They had marched more than thirty kilometres since dawn, along the white, hot road where occasional thickets1 of trees threw a moment of shade, then out into the glare again. On either hand, the valley, wide and shallow, glittered with heat; dark green patches of rye, pale young corn, fallow and meadow and black pine woods spread in a dull, hot diagram under a glistening2 sky. But right in front the mountains ranged across, pale blue and very still, snow gleaming gently out of the deep atmosphere. And towards the mountains, on and on, the regiment3 marched between the rye fields and the meadows, between the scraggy fruit trees set regularly on either side the high road. The burnished4, dark green rye threw off a suffocating5 heat, the mountains drew gradually nearer and more distinct. While the feet of the soldiers grew hotter, sweat ran through their hair under their helmets, and their knapsacks could burn no more in contact with their shoulders, but seemed instead to give off a cold, prickly sensation.
He walked on and on in silence, staring at the mountains ahead, that rose sheer out of the land, and stood fold behind fold, half earth, half heaven, the heaven, the barrier with slits7 of soft snow, in the pale, bluish peaks.
He could now walk almost without pain. At the start, he had determined8 not to limp. It had made him sick to take the first steps, and during the first mile or so, he had compressed his breath, and the cold drops of sweat had stood on his forehead. But he had walked it off. What were they after all but bruises9! He had looked at them, as he was getting up: deep bruises on the backs of his thighs11. And since he had made his first step in the morning, he had been conscious of them, till now he had a tight, hot place in his chest, with suppressing the pain, and holding himself in. There seemed no air when he breathed. But he walked almost lightly.
The Captain’s hand had trembled at taking his coffee at dawn: his orderly saw it again. And he saw the fine figure of the Captain wheeling on horseback at the farm-house ahead, a handsome figure in pale blue uniform with facings of scarlet12, and the metal gleaming on the black helmet and the sword-scabbard, and dark streaks13 of sweat coming on the silky bay horse. The orderly felt he was connected with that figure moving so suddenly on horseback: he followed it like a shadow, mute and inevitable14 and damned by it. And the officer was always aware of the tramp of the company behind, the march of his orderly among the men.
The Captain was a tall man of about forty, grey at the temples. He had a handsome, finely knit figure, and was one of the best horsemen in the West. His orderly, having to rub him down, admired the amazing riding-muscles of his loins.
For the rest, the orderly scarcely noticed the officer any more than he noticed himself. It was rarely he saw his master’s face: he did not look at it. The Captain had reddish-brown, stiff hair, that he wore short upon his skull16. His moustache was also cut short and bristly over a full, brutal17 mouth. His face was rather rugged18, the cheeks thin. Perhaps the man was the more handsome for the deep lines in his face, the irritable19 tension of his brow, which gave him the look of a man who fights with life. His fair eyebrows20 stood bushy over light blue eyes that were always flashing with cold fire.
He was a Prussian aristocrat21, haughty22 and overbearing. But his mother had been a Polish Countess. Having made too many gambling23 debts when he was young, he had ruined his prospects24 in the Army, and remained an infantry25 captain. He had never married: his position did not allow of it, and no woman had ever moved him to it. His time he spent riding — occasionally he rode one of his own horses at the races — and at the officers’ club. Now and then he took himself a mistress. But after such an event, he returned to duty with his brow still more tense, his eyes still more hostile and irritable. With the men, however, he was merely impersonal27, though a devil when roused; so that, on the whole, they feared him, but had no great aversion from him. They accepted him as the inevitable.
To his orderly he was at first cold and just and indifferent: he did not fuss over trifles. So that his servant knew practically nothing about him, except just what orders he would give, and how he wanted them obeyed. That was quite simple. Then the change gradually came.
The orderly was a youth of about twenty-two, of medium height, and well built. He had strong, heavy limbs, was swarthy, with a soft, black, young moustache. There was something altogether warm and young about him. He had firmly marked eyebrows over dark, expressionless eyes, that seemed never to have thought, only to have received life direct through his senses, and acted straight from instinct.
Gradually the officer had become aware of his servant’s young, vigorous, unconscious presence about him. He could not get away from the sense of the youth’s person, while he was in attendance. It was like a warm flame upon the older man’s tense, rigid28 body, that had become almost unliving, fixed29. There was something so free and self-contained about him, and something in the young fellow’s movement, that made the officer aware of him. And this irritated the Prussian. He did not choose to be touched into life by his servant. He might easily have changed his man, but he did not. He now very rarely looked direct at his orderly, but kept his face averted30, as if to avoid seeing him. And yet as the young soldier moved unthinking about the apartment, the elder watched him, and would notice the movement of his strong young shoulders under the blue cloth, the bend of his neck. And it irritated him. To see the soldier’s young, brown, shapely peasant’s hand grasp the loaf or the wine-bottle sent a flash of hate or of anger through the elder man’s blood. It was not that the youth was clumsy: it was rather the blind, instinctive31 sureness of movement of an unhampered young animal that irritated the officer to such a degree.
Once, when a bottle of wine had gone over, and the red gushed32 out on to the tablecloth33, the officer had started up with an oath, and his eyes, bluey like fire, had held those of the confused youth for a moment. It was a shock for the young soldier. He felt something sink deeper, deeper into his soul, where nothing had ever gone before. It left him rather blank and wondering. Some of his natural completeness in himself was gone, a little uneasiness took its place. And from that time an undiscovered feeling had held between the two men.
Henceforward the orderly was afraid of really meeting his master. His subconsciousness34 remembered those steely blue eyes and the harsh brows, and did not intend to meet them again. So he always stared past his master, and avoided him. Also, in a little anxiety, he waited for the three months to have gone, when his time would be up. He began to feel a constraint35 in the Captain’s presence, and the soldier even more than the officer wanted to be left alone, in his neutrality as servant.
He had served the Captain for more than a year, and knew his duty. This he performed easily, as if it were natural to him. The officer and his commands he took for granted, as he took the sun and the rain, and he served as a matter of course. It did not implicate36 him personally.
But now if he were going to be forced into a personal interchange with his master he would be like a wild thing caught, he felt he must get away.
But the influence of the young soldier’s being had penetrated37 through the officer’s stiffened38 discipline, and perturbed39 the man in him. He, however, was a gentleman, with long, fine hands and cultivated movements, and was not going to allow such a thing as the stirring of his innate40 self. He was a man of passionate41 temper, who had always kept himself suppressed. Occasionally there had been a duel42, an outburst before the soldiers. He knew himself to be always on the point of breaking out. But he kept himself hard to the idea of the Service. Whereas the young soldier seemed to live out his warm, full nature, to give it off in his very movements, which had a certain zest43, such as wild animals have in free movement. And this irritated the officer more and more.
In spite of himself, the Captain could not regain44 his neutrality of feeling towards his orderly. Nor could he leave the man alone. In spite of himself, he watched him, gave him sharp orders, tried to take up as much of his time as possible. Sometimes he flew into a rage with the young soldier, and bullied45 him. Then the orderly shut himself off, as it were out of earshot, and waited, with sullen46, flushed face, for the end of the noise. The words never pierced to his intelligence, he made himself, protectively, impervious47 to the feelings of his master.
He had a scar on his left thumb, a deep seam going across the knuckle48. The officer had long suffered from it, and wanted to do something to it. Still it was there, ugly and brutal on the young, brown hand. At last the Captain’s reserve gave way. One day, as the orderly was smoothing out the tablecloth, the officer pinned down his thumb with a pencil, asking:
“How did you come by that?”
The young man winced49 and drew back at attention.
“A wood axe50, Herr Hauptmann,” he answered.
The officer waited for further explanation. None came. The orderly went about his duties. The elder man was sullenly51 angry. His servant avoided him. And the next day he had to use all his will-power to avoid seeing the scarred thumb. He wanted to get hold of it and — A hot flame ran in his blood.
He knew his servant would soon be free, and would be glad. As yet, the soldier had held himself off from the elder man. The Captain grew madly irritable. He could not rest when the soldier was away, and when he was present, he glared at him with tormented52 eyes. He hated those fine, black brows over the unmeaning, dark eyes, he was infuriated by the free movement of the handsome limbs, which no military discipline could make stiff. And he became harsh and cruelly bullying54, using contempt and satire55. The young soldier only grew more mute and expressionless.
“What cattle were you bred by, that you can’t keep straight eyes? Look me in the eyes when I speak to you.”
And the soldier turned his dark eyes to the other’s face, but there was no sight in them: he stared with the slightest possible cast, holding back his sight, perceiving the blue of his master’s eyes, but receiving no look from them. And the elder man went pale, and his reddish eyebrows twitched56. He gave his order, barrenly.
Once he flung a heavy military glove into the young soldier’s face. Then he had the satisfaction of seeing the black eyes flare57 up into his own, like a blaze when straw is thrown on a fire. And he had laughed with a little tremor58 and a sneer59.
But there were only two months more. The youth instinctively60 tried to keep himself intact: he tried to serve the officer as if the latter were an abstract authority and not a man. All his instinct was to avoid personal contact, even definite hate. But in spite of himself the hate grew, responsive to the officer’s passion. However, he put it in the background. When he had left the Army he could dare acknowledge it. By nature he was active, and had many friends. He thought what amazing good fellows they were. But, without knowing it, he was alone. Now this solitariness61 was intensified62. It would carry him through his term. But the officer seemed to be going irritably63 insane, and the youth was deeply frightened.
The soldier had a sweetheart, a girl from the mountains, independent and primitive64. The two walked together, rather silently. He went with her, not to talk, but to have his arm round her, and for the physical contact. This eased him, made it easier for him to ignore the Captain; for he could rest with her held fast against his chest. And she, in some unspoken fashion, was there for him. They loved each other.
The Captain perceived it, and was mad with irritation65. He kept the young man engaged all the evenings long, and took pleasure in the dark look that came on his face. Occasionally, the eyes of the two men met, those of the younger sullen and dark, doggedly66 unalterable, those of the elder sneering67 with restless contempt.
The officer tried hard not to admit the passion that had got hold of him. He would not know that his feeling for his orderly was anything but that of a man incensed68 by his stupid, perverse69 servant. So, keeping quite justified70 and conventional in his consciousness, he let the other thing run on. His nerves, however, were suffering. At last he slung71 the end of a belt in his servant’s face. When he saw the youth start back, the pain-tears in his eyes and the blood on his mouth, he had felt at once a thrill of deep pleasure and of shame.
But this, he acknowledged to himself, was a thing he had never done before. The fellow was too exasperating72. His own nerves must be going to pieces. He went away for some days with a woman.
It was a mockery of pleasure. He simply did not want the woman. But he stayed on for his time. At the end of it, he came back in an agony of irritation, torment53, and misery73. He rode all the evening, then came straight in to supper. His orderly was out. The officer sat with his long, fine hands lying on the table, perfectly74 still, and all his blood seemed to be corroding75.
At last his servant entered. He watched the strong, easy young figure, the fine eyebrows, the thick black hair. In a week’s time the youth had got back his old well-being76. The hands of the officer twitched and seemed to be full of mad flame. The young man stood at attention, unmoving, shut off.
The meal went in silence. But the orderly seemed eager. He made a clatter77 with the dishes.
“Are you in a hurry?” asked the officer, watching the intent, warm face of his servant. The other did not reply.
“Will you answer my question?” said the Captain.
“Yes, sir,” replied the orderly, standing78 with his pile of deep Army plates. The Captain waited, looked at him, then asked again:
“Are you in a hurry?”
“Yes, sir,” came the answer, that sent a flash through the listener.
“For what?”
“I was going out, sir.”
“I want you this evening.”
There was a moment’s hesitation79. The officer had a curious stiffness of countenance80.
“Yes, sir,” replied the servant, in his throat.
“I want you tomorrow evening also — in fact, you may consider your evenings occupied, unless I give you leave.”
The mouth with the young moustache set close.
“Yes, sir,” answered the orderly, loosening his lips for a moment.
He again turned to the door.
“And why have you a piece of pencil in your ear?”
The orderly hesitated, then continued on his way without answering. He set the plates in a pile outside the door, took the stump81 of pencil from his ear, and put it in his pocket. He had been copying a verse for his sweetheart’s birthday card. He returned to finish clearing the table. The officer’s eyes were dancing, he had a little, eager smile.
“Why have you a piece of pencil in your ear?” he asked.
The orderly took his hands full of dishes. His master was standing near the great green stove, a little smile on his face, his chin thrust forward. When the young soldier saw him his heart suddenly ran hot. He felt blind. Instead of answering, he turned dazedly82 to the door. As he was crouching84 to set down the dishes, he was pitched forward by a kick from behind. The pots went in a stream down the stairs, he clung to the pillar of the banisters. And as he was rising he was kicked heavily again, and again, so that he clung sickly to the post for some moments. His master had gone swiftly into the room and closed the door. The maid-servant downstairs looked up the staircase and made a mocking face at the crockery disaster.
The officer’s heart was plunging85. He poured himself a glass of wine, part of which he spilled on the floor, and gulped86 the remainder, leaning against the cool, green stove. He heard his man collecting the dishes from the stairs. Pale, as if intoxicated87, he waited. The servant entered again. The Captain’s heart gave a pang88, as of pleasure, seeing the young fellow bewildered and uncertain on his feet, with pain.
“Sch?ner!” he said.
The soldier was a little slower in coming to attention.
“Yes, sir!”
The youth stood before him, with pathetic young moustache, and fine eyebrows very distinct on his forehead of dark marble.
“I asked you a question.”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer’s tone bit like acid.
“Why had you a pencil in your ear?”
Again the servant’s heart ran hot, and he could not breathe. With dark, strained eyes, he looked at the officer, as if fascinated. And he stood there sturdily planted, unconscious. The withering89 smile came into the Captain’s eyes, and he lifted his foot.
“I— I forgot it — sir,” panted the soldier, his dark eyes fixed on the other man’s dancing blue ones.
“What was it doing there?”
He saw the young man’s breast heaving as he made an effort for words.
“I had been writing.”
“Writing what?”
Again the soldier looked up and down. The officer could hear him panting. The smile came into the blue eyes. The soldier worked his dry throat, but could not speak. Suddenly the smile lit like a flame on the officer’s face, and a kick came heavily against the orderly’s thigh10. The youth moved a pace sideways. His face went dead, with two black, staring eyes.
“Well?” said the officer.
The orderly’s mouth had gone dry, and his tongue rubbed in it as on dry brown-paper. He worked his throat. The officer raised his foot. The servant went stiff.
“Some poetry, sir,” came the crackling, unrecognizable sound of his voice.
“Poetry, what poetry?” asked the Captain, with a sickly smile.
Again there was the working in the throat. The Captain’s heart had suddenly gone down heavily, and he stood sick and tired.
“For my girl, sir,” he heard the dry, inhuman90 sound.
“Oh!” he said, turning away. “Clear the table.”
“Click!” went the soldier’s throat; then again, “click!” and then the half-articulate:
“Yes, sir.”
The young soldier was gone, looking old, and walking heavily.
The officer, left alone, held himself rigid, to prevent himself from thinking. His instinct warned him that he must not think. Deep inside him was the intense gratification of his passion, still working powerfully. Then there was a counter-action, a horrible breaking down of something inside him, a whole agony of reaction. He stood there for an hour motionless, a chaos91 of sensations, but rigid with a will to keep blank his consciousness, to prevent his mind grasping. And he held himself so until the worst of the stress had passed, when he began to drink, drank himself to an intoxication92, till he slept obliterated93. When he woke in the morning he was shaken to the base of his nature. But he had fought off the realization94 of what he had done. He had prevented his mind from taking it in, had suppressed it along with his instincts, and the conscious man had nothing to do with it. He felt only as after a bout15 of intoxication, weak, but the affair itself all dim and not to be recovered. Of the drunkenness of his passion he successfully refused remembrance. And when his orderly appeared with coffee, the officer assumed the same self he had had the morning before. He refused the event of the past night — denied it had ever been — and was successful in his denial. He had not done any such thing — not he himself. Whatever there might be lay at the door of a stupid, insubordinate servant.
The orderly had gone about in a stupor95 all the evening. He drank some beer because he was parched96, but not much, the alcohol made his feeling come back, and he could not bear it. He was dulled, as if nine-tenths of the ordinary man in him were inert97. He crawled about disfigured. Still, when he thought of the kicks, he went sick, and when he thought of the threat of more kicking, in the room afterwards, his heart went hot and faint, and he panted, remembering the one that had come. He had been forced to say, “For my girl.” He was much too done even to want to cry. His mouth hung slightly open, like an idiot’s. He felt vacant, and wasted. So, he wandered at his work, painfully, and very slowly and clumsily, fumbling98 blindly with the brushes, and finding it difficult, when he sat down, to summon the energy to move again. His limbs, his jaw99, were slack and nerveless. But he was very tired. He got to bed at last, and slept inert, relaxed, in a sleep that was rather stupor than slumber100, a dead night of stupefaction shot through with gleams of anguish101.
In the morning were the manoeuvres. But he woke even before the bugle102 sounded. The painful ache in his chest, the dryness of his throat, the awful steady feeling of misery made his eyes come awake and dreary103 at once. He knew, without thinking, what had happened. And he knew that the day had come again, when he must go on with his round. The last bit of darkness was being pushed out of the room. He would have to move his inert body and go on. He was so young, and had known so little trouble, that he was bewildered. He only wished it would stay night, so that he could lie still, covered up by the darkness. And yet nothing would prevent the day from coming, nothing would save him from having to get up and saddle the Captain’s horse, and make the Captain’s coffee. It was there, inevitable. And then, he thought, it was impossible. Yet they would not leave him free. He must go and take the coffee to the Captain. He was too stunned104 to understand it. He only knew it was inevitable — inevitable, however long he lay inert.
At last, after heaving at himself, for he seemed to be a mass of inertia105, he got up. But he had to force every one of his movements from behind, with his will. He felt lost, and dazed, and helpless. Then he clutched hold of the bed, the pain was so keen. And looking at his thighs, he saw the darker bruises on his swarthy flesh and he knew that, if he pressed one of his fingers on one of the bruises, he should faint. But he did not want to faint — he did not want anybody to know. No one should ever know. It was between him and the Captain. There were only the two people in the world now — himself and the Captain.
Slowly, economically, he got dressed and forced himself to walk. Everything was obscure, except just what he had his hands on. But he managed to get through his work. The very pain revived his dull senses. The worst remained yet. He took the tray and went up to the Captain’s room. The officer, pale and heavy, sat at the table. The orderly, as he saluted106, felt himself put out of existence. He stood still for a moment submitting to his own nullification — then he gathered himself, seemed to regain himself, and then the Captain began to grow vague, unreal, and the younger soldier’s heart beat up. He clung to this situation — that the Captain did not exist — so that he himself might live. But when he saw his officer’s hand tremble as he took the coffee, he felt everything falling shattered. And he went away, feeling as if he himself were coming to pieces, disintegrated107. And when the Captain was there on horseback, giving orders, while he himself stood, with rifle and knapsack, sick with pain, he felt as if he must shut his eyes — as if he must shut his eyes on everything. It was only the long agony of marching with a parched throat that filled him with one single, sleep-heavy intention: to save himself.
II
He was getting used even to his parched throat. That the snowy peaks were radiant among the sky, that the whity-green glacier-river twisted through its pale shoals, in the valley below, seemed almost supernatural. But he was going mad with fever and thirst. He plodded108 on uncomplaining. He did not want to speak, not to anybody. There were two gulls109, like flakes110 of water and snow, over the river. The scent111 of green rye soaked in sunshine came like a sickness. And the march continued, monotonously112, almost like a bad sleep.
At the next farm-house, which stood low and broad near the high road, tubs of water had been put out. The soldiers clustered round to drink. They took off their helmets, and the steam mounted from their wet hair. The Captain sat on horseback, watching. He needed to see his orderly. His helmet threw a dark shadow over his light, fierce eyes, but his moustache and mouth and chin were distinct in the sunshine. The orderly must move under the presence of the figure of the horseman. It was not that he was afraid, or cowed. It was as if he was disembowelled, made empty, like an empty shell. He felt himself as nothing, a shadow creeping under the sunshine. And, thirsty as he was, he could scarcely drink, feeling the Captain near him. He would not take off his helmet to wipe his wet hair. He wanted to stay in shadow, not to be forced into consciousness. Starting, he saw the light heel of the officer prick6 the belly113 of the horse; the Captain cantered away, and he himself could relapse into vacancy115.
Nothing, however, could give him back his living place in the hot, bright morning. He felt like a gap among it all. Whereas the Captain was prouder, overriding116. A hot flash went through the young servant’s body. The Captain was firmer and prouder with life, he himself was empty as a shadow. Again the flash went through him, dazing him out. But his heart ran a little firmer.
The company turned up the hill, to make a loop for the return. Below, from among the trees, the farm-bell clanged. He saw the labourers, mowing117 barefoot at the thick grass, leave off their work and go downhill, their scythes118 hanging over their shoulders, like long, bright claws curving down behind them. They seemed like dream-people, as if they had no relation to himself. He felt as in a blackish dream: as if all the other things were there and had form, but he himself was only a consciousness, a gap that could think and perceive.
The soldiers were tramping silently up the glaring hillside. Gradually his head began to revolve119, slowly, rhythmically120. Sometimes it was dark before his eyes, as if he saw this world through a smoked glass, frail121 shadows and unreal. It gave him a pain in his head to walk.
The air was too scented122, it gave no breath. All the lush greenstuff seemed to be issuing its sap, till the air was deathly, sickly with the smell of greenness. There was the perfume of clover, like pure honey and bees. Then there grew a faint acrid123 tang — they were near the beeches125; and then a queer clattering126 noise, and a suffocating, hideous127 smell; they were passing a flock of sheep, a shepherd in a black smock, holding his crook128. Why should the sheep huddle129 together under this fierce sun? He felt that the shepherd would not see him, though he could see the shepherd.
At last there was the halt. They stacked rifles in a conical stack, put down their kit130 in a scattered131 circle around it, and dispersed132 a little, sitting on a small knoll133 high on the hillside. The chatter134 began. The soldiers were steaming with heat, but were lively. He sat still, seeing the blue mountains rising upon the land, twenty kilometres away. There was a blue fold in the ranges, then out of that, at the foot, the broad, pale bed of the river, stretches of whity-green water between pinkish-grey shoals among the dark pine woods. There it was, spread out a long way off. And it seemed to come downhill, the river. There was a raft being steered135, a mile away. It was a strange country. Nearer, a red-roofed, broad farm with white base and square dots of windows crouched136 beside the wall of beech124 foliage137 on the wood’s edge. There were long strips of rye and clover and pale green corn. And just at his feet, below the knoll, was a darkish bog138, where globe flowers stood breathless still on their slim stalks. And some of the pale gold bubbles were burst, and a broken fragment hung in the air. He thought he was going to sleep.
Suddenly something moved into this coloured mirage139 before his eyes. The Captain, a small, light-blue and scarlet figure, was trotting140 evenly between the strips of corn, along the level brow of the hill. And the man making flag-signals was coming on. Proud and sure moved the horseman’s figure, the quick, bright thing, in which was concentrated all the light of this morning, which for the rest lay a fragile, shining shadow. Submissive, apathetic141, the young soldier sat and stared. But as the horse slowed to a walk, coming up the last steep path, the great flash flared142 over the body and soul of the orderly. He sat waiting. The back of his head felt as if it were weighted with a heavy piece of fire. He did not want to eat. His hands trembled slightly as he moved them. Meanwhile the officer on horseback was approaching slowly and proudly. The tension grew in the orderly’s soul. Then again, seeing the Captain ease himself on the saddle, the flash blazed through him.
The Captain looked at the patch of light blue and scarlet, and dark heads, scattered closely on the hillside. It pleased him. The command pleased him. And he was feeling proud. His orderly was among them in common subjection. The officer rose a little on his stirrups to look. The young soldier sat with averted, dumb face. The Captain relaxed on his seat. His slim-legged, beautiful horse, brown as a beech nut, walked proudly uphill. The Captain passed into the zone of the company’s atmosphere: a hot smell of men, of sweat, of leather. He knew it very well. After a word with the lieutenant143, he went a few paces higher, and sat there, a dominant144 figure, his sweat-marked horse swishing its tail, while he looked down on his men, on his orderly, a nonentity145 among the crowd.
The young soldier’s heart was like fire in his chest, and he breathed with difficulty. The officer, looking downhill, saw three of the young soldiers, two pails of water between them, staggering across a sunny green field. A table had been set up under a tree, and there the slim lieutenant stood, importantly busy. Then the Captain summoned himself to an act of courage. He called his orderly.
The flame leapt into the young soldier’s throat as he heard the command, and he rose blindly, stifled146. He saluted, standing below the officer. He did not look up. But there was the flicker147 in the Captain’s voice.
“Go to the inn and fetch me . . .” the officer gave his commands. “Quick!” he added.
At the last word, the heart of the servant leapt with a flash, and he felt the strength come over his body. But he turned in mechanical obedience148, and set off at a heavy run downhill, looking almost like a bear, his trousers bagging over his military boots. And the officer watched this blind, plunging run all the way.
But it was only the outside of the orderly’s body that was obeying so humbly149 and mechanically. Inside had gradually accumulated a core into which all the energy of that young life was compact and concentrated. He executed his commission, and plodded quickly back uphill. There was a pain in his head, as he walked, that made him twist his features unknowingly. But hard there in the centre of his chest was himself, himself, firm, and not to be plucked to pieces.
The Captain had gone up into the wood. The orderly plodded through the hot, powerfully smelling zone of the company’s atmosphere. He had a curious mass of energy inside him now. The Captain was less real than himself. He approached the green entrance to the wood. There, in the half-shade, he saw the horse standing, the sunshine and the flickering150 shadow of leaves dancing over his brown body. There was a clearing where timber had lately been felled. Here, in the gold-green shade beside the brilliant cup of sunshine, stood two figures, blue and pink, the bits of pink showing out plainly. The Captain was talking to his lieutenant.
The orderly stood on the edge of the bright clearing, where great trunks of trees, stripped and glistening, lay stretched like naked, brown-skinned bodies. Chips of wood littered the trampled151 floor, like splashed light, and the bases of the felled trees stood here and there, with their raw, level tops. Beyond was the brilliant, sunlit green of a beech.
“Then I will ride forward,” the orderly heard his Captain say. The lieutenant saluted and strode away. He himself went forward. A hot flash passed through his belly, as he tramped towards his officer.
The Captain watched the rather heavy figure of the young soldier stumble forward, and his veins152, too, ran hot. This was to be man to man between them. He yielded before the solid, stumbling figure with bent153 head. The orderly stooped and put the food on a level-sawn tree-base. The Captain watched the glistening, sun-inflamed154, naked hands. He wanted to speak to the young soldier, but could not. The servant propped155 a bottle against his thigh, pressed open the cork156, and poured out the beer into the mug. He kept his head bent. The Captain accepted the mug.
“Hot!” he said, as if amiably157.
The flame sprang out of the orderly’s heart, nearly suffocating him.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, between shut teeth.
And he heard the sound of the Captain’s drinking, and he clenched158 his fists, such a strong torment came into his wrists. Then came the faint clang of the closing pot-lid. He looked up. The Captain was watching him. He glanced swiftly away. Then he saw the officer stoop and take a piece of bread from the tree-base. Again the flash of flame went through the young soldier, seeing the stiff body stoop beneath him, and his hands jerked. He looked away. He could feel the officer was nervous. The bread fell as it was being broken. The officer ate the other piece. The two men stood tense and still, the master laboriously159 chewing his bread, the servant staring with averted face, his fist clenched.
Then the young soldier started. The officer had pressed open the lid of the mug again. The orderly watched the lid of the mug, and the white hand that clenched the handle, as if he were fascinated. It was raised. The youth followed it with his eyes. And then he saw the thin, strong throat of the elder man moving up and down as he drank, the strong jaw working. And the instinct which had been jerking at the young man’s wrists suddenly jerked free. He jumped, feeling as if it were rent in two by a strong flame.
The spur of the officer caught in a tree-root, he went down backwards160 with a crash, the middle of his back thudding sickeningly against a sharp-edged tree-base, the pot flying away. And in a second the orderly, with serious, earnest young face, and underlip between his teeth, had got his knee in the officer’s chest and was pressing the chin backward over the farther edge of the tree-stump, pressing, with all his heart behind in a passion of relief, the tension of his wrists exquisite161 with relief. And with the base of his palms he shoved at the chin, with all his might. And it was pleasant, too, to have that chin, that hard jaw already slightly rough with beard, in his hands. He did not relax one hair’s breadth, but, all the force of all his blood exulting162 in his thrust, he shoved back the head of the other man, till there was a little “cluck” and a crunching163 sensation. Then he felt as if his head went to vapour. Heavy convulsions shook the body of the officer, frightening and horrifying164 the young soldier. Yet it pleased him, too, to repress them. It pleased him to keep his hands pressing back the chin, to feel the chest of the other man yield in expiration165 to the weight of his strong, young knees, to feel the hard twitchings of the prostrate166 body jerking his own whole frame, which was pressed down on it.
But it went still. He could look into the nostrils167 of the other man, the eyes he could scarcely see. How curiously168 the mouth was pushed out, exaggerating the full lips, and the moustache bristling169 up from them. Then, with a start, he noticed the nostrils gradually filled with blood. The red brimmed, hesitated, ran over, and went in a thin trickle170 down the face to the eyes.
It shocked and distressed171 him. Slowly, he got up. The body twitched and sprawled172 there, inert. He stood and looked at it in silence. It was a pity IT was broken. It represented more than the thing which had kicked and bullied him. He was afraid to look at the eyes. They were hideous now, only the whites showing, and the blood running to them. The face of the orderly was drawn173 with horror at the sight. Well, it was so. In his heart he was satisfied. He had hated the face of the Captain. It was extinguished now. There was a heavy relief in the orderly’s soul. That was as it should be. But he could not bear to see the long, military body lying broken over the tree-base, the fine fingers crisped. He wanted to hide it away.
Quickly, busily, he gathered it up and pushed it under the felled tree-trunks, which rested their beautiful, smooth length either end on logs. The face was horrible with blood. He covered it with the helmet. Then he pushed the limbs straight and decent, and brushed the dead leaves off the fine cloth of the uniform. So, it lay quite still in the shadow under there. A little strip of sunshine ran along the breast, from a chink between the logs. The orderly sat by it for a few moments. Here his own life also ended.
Then, through his daze83, he heard the lieutenant, in a loud voice, explaining to the men outside the wood, that they were to suppose the bridge on the river below was held by the enemy. Now they were to march to the attack in such and such a manner. The lieutenant had no gift of expression. The orderly, listening from habit, got muddled175. And when the lieutenant began it all again he ceased to hear.
He knew he must go. He stood up. It surprised him that the leaves were glittering in the sun, and the chips of wood reflecting white from the ground. For him a change had come over the world. But for the rest it had not — all seemed the same. Only he had left it. And he could not go back. It was his duty to return with the beer-pot and the bottle. He could not. He had left all that. The lieutenant was still hoarsely176 explaining. He must go, or they would overtake him. And he could not bear contact with anyone now.
He drew his fingers over his eyes, trying to find out where he was. Then he turned away. He saw the horse standing in the path. He went up to it and mounted. It hurt him to sit in the saddle. The pain of keeping his seat occupied him as they cantered through the wood. He would not have minded anything, but he could not get away from the sense of being divided from the others. The path led out of the trees. On the edge of the wood he pulled up and stood watching. There in the spacious178 sunshine of the valley soldiers were moving in a little swarm179. Every now and then, a man harrowing on a strip of fallow shouted to his oxen, at the turn. The village and the white-towered church was small in the sunshine. And he no longer belonged to it — he sat there, beyond, like a man outside in the dark. He had gone out from everyday life into the unknown, and he could not, he even did not want to go back.
Turning from the sun-blazing valley, he rode deep into the wood. Tree-trunks, like people standing grey and still, took no notice as he went. A doe, herself a moving bit of sunshine and shadow, went running through the flecked shade. There were bright green rents in the foliage. Then it was all pine wood, dark and cool. And he was sick with pain, he had an intolerable great pulse in his head, and he was sick. He had never been ill in his life. He felt lost, quite dazed with all this.
Trying to get down from the horse, he fell, astonished at the pain and his lack of balance. The horse shifted uneasily. He jerked its bridle180 and sent it cantering jerkily away. It was his last connection with the rest of things.
But he only wanted to lie down and not be disturbed. Stumbling through the trees, he came on a quiet place where beeches and pine trees grew on a slope. Immediately he had lain down and closed his eyes, his consciousness went racing181 on without him. A big pulse of sickness beat in him as if it throbbed182 through the whole earth. He was burning with dry heat. But he was too busy, too tearingly active in the incoherent race of delirium183 to observe.
III
He came to with a start. His mouth was dry and hard, his heart beat heavily, but he had not the energy to get up. His heart beat heavily. Where was he? — the barracks — at home? There was something knocking. And, making an effort, he looked round — trees, and litter of greenery, and reddish, bright, still pieces of sunshine on the floor. He did not believe he was himself, he did not believe what he saw. Something was knocking. He made a struggle towards consciousness, but relapsed. Then he struggled again. And gradually his surroundings fell into relationship with himself. He knew, and a great pang of fear went through his heart. Somebody was knocking. He could see the heavy, black rags of a fir tree overhead. Then everything went black. Yet he did not believe he had closed his eyes. He had not. Out of the blackness sight slowly emerged again. And someone was knocking. Quickly, he saw the blood-disfigured face of his Captain, which he hated. And he held himself still with horror. Yet, deep inside him, he knew that it was so, the Captain should be dead. But the physical delirium got hold of him. Someone was knocking. He lay perfectly still, as if dead, with fear. And he went unconscious.
When he opened his eyes again, he started, seeing something creeping swiftly up a tree-trunk. It was a little bird. And the bird was whistling overhead. Tap-tap-tap — it was the small, quick bird rapping the tree-trunk with its beak185, as if its head were a little round hammer. He watched it curiously. It shifted sharply, in its creeping fashion. Then, like a mouse, it slid down the bare trunk. Its swift creeping sent a flash of revulsion through him. He raised his head. It felt a great weight. Then, the little bird ran out of the shadow across a still patch of sunshine, its little head bobbing swiftly, its white legs twinkling brightly for a moment. How neat it was in its build, so compact, with pieces of white on its wings. There were several of them. They were so pretty — but they crept like swift, erratic186 mice, running here and there among the beech-mast.
He lay down again exhausted187, and his consciousness lapsed184. He had a horror of the little creeping birds. All his blood seemed to be darting188 and creeping in his head. And yet he could not move.
He came to with a further ache of exhaustion189. There was the pain in his head, and the horrible sickness, and his inability to move. He had never been ill in his life. He did not know where he was or what he was. Probably he had got sunstroke. Or what else? — he had silenced the Captain for ever — some time ago — oh, a long time ago. There had been blood on his face, and his eyes had turned upwards190. It was all right, somehow. It was peace. But now he had got beyond himself. He had never been here before. Was it life, or not life? He was by himself. They were in a big, bright place, those others, and he was outside. The town, all the country, a big bright place of light: and he was outside, here, in the darkened open beyond, where each thing existed alone. But they would all have to come out there sometime, those others. Little, and left behind him, they all were. There had been father and mother and sweetheart. What did they all matter? This was the open land.
He sat up. Something scuffled. It was a little, brown squirrel running in lovely, undulating bounds over the floor, its red tail completing the undulation of its body — and then, as it sat up, furling and unfurling. He watched it, pleased. It ran on again, friskily191, enjoying itself. It flew wildly at another squirrel, and they were chasing each other, and making little scolding, chattering192 noises. The soldier wanted to speak to them. But only a hoarse177 sound came out of his throat. The squirrels burst away — they flew up the trees. And then he saw the one peeping round at him, half-way up a tree-trunk. A start of fear went through him, though, in so far as he was conscious, he was amused. It still stayed, its little, keen face staring at him halfway193 up the tree-trunk, its little ears pricked194 up, its clawey little hands clinging to the bark, its white breast reared. He started from it in panic.
Struggling to his feet, he lurched away. He went on walking, walking, looking for something — for a drink. His brain felt hot and inflamed for want of water. He stumbled on. Then he did not know anything. He went unconscious as he walked. Yet he stumbled on, his mouth open.
When, to his dumb wonder, he opened his eyes on the world again, he no longer tried to remember what it was. There was thick, golden light behind golden-green glitterings, and tall, grey-purple shafts195, and darknesses further off, surrounding him, growing deeper. He was conscious of a sense of arrival. He was amid the reality, on the real, dark bottom. But there was the thirst burning in his brain. He felt lighter196, not so heavy. He supposed it was newness. The air was muttering with thunder. He thought he was walking wonderfully swiftly and was coming straight to relief — or was it to water?
Suddenly he stood still with fear. There was a tremendous flare of gold, immense — just a few dark trunks like bars between him and it. All the young level wheat was burnished gold glaring on its silky green. A woman, full-skirted, a black cloth on her head for head-dress, was passing like a block of shadow through the glistening, green corn, into the full glare. There was a farm, too, pale blue in shadow, and the timber black. And there was a church spire197, nearly fused away in the gold. The woman moved on, away from him. He had no language with which to speak to her. She was the bright, solid unreality. She would make a noise of words that would confuse him, and her eyes would look at him without seeing him. She was crossing there to the other side. He stood against a tree.
When at last he turned, looking down the long, bare grove198 whose flat bed was already filling dark, he saw the mountains in a wonder-light, not far away, and radiant. Behind the soft, grey ridge174 of the nearest range the further mountains stood golden and pale grey, the snow all radiant like pure, soft gold. So still, gleaming in the sky, fashioned pure out of the ore of the sky, they shone in their silence. He stood and looked at them, his face illuminated199. And like the golden, lustrous200 gleaming of the snow he felt his own thirst bright in him. He stood and gazed, leaning against a tree. And then everything slid away into space.
During the night the lightning fluttered perpetually, making the whole sky white. He must have walked again. The world hung livid round him for moments, fields a level sheen of grey-green light, trees in dark bulk, and the range of clouds black across a white sky. Then the darkness fell like a shutter201, and the night was whole. A faint flutter of a half-revealed world, that could not quite leap out of the darkness! — Then there again stood a sweep of pallor for the land, dark shapes looming202, a range of clouds hanging overhead. The world was a ghostly shadow, thrown for a moment upon the pure darkness, which returned ever whole and complete.
And the mere26 delirium of sickness and fever went on inside him — his brain opening and shutting like the night — then sometimes convulsions of terror from something with great eyes that stared round a tree — then the long agony of the march, and the sun decomposing203 his blood — then the pang of hate for the Captain, followed by a pang of tenderness and ease. But everything was distorted, born of an ache and resolving into an ache.
In the morning he came definitely awake. Then his brain flamed with the sole horror of thirstiness! The sun was on his face, the dew was steaming from his wet clothes. Like one possessed204, he got up. There, straight in front of him, blue and cool and tender, the mountains ranged across the pale edge of the morning sky. He wanted them — he wanted them alone — he wanted to leave himself and be identified with them. They did not move, they were still soft, with white, gentle markings of snow. He stood still, mad with suffering, his hands crisping and clutching. Then he was twisting in a paroxysm on the grass.
He lay still, in a kind of dream of anguish. His thirst seemed to have separated itself from him, and to stand apart, a single demand. Then the pain he felt was another single self. Then there was the clog205 of his body, another separate thing. He was divided among all kinds of separate beings. There was some strange, agonized206 connection between them, but they were drawing further apart. Then they would all split. The sun, drilling down on him, was drilling through the bond. Then they would all fall, fall through the everlasting207 lapse114 of space. Then again, his consciousness reasserted itself. He roused on to his elbow and stared at the gleaming mountains. There they ranked, all still and wonderful between earth and heaven. He stared till his eyes went black, and the mountains, as they stood in their beauty, so clean and cool, seemed to have it, that which was lost in him.
IV
When the soldiers found him, three hours later, he was lying with his face over his arm, his black hair giving off heat under the sun. But he was still alive. Seeing the open, black mouth the young soldiers dropped him in horror.
He died in the hospital at night, without having seen again.
The doctors saw the bruises on his legs, behind, and were silent.
The bodies of the two men lay together, side by side, in the mortuary, the one white and slender, but laid rigidly208 at rest, the other looking as if every moment it must rouse into life again, so young and unused, from a slumber.
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1
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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2
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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3
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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4
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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7
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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8
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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9
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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12
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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13
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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14
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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15
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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16
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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17
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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18
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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20
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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21
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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26
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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30
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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33
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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subconsciousness
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| 潜意识；下意识 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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implicate
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| vt.使牵连其中，涉嫌 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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42
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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44
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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45
bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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47
impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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48
knuckle
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| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
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49
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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51
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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52
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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53
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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54
bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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55
satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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56
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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57
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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58
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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59
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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60
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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61
solitariness
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| n.隐居；单独 | |
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62
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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64
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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65
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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66
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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67
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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68
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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69
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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70
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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71
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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72
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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73
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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74
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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75
corroding
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| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
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76
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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77
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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78
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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79
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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80
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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81
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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82
dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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83
daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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84
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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85
plunging
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|
| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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86
gulped
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|
| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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87
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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88
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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89
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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90
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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91
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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92
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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93
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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94
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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95
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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96
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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97
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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98
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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99
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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100
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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101
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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102
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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103
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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104
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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105
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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106
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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107
disintegrated
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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109
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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110
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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111
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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112
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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113
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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114
lapse
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|
| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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115
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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116
overriding
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| a.最主要的 | |
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117
mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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118
scythes
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|
| n.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.（长柄）大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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119
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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120
rhythmically
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| adv.有节奏地 | |
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121
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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122
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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123
acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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124
beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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125
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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126
clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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127
hideous
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|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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128
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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129
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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130
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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131
scattered
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|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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132
dispersed
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|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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133
knoll
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| n.小山，小丘 | |
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134
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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135
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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136
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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138
bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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139
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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140
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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141
apathetic
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|
| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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142
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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143
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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144
dominant
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|
| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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145
nonentity
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| n.无足轻重的人 | |
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146
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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147
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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148
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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149
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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150
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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151
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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152
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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153
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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154
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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155
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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156
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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157
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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158
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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160
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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161
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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162
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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163
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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164
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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165
expiration
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| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
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166
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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167
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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168
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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169
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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170
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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171
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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172
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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173
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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174
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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175
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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176
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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177
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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178
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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179
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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180
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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181
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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182
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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183
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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184
lapsed
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|
| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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185
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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186
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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187
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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188
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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189
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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190
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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191
friskily
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| adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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192
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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193
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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194
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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195
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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196
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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197
spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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198
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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199
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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200
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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201
shutter
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| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
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202
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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203
decomposing
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| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
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204
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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205
clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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206
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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207
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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208
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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