The warrior7’s fresh, handsome countenance8, overflowing9 with health and youth, presented a strong contrast to the pale, emaciated10 face of his companion. The passage grew a little higher, so that Andrii could hold himself erect11. He gazed with curiosity at the earthen walls. Here and there, as in the catacombs at Kief, were niches12 in the walls; and in some places coffins13 were standing14. Sometimes they came across human bones which had become softened15 with the dampness and were crumbling16 into dust. It was evident that pious17 folk had taken refuge here from the storms, sorrows, and seductions of the world. It was extremely damp in some places; indeed there was water under their feet at intervals18. Andrii was forced to halt frequently to allow his companion to rest, for her fatigue19 kept increasing. The small piece of bread she had swallowed only caused a pain in her stomach, of late unused to food; and she often stood motionless for minutes together in one spot.
At length a small iron door appeared before them. “Glory be to God, we have arrived!” said the Tatar in a faint voice, and tried to lift her hand to knock, but had no strength to do so. Andrii knocked hard at the door in her stead. There was an echo as though a large space lay beyond the door; then the echo changed as if resounding20 through lofty arches. In a couple of minutes, keys rattled21, and steps were heard descending23 some stairs. At length the door opened, and a monk24, standing on the narrow stairs with the key and a light in his hands, admitted them. Andrii involuntarily halted at the sight of a Catholic monk — one of those who had aroused such hate and disdain25 among the Cossacks that they treated them even more inhumanly26 than they treated the Jews.
The monk, on his part, started back on perceiving a Zaporovian Cossack, but a whisper from the Tatar reassured27 him. He lighted them in, fastened the door behind them, and led them up the stairs. They found themselves beneath the dark and lofty arches of the monastery28 church. Before one of the altars, adorned29 with tall candlesticks and candles, knelt a priest praying quietly. Near him on each side knelt two young choristers in lilac cassocks and white lace stoles, with censers in their hands. He prayed for the performance of a miracle, that the city might be saved; that their souls might be strengthened; that patience might be given them; that doubt and timid, weak-spirited mourning over earthly misfortunes might be banished30. A few women, resembling shadows, knelt supporting themselves against the backs of the chairs and dark wooden benches before them, and laying their exhausted31 heads upon them. A few men stood sadly, leaning against the columns upon which the wide arches rested. The stained-glass window above the altar suddenly glowed with the rosy32 light of dawn; and from it, on the floor, fell circles of blue, yellow, and other colours, illuminating33 the dim church. The whole altar was lighted up; the smoke from the censers hung a cloudy rainbow in the air. Andrii gazed from his dark corner, not without surprise, at the wonders worked by the light. At that moment the magnificent swell34 of the organ filled the whole church. It grew deeper and deeper, expanded, swelled35 into heavy bursts of thunder; and then all at once, turning into heavenly music, its ringing tones floated high among the arches, like clear maiden36 voices, and again descended37 into a deep roar and thunder, and then ceased. The thunderous pulsations echoed long and tremulously among the arches; and Andrii, with half-open mouth, admired the wondrous38 music.
Then he felt some one plucking the shirt of his caftan. “It is time,” said the Tatar. They traversed the church unperceived, and emerged upon the square in front. Dawn had long flushed the heavens; all announced sunrise. The square was empty: in the middle of it still stood wooden pillars, showing that, perhaps only a week before, there had been a market here stocked with provisions. The streets, which were unpaved, were simply a mass of dried mud. The square was surrounded by small, one-storied stone or mud houses, in the walls of which were visible wooden stakes and posts obliquely39 crossed by carved wooden beams, as was the manner of building in those days. Specimens40 of it can still be seen in some parts of Lithuania and Poland. They were all covered with enormously high roofs, with a multitude of windows and air-holes. On one side, close to the church, rose a building quite detached from and taller than the rest, probably the town-hall or some official structure. It was two stories high, and above it, on two arches, rose a belvedere where a watchman stood; a huge clock-face was let into the roof.
The square seemed deserted41, but Andrii thought he heard a feeble groan42. Looking about him, he perceived, on the farther side, a group of two or three men lying motionless upon the ground. He fixed43 his eyes more intently on them, to see whether they were asleep or dead; and, at the same moment, stumbled over something lying at his feet. It was the dead body of a woman, a Jewess apparently44. She appeared to be young, though it was scarcely discernible in her distorted and emaciated features. Upon her head was a red silk kerchief; two rows of pearls or pearl beads45 adorned the beads of her head-dress, from beneath which two long curls hung down upon her shrivelled neck, with its tightly drawn46 veins47. Beside her lay a child, grasping convulsively at her shrunken breast, and squeezing it with involuntary ferocity at finding no milk there. He neither wept nor screamed, and only his gently rising and falling body would have led one to guess that he was not dead, or at least on the point of breathing his last. They turned into a street, and were suddenly stopped by a madman, who, catching48 sight of Andrii’s precious burden, sprang upon him like a tiger, and clutched him, yelling, “Bread!” But his strength was not equal to his madness. Andrii repulsed49 him and he fell to the ground. Moved with pity, the young Cossack flung him a loaf, which he seized like a mad dog, gnawing50 and biting it; but nevertheless he shortly expired in horrible suffering, there in the street, from the effect of long abstinence. The ghastly victims of hunger startled them at every step. Many, apparently unable to endure their torments51 in their houses, seemed to run into the streets to see whether some nourishing power might not possibly descend22 from the air. At the gate of one house sat an old woman, and it was impossible to say whether she was asleep or dead, or only unconscious; at all events, she no longer saw or heard anything, and sat immovable in one spot, her head drooping53 on her breast. From the roof of another house hung a worn and wasted body in a rope noose54. The poor fellow could not endure the tortures of hunger to the last, and had preferred to hasten his end by a voluntary death.
At the sight of such terrible proofs of famine, Andrii could not refrain from saying to the Tatar, “Is there really nothing with which they can prolong life? If a man is driven to extremities55, he must feed on what he has hitherto despised; he can sustain himself with creatures which are forbidden by the law. Anything can be eaten under such circumstances.”
“They have eaten everything,” said the Tatar, “all the animals. Not a horse, nor a dog, nor even a mouse is to be found in the whole city. We never had any store of provisions in the town: they were all brought from the villages.”
“But how can you, while dying such a fearful death, still dream of defending the city?”
“Possibly the Waiwode might have surrendered; but yesterday morning the commander of the troops at Buzhana sent a hawk56 into the city with a note saying that it was not to be given up; that he was coming to its rescue with his forces, and was only waiting for another leader, that they might march together. And now they are expected every moment. But we have reached the house.”
Andrii had already noticed from a distance this house, unlike the others, and built apparently by some Italian architect. It was constructed of thin red bricks, and had two stories. The windows of the lower story were sheltered under lofty, projecting granite57 cornices. The upper story consisted entirely of small arches, forming a gallery; between the arches were iron gratings enriched with escutcheons; whilst upon the gables of the house more coats-of-arms were displayed. The broad external staircase, of tinted58 bricks, abutted59 on the square. At the foot of it sat guards, who with one hand held their halberds upright, and with the other supported their drooping heads, and in this attitude more resembled apparitions60 than living beings. They neither slept nor dreamed, but seemed quite insensible to everything; they even paid no attention to who went up the stairs. At the head of the stairs, they found a richly-dressed warrior, armed cap-a-pie, and holding a breviary in his hand. He turned his dim eyes upon them; but the Tatar spoke61 a word to him, and he dropped them again upon the open pages of his breviary. They entered the first chamber62, a large one, serving either as a reception-room, or simply as an ante-room; it was filled with soldiers, servants, secretaries, huntsmen, cup-bearers, and the other servitors indispensable to the support of a Polish magnate’s estate, all seated along the walls. The reek63 of extinguished candles was perceptible; and two were still burning in two huge candlesticks, nearly as tall as a man, standing in the middle of the room, although morning had long since peeped through the wide grated window. Andrii wanted to go straight on to the large oaken door adorned with a coat-of-arms and a profusion64 of carved ornaments65, but the Tatar pulled his sleeve and pointed66 to a small door in the side wall. Through this they gained a corridor, and then a room, which he began to examine attentively67. The light which filtered through a crack in the shutter68 fell upon several objects — a crimson69 curtain, a gilded70 cornice, and a painting on the wall. Here the Tatar motioned to Andrii to wait, and opened the door into another room from which flashed the light of a fire. He heard a whispering, and a soft voice which made him quiver all over. Through the open door he saw flit rapidly past a tall female figure, with a long thick braid of hair falling over her uplifted hands. The Tatar returned and told him to go in.
He could never understand how he entered and how the door was shut behind him. Two candles burned in the room and a lamp glowed before the images: beneath the lamp stood a tall table with steps to kneel upon during prayer, after the Catholic fashion. But his eye did not seek this. He turned to the other side and perceived a woman, who appeared to have been frozen or turned to stone in the midst of some quick movement. It seemed as though her whole body had sought to spring towards him, and had suddenly paused. And he stood in like manner amazed before her. Not thus had he pictured to himself that he should find her. This was not the same being he had formerly71 known; nothing about her resembled her former self; but she was twice as beautiful, twice as enchanting72, now than she had been then. Then there had been something unfinished, incomplete, about her; now here was a production to which the artist had given the finishing stroke of his brush. That was a charming, giddy girl; this was a woman in the full development of her charms. As she raised her eyes, they were full of feeling, not of mere73 hints of feeling. The tears were not yet dry in them, and framed them in a shining dew which penetrated74 the very soul. Her bosom75, neck, and arms were moulded in the proportions which mark fully76 developed loveliness. Her hair, which had in former days waved in light ringlets about her face, had become a heavy, luxuriant mass, a part of which was caught up, while part fell in long, slender curls upon her arms and breast. It seemed as though her every feature had changed. In vain did he seek to discover in them a single one of those which were engraved77 in his memory — a single one. Even her great pallor did not lessen78 her wonderful beauty; on the contrary, it conferred upon it an irresistible79, inexpressible charm. Andrii felt in his heart a noble timidity, and stood motionless before her. She, too, seemed surprised at the appearance of the Cossack, as he stood before her in all the beauty and might of his young manhood, and in the very immovability of his limbs personified the utmost freedom of movement. His eyes beamed with clear decision; his velvet80 brows curved in a bold arch; his sunburnt cheeks glowed with all the ardour of youthful fire; and his downy black moustache shone like silk.
“No, I have no power to thank you, noble sir,” she said, her silvery voice all in a tremble. “God alone can reward you, not I, a weak woman.” She dropped her eyes, her lids fell over them in beautiful, snowy semicircles, guarded by lashes81 long as arrows; her wondrous face bowed forward, and a delicate flush overspread it from within. Andrii knew not what to say; he wanted to say everything. He had in his mind to say it all ardently82 as it glowed in his heart — and could not. He felt something confining his mouth; voice and words were lacking; he felt that it was not for him, bred in the seminary and in the tumult83 of a roaming life, to reply fitly to such language, and was angry with his Cossack nature.
At that moment the Tatar entered the room. She had cut up the bread which the warrior had brought into small pieces on a golden plate, which she placed before her mistress. The lady glanced at her, at the bread, at her again, and then turned her eyes towards Andrii. There was a great deal in those eyes. That gentle glance, expressive84 of her weakness and her inability to give words to the feeling which overpowered her, was far more comprehensible to Andrii than any words. His heart suddenly grew light within him, all seemed made smooth. The mental emotions and the feelings which up to that moment he had restrained with a heavy curb85, as it were, now felt themselves released, at liberty, and anxious to pour themselves out in a resistless torrent86 of words. Suddenly the lady turned to the Tatar, and said anxiously, “But my mother? you took her some?”
“She is asleep.”
“And my father?”
“I carried him some; he said that he would come to thank the young lord in person.”
She took the bread and raised it to her mouth. With inexpressible delight Andrii watched her break it with her shining fingers and eat it; but all at once he recalled the man mad with hunger, who had expired before his eyes on swallowing a morsel87 of bread. He turned pale and, seizing her hand, cried, “Enough! eat no more! you have not eaten for so long that too much bread will be poison to you now.” And she at once dropped her hand, laid her bread upon the plate, and gazed into his eyes like a submissive child. And if any words could express — But neither chisel88, nor brush, nor mighty89 speech is capable of expressing what is sometimes seen in glances of maidens90, nor the tender feeling which takes possession of him who receives such maiden glances.
“My queen!” exclaimed Andrii, his heart and soul filled with emotion, “what do you need? what do you wish? command me! Impose on me the most impossible task in all the world: I fly to fulfil it! Tell me to do that which it is beyond the power of man to do: I will fulfil it if I destroy myself. I will ruin myself. And I swear by the holy cross that ruin for your sake is as sweet — but no, it is impossible to say how sweet! I have three farms; half my father’s droves of horses are mine; all that my mother brought my father, and which she still conceals91 from him — all this is mine! Not one of the Cossacks owns such weapons as I; for the pommel of my sword alone they would give their best drove of horses and three thousand sheep. And I renounce92 all this, I discard it, I throw it aside, I will burn and drown it, if you will but say the word, or even move your delicate black brows! But I know that I am talking madly and wide of the mark; that all this is not fitting here; that it is not for me, who have passed my life in the seminary and among the Zaporozhtzi, to speak as they speak where kings, princes, and all the best of noble knighthood have been. I can see that you are a different being from the rest of us, and far above all other boyars’ wives and maiden daughters.”
With growing amazement93 the maiden listened, losing no single word, to the frank, sincere language in which, as in a mirror, the young, strong spirit reflected itself. Each simple word of this speech, uttered in a voice which penetrated straight to the depths of her heart, was clothed in power. She advanced her beautiful face, pushed back her troublesome hair, opened her mouth, and gazed long, with parted lips. Then she tried to say something and suddenly stopped, remembering that the warrior was known by a different name; that his father, brothers, country, lay beyond, grim avengers; that the Zaporozhtzi besieging94 the city were terrible, and that the cruel death awaited all who were within its walls, and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She seized a silk embroidered95 handkerchief and threw it over her face. In a moment it was all wet; and she sat for some time with her beautiful head thrown back, and her snowy teeth set on her lovely under-lip, as though she suddenly felt the sting of a poisonous serpent, without removing the handkerchief from her face, lest he should see her shaken with grief.
“Speak but one word to me,” said Andrii, and he took her satin-skinned hand. A sparkling fire coursed through his veins at the touch, and he pressed the hand lying motionless in his.
But she still kept silence, never taking the kerchief from her face, and remaining motionless.
“Why are you so sad? Tell me, why are you so sad?”
She cast away the handkerchief, pushed aside the long hair which fell over her eyes, and poured out her heart in sad speech, in a quiet voice, like the breeze which, rising on a beautiful evening, blows through the thick growth of reeds beside the stream. They rustle96, murmur97, and give forth98 delicately mournful sounds, and the traveller, pausing in inexplicable99 sadness, hears them, and heeds100 not the fading light, nor the gay songs of the peasants which float in the air as they return from their labours in meadow and stubble-field, nor the distant rumble101 of the passing waggon102.
“Am not I worthy103 of eternal pity? Is not the mother that bore me unhappy? Is it not a bitter lot which has befallen me? Art not thou a cruel executioner, fate? Thou has brought all to my feet — the highest nobles in the land, the richest gentlemen, counts, foreign barons104, all the flower of our knighthood. All loved me, and any one of them would have counted my love the greatest boon105. I had but to beckon106, and the best of them, the handsomest, the first in beauty and birth would have become my husband. And to none of them didst thou incline my heart, O bitter fate; but thou didst turn it against the noblest heroes of our land, and towards a stranger, towards our enemy. O most holy mother of God! for what sin dost thou so pitilessly, mercilessly, persecute107 me? In abundance and superfluity of luxury my days were passed, the richest dishes and the sweetest wine were my food. And to what end was it all? What was it all for? In order that I might at last die a death more cruel than that of the meanest beggar in the kingdom? And it was not enough that I should be condemned108 to so horrible a fate; not enough that before my own end I should behold109 my father and mother perish in intolerable torment52, when I would have willingly given my own life twenty times over to save them; all this was not enough, but before my own death I must hear words of love such as I had never before dreamed of. It was necessary that he should break my heart with his words; that my bitter lot should be rendered still more bitter; that my young life should be made yet more sad; that my death should seem even more terrible; and that, dying, I should reproach thee still more, O cruel fate! and thee — forgive my sin — O holy mother of God!”
As she ceased in despair, her feelings were plainly expressed in her face. Every feature spoke of gnawing sorrow and, from the sadly bowed brow and downcast eyes to the tears trickling110 down and drying on her softly burning cheeks, seemed to say, “There is no happiness in this face.”
“Such a thing was never heard of since the world began. It cannot be,” said Andrii, “that the best and most beautiful of women should suffer so bitter a fate, when she was born that all the best there is in the world should bow before her as before a saint. No, you will not die, you shall not die! I swear by my birth and by all there is dear to me in the world that you shall not die. But if it must be so; if nothing, neither strength, nor prayer, nor heroism111, will avail to avert112 this cruel fate — then we will die together, and I will die first. I will die before you, at your beauteous knees, and even in death they shall not divide us.”
“Deceive not yourself and me, noble sir,” she said, gently shaking her beautiful head; “I know, and to my great sorrow I know but too well, that it is impossible for you to love me. I know what your duty is, and your faith. Your father calls you, your comrades, your country, and we are your enemies.”
“And what are my father, my comrades, my country to me?” said Andrii, with a quick movement of his head, and straightening up his figure like a poplar beside the river. “Be that as it may, I have no one, no one!” he repeated, with that movement of the hand with which the Cossack expresses his determination to do some unheard-of deed, impossible to any other man. “Who says that the Ukraine is my country? Who gave it to me for my country? Our country is the one our soul longs for, the one which is dearest of all to us. My country is — you! That is my native land, and I bear that country in my heart. I will bear it there all my life, and I will see whether any of the Cossacks can tear it thence. And I will give everything, barter113 everything, I will destroy myself, for that country!”
Astounded114, she gazed in his eyes for a space, like a beautiful statue, and then suddenly burst out sobbing115; and with the wonderful feminine impetuosity which only grand-souled, uncalculating women, created for fine impulses of the heart, are capable of, threw herself upon his neck, encircling it with her wondrous snowy arms, and wept. At that moment indistinct shouts rang through the street, accompanied by the sound of trumpets116 and kettledrums; but he heard them not. He was only conscious of the beauteous mouth bathing him with its warm, sweet breath, of the tears streaming down his face, and of her long, unbound perfumed hair, veiling him completely in its dark and shining silk.
At that moment the Tatar ran in with a cry of joy. “Saved, saved!” she cried, beside herself. “Our troops have entered the city. They have brought corn, millet117, flour, and Zaporozhtzi in chains!” But no one heard that “our troops” had arrived in the city, or what they had brought with them, or how they had bound the Zaporozhtzi. Filled with feelings untasted as yet upon earth, Andrii kissed the sweet mouth which pressed his cheek, and the sweet mouth did not remain unresponsive. In this union of kisses they experienced that which it is given to a man to feel but once on earth.
And the Cossack was ruined. He was lost to Cossack chivalry118. Never again will Zaporozhe, nor his father’s house, nor the Church of God, behold him. The Ukraine will never more see the bravest of the children who have undertaken to defend her. Old Taras may tear the grey hair from his scalp-lock, and curse the day and hour in which such a son was born to dishonour119 him.
点击收听单词发音
1 burrow | |
vt.挖掘(洞穴);钻进;vi.挖洞;翻寻;n.地洞 | |
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2 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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3 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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4 obliterated | |
v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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5 copper | |
n.铜;铜币;铜器;adj.铜(制)的;(紫)铜色的 | |
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6 enveloped | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7 warrior | |
n.勇士,武士,斗士 | |
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8 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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9 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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10 emaciated | |
adj.衰弱的,消瘦的 | |
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11 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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12 niches | |
壁龛( niche的名词复数 ); 合适的位置[工作等]; (产品的)商机; 生态位(一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位) | |
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13 coffins | |
n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 );使某人早亡[死,完蛋,垮台等]之物 | |
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14 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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15 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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16 crumbling | |
adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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17 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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18 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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19 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
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20 resounding | |
adj. 响亮的 | |
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21 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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22 descend | |
vt./vi.传下来,下来,下降 | |
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23 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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24 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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25 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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26 inhumanly | |
adv.无人情味地,残忍地 | |
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27 reassured | |
adj.使消除疑虑的;使放心的v.再保证,恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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28 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
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29 adorned | |
[计]被修饰的 | |
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30 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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32 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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33 illuminating | |
a.富于启发性的,有助阐明的 | |
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34 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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35 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
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36 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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37 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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38 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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39 obliquely | |
adv.斜; 倾斜; 间接; 不光明正大 | |
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40 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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41 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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42 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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43 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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44 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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45 beads | |
n.(空心)小珠子( bead的名词复数 );水珠;珠子项链 | |
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46 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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47 veins | |
n.纹理;矿脉( vein的名词复数 );静脉;叶脉;纹理 | |
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48 catching | |
adj.易传染的,有魅力的,迷人的,接住 | |
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49 repulsed | |
v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 );驳斥;拒绝 | |
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50 gnawing | |
a.痛苦的,折磨人的 | |
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51 torments | |
(肉体或精神上的)折磨,痛苦( torment的名词复数 ); 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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52 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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53 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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54 noose | |
n.绳套,绞索(刑);v.用套索捉;使落入圈套;处以绞刑 | |
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55 extremities | |
n.端点( extremity的名词复数 );尽头;手和足;极窘迫的境地 | |
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56 hawk | |
n.鹰,骗子;鹰派成员 | |
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57 granite | |
adj.花岗岩,花岗石 | |
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58 tinted | |
adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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59 abutted | |
v.(与…)邻接( abut的过去式和过去分词 );(与…)毗连;接触;倚靠 | |
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60 apparitions | |
n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 );幽灵;鬼;(特异景象等的)出现 | |
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61 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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62 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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63 reek | |
v.发出臭气;n.恶臭 | |
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64 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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65 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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67 attentively | |
adv.聚精会神地;周到地;谛;凝神 | |
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68 shutter | |
n.百叶窗;(照相机)快门;关闭装置 | |
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69 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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70 gilded | |
a.镀金的,富有的 | |
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71 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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72 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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73 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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74 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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75 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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76 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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77 engraved | |
v.在(硬物)上雕刻(字,画等)( engrave的过去式和过去分词 );将某事物深深印在(记忆或头脑中) | |
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78 lessen | |
vt.减少,减轻;缩小 | |
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79 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
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80 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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81 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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82 ardently | |
adv.热心地,热烈地 | |
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83 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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84 expressive | |
adj.表现的,表达…的,富于表情的 | |
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85 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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86 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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87 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
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88 chisel | |
n.凿子;v.用凿子刻,雕,凿 | |
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89 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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90 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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91 conceals | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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92 renounce | |
v.放弃;拒绝承认,宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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93 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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94 besieging | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的现在分词 ) | |
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95 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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96 rustle | |
v.沙沙作响;偷盗(牛、马等);n.沙沙声声 | |
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97 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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98 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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99 inexplicable | |
adj.无法解释的,难理解的 | |
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100 heeds | |
n.留心,注意,听从( heed的名词复数 )v.听某人的劝告,听从( heed的第三人称单数 ) | |
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101 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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102 waggon | |
n.运货马车,运货车;敞篷车箱 | |
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103 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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104 barons | |
男爵( baron的名词复数 ); 巨头; 大王; 大亨 | |
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105 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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106 beckon | |
v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意,召唤 | |
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107 persecute | |
vt.迫害,虐待;纠缠,骚扰 | |
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108 condemned | |
adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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109 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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110 trickling | |
n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
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111 heroism | |
n.大无畏精神,英勇 | |
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112 avert | |
v.防止,避免;转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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113 barter | |
n.物物交换,以货易货,实物交易 | |
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114 astounded | |
v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词);愕然;愕;惊讶 | |
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115 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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116 trumpets | |
喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 ); 小号; 喇叭形物; (尤指)绽开的水仙花 | |
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117 millet | |
n.小米,谷子 | |
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118 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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119 dishonour | |
n./vt.拒付(支票、汇票、票据等);vt.凌辱,使丢脸;n.不名誉,耻辱,不光彩 | |
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