; But unless I judge too favourably of his character, He will discontinue them without taking offence, if I confess to him my reasons, and throw myself entirely153 on his generosity154. The next time that I see him, I will honestly avow155 to him the embarrassment156 which his presence occasions. How say you, my Child? Is not this measure necessary?’
Antonia subscribed157 to every thing without hesitation158, though not without regret. Her Mother kissed her affectionately, and retired to bed. Antonia followed her example, and vowed159 so frequently never more to think of Lorenzo, that till Sleep closed her eyes She thought of nothing else.
While this was passing at Elvira’s, Lorenzo hastened to rejoin the Marquis. Every thing was ready for the second elopement of Agnes; and at twelve the two Friends with a Coach and four were at the Garden wall of the Convent. Don Raymond drew out his Key, and unlocked the door. They entered, and waited for some time in expectation of being joined by Agnes. At length the Marquis grew impatient: Beginning to fear that his second attempt would succeed no better than the first, He proposed to reconnoitre the Convent. The Friends advanced towards it. Every thing was still and dark. The Prioress was anxious to keep the story a secret, fearing lest the crime of one of its members should bring disgrace upon the whole community, or that the interposition of powerful Relations should deprive her vengeance160 of its intended victim. She took care therefore to give the Lover of Agnes no cause to suppose that his design was discovered, and his Mistress on the point of suffering the punishment of her fault. The same reason made her reject the idea of arresting the unknown Seducer161 in the Garden; Such a proceeding162 would have created much disturbance163, and the disgrace of her Convent would have been noised about Madrid. She contented164 herself with confining Agnes closely; As to the Lover, She left him at liberty to pursue his designs. What She had expected was the result. The Marquis and Lorenzo waited in vain till the break of day: They then retired without noise, alarmed at the failure of their plan, and ignorant of the cause of its ill-success.
The next morning Lorenzo went to the Convent, and requested to see his Sister. The Prioress appeared at the Grate with a melancholy countenance: She informed him that for several days Agnes had appeared much agitated166; That She had been prest by the Nuns167 in vain to reveal the cause, and apply to their tenderness for advice and consolation; That She had obstinately168 persisted in concealing the cause of her distress169; But that on Thursday Evening it had produced so violent an effect upon her constitution, that She had fallen ill, and was actually confined to her bed. Lorenzo did not credit a syllable170 of this account: He insisted upon seeing his Sister; If She was unable to come to the Grate, He desired to be admitted to her Cell. The Prioress crossed herself! She was shocked at the very idea of a Man’s profane171 eye pervading172 the interior of her holy Mansion173, and professed174 herself astonished that Lorenzo could think of such a thing. She told him that his request could not be granted; But that if He returned the next day, She hoped that her beloved Daughter would then be sufficiently recovered to join him at the Parlour grate.
With this answer Lorenzo was obliged to retire, unsatisfied and trembling for his Sister’s safety.
He returned the next morning at an early hour. ‘Agnes was worse; The Physician had pronounced her to be in imminent175 danger; She was ordered to remain quiet, and it was utterly176 impossible for her to receive her Brother’s visit.’ Lorenzo stormed at this answer, but there was no resource. He raved177, He entreated179, He threatened: No means were left untried to obtain a sight of Agnes. His endeavours were as fruitless as those of the day before, and He returned in despair to the Marquis. On his side, the Latter had spared no pains to discover what had occasioned his plot to fail: Don Christoval, to whom the affair was now entrusted180, endeavoured to worm out the secret from the Old Porteress of St. Clare, with whom He had formed an acquaintance; But She was too much upon her guard, and He gained from her no intelligence. The Marquis was almost distracted, and Lorenzo felt scarcely less inquietude. Both were convinced that the purposed elopement must have been discovered: They doubted not but the malady181 of Agnes was a pretence182, But they knew not by what means to rescue her from the hands of the Prioress.
Regularly every day did Lorenzo visit the Convent: As regularly was He informed that his Sister rather grew worse than better. Certain that her indisposition was feigned183, these accounts did not alarm him: But his ignorance of her fate, and of the motives184 which induced the Prioress to keep her from him, excited the most serious uneasiness. He was still uncertain what steps He ought to take, when the Marquis received a letter from the Cardinal–Duke of Lerma. It inclosed the Pope’s expected Bull, ordering that Agnes should be released from her vows, and restored to her Relations. This essential paper decided185 at once the proceedings186 of her Friends: They resolved that Lorenzo should carry it to the Domina without delay, and demand that his Sister should be instantly given up to him. Against this mandate187 illness could not be pleaded: It gave her Brother the power of removing her instantly to the Palace de Medina, and He determined to use that power on the following day.
His mind relieved from inquietude respecting his Sister, and his Spirits raised by the hope of soon restoring her to freedom, He now had time to give a few moments to love and to Antonia. At the same hour as on his former visit He repaired to Donna Elvira’s: She had given orders for his admission. As soon as He was announced, her Daughter retired with Leonella, and when He entered the chamber, He found the Lady of the House alone. She received him with less distance than before, and desired him to place himself near her upon the Sopha. She then without losing time opened her business, as had been agreed between herself and Antonia.
‘You must not think me ungrateful, Don Lorenzo, or forgetful how essential are the services which you have rendered me with the Marquis. I feel the weight of my obligations; Nothing under the Sun should induce my taking the step to which I am now compelled but the interest of my Child, of my beloved Antonia. My health is declining; God only knows how soon I may be summoned before his Throne. My Daughter will be left without Parents, and should She lose the protection of the Cisternas family, without Friends.
She is young and artless, uninstructed in the world’s perfidy188, and with charms sufficient to render her an object of seduction. Judge then, how I must tremble at the prospect189 before her! Judge how anxious I must be to keep her from their society who may excite the yet dormant190 passions of her bosom. You are amiable, Don Lorenzo: Antonia has a susceptible, a loving heart, and is grateful for the favours conferred upon us by your interference with the Marquis. Your presence makes me tremble: I fear lest it should inspire her with sentiments which may embitter191 the remainder of her life, or encourage her to cherish hopes in her situation unjustifiable and futile192. Pardon me when I avow my terrors, and let my frankness plead in my excuse. I cannot forbid you my House, for gratitude restrains me; I can only throw myself upon your generosity, and entreat178 you to spare the feelings of an anxious, of a doting193 Mother. Believe me when I assure you that I lament194 the necessity of rejecting your acquaintance; But there is no remedy, and Antonia’s interest obliges me to beg you to forbear your visits. By complying with my request, you will increase the esteem59 which I already feel for you, and of which everything convinces me that you are truly deserving.’
‘Your frankness charms me,’ replied Lorenzo; ‘You shall find that in your favourable195 opinion of me you were not deceived. Yet I hope that the reasons, now in my power to allege196, will persuade you to withdraw a request which I cannot obey without infinite reluctance. I love your Daughter, love her most sincerely: I wish for no greater happiness than to inspire her with the same sentiments, and receive her hand at the Altar as her Husband. ’Tis true, I am not rich myself; My Father’s death has left me but little in my own possession; But my expectations justify197 my pretending to the Conde de las Cisternas’ Daughter.’
He was proceeding, but Elvira interrupted him.
‘Ah! Don Lorenzo, you forget in that pompous198 title the meanness of my origin. You forget that I have now past fourteen years in Spain, disavowed by my Husband’s family, and existing upon a stipend199 barely sufficient for the support and education of my Daughter. Nay, I have even been neglected by most of my own Relations, who out of envy affect to doubt the reality of my marriage. My allowance being discontinued at my Father-inlaw’s death, I was reduced to the very brink200 of want. In this situation I was found by my Sister, who amongst all her foibles possesses a warm, generous, and affectionate heart. She aided me with the little fortune which my Father left her, persuaded me to visit Madrid, and has supported my Child and myself since our quitting Murcia. Then consider not Antonia as descended201 from the Conde de la Cisternas: Consider her as a poor and unprotected Orphan202, as the Grand-child of the Tradesman Torribio Dalfa, as the needy203 Pensioner204 of that Tradesman’s Daughter. Reflect upon the difference between such a situation, and that of the Nephew and Heir of the potent205 Duke of Medina. I believe your intentions to be honourable206; But as there are no hopes that your Uncle will approve of the union, I foresee that the consequences of your attachment must be fatal to my Child’s repose.’
‘Pardon me, Segnora; You are misinformed if you suppose the Duke of Medina to resemble the generality of Men. His sentiments are liberal and disinterested207: He loves me well; and I have no reason to dread110 his forbidding the marriage when He perceives that my happiness depends upon Antonia. But supposing him to refuse his sanction, what have I still to fear? My Parents are no more; My little fortune is in my own possession: It will be sufficient to support Antonia, and I shall exchange for her hand Medina’s Dukedom without one sigh of regret.’
‘You are young and eager; It is natural for you to entertain such ideas. But Experience has taught me to my cost that curses accompany an unequal alliance. I married the Conde de las Cisternas in opposition208 to the will of his Relations; Many an heart-pang has punished me for the imprudent step. Whereever we bent209 our course, a Father’s execration210 pursued Gonzalvo. Poverty overtook us, and no Friend was near to relieve our wants. Still our mutual211 affection existed, but alas212! not without interruption.
Accustomed to wealth and ease, ill could my Husband support the transition to distress and indigence213. He looked back with repining to the comforts which He once enjoyed. He regretted the situation which for my sake He had quitted; and in moments when Despair possessed214 his mind, has reproached me with having made him the Companion of want and wretchedness! He has called me his bane! The source of his sorrows, the cause of his destruction! Ah God! He little knew how much keener were my own heart’s reproaches! He was ignorant that I suffered trebly, for myself, for my Children, and for him! ’Tis true that his anger seldom lasted long: His sincere affection for me soon revived in his heart; and then his repentance216 for the tears which He had made me shed tortured me even more than his reproaches. He would throw himself on the ground, implore217 my forgiveness in the most frantic218 terms, and load himself with curses for being the Murderer of my repose. Taught by experience that an union contracted against the inclinations219 of families on either side must be unfortunate, I will save my Daughter from those miseries220 which I have suffered. Without your Uncle’s consent, while I live, She never shall be yours. Undoubtedly221 He will disapprove of the union; His power is immense, and Antonia shall not be exposed to his anger and persecution222.’
‘His persecution? How easily may that be avoided! Let the worst happen, it is but quitting Spain. My wealth may easily be realised; The Indian Islands will offer us a secure retreat; I have an estate, though not of value, in Hispaniola: Thither223 will we fly, and I shall consider it to be my native Country, if it gives me Antonia’s undisturbed possession.’
‘Ah! Youth, this is a fond romantic vision. Gonzalvo thought the same. He fancied that He could leave Spain without regret; But the moment of parting undeceived him. You know not yet what it is to quit your native land; to quit it, never to behold it more!
You know not, what it is to exchange the scenes where you have passed your infancy224, for unknown realms and barbarous climates! To be forgotten, utterly eternally forgotten, by the Companions of your Youth! To see your dearest Friends, the fondest objects of your affection, perishing with diseases incidental to Indian atmospheres, and find yourself unable to procure225 for them necessary assistance! I have felt all this! My Husband and two sweet Babes found their Graves in Cuba: Nothing would have saved my young Antonia but my sudden return to Spain. Ah! Don Lorenzo, could you conceive what I suffered during my absence! Could you know how sorely I regretted all that I left behind, and how dear to me was the very name of Spain! I envied the winds which blew towards it: And when the Spanish Sailor chaunted some well-known air as He past my window, tears filled my eyes while I thought upon my native land. Gonzalvo too . . . My Husband . . .’.
Elvira paused. Her voice faltered226, and She concealed her face with her handkerchief. After a short silence She rose from the Sopha, and proceeded.
‘Excuse my quitting you for a few moments: The remembrance of what I have suffered has much agitated me, and I need to be alone. Till I return peruse118 these lines. After my Husband’s death I found them among his papers; Had I known sooner that He entertained such sentiments, Grief would have killed me. He wrote these verses on his voyage to Cuba, when his mind was clouded by sorrow, and He forgot that He had a Wife and Children.
What we are losing, ever seems to us the most precious: Gonzalvo was quitting Spain for ever, and therefore was Spain dearer to his eyes than all else which the World contained. Read them, Don Lorenzo; They will give you some idea of the feelings of a banished Man!’
Elvira put a paper into Lorenzo’s hand, and retired from the chamber. The Youth examined the contents, and found them to be as follows.
THE EXILE
Farewell, Oh! native Spain! Farewell for ever!
These banished eyes shall view thy coasts no more;
A mournful presage227 tells my heart, that never
Gonzalvo’s steps again shall press thy shore.
Hushed are the winds; While soft the Vessel sailing
With gentle motion plows228 the unruffled Main,
I feel my bosom’s boasted courage failing,
And curse the waves which bear me far from Spain.
I see it yet! Beneath yon blue clear Heaven
Still do the Spires229, so well beloved, appear;
From yonder craggy point the gale of Even
Still wafts230 my native accents to mine ear:
Propped231 on some moss-crowned Rock, and gaily232 singing,
There in the Sun his nets the Fisher dries;
Oft have I heard the plaintive233 Ballad234, bringing
Scenes of past joys before my sorrowing eyes.
Ah! Happy Swain! He waits the accustomed hour,
When twilight-gloom obscures the closing sky;
Then gladly seeks his loved paternal235 bower,
And shares the feast his native fields supply:
Friendship and Love, his Cottage Guests, receive him
With honest welcome and with smile sincere;
No threatening woes236 of present joys bereave238 him,
No sigh his bosom owns, his cheek no tear.
Ah! Happy Swain! Such bliss to me denying,
Fortune thy lot with envy bids me view;
Me, who from home and Spain an Exile flying,
Bid all I value, all I love, adieu.
No more mine ear shall list the well-known ditty
Sung by some Mountain–Girl, who tends her Goats,
Some Village–Swain imploring239 amorous pity,
Or Shepherd chaunting wild his rustic240 notes:
No more my arms a Parent’s fond embraces,
No more my heart domestic calm, must know;
Far from these joys, with sighs which Memory traces,
To sultry skies, and distant climes I go.
Where Indian Suns engender241 new diseases,
Where snakes and tigers breed, I bend my way
To brave the feverish242 thirst no art appeases243,
The yellow plague, and madding blaze of day:
But not to feel slow pangs consume my liver,
To die by piece-meal in the bloom of age,
My boiling blood drank by insatiate fever,
And brain delirious244 with the day-star’s rage,
Can make me know such grief, as thus to sever93
With many a bitter sigh, Dear Land, from Thee;
To feel this heart must doat on thee for ever,
And feel, that all thy joys are torn from me!
Ah me! How oft will Fancy’s spells in slumber245
Recall my native Country to my mind!
How oft regret will bid me sadly number
Each lost delight and dear Friend left behind!
Wild Murcia’s Vales, and loved romantic bowers,
The River on whose banks a Child I played,
My Castle’s antient Halls, its frowning Towers,
Each much-regretted wood, and well-known Glade246,
Dreams of the land where all my wishes centre,
Thy scenes, which I am doomed247 no more to know,
Full oft shall Memory trace, my soul’s Tormentor248,
And turn each pleasure past to present woe237.
But Lo! The Sun beneath the waves retires;
Night speeds apace her empire to restore:
Clouds from my sight obscure the village-spires,
Now seen but faintly, and now seen no more.
Oh! breathe not, Winds! Still be the Water’s motion!
Sleep, sleep, my Bark, in silence on the Main!
So when tomorrow’s light shall gild249 the Ocean,
Once more mine eyes shall see the coast of Spain.
Vain is the wish! My last petition scorning,
Fresh blows the Gale, and high the Billows swell250:
Far shall we be before the break of Morning;
Oh! then for ever, native Spain, farewell!
Lorenzo had scarcely time to read these lines, when Elvira returned to him: The giving a free course to her tears had relieved her, and her spirits had regained251 their usual composure.
‘I have nothing more to say, my Lord,’ said She; ‘You have heard my apprehensions, and my reasons for begging you not to repeat your visits. I have thrown myself in full confidence upon your honour: I am certain that you will not prove my opinion of you to have been too favourable.’
‘But one question more, Segnora, and I leave you. Should the Duke of Medina approve my love, would my addresses be unacceptable to yourself and the fair Antonia?’
‘I will be open with you, Don Lorenzo: There being little probability of such an union taking place, I fear that it is desired but too ardently252 by my Daughter. You have made an impression upon her young heart, which gives me the most serious alarm: To prevent that impression from growing stronger, I am obliged to decline your acquaintance. For me, you may be sure that I should rejoice at establishing my Child so advantageously. Conscious that my constitution, impaired by grief and illness, forbids me to expect a long continuance in this world, I tremble at the thought of leaving her under the protection of a perfect Stranger. The Marquis de las Cisternas is totally unknown to me:
He will marry; His Lady may look upon Antonia with an eye of displeasure, and deprive her of her only Friend. Should the Duke, your Uncle, give his consent, you need not doubt obtaining mine, and my Daughter’s: But without his, hope not for ours. At all events, what ever steps you may take, what ever may be the Duke’s decision, till you know it let me beg your forbearing to strengthen by your presence Antonia’s prepossession. If the sanction of your Relations authorises your addressing her as your Wife, my Doors fly open to you: If that sanction is refused, be satisfied to possess my esteem and gratitude, but remember, that we must meet no more.’
Lorenzo promised reluctantly to conform to this decree: But He added that He hoped soon to obtain that consent which would give him a claim to the renewal253 of their acquaintance. He then explained to her why the Marquis had not called in person, and made no scruple254 of confiding to her his Sister’s History. He concluded by saying that He hoped to set Agnes at liberty the next day; and that as soon as Don Raymond’s fears were quieted upon this subject, He would lose no time in assuring Donna Elvira of his friendship and protection.
The Lady shook her head.
‘I tremble for your Sister,’ said She; ‘I have heard many traits of the Domina of St. Clare’s character, from a Friend who was educated in the same Convent with her. She reported her to be haughty255, inflexible256, superstitious257, and revengeful. I have since heard that She is infatuated with the idea of rendering258 her Convent the most regular in Madrid, and never forgave those whose imprudence threw upon it the slightest stain. Though naturally violent and severe, when her interests require it, She well knows how to assume an appearance of benignity259. She leaves no means untried to persuade young Women of rank to become Members of her Community: She is implacable when once incensed260, and has too much intrepidity261 to shrink at taking the most rigorous measures for punishing the Offender5. Doubtless, She will consider your Sister’s quitting the Convent as a disgrace thrown upon it: She will use every artifice262 to avoid obeying the mandate of his Holiness, and I shudder263 to think that Donna Agnes is in the hands of this dangerous Woman.’
Lorenzo now rose to take leave. Elvira gave him her hand at parting, which He kissed respectfully; and telling her that He soon hoped for the permission to salute264 that of Antonia, He returned to his Hotel. The Lady was perfectly265 satisfied with the conversation which had past between them. She looked forward with satisfaction to the prospect of his becoming her Son-inlaw; But Prudence103 bad her conceal from her Daughter’s knowledge the flattering hopes which Herself now ventured to entertain.
Scarcely was it day, and already Lorenzo was at the Convent of St. Clare, furnished with the necessary mandate. The Nuns were at Matins. He waited impatiently for the conclusion of the service, and at length the Prioress appeared at the Parlour Grate. Agnes was demanded. The old Lady replied, with a melancholy air, that the dear Child’s situation grew hourly more dangerous; That the Physicians despaired of her life; But that they had declared the only chance for her recovery to consist in keeping her quiet, and not to permit those to approach her whose presence was likely to agitate165 her. Not a word of all this was believed by Lorenzo, any more than He credited the expressions of grief and affection for Agnes, with which this account was interlarded. To end the business, He put the Pope’s Bull into the hands of the Domina, and insisted that, ill or in health, his Sister should be delivered to him without delay.
The Prioress received the paper with an air of humility266: But no sooner had her eye glanced over the contents, than her resentment267 baffled all the efforts of Hypocrisy268. A deep crimson spread itself over her face, and She darted269 upon Lorenzo looks of rage and menace.
‘This order is positive,’ said She in a voice of anger, which She in vain strove to disguise; ‘Willingly would I obey it; But unfortunately it is out of my power.’
Lorenzo interrupted her by an exclamation270 of surprize.
‘I repeat it, Segnor; to obey this order is totally out of my power. From tenderness to a Brother’s feelings, I would have communicated the sad event to you by degrees, and have prepared you to hear it with fortitude. My measures are broken through: This order commands me to deliver up to you the Sister Agnes without delay; I am therefore obliged to inform you without circumlocution271, that on Friday last, She expired.’
Lorenzo started back with horror, and turned pale. A moment’s recollection convinced him that this assertion must be false, and it restored him to himself.
‘You deceive me!’ said He passionately272; ‘But five minutes past since you assured me that though ill She was still alive. Produce her this instant! See her I must and will, and every attempt to keep her from me will be unavailing.’
‘You forget yourself, Segnor; You owe respect to my age as well as my profession. Your Sister is no more. If I at first concealed her death, it was from dreading273 lest an event so unexpected should produce on you too violent an effect. In truth, I am but ill repaid for my attention. And what interest, I pray you, should I have in detaining her? To know her wish of quitting our society is a sufficient reason for me to wish her absence, and think her a disgrace to the Sisterhood of St. Clare: But She has forfeited274 my affection in a manner yet more culpable275. Her crimes were great, and when you know the cause of her death, you will doubtless rejoice, Don Lorenzo, that such a Wretch215 is no longer in existence. She was taken ill on Thursday last on returning from confession276 in the Capuchin Chapel277. Her malady seemed attended with strange circumstances; But She persisted in concealing its cause: Thanks to the Virgin, we were too ignorant to suspect it! Judge then what must have been our consternation278, our horror, when She was delivered the next day of a stillborn Child, whom She immediately followed to the Grave. How, Segnor? Is it possible that your countenance expresses no surprize, no indignation? Is it possible that your Sister’s infamy279 was known to you, and that still She possessed your affection? In that case, you have no need of my compassion280. I can say nothing more, except repeat my inability of obeying the orders of his Holiness. Agnes is no more, and to convince you that what I say is true, I swear by our blessed Saviour281, that three days have past since She was buried.’
Here She kissed a small crucifix which hung at her girdle. She then rose from her chair, and quitted the Parlour. As She withdrew, She cast upon Lorenzo a scornful smile.
‘Farewell, Segnor,’ said She; ‘I know no remedy for this accident: I fear that even a second Bull from the Pope will not procure your Sister’s resurrection.’
Lorenzo also retired, penetrated282 with affliction: But Don Raymond’s at the news of this event amounted to Madness. He would not be convinced that Agnes was really dead, and continued to insist that the Walls of St. Clare still confined her. No arguments could make him abandon his hopes of regaining283 her: Every day some fresh scheme was invented for procuring284 intelligence of her, and all of them were attended with the same success.
On his part, Medina gave up the idea of ever seeing his Sister more: Yet He believed that She had been taken off by unfair means. Under this persuasion285, He encouraged Don Raymond’s researches, determined, should He discover the least warrant for his suspicions, to take a severe vengeance upon the unfeeling Prioress. The loss of his Sister affected him sincerely; Nor was it the least cause of his distress that propriety286 obliged him for some time to defer287 mentioning Antonia to the Duke. In the meanwhile his emissaries constantly surrounded Elvira’s Door. He had intelligence of all the movements of his Mistress: As She never failed every Thursday to attend the Sermon in the Capuchin Cathedral, He was secure of seeing her once a week, though in compliance with his promise, He carefully shunned288 her observation. Thus two long Months passed away. Still no information was procured289 of Agnes: All but the Marquis credited her death; and now Lorenzo determined to disclose his sentiments to his Uncle. He had already dropt some hints of his intention to marry; They had been as favourably received as He could expect, and He harboured no doubt of the success of his application.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ply
|
|
| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
repose
|
|
| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
offender
|
|
| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
offenders
|
|
| n.冒犯者( offender的名词复数 )；犯规者；罪犯；妨害…的人（或事物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
cardinal
|
|
| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
incurring
|
|
| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
deficient
|
|
| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
apprehend
|
|
| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
amiable
|
|
| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
joyfully
|
|
| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
pinion
|
|
| v.束缚；n.小齿轮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
expressive
|
|
| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
morose
|
|
| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
amorous
|
|
| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
inflame
|
|
| v.使燃烧；使极度激动；使发炎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
binds
|
|
| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
reigns
|
|
| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
bower
|
|
| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
hoary
|
|
| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
yoke
|
|
| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
shun
|
|
| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
guileful
|
|
| adj.狡诈的，诡计多端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
snare
|
|
| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
darts
|
|
| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
traitor
|
|
| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
revile
|
|
| v.辱骂，谩骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
atone
|
|
| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
lasting
|
|
| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
shrieked
|
|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
bliss
|
|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
deplore
|
|
| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
disarm
|
|
| v.解除武装，回复平常的编制，缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
revels
|
|
| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
zephyrs
|
|
| n.和风，微风( zephyr的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bowers
|
|
| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
harmonious
|
|
| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
harp
|
|
| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
stifles
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的第三人称单数 )； 镇压，遏制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
dulcet
|
|
| adj.悦耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
reposes
|
|
| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
twines
|
|
| n.盘绕( twine的名词复数 )；麻线；捻；缠绕在一起的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
shrine
|
|
| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
vows
|
|
| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
deigns
|
|
| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
martial
|
|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
epic
|
|
| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
ridicule
|
|
| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
entails
|
|
| 使…成为必要( entail的第三人称单数 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
precept
|
|
| n.戒律；格言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
stigmatizing
|
|
| v.使受耻辱，指责，污辱( stigmatize的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
maliciously
|
|
| adv.有敌意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
wilfully
|
|
| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
envious
|
|
| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
mania
|
|
| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
poetical
|
|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
approbation
|
|
| n.称赞；认可 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
favourably
|
|
| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
sever
|
|
| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
metaphors
|
|
| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
discredit
|
|
| vt.使不可置信；n.丧失信义；不信，怀疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
ironical
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
enquire
|
|
| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
exultation
|
|
| n.狂喜，得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
prudence
|
|
| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
confiding
|
|
| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
apprehensions
|
|
| 疑惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
discourse
|
|
| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
wary
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
dreaded
|
|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
ingratitude
|
|
| n.忘恩负义 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
compliance
|
|
| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
modesty
|
|
| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
peruse
|
|
| v.细读，精读 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
perused
|
|
| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
abated
|
|
| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
animation
|
|
| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
painstaking
|
|
| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
impaired
|
|
| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
enchanting
|
|
| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
reverence
|
|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
suffused
|
|
| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
darting
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
interfered
|
|
| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
graceful
|
|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
manly
|
|
| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
phoenix
|
|
| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
disapprove
|
|
| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
reproof
|
|
| n.斥责，责备 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
concealing
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
honourably
|
|
| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
susceptible
|
|
| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
fortitude
|
|
| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
implicit
|
|
| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
avow
|
|
| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
subscribed
|
|
| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
vowed
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
seducer
|
|
| n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
disturbance
|
|
| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
agitate
|
|
| vi.(for,against)煽动，鼓动；vt.搅动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
nuns
|
|
| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
obstinately
|
|
| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
syllable
|
|
| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
pervading
|
|
| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
raved
|
|
| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
entreat
|
|
| v.恳求，恳请 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
feigned
|
|
| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
proceedings
|
|
| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
mandate
|
|
| n.托管地；命令，指示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
perfidy
|
|
| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
dormant
|
|
| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
embitter
|
|
| v.使苦；激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
doting
|
|
| adj.溺爱的，宠爱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
lament
|
|
| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
allege
|
|
| vt.宣称，申述，主张，断言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
justify
|
|
| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
pompous
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
stipend
|
|
| n.薪贴；奖学金；养老金 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
brink
|
|
| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
needy
|
|
| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
pensioner
|
|
| n.领养老金的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
potent
|
|
| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
disinterested
|
|
| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
opposition
|
|
| n.反对，敌对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
execration
|
|
| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
indigence
|
|
| n.贫穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
repentance
|
|
| n.懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
inclinations
|
|
| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
infancy
|
|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
faltered
|
|
| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
presage
|
|
| n.预感，不祥感；v.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
plows
|
|
| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
spires
|
|
| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
wafts
|
|
| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
propped
|
|
| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
plaintive
|
|
| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
ballad
|
|
| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
paternal
|
|
| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
woes
|
|
| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
bereave
|
|
| v.使痛失(亲人等)，剥夺，使丧失 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
imploring
|
|
| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
engender
|
|
| v.产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
appeases
|
|
| 安抚，抚慰( appease的第三人称单数 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
glade
|
|
| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
tormentor
|
|
| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
gild
|
|
| vt.给…镀金，把…漆成金色，使呈金色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
swell
|
|
| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
renewal
|
|
| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
scruple
|
|
| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
inflexible
|
|
| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
rendering
|
|
| n.表现，描写 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
benignity
|
|
| n.仁慈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
incensed
|
|
| 盛怒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
intrepidity
|
|
| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
artifice
|
|
| n.妙计，高明的手段；狡诈，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
humility
|
|
| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
hypocrisy
|
|
| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
269
darted
|
|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
270
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
271
circumlocution
|
|
| n. 绕圈子的话，迂回累赘的陈述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
272
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
273
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
274
forfeited
|
|
| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
275
culpable
|
|
| adj.有罪的，该受谴责的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
276
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
277
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
278
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
279
infamy
|
|
| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
280
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
281
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
282
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
283
regaining
|
|
| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
284
procuring
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
285
persuasion
|
|
| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
286
propriety
|
|
| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
287
defer
|
|
| vt.推迟，拖延；vi.(to)遵从，听从，服从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
288
shunned
|
|
| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
289
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |