A transgression10, a crime, entering a man’s existence, eats it up like a malignant11 growth, consumes it like a fever. Nostromo had lost his peace; the genuineness of all his qualities was destroyed. He felt it himself, and often cursed the silver of San Tome. His courage, his magnificence, his leisure, his work, everything was as before, only everything was a sham12. But the treasure was real. He clung to it with a more tenacious13, mental grip. But he hated the feel of the ingots. Sometimes, after putting away a couple of them in his cabin — the fruit of a secret night expedition to the Great Isabel — he would look fixedly16 at his fingers, as if surprised they had left no stain on his skin.
He had found means of disposing of the silver bars in distant ports. The necessity to go far afield made his coasting voyages long, and caused his visits to the Viola household to be rare and far between. He was fated to have his wife from there. He had said so once to Giorgio himself. But the Garibaldino had put the subject aside with a majestic17 wave of his hand, clutching a smouldering black briar-root pipe. There was plenty of time; he was not the man to force his girls upon anybody.
As time went on, Nostromo discovered his preference for the younger of the two. They had some profound similarities of nature, which must exist for complete confidence and understanding, no matter what outward differences of temperament19 there may be to exercise their own fascination20 of contrast. His wife would have to know his secret or else life would be impossible. He was attracted by Giselle, with her candid21 gaze and white throat, pliable22, silent, fond of excitement under her quiet indolence; whereas Linda, with her intense, passionately23 pale face, energetic, all fire and words, touched with gloom and scorn, a chip of the old block, true daughter of the austere25 republican, but with Teresa’s voice, inspired him with a deep-seated mistrust. Moreover, the poor girl could not conceal26 her love for Gian’ Battista. He could see it would be violent, exacting27, suspicious, uncompromising — like her soul. Giselle, by her fair but warm beauty, by the surface placidity30 of her nature holding a promise of submissiveness, by the charm of her girlish mysteriousness, excited his passion and allayed31 his fears as to the future.
His absences from Sulaco were long. On returning from the longest of them, he made out lighters32 loaded with blocks of stone lying under the cliff of the Great Isabel; cranes and scaffolding above; workmen’s figures moving about, and a small lighthouse already rising from its foundations on the edge of the cliff.
At this unexpected, undreamt-of, startling sight, he thought himself lost irretrievably. What could save him from detection now? Nothing! He was struck with amazed dread8 at this turn of chance, that would kindle33 a far-reaching light upon the only secret spot of his life; that life whose very essence, value, reality, consisted in its reflection from the admiring eyes of men. All of it but that thing which was beyond common comprehension; which stood between him and the power that hears and gives effect to the evil intention of curses. It was dark. Not every man had such a darkness. And they were going to put a light there. A light! He saw it shining upon disgrace, poverty, contempt. Somebody was sure to. . . . Perhaps somebody had already . . . .
The incomparable Nostromo, the Capataz, the respected and feared Captain Fidanza, the unquestioned patron of secret societies, a republican like old Giorgio, and a revolutionist at heart (but in another manner), was on the point of jumping overboard from the deck of his own schooner. That man, subjective34 almost to insanity35, looked suicide deliberately36 in the face. But he never lost his head. He was checked by the thought that this was no escape. He imagined himself dead, and the disgrace, the shame going on. Or, rather, properly speaking, he could not imagine himself dead. He was possessed37 too strongly by the sense of his own existence, a thing of infinite duration in its changes, to grasp the notion of finality. The earth goes on for ever.
And he was courageous38. It was a corrupt39 courage, but it was as good for his purposes as the other kind. He sailed close to the cliff of the Great Isabel, throwing a penetrating40 glance from the deck at the mouth of the ravine, tangled41 in an undisturbed growth of bushes. He sailed close enough to exchange hails with the workmen, shading their eyes on the edge of the sheer drop of the cliff overhung by the jib-head of a powerful crane. He perceived that none of them had any occasion even to approach the ravine where the silver lay hidden; let alone to enter it. In the harbour he learned that no one slept on the island. The labouring gangs returned to port every evening, singing chorus songs in the empty lighters towed by a harbour tug42. For the moment he had nothing to fear.
But afterwards? he asked himself. Later, when a keeper came to live in the cottage that was being built some hundred and fifty yards back from the low lighttower, and four hundred or so from the dark, shaded, jungly ravine, containing the secret of his safety, of his influence, of his magnificence, of his power over the future, of his defiance43 of ill-luck, of every possible betrayal from rich and poor alike — what then? He could never shake off the treasure. His audacity44, greater than that of other men, had welded that vein45 of silver into his life. And the feeling of fearful and ardent46 subjection, the feeling of his slavery — so irremediable and profound that often, in his thoughts, he compared himself to the legendary47 Gringos, neither dead nor alive, bound down to their conquest of unlawful wealth on Azuera — weighed heavily on the independent Captain Fidanza, owner and master of a coasting schooner, whose smart appearance (and fabulous48 good-luck in trading) were so well known along the western seaboard of a vast continent.
Fiercely whiskered and grave, a shade less supple50 in his walk, the vigour51 and symmetry of his powerful limbs lost in the vulgarity of a brown tweed suit, made by Jews in the slums of London, and sold by the clothing department of the Compania Anzani, Captain Fidanza was seen in the streets of Sulaco attending to his business, as usual, that trip. And, as usual, he allowed it to get about that he had made a great profit on his cargo52. It was a cargo of salt fish, and Lent was approaching. He was seen in tramcars going to and fro between the town and the harbour; he talked with people in a cafe or two in his measured, steady voice. Captain Fidanza was seen. The generation that would know nothing of the famous ride to Cayta was not born yet.
Nostromo, the miscalled Capataz de Cargadores, had made for himself, under his rightful name, another public existence, but modified by the new conditions, less picturesque53, more difficult to keep up in the increased size and varied54 population of Sulaco, the progressive capital of the Occidental Republic.
Captain Fidanza, unpicturesque, but always a little mysterious, was recognized quite sufficiently55 under the lofty glass and iron roof of the Sulaco railway station. He took a local train, and got out in Rincon, where he visited the widow of the Cargador who had died of his wounds (at the dawn of the New Era, like Don Jose Avellanos) in the patio56 of the Casa Gould. He consented to sit down and drink a glass of cool lemonade in the hut, while the woman, standing18 up, poured a perfect torrent57 of words to which he did not listen. He left some money with her, as usual. The orphaned58 children, growing up and well schooled, calling him uncle, clamoured for his blessing59. He gave that, too; and in the doorway60 paused for a moment to look at the flat face of the San Tome mountain with a faint frown. This slight contraction61 of his bronzed brow casting a marked tinge62 of severity upon his usual unbending expression, was observed at the Lodge63 which he attended — but went away before the banquet. He wore it at the meeting of some good comrades, Italians and Occidentals, assembled in his honour under the presidency64 of an indigent65, sickly, somewhat hunchbacked little photographer, with a white face and a magnanimous soul dyed crimson66 by a bloodthirsty hate of all capitalists, oppressors of the two hemispheres. The heroic Giorgio Viola, old revolutionist, would have understood nothing of his opening speech; and Captain Fidanza, lavishly67 generous as usual to some poor comrades, made no speech at all. He had listened, frowning, with his mind far away, and walked off unapproachable, silent, like a man full of cares.
His frown deepened as, in the early morning, he watched the stone-masons go off to the Great Isabel, in lighters loaded with squared blocks of stone, enough to add another course to the squat68 light-tower. That was the rate of the work. One course per day.
And Captain Fidanza meditated69. The presence of strangers on the island would cut him completely off the treasure. It had been difficult and dangerous enough before. He was afraid, and he was angry. He thought with the resolution of a master and the cunning of a cowed slave. Then he went ashore70.
He was a man of resource and ingenuity71; and, as usual, the expedient72 he found at a critical moment was effective enough to alter the situation radically73. He had the gift of evolving safety out of the very danger, this incomparable Nostromo, this “fellow in a thousand.” With Giorgio established on the Great Isabel, there would be no need for concealment74. He would be able to go openly, in daylight, to see his daughters — one of his daughters — and stay late talking to the old Garibaldino. Then in the dark . . . Night after night . . . He would dare to grow rich quicker now. He yearned75 to clasp, embrace, absorb, subjugate76 in unquestioned possession this treasure, whose tyranny had weighed upon his mind, his actions, his very sleep.
He went to see his friend Captain Mitchell — and the thing was done as Dr. Monygham had related to Mrs. Gould. When the project was mooted77 to the Garibaldino, something like the faint reflection, the dim ghost of a very ancient smile, stole under the white and enormous moustaches of the old hater of kings and ministers. His daughters were the object of his anxious care. The younger, especially. Linda, with her mother’s voice, had taken more her mother’s place. Her deep, vibrating “Eh, Padre?” seemed, but for the change of the word, the very echo of the impassioned, remonstrating78 “Eh, Giorgio?” of poor Signora Teresa. It was his fixed15 opinion that the town was no proper place for his girls. The infatuated but guileless Ramirez was the object of his profound aversion, as resuming the sins of the country whose people were blind, vile79 esclavos.
On his return from his next voyage, Captain Fidanza found the Violas settled in the light-keeper’s cottage. His knowledge of Giorgio’s idiosyncrasies had not played him false. The Garibaldino had refused to entertain the idea of any companion whatever, except his girls. And Captain Mitchell, anxious to please his poor Nostromo, with that felicity of inspiration which only true affection can give, had formally appointed Linda Viola as under-keeper of the Isabel’s Light.
“The light is private property,” he used to explain. “It belongs to my Company. I’ve the power to nominate whom I like, and Viola it shall be. It’s about the only thing Nostromo — a man worth his weight in gold, mind you — has ever asked me to do for him.”
Directly his schooner was anchored opposite the New Custom House, with its sham air of a Greek temple, flatroofed, with a colonnade80, Captain Fidanza went pulling his small boat out of the harbour, bound for the Great Isabel, openly in the light of a declining day, before all men’s eyes, with a sense of having mastered the fates. He must establish a regular position. He would ask him for his daughter now. He thought of Giselle as he pulled. Linda loved him, perhaps, but the old man would be glad to keep the elder, who had his wife’s voice.
He did not pull for the narrow strand81 where he had landed with Decoud, and afterwards alone on his first visit to the treasure. He made for the beach at the other end, and walked up the regular and gentle slope of the wedge-shaped island. Giorgio Viola, whom he saw from afar, sitting on a bench under the front wall of the cottage, lifted his arm slightly to his loud hail. He walked up. Neither of the girls appeared.
“It is good here,” said the old man, in his austere, far-away manner.
Nostromo nodded; then, after a short silence —
“You saw my schooner pass in not two hours ago? Do you know why I am here before, so to speak, my anchor has fairly bitten into the ground of this port of Sulaco?”
“You are welcome like a son,” the old man declared, quietly, staring away upon the sea.
“Ah! thy son. I know. I am what thy son would have been. It is well, viejo. It is a very good welcome. Listen, I have come to ask you for ——”
A sudden dread came upon the fearless and incorruptible Nostromo. He dared not utter the name in his mind. The slight pause only imparted a marked weight and solemnity to the changed end of the phrase.
“For my wife!” . . . His heart was beating fast.” It is time you ——”
The Garibaldino arrested him with an extended arm. “That was left for you to judge.”
He got up slowly. His beard, unclipped since Teresa’s death, thick, snow-white, covered his powerful chest. He turned his head to the door, and called out in his strong voice —
“Linda.”
Her answer came sharp and faint from within; and the appalled82 Nostromo stood up, too, but remained mute, gazing at the door. He was afraid. He was not afraid of being refused the girl he loved — no mere refusal could stand between him and a woman he desired — but the shining spectre of the treasure rose before him, claiming his allegiance in a silence that could not be gainsaid83. He was afraid, because, neither dead nor alive, like the Gringos on Azuera, he belonged body and soul to the unlawfulness of his audacity. He was afraid of being forbidden the island. He was afraid, and said nothing.
Seeing the two men standing up side by side to await her, Linda stopped in the doorway. Nothing could alter the passionate24 dead whiteness of her face; but her black eyes seemed to catch and concentrate all the light of the low sun in a flaming spark within the black depths, covered at once by the slow descent of heavy eyelids84.
“Behold thy husband, master, and benefactor85.” Old Viola’s voice resounded86 with a force that seemed to fill the whole gulf87.
She stepped forward with her eyes nearly closed, like a sleep-walker in a beatific88 dream.
Nostromo made a superhuman effort. “It is time, Linda, we two were betrothed89,” he said, steadily90, in his level, careless, unbending tone.
She put her hand into his offered palm, lowering her head, dark with bronze glints, upon which her father’s hand rested for a moment.
“And so the soul of the dead is satisfied.”
This came from Giorgio Viola, who went on talking for a while of his dead wife; while the two, sitting side by side, never looked at each other. Then the old man ceased; and Linda, motionless, began to speak.
“Ever since I felt I lived in the world, I have lived for you alone, Gian’ Battista. And that you knew! You knew it . . . Battistino.”
She pronounced the name exactly with her mother’s intonation91. A gloom as of the grave covered Nostromo’s heart.
“Yes. I knew,” he said.
The heroic Garibaldino sat on the same bench bowing his hoary92 head, his old soul dwelling93 alone with its memories, tender and violent, terrible and dreary94 — solitary95 on the earth full of men.
And Linda, his best-loved daughter, was saying, “I was yours ever since I can remember. I had only to think of you for the earth to become empty to my eyes. When you were there, I could see no one else. I was yours. Nothing is changed. The world belongs to you, and you let me live in it.” . . . She dropped her low, vibrating voice to a still lower note, and found other things to say — torturing for the man at her side. Her murmur96 ran on ardent and voluble. She did not seem to see her sister, who came out with an altar-cloth she was embroidering97 in her hands, and passed in front of them, silent, fresh, fair, with a quick glance and a faint smile, to sit a little away on the other side of Nostromo.
The evening was still. The sun sank almost to the edge of a purple ocean; and the white lighthouse, livid against the background of clouds filling the head of the gulf, bore the lantern red and glowing, like a live ember kindled98 by the fire of the sky. Giselle, indolent and demure99, raised the altar-cloth from time to time to hide nervous yawns, as of a young panther.
Suddenly Linda rushed at her sister, and seizing her head, covered her face with kisses. Nostromo’s brain reeled. When she left her, as if stunned100 by the violent caresses101, with her hands lying in her lap, the slave of the treasure felt as if he could shoot that woman. Old Giorgio lifted his leonine head.
“Where are you going, Linda?”
“To the light, padre mio.”
“Si, si — to your duty.”
He got up, too, looked after his eldest103 daughter; then, in a tone whose festive104 note seemed the echo of a mood lost in the night of ages —
“I am going in to cook something. Aha! Son! The old man knows where to find a bottle of wine, too.”
He turned to Giselle, with a change to austere tenderness.
“And you, little one, pray not to the God of priests and slaves, but to the God of orphans105, of the oppressed, of the poor, of little children, to give thee a man like this one for a husband.”
His hand rested heavily for a moment on Nostromo’s shoulder; then he went in. The hopeless slave of the San Tome silver felt at these words the venomous fangs106 of jealousy107 biting deep into his heart. He was appalled by the novelty of the experience, by its force, by its physical intimacy108. A husband! A husband for her! And yet it was natural that Giselle should have a husband at some time or other. He had never realized that before. In discovering that her beauty could belong to another he felt as though he could kill this one of old Giorgio’s daughters also. He muttered moodily109 —
“They say you love Ramirez.”
She shook her head without looking at him. Coppery glints rippled110 to and fro on the wealth of her gold hair. Her smooth forehead had the soft, pure sheen of a priceless pearl in the splendour of the sunset, mingling111 the gloom of starry112 spaces, the purple of the sea, and the crimson of the sky in a magnificent stillness.
“No,” she said, slowly. “I never loved him. I think I never . . . He loves me — perhaps.”
The seduction of her slow voice died out of the air, and her raised eyes remained fixed on nothing, as if indifferent and without thought.
“Ramirez told you he loved you?” asked Nostromo, restraining himself.
“Ah! once — one evening . . .”
“The miserable113 . . . Ha!”
He had jumped up as if stung by a gad-fly, and stood before her mute with anger.
“Misericordia Divina! You, too, Gian’ Battista! Poor wretch114 that I am!” she lamented115 in ingenuous116 tones. “I told Linda, and she scolded — she scolded. Am I to live blind, dumb, and deaf in this world? And she told father, who took down his gun and cleaned it. Poor Ramirez! Then you came, and she told you.”
He looked at her. He fastened his eyes upon the hollow of her white throat, which had the invincible117 charm of things young, palpitating, delicate, and alive. Was this the child he had known? Was it possible? It dawned upon him that in these last years he had really seen very little — nothing — of her. Nothing. She had come into the world like a thing unknown. She had come upon him unawares. She was a danger. A frightful118 danger. The instinctive119 mood of fierce determination that had never failed him before the perils120 of this life added its steady force to the violence of his passion. She, in a voice that recalled to him the song of running water, the tinkling121 of a silver bell, continued —
“And between you three you have brought me here into this captivity122 to the sky and water. Nothing else. Sky and water. Oh, Sanctissima Madre. My hair shall turn grey on this tedious island. I could hate you, Gian’ Battista!”
He laughed loudly. Her voice enveloped123 him like a caress102. She bemoaned124 her fate, spreading unconsciously, like a flower its perfume in the coolness of the evening, the indefinable seduction of her person. Was it her fault that nobody ever had admired Linda? Even when they were little, going out with their mother to Mass, she remembered that people took no notice of Linda, who was fearless, and chose instead to frighten her, who was timid, with their attention. It was her hair like gold, she supposed.
He broke out —
“Your hair like gold, and your eyes like violets, and your lips like the rose; your round arms, your white throat.” . . .
Imperturbable125 in the indolence of her pose, she blushed deeply all over to the roots of her hair. She was not conceited126. She was no more self-conscious than a flower. But she was pleased. And perhaps even a flower loves to hear itself praised. He glanced down, and added, impetuously —
“Your little feet!”
Leaning back against the rough stone wall of the cottage, she seemed to bask127 languidly in the warmth of the rosy128 flush. Only her lowered eyes glanced at her little feet.
“And so you are going at last to marry our Linda. She is terrible. Ah! now she will understand better since you have told her you love her. She will not be so fierce.”
“Chica!” said Nostromo, “I have not told her anything.”
“Then make haste. Come to-morrow. Come and tell her, so that I may have some peace from her scolding and — perhaps — who knows . . .”
“Be allowed to listen to your Ramirez, eh? Is that it? You . . .”
“Mercy of God! How violent you are, Giovanni,” she said, unmoved. “Who is Ramirez . . . Ramirez . . . Who is he?” she repeated, dreamily, in the dusk and gloom of the clouded gulf, with a low red streak129 in the west like a hot bar of glowing iron laid across the entrance of a world sombre as a cavern130, where the magnificent Capataz de Cargadores had hidden his conquests of love and wealth.
“Listen, Giselle,” he said, in measured tones; “I will tell no word of love to your sister. Do you want to know why?”
“Alas! I could not understand perhaps, Giovanni. Father says you are not like other men; that no one had ever understood you properly; that the rich will be surprised yet. . . . Oh! saints in heaven! I am weary.”
She raised her embroidery131 to conceal the lower part of her face, then let it fall on her lap. The lantern was shaded on the land side, but slanting132 away from the dark column of the lighthouse they could see the long shaft133 of light, kindled by Linda, go out to strike the expiring glow in a horizon of purple and red.
Giselle Viola, with her head resting against the wall of the house, her eyes half closed, and her little feet, in white stockings and black slippers134, crossed over each other, seemed to surrender herself, tranquil135 and fatal, to the gathering136 dusk. The charm of her body, the promising28 mysteriousness of her indolence, went out into the night of the Placid29 Gulf like a fresh and intoxicating137 fragrance138 spreading out in the shadows, impregnating the air. The incorruptible Nostromo breathed her ambient seduction in the tumultuous heaving of his breast. Before leaving the harbour he had thrown off the store clothing of Captain Fidanza, for greater ease in the long pull out to the islands. He stood before her in the red sash and check shirt as he used to appear on the Company’s wharf139 — a Mediterranean140 sailor come ashore to try his luck in Costaguana. The dusk of purple and red enveloped him, too — close, soft, profound, as no more than fifty yards from that spot it had gathered evening after evening about the self-destructive passion of Don Martin Decoud’s utter scepticism, flaming up to death in solitude141.
“You have got to hear,” he began at last, with perfect self-control. “I shall say no word of love to your sister, to whom I am betrothed from this evening, because it is you that I love. It is you!” . . .
The dusk let him see yet the tender and voluptuous142 smile that came instinctively143 upon her lips shaped for love and kisses, freeze hard in the drawn144, haggard lines of terror. He could not restrain himself any longer. While she shrank from his approach, her arms went out to him, abandoned and regal in the dignity of her languid surrender. He held her head in his two hands, and showered rapid kisses upon the upturned face that gleamed in the purple dusk. Masterful and tender, he was entering slowly upon the fulness of his possession. And he perceived that she was crying. Then the incomparable Capataz, the man of careless loves, became gentle and caressing145, like a woman to the grief of a child. He murmured to her fondly. He sat down by her and nursed her fair head on his breast. He called her his star and his little flower.
It had grown dark. From the living-room of the light-keeper’s cottage, where Giorgio, one of the Immortal146 Thousand, was bending his leonine and heroic head over a charcoal147 fire, there came the sound of sizzling and the aroma148 of an artistic149 frittura.
In the obscure disarray150 of that thing, happening like a cataclysm151, it was in her feminine head that some gleam of reason survived. He was lost to the world in their embraced stillness. But she said, whispering into his ear —
“God of mercy! What will become of me — here — now — between this sky and this water I hate? Linda, Linda — I see her!” . . . She tried to get out of his arms, suddenly relaxed at the sound of that name. But there was no one approaching their black shapes, enlaced and struggling on the white background of the wall. “Linda! Poor Linda! I tremble! I shall die of fear before my poor sister Linda, betrothed to-day to Giovanni — my lover! Giovanni, you must have been mad! I cannot understand you! You are not like other men! I will not give you up — never — only to God himself! But why have you done this blind, mad, cruel, frightful thing?”
Released, she hung her head, let fall her hands. The altar-cloth, as if tossed by a great wind, lay far away from them, gleaming white on the black ground.
“From fear of losing my hope of you,” said Nostromo.
“You knew that you had my soul! You know everything! It was made for you! But what could stand between you and me? What? Tell me!” she repeated, without impatience152, in superb assurance.
“Your dead mother,” he said, very low.
“Ah! . . . Poor mother! She has always . . . She is a saint in heaven now, and I cannot give you up to her. No, Giovanni. Only to God alone. You were mad — but it is done. Oh! what have you done? Giovanni, my beloved, my life, my master, do not leave me here in this grave of clouds. You cannot leave me now. You must take me away — at once — this instant — in the little boat. Giovanni, carry me off to-night, from my fear of Linda’s eyes, before I have to look at her again.”
She nestled close to him. The slave of the San Tome silver felt the weight as of chains upon his limbs, a pressure as of a cold hand upon his lips. He struggled against the spell.
“I cannot,” he said. “Not yet. There is something that stands between us two and the freedom of the world.”
She pressed her form closer to his side with a subtle and naive153 instinct of seduction.
“You rave49, Giovanni — my lover!” she whispered, engagingly. “What can there be? Carry me off — in thy very hands — to Dona Emilia — away from here. I am not very heavy.”
It seemed as though she expected him to lift her up at once in his two palms. She had lost the notion of all impossibility. Anything could happen on this night of wonder. As he made no movement, she almost cried aloud —
“I tell you I am afraid of Linda!” And still he did not move. She became quiet and wily. “What can there be?” she asked, coaxingly154.
He felt her warm, breathing, alive, quivering in the hollow of his arm. In the exulting155 consciousness of his strength, and the triumphant156 excitement of his mind, he struck out for his freedom.
“A treasure,” he said. All was still. She did not understand. “A treasure. A treasure of silver to buy a gold crown for thy brow.”
“A treasure?” she repeated in a faint voice, as if from the depths of a dream. “What is it you say?”
She disengaged herself gently. He got up and looked down at her, aware of her face, of her hair, her lips, the dimples on her cheeks — seeing the fascination of her person in the night of the gulf as if in the blaze of noonday. Her nonchalant and seductive voice trembled with the excitement of admiring awe157 and ungovernable curiosity.
“A treasure of silver!” she stammered158 out. Then pressed on faster: “What? Where? How did you get it, Giovanni?”
He wrestled159 with the spell of captivity. It was as if striking a heroic blow that he burst out —
“Like a thief!”
The densest161 blackness of the Placid Gulf seemed to fall upon his head. He could not see her now. She had vanished into a long, obscure abysmal162 silence, whence her voice came back to him after a time with a faint glimmer163, which was her face.
“I love you! I love you!”
These words gave him an unwonted sense of freedom; they cast a spell stronger than the accursed spell of the treasure; they changed his weary subjection to that dead thing into an exulting conviction of his power. He would cherish her, he said, in a splendour as great as Dona Emilia’s. The rich lived on wealth stolen from the people, but he had taken from the rich nothing — nothing that was not lost to them already by their folly164 and their betrayal. For he had been betrayed — he said — deceived, tempted165. She believed him. . . . He had kept the treasure for purposes of revenge; but now he cared nothing for it. He cared only for her. He would put her beauty in a palace on a hill crowned with olive trees — a white palace above a blue sea. He would keep her there like a jewel in a casket. He would get land for her — her own land fertile with vines and corn — to set her little feet upon. He kissed them. . . . He had already paid for it all with the soul of a woman and the life of a man. . . . The Capataz de Cargadores tasted the supreme166 intoxication167 of his generosity168. He flung the mastered treasure superbly at her feet in the impenetrable darkness of the gulf, in the darkness defying — as men said — the knowledge of God and the wit of the devil. But she must let him grow rich first — he warned her.
She listened as if in a trance. Her fingers stirred in his hair. He got up from his knees reeling, weak, empty, as though he had flung his soul away.
“Make haste, then,” she said. “Make haste, Giovanni, my lover, my master, for I will give thee up to no one but God. And I am afraid of Linda.”
He guessed at her shudder169, and swore to do his best. He trusted the courage of her love. She promised to be brave in order to be loved always — far away in a white palace upon a hill above a blue sea. Then with a timid, tentative eagerness she murmured —
“Where is it? Where? Tell me that, Giovanni.”
He opened his mouth and remained silent — thunderstruck.
“Not that! Not that!” he gasped170 out, appalled at the spell of secrecy171 that had kept him dumb before so many people falling upon his lips again with unimpaired force. Not even to her. Not even to her. It was too dangerous. “I forbid thee to ask,” he cried at her, deadening cautiously the anger of his voice.
He had not regained172 his freedom. The spectre of the unlawful treasure arose, standing by her side like a figure of silver, pitiless and secret, with a finger on its pale lips. His soul died within him at the vision of himself creeping in presently along the ravine, with the smell of earth, of damp foliage173 in his nostrils174 — creeping in, determined175 in a purpose that numbed176 his breast, and creeping out again loaded with silver, with his ears alert to every sound. It must be done on this very night — that work of a craven slave!
He stooped low, pressed the hem14 of her skirt to his lips, with a muttered command —
“Tell him I would not stay,” and was gone suddenly from her, silent, without as much as a footfall in the dark night.
She sat still, her head resting indolently against the wall, and her little feet in white stockings and black slippers crossed over each other. Old Giorgio, coming out, did not seem to be surprised at the intelligence as much as she had vaguely177 feared. For she was full of inexplicable178 fear now — fear of everything and everybody except of her Giovanni and his treasure. But that was incredible.
The heroic Garibaldino accepted Nostromo’s abrupt179 departure with a sagacious indulgence. He remembered his own feelings, and exhibited a masculine penetration180 of the true state of the case.
“Va bene. Let him go. Ha! ha! No matter how fair the woman, it galls181 a little. Liberty, liberty. There’s more than one kind! He has said the great word, and son Gian’ Battista is not tame.” He seemed to be instructing the motionless and scared Giselle. . . . “A man should not be tame,” he added, dogmatically out of the doorway. Her stillness and silence seemed to displease182 him. “Do not give way to the enviousness of your sister’s lot,” he admonished183 her, very grave, in his deep voice.
Presently he had to come to the door again to call in his younger daughter. It was late. He shouted her name three times before she even moved her head. Left alone, she had become the helpless prey184 of astonishment185. She walked into the bedroom she shared with Linda like a person profoundly asleep. That aspect was so marked that even old Giorgio, spectacled, raising his eyes from the Bible, shook his head as she shut the door behind her.
She walked right across the room without looking at anything, and sat down at once by the open window. Linda, stealing down from the tower in the exuberance186 of her happiness, found her with a lighted candle at her back, facing the black night full of sighing gusts187 of wind and the sound of distant showers — a true night of the gulf, too dense160 for the eye of God and the wiles188 of the devil. She did not turn her head at the opening of the door.
There was something in that immobility which reached Linda in the depths of her paradise. The elder sister guessed angrily: the child is thinking of that wretched Ramirez. Linda longed to talk. She said in her arbitrary voice, “Giselle!” and was not answered by the slightest movement.
The girl that was going to live in a palace and walk on ground of her own was ready to die with terror. Not for anything in the world would she have turned her head to face her sister. Her heart was beating madly. She said with subdued189 haste —
“Do not speak to me. I am praying.”
Linda, disappointed, went out quietly; and Giselle sat on unbelieving, lost, dazed, patient, as if waiting for the confirmation190 of the incredible. The hopeless blackness of the clouds seemed part of a dream, too. She waited.
She did not wait in vain. The man whose soul was dead within him, creeping out of the ravine, weighted with silver, had seen the gleam of the lighted window, and could not help retracing191 his steps from the beach.
On that impenetrable background, obliterating192 the lofty mountains by the seaboard, she saw the slave of the San Tome silver, as if by an extraordinary power of a miracle. She accepted his return as if henceforth the world could hold no surprise for all eternity193.
She rose, compelled and rigid194, and began to speak long before the light from within fell upon the face of the approaching man.
“You have come back to carry me off. It is well! Open thy arms, Giovanni, my lover. I am coming.”
His prudent195 footsteps stopped, and with his eyes glistening196 wildly, he spoke197 in a harsh voice:
“Not yet. I must grow rich slowly.” . . . A threatening note came into his tone. “Do not forget that you have a thief for your lover.”
“Yes! Yes!” she whispered, hastily. “Come nearer! Listen! Do not give me up, Giovanni! Never, never! . . . I will be patient! . . .”
Her form drooped198 consolingly over the low casement199 towards the slave of the unlawful treasure. The light in the room went out, and weighted with silver, the magnificent Capataz clasped her round her white neck in the darkness of the gulf as a drowning man clutches at a straw.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
prudence
|
|
| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
piecemeal
|
|
| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
imminent
|
|
| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
ostensible
|
|
| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
schooner
|
|
| n.纵帆船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
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： |
|
|
|
|
8
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
transgression
|
|
| n.违背；犯规；罪过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
malignant
|
|
| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
sham
|
|
| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
tenacious
|
|
| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fixedly
|
|
| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
fascination
|
|
| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
candid
|
|
| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
pliable
|
|
| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
austere
|
|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
exacting
|
|
| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
placidity
|
|
| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
allayed
|
|
| v.减轻，缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
lighters
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器( lighter的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
kindle
|
|
| v.点燃，着火 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
subjective
|
|
| a.主观(上)的，个人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
insanity
|
|
| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
courageous
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
corrupt
|
|
| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
penetrating
|
|
| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
tug
|
|
| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
audacity
|
|
| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
legendary
|
|
| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
fabulous
|
|
| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
rave
|
|
| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
vigour
|
|
| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
cargo
|
|
| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
varied
|
|
| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
patio
|
|
| n.庭院，平台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
torrent
|
|
| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
orphaned
|
|
| [计][修]孤立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
blessing
|
|
| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
contraction
|
|
| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
presidency
|
|
| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
indigent
|
|
| adj.贫穷的，贫困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
crimson
|
|
| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
lavishly
|
|
| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
squat
|
|
| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
ingenuity
|
|
| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
expedient
|
|
| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
radically
|
|
| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
concealment
|
|
| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
subjugate
|
|
| v.征服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
mooted
|
|
| adj.未决定的，有争议的，有疑问的v.提出…供讨论( moot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
remonstrating
|
|
| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
colonnade
|
|
| n.柱廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
gainsaid
|
|
| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
benefactor
|
|
| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
resounded
|
|
| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
gulf
|
|
| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
beatific
|
|
| adj.快乐的，有福的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
betrothed
|
|
| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
intonation
|
|
| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
hoary
|
|
| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
murmur
|
|
| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
embroidering
|
|
| v.（在织物上）绣花( embroider的现在分词 )；刺绣；对…加以渲染（或修饰）；给…添枝加叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
demure
|
|
| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
caress
|
|
| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
eldest
|
|
| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
festive
|
|
| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
orphans
|
|
| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
fangs
|
|
| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
moodily
|
|
| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
rippled
|
|
| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
starry
|
|
| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
lamented
|
|
| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
ingenuous
|
|
| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
invincible
|
|
| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
frightful
|
|
| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
instinctive
|
|
| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
tinkling
|
|
| n.丁当作响声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
captivity
|
|
| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
bemoaned
|
|
| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的过去式和过去分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
imperturbable
|
|
| adj.镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
conceited
|
|
| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
bask
|
|
| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
embroidery
|
|
| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
shaft
|
|
| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
gathering
|
|
| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
fragrance
|
|
| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
wharf
|
|
| n.码头，停泊处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
voluptuous
|
|
| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
immortal
|
|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
charcoal
|
|
| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
aroma
|
|
| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
disarray
|
|
| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
cataclysm
|
|
| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
coaxingly
|
|
| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
155
exulting
|
|
| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
wrestled
|
|
| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
densest
|
|
| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
abysmal
|
|
| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
glimmer
|
|
| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
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： |
|
|
|
|
173
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
numbed
|
|
| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
abrupt
|
|
| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
galls
|
|
| v.使…擦痛( gall的第三人称单数 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
displease
|
|
| vt.使不高兴，惹怒；n.不悦，不满，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
admonished
|
|
| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
exuberance
|
|
| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
wiles
|
|
| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
confirmation
|
|
| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
retracing
|
|
| v.折回( retrace的现在分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
obliterating
|
|
| v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
eternity
|
|
| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
glistening
|
|
| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
casement
|
|
| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |