On a dark, dark night, moonless, starless, skyless, on the trembling whiteness of a vast ledge2 of snow, slowly a long rope unrolled itself, to which were attached in file certain timorous3 and very small shades, preceded, at the distance of a hundred feet, by a lantern casting a red light along the way. Blows of an ice-axe ringing on the hard snow, the roll of the ice blocks thus detached, alone broke the silence of the névé on which the steps of the caravan4 made no sound. From minute to minute, a cry, a smothered5 groan6, the fall of a body on the ice, and then immediately a strong voice sounding from the end of the rope: “Go gently, Gonzague, and don’t fall.” For poor Bompard had made up his mind to follow his friend Tartarin to the summit of Mont Blanc. Since two in the morning — it was now four by the president’s repeater — the hapless courier had groped along, a galley7 slave on the chain, dragged, pushed, vacillating, balking8, compelled to restrain the varied9 exclamations10 extorted11 from him by his mishaps12, for an avalanche13 was on the watch, and the slightest concussion14, a mere15 vibration16 of the crystalline air, might send down its masses of snow and ice. To suffer in silence! what torture to a native of Tarascon!
But the caravan halted. Tartarin asked why. A discussion in low voice was heard; animated17 whisperings: “It is your companion who won’t come on,” said the Swedish student. The order of march was broken; the human chaplet returned upon itself, and they found themselves all at the edge of a vast crevasse18, called by the mountaineers a roture. Preceding ones they had crossed by means of a ladder, over which they crawled on their hands and knees; here the crevasse was much wider and the ice-cliff rose on the other side to a height of eighty or a hundred feet. It was necessary to descend19 to the bottom of the gully, which grew smaller as it went down, by means of steps cut in the ice, and to reascend in the same way on the other side. But Bompard obstinately20 refused to do so.
Leaning over the abyss, which the shadows represented as bottomless, he watched through the damp vapour the movements of the little lantern by which the guides below were preparing the way. Tartarin, none too easy himself, warmed his own courage by exhorting21 his friend: “Come now, Gonzague, zou!“ and then in a lower voice coaxed22 him to honour, invoked23 the banner, Tarascon, the Club . . .
“Ah! va?, the Club indeed!.. I don’t belong to it,” replied the other, cynically24.
Then Tartarin explained to him where to set his feet, and assured him that nothing was easier.
“For you, perhaps, but not for me . . . ” “But you said you had a habit of it . . . ” ”Bé! yes! habit, of course . . . which habit? I have so many . . . habit of smoking, sleeping . . . ” “And lying, especially,” interrupted the president.
“Exaggerating — come now!” said Bompard, not the least in the world annoyed.
However, after much hesitation25, the threat of leaving him there all alone decided26 him to go slowly, deliberately27, down that terrible miller’s ladder . . . The going up was more difficult, for the other face was nearly perpendicular28, smooth as marble, and higher than King Rene’s tower at Tarascon. From below, the winking29 light of the guides going up, looked like a glow-worm on the march. He was forced to follow, however, for the snow beneath his feet was not solid, and gurgling sounds of circulating water heard round a fissure30 told of more than could be seen at the foot of that wall of ice, of depths that were sending upward the chilling breath of subterranean31 abysses.
“Go gently, Gonzague, for fear of falling . . . ” That phrase, which Tartarin uttered with tender intonations32, almost supplicating33, borrowed a solemn signification from the respective positions of the ascensionists, clinging with feet and hands one above the other to the wall, bound by the rope and the similarity of their movements, so that the fall or the awkwardness of one put all in danger. And what danger! coquin de sort! It sufficed to hear fragments of the ice-wall bounding and dashing downward with the echo of their fall to imagine the open jaws34 of the monster watching there below to snap you up at the least false step.
But what is this?.. Lo, the tall Swede, next above Tartarin, has stopped and touches with his iron heels the cap of the P. C. A. In vain the guides called: “Forward!..” And the president: “Go on, young man!..” He did not stir. Stretched at full length, clinging to the ice with careless hand, the Swede leaned down, the glimmering35 dawn touching36 his scanty37 beard and giving light to the singular expression of his dilated38 eyes, while he made a sign to Tartarin:—
“What a fall, hey? if one let go . . . ”
“Outre! I should say so . . . you would drag us all down . . . Go on!”
The other remained motionless.
“A fine chance to be done with life, to return into chaos39 through the bowels40 of the earth, and roll from fissure to fissure like that bit of ice which I kick with my foot . . . ” And he leaned over frightfully to watch the fragment bounding downward and echoing endlessly in the blackness.
“Take care!..” cried Tartarin, livid with terror. Then, desperately42 clinging to the oozing43 wall, he resumed, with hot ardour, his argument of the night before in favour of existence. “There’s good in it . . . What the deuce!.. At your age, a fine young fellow like you . . . Don’t you believe in love, qué!“
No, the Swede did not believe in it. Ideal love is a poet’s lie; the other, only a need he had never felt . . .
“Bé! yes! bé! yes!.. It is true poets lie, they always say more than there is; but for all that, she is nice, the femellan— that’s what they call women in our parts. Besides, there’s children, pretty little darlings that look like us.”
“Children! a source of grief. Ever since she had them my mother has done nothing but weep.”
“Listen, Otto, you know me, my good friend . . . ”
And with all the valorous ardour of his soul Tartarin exhausted44 himself to revive and rub to life at that distance this victim of Schopenhauer and of Hartmann, two rascals45 he’d like to catch at the corner of a wood, coquin de sort! and make them pay for all the harm they had done to youth . . .
Represent to yourselves during this discussion the high wall of freezing, glaucous, streaming ice touched by a pallid46 ray of light, and that string of human beings glued to it in echelon47, with ill-omened rumblings rising from the yawning depth, together with the curses of the guides and their threats to detach and abandon the travellers. Tartarin, seeing that no argument could convince the madman or clear off his vertigo48 of death, suggested to him the idea of throwing himself from the highest peak of the Mont Blanc . . . That indeed! that would be worth doing, up there! A fine end among the elements . . . But here, at the bottom of a cave . . . Ah! va?, what a blunder!.. And he put such tone into his words, brusque and yet persuasive49, such conviction, that the Swede allowed himself to be conquered, and there they were, at last, one by one, at the top of that terrible roture.
They were now unroped, and a halt was called for a bite and sup. It was daylight; a cold wan50 light among a circle of peaks and shafts51, overtopped by the Mont Blanc, still thousands of feet above them. The guides were apart, gesticulating and consulting, with many shakings of the head. Seated on the white ground, heavy and huddled52 up, their round backs in their brown jackets, they looked like marmots getting ready to hibernate53. Bompard and Tartarin, uneasy, shocked, left the young Swede to eat alone, and came up to the guides just as their leader was saying with a grave air:—
“He is smoking his pipe; there’s no denying it.”
“Who is smoking his pipe?” asked Tartarin.
“Mont Blanc, monsieur; look there . . . ”
And the guide pointed54 to the extreme top of the highest peak, where, like a plume55, a white vapour floated toward Italy.
“Et autremain, my good friend, when the Mont Blanc smokes his pipe, what does that mean?”
“It means, monsieur, that there is a terrible wind on the summit, and a snow-storm which will be down upon us before long. And I tell you, that’s dangerous.”
“Let us go back,” said Bompard, turning green; and Tartarin added:—
“Yes, yes, certainly; no false vanity, of course.”
But here the Swedish student interfered56. He had paid his money to be taken to the top of Mont Blanc, and nothing should prevent his getting there. He would go alone, if no one would accompany him. “Cowards! cowards!” he added, turning to the guides; and he uttered the insult in the same ghostly voice with which he had roused himself just before to suicide.
“You shall see if we are cowards . . . Fasten to the rope and forward!” cried the head guide. This time, it was Bompard who protested energetically. He had had enough, and he wanted to be taken back. Tartarin supported him vigorously.
“You see very well that that young man is insane . . . ” he said, pointing to the Swede, who had already started with great strides through the heavy snow-flakes which the wind was beginning to whirl on all sides. But nothing could stop the men who had just been called cowards. The marmots were now wide-awake and heroic. Tartarin could not even obtain a conductor to take him back with Bompard to the Grands-Mulets. Besides, the way was very easy; three hours’ march, counting a detour57 of twenty minutes to get round that roture, if they were afraid to go through it alone.
“Outre! yes, we are afraid of it . . . ” said Bompard, without the slightest shame; and the two parties separated.
Bompard and the P. C. A. were now alone. They advanced with caution on the snowy desert, fastened to a rope: Tartarin first, feeling his way gravely with his ice-axe; filled with a sense of responsibility and finding relief in it.
“Courage! keep cool!.. We shall get out of it all right,” he called to Bompard repeatedly. It is thus that an officer in battle, seeking to drive away his own fear, brandishes58 his sword and shouts to his men: “Forward! s. n. de D!.. all balls don’t kill.”
At last, here they were at the end of that horrible crevasse. From there to the hut there were no great obstacles; but the wind blew, and blinded them with snowy whirlwinds. Further advance was impossible for fear of losing their way.
“Let us stop here for a moment,” said Tartarin. A gigantic sérac of ice offered them a hollow at its base. Into it they crept, spreading down the india-rubber rug of the president and opening a flask59 of rum, the sole article of provision left them by the guides. A little warmth and comfort followed thereon, while the blows of the ice-axes, getting fainter and fainter up the height, told them of the progress of the expedition. They echoed in the heart of the P. C. A. like a pang60 of regret for not having done the Mont Blanc to the summit.
“Who ‘ll know it?” returned Bompard, cynically. “The porters kept the banner, and Chamonix will believe it is you.”
“You are right,” cried Tartarin, in a tone of conviction; “the honour of Tarascon is safe . . . ”
But the elements grew furious, the north-wind a hurricane, the snow flew in volumes. Both were silent, haunted by sinister61 ideas; they remembered those ill-omened relics62 in the glass case of the old inn-keeper, his laments63, the legend of that American tourist found petrified64 with cold and hunger, holding in his stiffened65 hand a note-book, in which his agonies were written down even to the last convulsion, which made the pencil slip and the signature uneven66.
“Have you a note-book, Gonzague?”
And the other, comprehending without further explanation:—
“Ha! va?, a note-book!.. If you think I am going to let myself die like that American!.. Quick, let’s get on! come out of this.”
“Impossible . . . At the first step we should be blown like straws and pitched into some abyss.”
“Well then, we had better shout; the Grands-Mulets is not far off . . . ” And Bompard, on his knees, in the attitude of a cow at pasture, lowing, roared out, “Help! help! help!..”
“To arms!” shouted Tartarin, in his most sonorous67 chest voice, which the grotto68 repercussioned in thunder.
Bompard seized his arm: “Horrors! the sérac!“.. Positively69 the whole block was trembling; another shout and that mass of accumulated icicles would be down upon their heads. They stopped, rigid70, motionless, wrapped in a horrid71 silence, presently broken by a distant rolling sound, coming nearer, increasing, spreading to the horizon, and dying at last far down, from gulf72 to gulf.
“Poor souls!” murmured Tartarin, thinking of the Swede and his guides caught, no doubt, and swept away by the avalanche.
Bompard shook his head: “We are scarcely better off than they,” he said.
And truly, their situation was alarming; but they did not dare to stir from their icy grotto, nor to risk even their heads outside in the squall.
To complete the oppression of their hearts, from the depths of the valley rose the howling of a dog, baying at death. Suddenly Tartarin, with swollen73 eyes, his lips quivering, grasped the hands of his companion, and looking at him gently, said:—
“Forgive me, Gonzague, yes, yes, forgive me. I was rough to you just now; I treated you as a liar74 . . . ”
“Ah! va?. What harm did that do me?”
“I had less right than any man to do so, for I have lied a great deal myself, and at this supreme75 moment I feel the need to open my heart, to free my bosom76, to publicly confess my imposture77 . . . ”
“Imposture, you?”
“Listen to me, my friend . . . In the first place, I never killed a lion.”
“I am not surprised at that,” said Bompard, composedly. “But why do you worry yourself for such a trifle?.. It is our sun that does it . . . we are born to lies . . . Vé! look at me . . . Did I ever tell the truth since I came into the world? As soon as I open my mouth my South gets up into my head like a fit. The people I talk about I never knew; the countries, I ‘ve never set foot in them; and all that makes such a tissue of inventions that I can’t unravel78 it myself any longer.”
“That’s imagination, péchère!“ sighed Tartarin; “we are liars79 of imagination.”
“And such lies never do any harm to any one; whereas a malicious80, envious81 man, like Coste-calde . . . ”
“Don’t ever speak to me of that wretch,” interrupted the P. C. A.; then, seized with a sudden attack of wrath82, he shouted: ”Coquin de bon sorti it is, all the same, rather vexing83 . . . ” He stopped, at a terrified gesture from Bompard, “Ah! yes, true . . . the sérac;” and, forced to lower his tone and mutter his rage, poor Tartarin continued his imprecations in a whisper, with a comical and amazing dislocation of the mouth — “yes, vexing to die in the flower of one’s age through the fault of a scoundrel who at this very moment is taking his coffee on the Promenade84!..”
But while he thus fulminated, a clear spot began to show itself, little by little, in the sky. It snowed no more, it blew no more; and blue dashes tore away the gray of the sky. Quick, quick, en route; and once more fastened to the same rope, Tartarin, who took the lead as before, turned round, put a finger on his lips, and said:—
“You know, Gonzague, that all we have just been saying is between ourselves.”
“Té! pardi . . . ”
Full of ardour, they started, plunging85 to their knees in the fresh snow, which had buried in its immaculate cotton-wool all the traces of the caravan; consequently Tartarin was forced to consult his compass every five minutes. But that Taras-conese compass, accustomed to warm climates, had been numb86 with cold ever since its arrival in Switzerland. The needle whirled to all four quarters, agitated87, hesitating; therefore they determined88 to march straight before them, expecting to see the black rocks of the Grands-Mulets rise suddenly from the uniform silent whiteness of the slope, the peaks, the turrets89, and aiguilles that surrounded, dazzled, and also terrified them, for who knew what dangerous crevasses90 it concealed91 beneath their feet?
“Keep cool, Gonzague, keep cool!”
“That ’s just what I can’t do,” responded Bom-pard, in a lamentable92 voice. And he moaned: ”A?e, my foot!.. a?e, my leg!.. we are lost; never shall we get there . . . ”
They had walked for over two hours when, about the middle of a field of snow very difficult to climb, Bompard called out, quite terrified:—
“Tartarin, we are going up!“
“Eh! parbleu! I know that well enough,” returned the P. C. A., almost losing his serenity93.
“But according to my ideas, we ought to be going down.”
“Be! yes! but how can I help it? Let’s go on to the top, at any rate; it may go down on the other side.”
It went down certainly — and terribly, by a succession of névés and glaciers94, and quite at the end of this dazzling scene of dangerous whiteness a little hut was seen upon a rock at a depth which seemed to them unattainable. It was a haven95 that they must reach before nightfall, inasmuch as they had evidently lost the way to the Grands-Mulets, but at what cost! what efforts! what dangers, perhaps!
“Above all, don’t let go of me, Gonzague, qué!..”
“Nor you either, Tartarin.”
They exchanged these requests without seeing each other, being separated by a ridge96 behind which Tartarin disappeared, being in advance and beginning to descend, while the other was going up, slowly and in terror. They spoke97 no more, concentrating all their forces, fearful of a false step, a slip. Suddenly, when Bompard was within three feet of the crest98, he heard a dreadful cry from his companion, and at the same instant, the rope tightened99 with a violent, irregular jerk . . . He tried to resist, to hold fast himself and save his friend from the abyss. But the rope was old, no doubt, for it parted, suddenly, under his efforts.
“Outre!“
“Boufre!“
The two cries crossed each other, awful, heartrending, echoing through the silence and solitude100, then a frightful41 stillness, the stillness of death that nothing more could trouble in that waste of eternal snows.
Towards evening a man who vaguely101 resembled Bompard, a spectre with its hair on end, muddy, soaked, arrived at the inn of the Grands-Mulets, where they rubbed him, warmed him, and put him to bed, before he could utter other words than these — choked with tears, and his hands raised to heaven: “Tartarin . . . lost!.. broken rope . . . ” At last, however, they were able to make out the great misfortune which had happened.
While the old hut-man was lamenting102 and adding another chapter to the horrors of the mountain, hoping for fresh ossuary relics for his charnel glass-case, the Swedish youth and his guides, who had returned from their expedition, set off in search of the hapless Tartarin with ropes, ladders, in short a whole life-saving outfit103, alas104! unavailing . . . Bompard, rendered half idiotic105, could give no precise indications as to the drama, nor as to the spot where it happened. They found nothing except, on the D?me du Go?ter, one piece of rope which was caught in a cleft106 of the ice. But that piece of rope, very singular thing! was cut at both ends, as with some sharp instrument; the Chambéry newspapers gave a facsimile of it, which proved the fact.
Finally, after eight days of the most conscientious107 search, and when the conviction became irresistible108 that the poor president would never be found, that he was lost beyond recall, the despairing delegates started for Tarascon, taking with them the unhappy Bompard, whose shaken brain was a visible result of the terrible shock.
“Do not talk to me about it,” he replied when questioned as to the accident, “never speak to me about it again!”
Undoubtedly109 the White Mountain could reckon one victim the more — and what a victim!
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1
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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balking
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| n.慢行，阻行v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的现在分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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mishaps
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| n.轻微的事故，小的意外( mishap的名词复数 ) | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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crevasse
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| n. 裂缝，破口；v.使有裂缝 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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fissure
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| n.裂缝；裂伤 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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intonations
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| n.语调，说话的抑扬顿挫( intonation的名词复数 )；（演奏或唱歌中的）音准 | |
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supplicating
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| v.祈求，哀求，恳求( supplicate的现在分词 ) | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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46
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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47
echelon
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| n.梯队；组织系统中的等级；v.排成梯队 | |
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48
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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49
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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50
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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51
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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52
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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53
hibernate
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| v.冬眠，蛰伏 | |
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54
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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55
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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56
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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57
detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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58
brandishes
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| v.挥舞( brandish的第三人称单数 )；炫耀 | |
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59
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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60
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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61
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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63
laments
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| n.悲恸，哀歌，挽歌( lament的名词复数 )v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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64
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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65
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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68
grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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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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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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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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73
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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74
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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imposture
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| n.冒名顶替，欺骗 | |
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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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80
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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81
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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82
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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83
vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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84
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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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
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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crevasses
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| n.破口，崩溃处，裂缝( crevasse的名词复数 ) | |
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91
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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92
lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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93
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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94
glaciers
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| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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95
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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96
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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97
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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98
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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99
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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100
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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101
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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102
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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103
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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104
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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105
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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106
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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107
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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108
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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109
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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