The phrases kept recurring1 to his mind after they had gone out, and as they wandered through the lighted streets with all their strange and variegated2 show, with glittering windows and glittering lamps, with the ebb3 and flow of faces, the voices and the laughter, the surging crowds about the theatre doors, the flashing hansoms and the omnibuses lumbering4 heavily along to strange regions, such as Turnham Green and Castlenau, Cricklewood and Stoke Newington — why, they were as unknown as cities in Cathay!
It was a dim, hot night; all the great city smoked as with a mist, and a tawny5 moon rose through films of cloud far in the vista6 of the east. Ambrose thought with a sudden recollection that the moon, that world of splendour, was shining in a farther land, on the coast of the wild rocks, on the heaving sea, on the faery apple-garths in Avalon, where, though the apples are always golden, yet the blossoms of enchantment7 never fade, but hang for ever against the sky.
They were passing a half-lit street, and these dreams were broken by the sudden clanging, rattling8 music of a piano-organ. For a moment they saw the shadowy figures of the children as they flitted to and fro, dancing odd measures in the rhythm of the tune9. Then they came into a long, narrow way with a church spire10 in the distance, and near the church they passed the “church-shop”— Roman, evidently, from the subjects and the treatment of the works of art on view. But it was strange! In the middle of the window was a crude, glaring statue of some saint. He was in bright red robes, sprinkled with golden stars; the blood rained down from a wound in his forehead, and with one hand he drew the scarlet11 vestment aside and pointed12 to the dreadful gash14 above his heart, and from this, again, the bloody15 drops fell thick. The colours stared and shrieked16, and yet, through the bad, cheap art there seemed to shine a rapture17 that was very near to beauty; the thing expressed was so great that it had to a certain extent overcome the villainy of the expression.
They wandered vaguely19, after their custom. Ambrose was silent; he was thinking of Avalon and “Red Martyrdom” and the Frenchman’s parting salutation, of the vision in one of the old books, “the Man clothed in a robe redder and more shining than burning fire, and his feet and his hands and his face were of a like flame, and five angels in fiery20 vesture stood about him, and at the feet of the Man the ground was covered with a ruddy dew.”
They passed under an old church tower that rose white in the moonlight above them. The air had cleared, the mist had floated away, and now the sky glowed violet, and the white stones of the classic spirit shone on high. From it there came suddenly a tumult21 of glad sound, exultant22 bells in ever-changing order, pealing23 out as if to honour some great victory, so that the mirth of the street below became but a trivial restless noise. He thought of some passage that he had read but could not distinctly remember: a ship was coming back to its haven25 after a weary and tempestuous26 voyage over many dreadful seas, and those on board saw the tumult in the city as their sails were sighted; heard afar the shouts of gladness from the rejoicing people; heard the bells from all the spires27 and towers break suddenly into triumphant28 chorus, sounding high above the washing of the waves.
Ambrose roused himself from his dreams. They had been walking in a circle and had returned almost to the street of the Chateau29, though, their knowledge of the district being of an unscientific character, they were under the impression that they were a mile or so away from that particular point. As it happened, they had not entered this street before, and they were charmed at the sudden appearance of stained glass lighted up from within. The colour was rich and good; there were flourished scrolls30 and grotesques31 in the Renaissance32 manner, many emblazoned shields in ruby33 and gold and azure34; and the centre-piece showed the Court of the Beer King — a jovial35 and venerable figure attended by a host of dwarfs36 and kobolds, all holding on high enormous mugs of beer. They went in boldly and were glad. It was the famous “Three Kings” in its golden and unreformed days, but this they knew not. The room was of moderate size, very low, with great dark beams in the white ceiling. White were the walls; on the plaster, black-letter texts with vermilion initials praised the drinker’s art, and more kobolds, in black and red, loomed37 oddly in unsuspected corners. The lighting38, presumably, was gas, but all that was visible were great antique lanterns depending from iron hooks, and through their dull green glass only a dim radiance fell upon the heavy oak tables and the drinkers. From the middle beam an enormous bouquet39 of fresh hops40 hung on high; there was a subdued41 murmur42 of talk, and now and then the clatter43 of the lid of a mug, as fresh beer was ordered. In one corner there was a kind of bar; behind it a couple of grim women — the kobolds apparently44 — performed their office; and above, on a sort of rack, hung mugs and tankards of all sizes and of all fantasies. There were plain mugs of creamy earthenware45, mugs gaudily46 and oddly painted with garlanded goats, with hunting scenes, with towering castles, with flaming posies of flowers. Then some friend of the drunken, some sage24 who had pried47 curiously48 into the secrets of thirst, had made a series of wonders in glass, so shining and crystalline that to behold49 them was as if one looked into a well, for every glitter of the facets50 gave promise of satisfaction. There were the mugs, capacious and very deep, crowned for the most part not with mere51 plain lids of common use and make, but with tall spires in pewter, richly ornamented52, evident survivals from the Middle Ages. Ambrose’s eyes glistened53; the place was altogether as he would have designed it. Nelly, too, was glad to sit down, for they had walked longer than usual. She was refreshed by a glass of some cool drink with a borage flower and a cherry floating in it, and Ambrose ordered a mug of beer.
It is not known how many of these krugs he emptied. It was, as has been noted54, a sultry night, and the streets were dusty, and that glass of Benedictine after dinner rather evokes55 than dismisses the demon56 of thirst. Still, Munich beer is no hot and rebellious57 drink, so the causes of what followed must probably be sought for in other springs. Ambrose took a deep draught58, gazed upward to the ceiling, and ordered another mug of beer for himself and some more of the cool and delicate and flowery beverage59 for Nelly. When the drink was set upon the board, he thus began, without title or preface:
“You must know, Nelly dear,” he said, “that the marriage of Panurge, which fell out in due time (according to the oracle60 and advice of the Holy Bottle), was by no means a fortunate one. For, against all the counsel of Pantagruel and of Friar John, and indeed of all his friends, Panurge married in a fit of spleen and obstinacy62 the crooked63 and squinting64 daughter of the little old man who sold green sauce in the Rue61 Quincangrogne at Tours — you will see the very place in a few days, and then you will understand everything. You do not understand that? My child, that is impiety65, since it accuses the Zeitgest, who is certainly the only god that ever existed, as you will see more fully66 demonstrated in Huxley and Spencer and all the leading articles in all the leading newspapers. Quod erat demonstrandum. To be still more precise: You must know that when I am dead, and a very great man indeed, many thousands of people will come from all the quarters of the globe — not forgetting the United States — to Lupton. They will come and stare very hard at the Old Grange, which will have an inscription67 about me on the wall; they will spend hours in High School; they will walk all round Playing Fields; they will cut little bits off ‘brooks’ and ‘quarries.’ Then they will view the Sulphuric Acid works, the Chemical Manure68 factory and the Free Library, and whatever other stink-pots and cesspools Lupton town may contain; they will finally enjoy the view of the Midland Railway Goods Station. Then they will say: ‘Now we understand him; now one sees how he got all his inspiration in that lovely old school and the wonderful English country-side.’ So you see that when I show you the Rue Quincangrogne you will perfectly69 understand this history. Let us drink; the world shall never be drowned again, so have no fear.
“Well, the fact remains70 that Panurge, having married this hideous71 wench aforesaid, was excessively unhappy. It was in vain that he argued with his wife in all known languages and in some that are unknown, for, as she said, she only knew two languages, the one of Touraine and the other of the Stick, and this second she taught Panurge per modum passionis— that is by beating him, and this so thoroughly72 that poor Pilgarlic was sore from head to foot. He was a worthy73 little fellow, but the greatest coward that ever breathed. Believe me, illustrious drinkers and most precious. . . . Nelly, never was man so wretched as this Panurge since Paradise fell from Adam. This is the true doctrine75; I heard it when I was at Eleusis. You enquire76 what was the matter? Why, in the first place, this vile77 wretch74 whom they all called — so much did they hate her — La Vie Mortale, or Deadly Life, this vile wretch, I say: what do you think that she did when the last note of the fiddles78 had sounded and the wedding guests had gone off to the ‘Three Lampreys’ to kill a certain worm — the which worm is most certainly immortal79, since it is not dead yet! Well, then, what did Madame Panurge? Nothing but this: She robbed her excellent and devoted80 husband of all that he had. Doubtless you remember how, in the old days, Panurge had played ducks and drakes with the money that Pantagruel had given him, so that he borrowed on his corn while it was still in the ear, and before it was sown, if we enquire a little more closely. In truth, the good little man never had a penny to bless himself withal, for the which cause Pantagruel loved him all the more dearly. So that when the Dive Bouteille gave its oracle, and Panurge chose his spouse81, Pantagruel showed how preciously he esteemed82 a hearty83 spender by giving him such a treasure that the goldsmiths who live under the bell of St. Gatien still talk of it before they dine, because by doing so their mouths water, and these salivary84 secretions85 are of high benefit to the digestion86: read on this, Galen. If you would know how great and glorious this treasure was, you must go to the Library of the Archevêché at Tours, where they will show you a vast volume bound in pigskin, the name of which I have forgotten. But this book is nothing else than the list of all the wonders and glories of Pantagruel’s wedding present to Panurge; it contains surprising things, I can tell you, for, in good coin of the realm alone, never was gift that might compare with it; and besides the common money there were ancient pieces, the very names of which are now incomprehensible, and incomprehensible they will remain till the coming of the Coqcigrues. There was, for instance, a great gold Sol, a world in itself, as some said truly, and I know not how many myriad87 myriad of étoiles, all of the finest silver that was ever minted, and Anges–Gardiens, which the learned think must have been first coined at Angers, though others will have it that they were the same as our Angels; and, as for Roses de Paradis and Couronnes Immortelles, I believe he had as many of them as ever he would. Beauties and joys he was to keep for pocket-money; small change is sometimes great gain. And, as I say, no sooner had Panurge married that accursed daughter of the Rue Quincangrogne than she robbed him of everything, down to the last brass88 farthing. The fact is that the woman was a witch; she was also something else which I leave out for the present. But, if you will believe me, she cast such a spell upon Panurge that he thought himself an absolute beggar. Thus he would look at his Sol d’Or and say: ‘What is the use of that? It is only a great bright lump: I can see it every day.’ Then when they said, ‘But how about those Anges–Gardiens?’ he would reply, ‘Where are they? Have you seen them? I never see them. Show them to me,’ and so with all else; and all the while that villain18 of a woman beat, thumped89 and belaboured him so that the tears were always in his eyes, and they say you could hear him howling all over the world. Everybody said that he had made a pretty mess of it, and would come to a bad end.
“Luckily for him, this . . . witch of a wife of his would sometimes doze90 off for a few minutes, and then he had a little peace, and he would wonder what had become of all the gay girls and gracious ladies that he had known in old times — for he had played the devil with the women in his day and could have taught Ovid lessons in arte amoris. Now, of course, it was as much as his life was worth to mention the very name of one of these ladies, and as for any little sly visits, stolen endearments91, hidden embraces, or any small matters of that kind, it was good-bye, I shall see you next Nevermas. Nor was this all, but worse remains behind; and it is my belief that it is the thought of what I am going to tell you that makes the wind wail92 and cry of winter nights, and the clouds weep, and the sky look black; for in truth it is the greatest sorrow that ever was since the beginning of the world. I must out with it quick, or I shall never have done: in plain English, and as true as I sit here drinking good ale, not one drop or minim or drachm or pennyweight of drink had Panurge tasted since the day of his wedding! He had implored93 mercy, he had told her how he had served Gargantua and Pantagruel and had got into the habit of drinking in his sleep, and his wife had merely advised him to go to the devil — she was not going to let him so much as look at the nasty stuff. ‘“Touch not, taste not, smell not,” is my motto,’ said she. She gave him a blue ribbon, which she said would make up for it. ‘What do you want with Drink?’ said she. ‘Go and do business instead, it’s much better for you.’
“Sad, then, and sorry enough was the estate of poor Panurge. At last, so wretched did he become, that he took advantage of one of his wife’s dozes94 and stole away to the good Pantagruel, and told him the whole story — and a very bad one it was — so that the tears rolled down Pantagruel’s cheeks from sheer grief, and each teardrop contained exactly one hundred and eighteen gallons of aqueous fluid, according to the calculations of the best geometers. The great man saw that the case was a desperate one, and Heaven knew, he said, whether it could be mended or not; but certain it was that a business such as this could not be settled in a hurry, since it was not like a game at shove-ha’penny to be got over between two gallons of wine. He therefore counselled Panurge to have patience and bear with his wife for a few thousand years, and in the meantime they would see what could be done. But, lest his patience should wear out, he gave him an odd drug or medicine, prepared by the great artist of the Mountains of Cathay, and this he was to drop into his wife’s glass — for though he might have no drink, she was drunk three times a day, and she would sleep all the longer, and leave him awhile in peace. This Panurge very faithfully performed, and got a little rest now and again, and they say that while that devil of a woman snored and snorted he was able, by odd chances once or twice, to get hold of a drop of the right stuff — good old Stingo from the big barrel — which he lapped up as eagerly as a kitten laps cream. Others there be who declare that once or twice he got about his sad old tricks, while his ugly wife was sleeping in the sun; the women on the Maille make no secret of their opinion that his old mistress, Madame Sophia, was seen stealing in and out of the house as slyly as you please, and God knows what goes on when the door is shut. But the Tourainians were always sad gossips, and one must not believe all that one hears. I leave out the flat scandal-mongers who are bold enough to declare that he kept one mistress at Jerusalem, another at Eleusis, another in Egypt and about as many as are contained in the seraglio of the Grand Turk, scattered95 up and down in the towns and villages of Asia; but I do believe there was some kissing in dark corners, and a curtain hung across one room in the house could tell odd tales. Nevertheless, La Vie Mortale (a pest on her!) was more often awake than asleep, and when she was awake Panurge’s case was worse than ever. For, you see, the woman was no piece of a fool, and she saw sure enough that something was going on. The Stingo in the barrel was lower than of rights, and more than once she had caught her husband looking almost happy, at which she beat the house about his ears. Then, another time, Madame Sophia dropped her ring, and again this sweet lady came one morning so strongly perfumed that she scented96 the whole place, and when La Vie woke up it smelt97 like a church. There was fine work then, I promise you; the people heard the bangs and curses and shrieks98 and groans99 as far as Amboise on the one side and Luynes on the other; and that year the Loire rose ten feet higher than the banks on account of Panurge’s tears. As a punishment, she made him go and be industrial, and he built ten thousand stink-pot factories with twenty thousand chimneys, and all the leaves and trees and green grass and flowers in the world were blackened and died, and all the waters were poisoned so that there were no perch100 in the Loire, and salmon101 fetched forty sols the pound at Chinon market. As for the men and women, they became yellow apes and listened to a codger named Calvin, who told them they would all be damned eternally (except himself and his friends), and they found his doctrine very comforting, and probable too, since they had the sense to know that they were more than half damned already. I don’t know whether Panurge’s fate was worse on this occasion or on another when his wife found a book in his writing, full from end to end of poetry; some of it about the wonderful treasure that Pantagruel had given him, which he was supposed to have forgotten. Some of it verses to those old light-o’-loves of his, with a whole epic102 in praise of his mistress-in-chief, Sophia. Then, indeed, there was the very deuce to pay; it was bread and water, stripes and torment103, all day long, and La Vie swore a great oath that if he ever did it again he should be sent to spend the rest of his life in Manchester, whereupon he fell into a swoon from horrid104 fright and lay like a log, so that everybody thought he was dead.
“All this while the great Pantagruel was not idle. Perceiving how desperate the matter was, he summoned the Thousand and First Great OEcumenical Council of all the sages105 of the wide world, and when the fathers had come, and had heard High Mass at St. Gatien’s, the session was opened in a pavilion in the meadows by the Loire just under the Lanterne of Roche Corbon, whence this Council is always styled the great and holy Council of the Lantern. If you want to know where the place is you can do so very easily, for there is a choice tavern106 on the spot where the pavilion stood, and there you may have malelotte and friture and amber107 wine of Vouvray, better than in any tavern in Touraine. As for the history of the acts of this great Council, it is still a-writing, and so far only two thousand volumes in elephant folio have been printed sub signo Lucern? cum permissu superiorum. However, as it is necessary to be brief, it may be said that the holy fathers of the Lantern, after having heard the whole case as it was exposed to them by the great clerks of Pantagruel, having digested all the arguments, looked into the precedents108, applied109 themselves to the doctrine, explored the hidden wisdom, consulted the Canons, searched the Scriptures110, divided the dogma, distinguished111 the distinctions and answered the questions, resolved with one voice that there was no help in the world for Panurge, save only this: he must forthwith achieve the most high, noble and glorious quest of the Sangraal, for no other way was there under heaven by which he might rid himself of that pestilent wife of his, La Vie Mortale.
“And on some other occasion,” said Ambrose, “you may hear of the last voyage of Panurge to the Glassy Isle112 of the Holy Graal, of the incredible adventures that he achieved, of the dread13 perils113 through which he passed, of the great wonders and marvels114 and compassions of the way, of the manner in which he received the title Plentyn y Tonau, which signifies ‘Child of the Waterfloods,’ and how at last he gloriously attained115 the vision of the Sangraal, and was most happily translated out of the power of La Vie Mortale.”
“And where is he now?” said Nelly, who had found the tale interesting but obscure.
“It is not precisely116 known — opinions vary. But there are two odd things: one is that he is exactly like that man in the red dress whose statue we saw in the shop window to-night; and the other is that from that day to this he has never been sober for a single minute.
“Calix meus inebrians quam pr?clarus est!”
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1
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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shrieked
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rapture
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villain
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vaguely
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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pealing
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sage
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haven
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tempestuous
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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chateau
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scrolls
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| n.（常用于录写正式文件的）纸卷( scroll的名词复数 )；卷轴；涡卷形（装饰）；卷形花纹v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的第三人称单数 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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grotesques
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| n.衣着、打扮、五官等古怪，不协调的样子( grotesque的名词复数 ) | |
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renaissance
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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dwarfs
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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subdued
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| 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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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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45
earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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46
gaudily
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| adv.俗丽地 | |
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47
pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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49
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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50
facets
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| n.（宝石或首饰的）小平面( facet的名词复数 )；（事物的）面；方面 | |
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51
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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52
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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55
evokes
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| 产生，引起，唤起( evoke的第三人称单数 ) | |
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56
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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57
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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58
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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59
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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61
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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62
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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impiety
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| n.不敬；不孝 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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68
manure
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| n.粪，肥，肥粒；vt.施肥 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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74
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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75
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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76
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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salivary
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| adj. 唾液的 | |
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secretions
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| n.分泌（物）( secretion的名词复数 ) | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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endearments
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| n.表示爱慕的话语，亲热的表示( endearment的名词复数 ) | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dozes
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| n.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的名词复数 )v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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97
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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100
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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101
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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102
epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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103
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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104
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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105
sages
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| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
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106
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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107
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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108
precedents
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| 引用单元； 范例( precedent的名词复数 )； 先前出现的事例； 前例； 先例 | |
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109
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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110
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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111
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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112
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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113
perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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114
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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116
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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