Few women were ever happier than Madame Claes. Her happiness lasted for fifteen years without a cloud, diffusing1 itself like a vivid light into every nook and detail of her life. Most men have inequalities of character which produce discord2, and deprive their households of the harmony which is the ideal of a home; the majority are blemished3 with some littleness or meanness, and meanness of any kind begets4 bickering5. One man is honorable and diligent6, but hard and crabbed7; another kindly8, but obstinate9; this one loves his wife, yet his will is arbitrary and uncertain; that other, preoccupied10 by ambition, pays off his affections as he would a debt, bestows11 the luxuries of wealth but deprives the daily life of happiness — in short, the average man of social life is essentially12 incomplete, without being signally to blame. Men of talent are as variable as barometers14; genius alone is intrinsically good.
For this reason unalloyed happiness is found at the two extremes of the moral scale. The good-natured fool and the man of genius alone are capable — the one through weakness, the other by strength — of that equanimity15 of temper, that unvarying gentleness, which soften16 the asperities17 of daily life. In the one, it is indifference18 or stolidity19; in the other, indulgence and a portion of the divine thought of which he is the interpreter, and which needs to be consistent alike in principle and application. Both natures are equally simple; but in one there is vacancy20, in the other depth. This is why clever women are disposed to take dull men as the small change for great ones.
Balthazar Claes carried his greatness into the lesser21 things of life. He delighted in considering conjugal22 love as a magnificent work; and like all men of lofty aims who can bear nothing imperfect, he wished to develop all its beauties. His powers of mind enlivened the calm of happiness, his noble nature marked his attentions with the charm of grace. Though he shared the philosophical23 tenets of the eighteenth century, he installed a chaplain in his home until 1801 (in spite of the risk he ran from the revolutionary decrees), so that he might not thwart24 the Spanish fanaticism25 which his wife had sucked in with her mother’s milk: later, when public worship was restored in France, he accompanied her to mass every Sunday. His passion never ceased to be that of a lover. The protecting power, which women like so much, was never exercised by this husband, lest to that wife it might seem pity. He treated her with exquisite26 flattery as an equal, and sometimes mutinied against her, as men will, as though to brave the supremacy27 of a pretty woman. His lips wore a smile of happiness, his speech was ever tender; he loved his Josephine for herself and for himself, with an ardor28 that crowned with perpetual praise the qualities and the loveliness of a wife.
Fidelity29, often the result of social principle, religious duty, or self-interest on the part of a husband, was in this case involuntary, and not without the sweet flatteries of the spring-time of love. Duty was the only marriage obligation unknown to these lovers, whose love was equal; for Balthazar Claes found the complete and lasting30 realization31 of his hopes in Mademoiselle de Temninck; his heart was satisfied but not wearied, the man within him was ever happy.
Not only did the daughter of Casa-Real derive32 from her Spanish blood the intuition of that science which varies pleasure and makes it infinite, but she possessed33 the spirit of unbounded self-devotion, which is the genius of her sex as grace is that of beauty. Her love was a blind fanaticism which, at a nod, would have sent her joyously34 to her death. Balthazar’s own delicacy35 had exalted36 the generous emotions of his wife, and inspired her with an imperious need of giving more than she received. This mutual37 exchange of happiness which each lavished38 upon the other, put the mainspring of her life visibly outside of her personality, and filled her words, her looks, her actions, with an ever-growing love. Gratitude39 fertilized40 and varied41 the life of each heart; and the certainty of being all in all to one another excluded the paltry42 things of existence, while it magnified the smallest accessories.
The deformed43 woman whom her husband thinks straight, the lame13 woman whom he would not have otherwise, the old woman who seems ever young — are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world? Can human passion go beyond it? The glory of a woman is to be adored for a defect. To forget that a lame woman does not walk straight may be the glamour44 of a moment, but to love her because she is lame is the deification of her defects. In the gospel of womanhood it is written: “Blessed are the imperfect, for theirs is the kingdom of Love.” If this be so, surely beauty is a misfortune; that fugitive45 flower counts for too much in the feeling that a woman inspires; often she is loved for her beauty as another is married for her money. But the love inspired or bestowed46 by a woman disinherited of the frail47 advantages pursued by the sons of Adam, is true love, the mysterious passion, the ardent48 embrace of souls, a sentiment for which the day of disenchantment never comes. That woman has charms unknown to the world, from whose jurisdiction49 she withdraws herself: she is beautiful with a meaning; her glory lies in making her imperfections forgotten, and thus she constantly succeeds in doing so.
The celebrated50 attachments51 of history were nearly all inspired by women in whom the vulgar mind would have found defects — Cleopatra, Jeanne de Naples, Diane de Poitiers, Mademoiselle de la Valliere, Madame de Pompadour; in fact, the majority of the women whom love has rendered famous were not without infirmities and imperfections, while the greater number of those whose beauty is cited as perfect came to some tragic52 end of love.
This apparent singularity must have a cause. It may be that man lives more by sentiment than by sense; perhaps the physical charm of beauty is limited, while the moral charm of a woman without beauty is infinite. Is not this the moral of the fable53 on which the Arabian Nights are based? An ugly wife of Henry VIII. might have defied the axe54, and subdued55 to herself the inconstancy of her master.
By a strange chance, not inexplicable56, however, in a girl of Spanish origin, Madame Claes was uneducated. She knew how to read and write, but up to the age of twenty, at which time her parents withdrew her from a convent, she had read none but ascetic57 books. On her first entrance into the world, she was eager for pleasure and learned only the flimsy art of dress; she was, moreover, so deeply conscious of her ignorance that she dared not join in conversation; for which reason she was supposed to have little mind. Yet, the mystical education of a convent had one good result; it left her feelings in full force and her natural powers of mind uninjured. Stupid and plain as an heiress in the eyes of the world, she became intellectual and beautiful to her husband. During the first years of their married life, Balthazar endeavored to give her at least the knowledge that she needed to appear to advantage in good society: but he was doubtless too late, she had no memory but that of the heart. Josephine never forgot anything that Claes told her relating to themselves; she remembered the most trifling58 circumstances of their happy life; but of her evening studies nothing remained to her on the morrow.
This ignorance might have caused much discord between husband and wife, but Madame Claes’s understanding of the passion of love was so simple and ingenuous59, she loved her husband so religiously, so sacredly, and the thought of preserving her happiness made her so adroit60, that she managed always to seem to understand him, and it was seldom indeed that her ignorance was evident. Moreover, when two persons love one another so well that each day seems for them the beginning of their passion, phenomena61 arise out of this teeming62 happiness which change all the conditions of life. It resembles childhood, careless of all that is not laughter, joy, and merriment. Then, when life is in full activity, when its hearths63 glow, man lets the fire burn without thought or discussion, without considering either the means or the end.
No daughter of Eve ever more truly understood the calling of a wife than Madame Claes. She had all the submission64 of a Flemish woman, but her Spanish pride gave it a higher flavor. Her bearing was imposing65; she knew how to command respect by a look which expressed her sense of birth and dignity: but she trembled before Claes; she held him so high, so near to God, carrying to him every act of her life, every thought of her heart, that her love was not without a certain respectful fear which made it keener. She proudly assumed all the habits of a Flemish bourgeoisie, and put her self-love into making the home life liberally happy — preserving every detail of the house in scrupulous66 cleanliness, possessing nothing that did not serve the purposes of true comfort, supplying her table with the choicest food, and putting everything within those walls into harmony with the life of her heart.
The pair had two sons and two daughters. The eldest67, Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, now three years old, named Jean-Balthazar. The maternal68 sentiment in Madame Claes was almost equal to her love for her husband; and there rose in her soul, especially during the last days of her life, a terrible struggle between those nearly balanced feelings, of which the one became, as it were, an enemy of the other. The tears and the terror that marked her face at the moment when this tale of a domestic drama then lowering over the quiet house begins, were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband.
In 1805, Madame Claes’s brother died without children. The Spanish law does not allow a sister to succeed to territorial69 possessions, which follow the title; but the duke had left her in his will about sixty thousand ducats, and this sum the heirs of the collateral70 branch did not seek to retain. Though the feeling which united her to Balthazar Claes was such that no thought of personal interest could ever sully it, Josephine felt a certain pleasure in possessing a fortune equal to that of her husband, and was happy in giving something to one who had so nobly given everything to her. Thus, a mere71 chance turned a marriage which worldly minds had declared foolish, into an excellent alliance, seen from the standpoint of material interests. The use to which this sum of money should be put became, however, somewhat difficult to determine.
The House of Claes was so richly supplied with furniture, pictures, and objects of art of priceless value, that it was difficult to add anything worthy72 of what was already there. The tastes of the family through long periods of time had accumulated these treasures. One generation followed the quest of noble pictures, leaving behind it the necessity of completing a collection still unfinished; and thus the taste became hereditary73 in the family. The hundred pictures which adorned74 the gallery leading from the family building to the reception-rooms on the first floor of the front house, as well as some fifty others placed about the salons75, were the product of the patient researches of three centuries. Among them were choice specimens76 of Rubens, Ruysdael, Vandyke, Terburg, Gerard Dow, Teniers, Mieris, Paul Potter, Wouvermans, Rembrandt, Hobbema, Cranach, and Holbein. French and Italian pictures were in a minority, but all were authentic77 and masterly.
Another generation had fancied Chinese and Japanese porcelains78: this Claes was eager after rare furniture, that one for silver-ware; in fact, each and all had their mania79, their passion — a trait which belongs in a striking degree to the Flemish character. The father of Balthazar, a last relic80 of the once famous Dutch society, left behind him the finest known collection of tulips.
Besides these hereditary riches, which represented an enormous capital, and were the choice ornament81 of the venerable house — a house that was simple as a shell outside but, like a shell, adorned within by pearls of price and glowing with rich color — Balthazar Claes possessed a country-house on the plain of Orchies, not far from Douai. Instead of basing his expenses, as Frenchmen do, upon his revenues, he followed the old Dutch custom of spending only a fourth of his income. Twelve hundred ducats a year put his costs of living at a level with those of the richest men of the place. The promulgation82 of the Civil Code proved the wisdom of this course. Compelling, as it did, the equal division of property, the Title of Succession would some day leave each child with limited means, and disperse83 the treasures of the Claes collection. Balthazar, therefore, in concert with Madame Claes, invested his wife’s property so as to secure to each child a fortune eventually equal to his own. The house of Claes still maintained its moderate scale of living, and bought woodlands somewhat the worse for wars that had laid waste the country, but which in ten years’ time, if well-preserved, would return an enormous value.
The upper ranks of society in Douai, which Monsieur Claes frequented, appreciated so justly the noble character and qualities of his wife that, by tacit consent she was released from those social duties to which the provinces cling so tenaciously84. During the winter season, when she lived in town, she seldom went into society; society came to her. She received every Wednesday, and gave three grand dinners every month. Her friends felt that she was more at ease in her own house; where, indeed, her passion for her husband and the care she bestowed on the education of her children tended to keep her.
Such had been, up to the year 1809, the general course of this household, which had nothing in common with the ordinary run of conventional ideas, though the outward life of these two persons, secretly full of love and joy, was like that of other people. Balthazar Claes’s passion for his wife, which she had known how to perpetuate85, seemed, to use his own expression, to spend its inborn86 vigor87 and fidelity on the cultivation88 of happiness, which was far better than the cultivation of tulips (though to that he had always had a leaning), and dispensed89 him from the duty of following a mania like his ancestors.
At the close of this year, the mind and the manners of Balthazar Claes underwent a fatal change — a change which began so gradually that at first Madame Claes did not think it necessary to inquire the cause. One night her husband went to bed with a mind so preoccupied that she felt it incumbent90 on her to respect his mood. Her womanly delicacy and her submissive habits always led her to wait for Balthazar’s confidence; which, indeed, was assured to her by so constant an affection that she had never had the slightest opening for jealousy91. Though certain of obtaining an answer whenever she should make the inquiry92, she still retained enough of the earlier impressions of her life to dread93 a refusal. Besides, the moral malady94 of her husband had its phases, and only came by slow degrees to the intolerable point at which it destroyed the happiness of the family.
However occupied Balthazar Claes might be, he continued for several months cheerful, affectionate, and ready to talk; the change in his character showed itself only by frequent periods of absent-mindedness. Madame Claes long hoped to hear from her husband himself the nature of the secret employment in which he was engaged; perhaps, she thought, he would reveal it when it developed some useful result; many men are led by pride to conceal95 the nature of their efforts, and only make them known at the moment of success. When the day of triumph came, surely domestic happiness would return, more vivid than ever when Balthazar became aware of this chasm96 in the life of love, which his heart would surely disavow. Josephine knew her husband well enough to be certain that he would never forgive himself for having made his Pepita less than happy during several months.
She kept silence therefore, and felt a sort of joy in thus suffering by him for him: her passion had a tinge97 of that Spanish piety98 which allows no separation between religion and love, and believes in no sentiment without suffering. She waited for the return of her husband’s affection, saying daily to herself, “To-morrow it may come,"— treating her happiness as though it were an absent friend.
During this stage of her secret distress99, she conceived her last child. Horrible crisis, which revealed a future of anguish100! In the midst of her husband’s abstractions love showed itself on this occasion an abstraction even greater than the rest. Her woman’s pride, hurt for the first time, made her sound the depths of the unknown abyss which separated her from the Claes of earlier days. From that time Balthazar’s condition grew rapidly worse. The man formerly101 so wrapped up in his domestic happiness, who played for hours with his children on the parlor102 carpet or round the garden paths, who seemed able to exist only in the light of his Pepita’s dark eyes, did not even perceive her pregnancy103, seldom shared the family life, and even forgot his own.
The longer Madame Claes postponed104 inquiring into the cause of his preoccupation the less she dared to do so. At the very idea, her blood ran cold and her voice grew faint. At last the thought occurred to her that she had ceased to please her husband, and then indeed she was seriously alarmed. That fear now filled her mind, drove her to despair, then to feverish105 excitement, and became the text of many an hour of melancholy106 reverie. She defended Balthazar at her own expense, calling herself old and ugly; then she imagined a generous though humiliating consideration for her in this secret occupation by which he secured to her a negative fidelity; and she resolved to give him back his independence by allowing one of those unspoken divorces which make the happiness of many a marriage.
Before bidding farewell to conjugal life, Madame Claes made some attempt to read her husband’s heart, and found it closed. Little by little, she saw him become indifferent to all that he had formerly loved; he neglected his tulips, he cared no longer for his children. There could be no doubt that he was given over to some passion that was not of the heart, but which, to a woman’s mind, is not less withering107. His love was dormant108, not lost: this might be a consolation109, but the misfortune remained the same.
The continuance of such a state of things is explained by one word — hope, the secret of all conjugal situations. It so happened that whenever the poor woman reached a depth of despair which gave her courage to question her husband, she met with a few brief moments of happiness when she was able to feel that if Balthazar was indeed in the clutch of some devilish power, he was permitted, sometimes at least, to return to himself. At such moments, when her heaven brightened, she was too eager to enjoy its happiness to trouble him with importunate110 questions: later, when she endeavored to speak to him, he would suddenly escape, leave her abruptly111, or drop into the gulf112 of meditation113 from which no word of hers could drag him.
Before long the reaction of the moral upon the physical condition began its ravages114 — at first imperceptibly, except to the eyes of a loving woman following the secret thought of a husband through all its manifestations115. Often she could scarcely restrain her tears when she saw him, after dinner, sink into an armchair by the corner of the fireplace, and remain there, gloomy and abstracted. She noted116 with terror the slow changes which deteriorated117 that face, once, to her eyes, sublime118 through love: the life of the soul was retreating from it; the structure remained, but the spirit was gone. Sometimes the eyes were glassy, and seemed as if they had turned their gaze and were looking inward. When the children had gone to bed, and the silence and solitude119 oppressed her, Pepita would say, “My friend, are you ill?” and Balthazar would make no answer; or if he answered, he would come to himself with a quiver, like a man snatched suddenly from sleep, and utter a “No” so harsh and grating that it fell like a stone on the palpitating heart of his wife.
Though she tried to hide this strange state of things from her friends, Madame Claes was obliged sometimes to allude120 to it. The social world of Douai, in accordance with the custom of provincial121 towns, had made Balthazar’s aberrations122 a topic of conversation, and many persons were aware of certain details that were still unknown to Madame Claes. Disregarding the reticence123 which politeness demanded, a few friends expressed to her so much anxiety on the subject that she found herself compelled to defend her husband’s peculiarities124.
“Monsieur Claes,” she said, “has undertaken a work which wholly absorbs him; its success will eventually redound125 not only to the honor of the family but to that of his country.”
This mysterious explanation was too flattering to the ambition of a town whose local patriotism126 and desire for glory exceed those of other places, not to be readily accepted, and it produced on all minds a reaction in favor of Balthazar.
The supposition of his wife was, to a certain extent, well-founded. Several artificers of various trades had long been at work in the garret of the front house, where Balthazar went early every morning. After remaining, at first, for several hours, an absence to which his wife and household grew gradually accustomed, he ended by being there all day. But — unexpected shock! — Madame Claes learned through the humiliating medium of some women friends, who showed surprise at her ignorance, that her husband constantly imported instruments of physical science, valuable materials, books, machinery127, etc., from Paris, and was on the highroad to ruin in search of the Philosopher’s Stone. She ought, so her kind friends added, to think of her children, and her own future; it was criminal not to use her influence to draw Monsieur Claes from the fatal path on which he had entered.
Though Madame Claes, with the tone and manner of a great lady, silenced these absurd speeches, she was inwardly terrified in spite of her apparent confidence, and she resolved to break through her present system of silence and resignation. She brought about one of those little scenes in which husband and wife are on an equal footing; less timid at such a moment, she dared to ask Balthazar the reason for his change, the motive128 of his constant seclusion129. The Flemish husband frowned, and replied:—
“My dear, you could not understand it.”
Soon after, however, Josephine insisted on being told the secret, gently complaining that she was not allowed to share all the thoughts of one whose life she shared.
“Very well, since it interests you so much,” said Balthazar, taking his wife upon his knee and caressing130 her black hair, “I will tell you that I have returned to the study of chemistry, and I am the happiest man on earth.”
点击收听单词发音
1 diffusing | |
(使光)模糊,漫射,漫散( diffuse的现在分词 ); (使)扩散; (使)弥漫; (使)传播 | |
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2 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
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3 blemished | |
v.有损…的完美,玷污( blemish的过去式 ) | |
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4 begets | |
v.为…之生父( beget的第三人称单数 );产生,引起 | |
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5 bickering | |
v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 );口角;(水等)作潺潺声;闪烁 | |
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6 diligent | |
adj.勤勉的,勤奋的 | |
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7 crabbed | |
adj.脾气坏的;易怒的;(指字迹)难辨认的;(字迹等)难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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9 obstinate | |
adj.顽固的,倔强的,不易屈服的,较难治愈的 | |
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10 preoccupied | |
adj.全神贯注的,入神的;被抢先占有的;心事重重的v.占据(某人)思想,使对…全神贯注,使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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11 bestows | |
赠给,授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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12 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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13 lame | |
adj.跛的,(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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14 barometers | |
气压计,晴雨表( barometer的名词复数 ) | |
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15 equanimity | |
n.沉着,镇定 | |
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16 soften | |
v.(使)变柔软;(使)变柔和 | |
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17 asperities | |
n.粗暴( asperity的名词复数 );(表面的)粗糙;(环境的)艰苦;严寒的天气 | |
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18 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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19 stolidity | |
n.迟钝,感觉麻木 | |
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20 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
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21 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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22 conjugal | |
adj.婚姻的,婚姻性的 | |
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23 philosophical | |
adj.哲学家的,哲学上的,达观的 | |
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24 thwart | |
v.阻挠,妨碍,反对;adj.横(断的) | |
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25 fanaticism | |
n.狂热,盲信 | |
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26 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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27 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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28 ardor | |
n.热情,狂热 | |
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29 fidelity | |
n.忠诚,忠实;精确 | |
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30 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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31 realization | |
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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32 derive | |
v.取得;导出;引申;来自;源自;出自 | |
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33 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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34 joyously | |
ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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35 delicacy | |
n.精致,细微,微妙,精良;美味,佳肴 | |
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36 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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37 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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38 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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40 Fertilized | |
v.施肥( fertilize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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42 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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43 deformed | |
adj.畸形的;变形的;丑的,破相了的 | |
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44 glamour | |
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住 | |
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45 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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46 bestowed | |
赠给,授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
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48 ardent | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,强烈的,烈性的 | |
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49 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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50 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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51 attachments | |
n.(用电子邮件发送的)附件( attachment的名词复数 );附着;连接;附属物 | |
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52 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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53 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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54 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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55 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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56 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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57 ascetic | |
adj.禁欲的;严肃的 | |
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58 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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59 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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60 adroit | |
adj.熟练的,灵巧的 | |
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61 phenomena | |
n.现象 | |
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62 teeming | |
adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 );到处都是;(指水、雨等)暴降;倾注 | |
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63 hearths | |
壁炉前的地板,炉床,壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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64 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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65 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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66 scrupulous | |
adj.审慎的,小心翼翼的,完全的,纯粹的 | |
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67 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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68 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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69 territorial | |
adj.领土的,领地的 | |
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70 collateral | |
adj.平行的;旁系的;n.担保品 | |
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71 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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72 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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73 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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74 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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75 salons | |
n.(营业性质的)店( salon的名词复数 );厅;沙龙(旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所);(大宅中的)客厅 | |
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76 specimens | |
n.样品( specimen的名词复数 );范例;(化验的)抽样;某种类型的人 | |
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77 authentic | |
a.真的,真正的;可靠的,可信的,有根据的 | |
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78 porcelains | |
n.瓷,瓷器( porcelain的名词复数 ) | |
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79 mania | |
n.疯狂;躁狂症,狂热,癖好 | |
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80 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
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81 ornament | |
v.装饰,美化;n.装饰,装饰物 | |
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82 promulgation | |
n.颁布 | |
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83 disperse | |
vi.使分散;使消失;vt.分散;驱散 | |
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84 tenaciously | |
坚持地 | |
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85 perpetuate | |
v.使永存,使永记不忘 | |
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86 inborn | |
adj.天生的,生来的,先天的 | |
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87 vigor | |
n.活力,精力,元气 | |
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88 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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89 dispensed | |
v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 );施与;配(药) | |
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90 incumbent | |
adj.成为责任的,有义务的;现任的,在职的 | |
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91 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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92 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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93 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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94 malady | |
n.病,疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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95 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
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96 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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97 tinge | |
vt.(较淡)着色于,染色;使带有…气息;n.淡淡色彩,些微的气息 | |
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98 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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99 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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100 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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101 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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102 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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103 pregnancy | |
n.怀孕,怀孕期 | |
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104 postponed | |
vt.& vi.延期,缓办,(使)延迟vt.把…放在次要地位;[语]把…放在后面(或句尾)vi.(疟疾等)延缓发作(或复发) | |
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105 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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106 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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107 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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108 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
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109 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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110 importunate | |
adj.强求的;纠缠不休的 | |
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111 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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112 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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113 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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114 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
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115 manifestations | |
n.表示,显示(manifestation的复数形式) | |
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116 noted | |
adj.著名的,知名的 | |
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117 deteriorated | |
恶化,变坏( deteriorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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119 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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120 allude | |
v.提及,暗指 | |
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121 provincial | |
adj.省的,地方的;n.外省人,乡下人 | |
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122 aberrations | |
n.偏差( aberration的名词复数 );差错;脱离常规;心理失常 | |
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123 reticence | |
n.沉默,含蓄 | |
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124 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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125 redound | |
v.有助于;提;报应 | |
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126 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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127 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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128 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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129 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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130 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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