Immediately, all that W. and S.W. division of London began to slide away at a pace so lively, that I was over the river, and past the Old Kent Road, and out on Blackheath, and even ascending1 Shooter’s Hill, before I had had time to look about me in the carriage, like a collected traveller.
I had two ample Imperials on the roof, other fitted storage for luggage in front, and other up behind; I had a net for books overhead, great pockets to all the windows, a leathern pouch2 or two hung up for odds3 and ends, and a reading lamp fixed4 in the back of the chariot, in case I should be benighted5. I was amply provided in all respects, and had no idea where I was going (which was delightful6), except that I was going abroad.
So smooth was the old high road, and so fresh were the horses, and so fast went I, that it was midway between Gravesend and Rochester, and the widening river was bearing the ships, white sailed or black-smoked, out to sea, when I noticed by the wayside a very queer small boy.
‘Holloa!’ said I, to the very queer small boy, ‘where do you live?’
‘At Chatham,’ says he.
‘What do you do there?’ says I.
‘I go to school,’ says he.
I took him up in a moment, and we went on. Presently, the very queer small boy says, ‘This is Gads-hill we are coming to, where Falstaff went out to rob those travellers, and ran away.’
‘You know something about Falstaff, eh?’ said I.
‘All about him,’ said the very queer small boy. ‘I am old (I am nine), and I read all sorts of books. But DO let us stop at the top of the hill, and look at the house there, if you please!’
‘You admire that house?’ said I.
‘Bless you, sir,’ said the very queer small boy, ‘when I was not more than half as old as nine, it used to be a treat for me to be brought to look at it. And now, I am nine, I come by myself to look at it. And ever since I can recollect8, my father, seeing me so fond of it, has often said to me, “If you were to be very persevering9 and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.” Though that’s impossible!’ said the very queer small boy, drawing a low breath, and now staring at the house out of window with all his might.
I was rather amazed to be told this by the very queer small boy; for that house happens to be MY house, and I have reason to believe that what he said was true.
Well! I made no halt there, and I soon dropped the very queer small boy and went on. Over the road where the old Romans used to march, over the road where the old Canterbury pilgrims used to go, over the road where the travelling trains of the old imperious priests and princes used to jingle11 on horseback between the continent and this Island through the mud and water, over the road where Shakespeare hummed to himself, ‘Blow, blow, thou winter wind,’ as he sat in the saddle at the gate of the inn yard noticing the carriers; all among the cherry orchards12, apple orchards, corn-fields, and hop-gardens; so went I, by Canterbury to Dover. There, the sea was tumbling in, with deep sounds, after dark, and the revolving13 French light on Cape14 Grinez was seen regularly bursting out and becoming obscured, as if the head of a gigantic light-keeper in an anxious state of mind were interposed every half-minute, to look how it was burning.
Early in the morning I was on the deck of the steam-packet, and we were aiming at the bar in the usual intolerable manner, and the bar was aiming at us in the usual intolerable manner, and the bar got by far the best of it, and we got by far the worst — all in the usual intolerable manner.
But, when I was clear of the Custom House on the other side, and when I began to make the dust fly on the thirsty French roads, and when the twigsome trees by the wayside (which, I suppose, never will grow leafy, for they never did) guarded here and there a dusty soldier, or field labourer, baking on a heap of broken stones, sound asleep in a fiction of shade, I began to recover my travelling spirits. Coming upon the breaker of the broken stones, in a hard, hot, shining hat, on which the sun played at a distance as on a burning-glass, I felt that now, indeed, I was in the dear old France of my affections. I should have known it, without the well-remembered bottle of rough ordinary wine, the cold roast fowl15, the loaf, and the pinch of salt, on which I lunched with unspeakable satisfaction, from one of the stuffed pockets of the chariot.
I must have fallen asleep after lunch, for when a bright face looked in at the window, I started, and said:
‘Good God, Louis, I dreamed you were dead!’
My cheerful servant laughed, and answered:
‘Me? Not at all, sir.’
‘How glad I am to wake! What are we doing Louis?’
‘We go to take relay of horses. Will you walk up the hill?’
‘Certainly.’
Welcome the old French hill, with the old French lunatic (not in the most distant degree related to Sterne’s Maria) living in a thatched dog-kennel half-way up, and flying out with his crutch16 and his big head and extended nightcap, to be beforehand with the old men and women exhibiting crippled children, and with the children exhibiting old men and women, ugly and blind, who always seemed by resurrectionary process to be recalled out of the elements for the sudden peopling of the solitude17!
‘It is well,’ said I, scattering18 among them what small coin I had; ‘here comes Louis, and I am quite roused from my nap.’
We journeyed on again, and I welcomed every new assurance that France stood where I had left it. There were the posting-houses, with their archways, dirty stable-yards, and clean post-masters’ wives, bright women of business, looking on at the putting-to of the horses; there were the postilions counting what money they got, into their hats, and never making enough of it; there were the standard population of grey horses of Flanders descent, invariably biting one another when they got a chance; there were the fleecy sheepskins, looped on over their uniforms by the postilions, like bibbed aprons19 when it blew and rained; there were their Jack-boots, and their cracking whips; there were the cathedrals that I got out to see, as under some cruel bondage20, in no wise desiring to see them; there were the little towns that appeared to have no reason for being towns, since most of their houses were to let and nobody could be induced to look at them, except the people who couldn’t let them and had nothing else to do but look at them all day. I lay a night upon the road and enjoyed delectable21 cookery of potatoes, and some other sensible things, adoption22 of which at home would inevitably23 be shown to be fraught24 with ruin, somehow or other, to that rickety national blessing25, the British farmer; and at last I was rattled26, like a single pill in a box, over leagues of stones, until — madly cracking, plunging27, and flourishing two grey tails about — I made my triumphal entry into Paris.
At Paris, I took an upper apartment for a few days in one of the hotels of the Rue10 de Rivoli; my front windows looking into the garden of the Tuileries (where the principal difference between the nursemaids and the flowers seemed to be that the former were locomotive and the latter not): my back windows looking at all the other back windows in the hotel, and deep down into a paved yard, where my German chariot had retired28 under a tight-fitting archway, to all appearance for life, and where bells rang all day without anybody’s minding them but certain chamberlains with feather brooms and green baize caps, who here and there leaned out of some high window placidly29 looking down, and where neat waiters with trays on their left shoulders passed and repassed from morning to night.
Whenever I am at Paris, I am dragged by invisible force into the Morgue. I never want to go there, but am always pulled there. One Christmas Day, when I would rather have been anywhere else, I was attracted in, to see an old grey man lying all alone on his cold bed, with a tap of water turned on over his grey hair, and running, drip, drip, drip, down his wretched face until it got to the corner of his mouth, where it took a turn, and made him look sly. One New Year’s Morning (by the same token, the sun was shining outside, and there was a mountebank30 balancing a feather on his nose, within a yard of the gate), I was pulled in again to look at a flaxen-haired boy of eighteen, with a heart hanging on his breast — ‘from his mother,’ was engraven on it — who had come into the net across the river, with a bullet wound in his fair forehead and his hands cut with a knife, but whence or how was a blank mystery. This time, I was forced into the same dread31 place, to see a large dark man whose disfigurement by water was in a frightful32 manner comic, and whose expression was that of a prize-fighter who had closed his eyelids33 under a heavy blow, but was going immediately to open them, shake his head, and ‘come up smiling.’ Oh what this large dark man cost me in that bright city!
It was very hot weather, and he was none the better for that, and I was much the worse. Indeed, a very neat and pleasant little woman with the key of her lodging34 on her forefinger35, who had been showing him to her little girl while she and the child ate sweetmeats, observed monsieur looking poorly as we came out together, and asked monsieur, with her wondering little eyebrows36 prettily37 raised, if there were anything the matter? Faintly replying in the negative, monsieur crossed the road to a wine-shop, got some brandy, and resolved to freshen himself with a dip in the great floating bath on the river.
The bath was crowded in the usual airy manner, by a male population in striped drawers of various gay colours, who walked up and down arm in arm, drank coffee, smoked cigars, sat at little tables, conversed38 politely with the damsels who dispensed39 the towels, and every now and then pitched themselves into the river head foremost, and came out again to repeat this social routine. I made haste to participate in the water part of the entertainments, and was in the full enjoyment40 of a delightful bath, when all in a moment I was seized with an unreasonable41 idea that the large dark body was floating straight at me.
I was out of the river, and dressing42 instantly. In the shock I had taken some water into my mouth, and it turned me sick, for I fancied that the contamination of the creature was in it. I had got back to my cool darkened room in the hotel, and was lying on a sofa there, before I began to reason with myself.
Of course, I knew perfectly43 well that the large dark creature was stone dead, and that I should no more come upon him out of the place where I had seen him dead, than I should come upon the cathedral of Notre-Dame in an entirely44 new situation. What troubled me was the picture of the creature; and that had so curiously45 and strongly painted itself upon my brain, that I could not get rid of it until it was worn out.
I noticed the peculiarities46 of this possession, while it was a real discomfort47 to me. That very day, at dinner, some morsel48 on my plate looked like a piece of him, and I was glad to get up and go out. Later in the evening, I was walking along the Rue St. Honore, when I saw a bill at a public room there, announcing small-sword exercise, broad-sword exercise, wrestling, and other such feats49. I went in, and some of the sword-play being very skilful50, remained. A specimen51 of our own national sport, The British Boaxe, was announced to be given at the close of the evening. In an evil hour, I determined52 to wait for this Boaxe, as became a Briton. It was a clumsy specimen (executed by two English grooms53 out of place), but one of the combatants, receiving a straight right-hander with the glove between his eyes, did exactly what the large dark creature in the Morgue had seemed going to do — and finished me for that night.
There was rather a sickly smell (not at all an unusual fragrance54 in Paris) in the little ante-room of my apartment at the hotel. The large dark creature in the Morgue was by no direct experience associated with my sense of smell, because, when I came to the knowledge of him, he lay behind a wall of thick plate-glass as good as a wall of steel or marble for that matter. Yet the whiff of the room never failed to reproduce him. What was more curious, was the capriciousness with which his portrait seemed to light itself up in my mind, elsewhere. I might be walking in the Palais Royal, lazily enjoying the shop windows, and might be regaling myself with one of the ready-made clothes shops that are set out there. My eyes, wandering over impossible-waisted dressing-gowns and luminous55 waistcoats, would fall upon the master, or the shopman, or even the very dummy56 at the door, and would suggest to me, ‘Something like him!’ — and instantly I was sickened again.
This would happen at the theatre, in the same manner. Often it would happen in the street, when I certainly was not looking for the likeness57, and when probably there was no likeness there. It was not because the creature was dead that I was so haunted, because I know that I might have been (and I know it because I have been) equally attended by the image of a living aversion. This lasted about a week. The picture did not fade by degrees, in the sense that it became a whit7 less forcible and distinct, but in the sense that it obtruded58 itself less and less frequently. The experience may be worth considering by some who have the care of children. It would be difficult to overstate the intensity59 and accuracy of an intelligent child’s observation. At that impressible time of life, it must sometimes produce a fixed impression. If the fixed impression be of an object terrible to the child, it will be (for want of reasoning upon) inseparable from great fear. Force the child at such a time, be Spartan60 with it, send it into the dark against its will, leave it in a lonely bedroom against its will, and you had better murder it.
On a bright morning I rattled away from Paris, in the German chariot, and left the large dark creature behind me for good. I ought to confess, though, that I had been drawn61 back to the Morgue, after he was put underground, to look at his clothes, and that I found them frightfully like him — particularly his boots. However, I rattled away for Switzerland, looking forward and not backward, and so we parted company.
Welcome again, the long, long spell of France, with the queer country inns, full of vases of flowers and clocks, in the dull little town, and with the little population not at all dull on the little Boulevard in the evening, under the little trees! Welcome Monsieur the Cure, walking alone in the early morning a short way out of the town, reading that eternal Breviary of yours, which surely might be almost read, without book, by this time! Welcome Monsieur the Cure, later in the day, jolting62 through the highway dust (as if you had already ascended63 to the cloudy region), in a very big-headed cabriolet, with the dried mud of a dozen winters on it. Welcome again Monsieur the Cure, as we exchange salutations; you, straightening your back to look at the German chariot, while picking in your little village garden a vegetable or two for the day’s soup: I, looking out of the German chariot window in that delicious traveller’s trance which knows no cares, no yesterdays, no to-morrows, nothing but the passing objects and the passing scents64 and sounds! And so I came, in due course of delight, to Strasbourg, where I passed a wet Sunday evening at a window, while an idle trifle of a vaudeville65 was played for me at the opposite house.
How such a large house came to have only three people living in it, was its own affair. There were at least a score of windows in its high roof alone; how many in its grotesque66 front, I soon gave up counting. The owner was a shopkeeper, by name Straudenheim; by trade — I couldn’t make out what by trade, for he had forborne to write that up, and his shop was shut.
At first, as I looked at Straudenheim’s, through the steadily67 falling rain, I set him up in business in the goose-liver line. But, inspection68 of Straudenheim, who became visible at a window on the second floor, convinced me that there was something more precious than liver in the case. He wore a black velvet69 skull-cap, and looked usurious and rich. A large-lipped, pear-nosed old man, with white hair, and keen eyes, though near-sighted. He was writing at a desk, was Straudenheim, and ever and again left off writing, put his pen in his mouth, and went through actions with his right hand, like a man steadying piles of cash. Five-franc pieces, Straudenheim, or golden Napoleons? A jeweller, Straudenheim, a dealer70 in money, a diamond merchant, or what?
Below Straudenheim, at a window on the first floor, sat his housekeeper71 — far from young, but of a comely72 presence, suggestive of a well-matured foot and ankle. She was cheerily dressed, had a fan in her hand, and wore large gold earrings73 and a large gold cross. She would have been out holiday-making (as I settled it) but for the pestilent rain. Strasbourg had given up holiday-making for that once, as a bad job, because the rain was jerking in gushes74 out of the old roof-spouts, and running in a brook75 down the middle of the street. The housekeeper, her arms folded on her bosom76 and her fan tapping her chin, was bright and smiling at her open window, but otherwise Straudenheim’s house front was very dreary77. The housekeeper’s was the only open window in it; Straudenheim kept himself close, though it was a sultry evening when air is pleasant, and though the rain had brought into the town that vague refreshing78 smell of grass which rain does bring in the summer-time.
The dim appearance of a man at Straudenheim’s shoulder, inspired me with a misgiving79 that somebody had come to murder that flourishing merchant for the wealth with which I had handsomely endowed him: the rather, as it was an excited man, lean and long of figure, and evidently stealthy of foot. But, he conferred with Straudenheim instead of doing him a mortal injury, and then they both softly opened the other window of that room — which was immediately over the housekeeper’s — and tried to see her by looking down. And my opinion of Straudenheim was much lowered when I saw that eminent80 citizen spit out of window, clearly with the hope of spitting on the housekeeper.
The unconscious housekeeper fanned herself, tossed her head, and laughed. Though unconscious of Straudenheim, she was conscious of somebody else — of me? — there was nobody else.
After leaning so far out of the window, that I confidently expected to see their heels tilt81 up, Straudenheim and the lean man drew their heads in and shut the window. Presently, the house door secretly opened, and they slowly and spitefully crept forth82 into the pouring rain. They were coming over to me (I thought) to demand satisfaction for my looking at the housekeeper, when they plunged83 into a recess84 in the architecture under my window and dragged out the puniest85 of little soldiers, begirt with the most innocent of little swords. The tall glazed86 head-dress of this warrior87, Straudenheim instantly knocked off, and out of it fell two sugar-sticks, and three or four large lumps of sugar.
The warrior made no effort to recover his property or to pick up his shako, but looked with an expression of attention at Straudenheim when he kicked him five times, and also at the lean man when HE kicked him five times, and again at Straudenheim when he tore the breast of his (the warrior’s) little coat open, and shook all his ten fingers in his face, as if they were ten thousand. When these outrages88 had been committed, Straudenheim and his man went into the house again and barred the door. A wonderful circumstance was, that the housekeeper who saw it all (and who could have taken six such warriors89 to her buxom90 bosom at once), only fanned herself and laughed as she had laughed before, and seemed to have no opinion about it, one way or other.
But, the chief effect of the drama was the remarkable91 vengeance92 taken by the little warrior. Left alone in the rain, he picked up his shako; put it on, all wet and dirty as it was; retired into a court, of which Straudenheim’s house formed the corner; wheeled about; and bringing his two forefingers93 close to the top of his nose, rubbed them over one another, cross-wise, in derision, defiance94, and contempt of Straudenheim. Although Straudenheim could not possibly be supposed to be conscious of this strange proceeding95, it so inflated96 and comforted the little warrior’s soul, that twice he went away, and twice came back into the court to repeat it, as though it must goad97 his enemy to madness. Not only that, but he afterwards came back with two other small warriors, and they all three did it together. Not only that — as I live to tell the tale! — but just as it was falling quite dark, the three came back, bringing with them a huge bearded Sapper, whom they moved, by recital98 of the original wrong, to go through the same performance, with the same complete absence of all possible knowledge of it on the part of Straudenheim. And then they all went away, arm in arm, singing.
I went away too, in the German chariot at sunrise, and rattled on, day after day, like one in a sweet dream; with so many clear little bells on the harness of the horses, that the nursery rhyme about Banbury Cross and the venerable lady who rode in state there, was always in my ears. And now I came to the land of wooden houses, innocent cakes, thin butter soup, and spotless little inn bedrooms with a family likeness to Dairies. And now the Swiss marksmen were for ever rifle-shooting at marks across gorges99, so exceedingly near my ear, that I felt like a new Gesler in a Canton of Tells, and went in highly-deserved danger of my tyrannical life. The prizes at these shootings, were watches, smart handkerchiefs, hats, spoons, and (above all) tea-trays; and at these contests I came upon a more than usually accomplished100 and amiable101 countryman of my own, who had shot himself deaf in whole years of competition, and had won so many tea-trays that he went about the country with his carriage full of them, like a glorified102 Cheap-Jack.
In the mountain-country into which I had now travelled, a yoke103 of oxen were sometimes hooked on before the post-horses, and I went lumbering104 up, up, up, through mist and rain, with the roar of falling water for change of music. Of a sudden, mist and rain would clear away, and I would come down into picturesque105 little towns with gleaming spires106 and odd towers; and would stroll afoot into market-places in steep winding107 streets, where a hundred women in bodices, sold eggs and honey, butter and fruit, and suckled their children as they sat by their clean baskets, and had such enormous goitres (or glandular108 swellings in the throat) that it became a science to know where the nurse ended and the child began. About this time, I deserted109 my German chariot for the back of a mule110 (in colour and consistency111 so very like a dusty old hair trunk I once had at school, that I half expected to see my initials in brass-headed nails on his backbone), and went up a thousand rugged112 ways, and looked down at a thousand woods of fir and pine, and would on the whole have preferred my mule’s keeping a little nearer to the inside, and not usually travelling with a hoof113 or two over the precipice114 — though much consoled by explanation that this was to be attributed to his great sagacity, by reason of his carrying broad loads of wood at other times, and not being clear but that I myself belonged to that station of life, and required as much room as they. He brought me safely, in his own wise way, among the passes of the Alps, and here I enjoyed a dozen climates a day; being now (like Don Quixote on the back of the wooden horse) in the region of wind, now in the region of fire, now in the region of unmelting ice and snow. Here, I passed over trembling domes115 of ice, beneath which the cataract116 was roaring; and here was received under arches of icicles, of unspeakable beauty; and here the sweet air was so bracing117 and so light, that at halting-times I rolled in the snow when I saw my mule do it, thinking that he must know best. At this part of the journey we would come, at mid-day, into half an hour’s thaw118: when the rough mountain inn would be found on an island of deep mud in a sea of snow, while the baiting strings119 of mules120, and the carts full of casks and bales, which had been in an Arctic condition a mile off, would steam again. By such ways and means, I would come to the cluster of chalets where I had to turn out of the track to see the waterfall; and then, uttering a howl like a young giant, on espying121 a traveller — in other words, something to eat — coming up the steep, the idiot lying on the wood-pile who sunned himself and nursed his goitre, would rouse the woman-guide within the hut, who would stream out hastily, throwing her child over one of her shoulders and her goitre over the other, as she came along. I slept at religious houses, and bleak122 refuges of many kinds, on this journey, and by the stove at night heard stories of travellers who had perished within call, in wreaths and drifts of snow. One night the stove within, and the cold outside, awakened123 childish associations long forgotten, and I dreamed I was in Russia — the identical serf out of a picture-book I had, before I could read it for myself — and that I was going to be knouted by a noble personage in a fur cap, boots, and earrings, who, I think, must have come out of some melodrama124.
Commend me to the beautiful waters among these mountains! Though I was not of their mind: they, being inveterately125 bent126 on getting down into the level country, and I ardently127 desiring to linger where I was. What desperate leaps they took, what dark abysses they plunged into, what rocks they wore away, what echoes they invoked128! In one part where I went, they were pressed into the service of carrying wood down, to be burnt next winter, as costly129 fuel, in Italy. But, their fierce savage130 nature was not to be easily constrained131, and they fought with every limb of the wood; whirling it round and round, stripping its bark away, dashing it against pointed132 corners, driving it out of the course, and roaring and flying at the peasants who steered133 it back again from the bank with long stout134 poles. Alas135! concurrent136 streams of time and water carried ME down fast, and I came, on an exquisitely137 clear day, to the Lausanne shore of the Lake of Geneva, where I stood looking at the bright blue water, the flushed white mountains opposite, and the boats at my feet with their furled Mediterranean138 sails, showing like enormous magnifications of this goose-quill pen that is now in my hand.
— The sky became overcast139 without any notice; a wind very like the March east wind of England, blew across me; and a voice said, ‘How do you like it? Will it do?’
I had merely shut myself, for half a minute, in a German travelling chariot that stood for sale in the Carriage Department of the London Pantechnicon. I had a commission to buy it, for a friend who was going abroad; and the look and manner of the chariot, as I tried the cushions and the springs, brought all these hints of travelling remembrance before me.
‘It will do very well,’ said I, rather sorrowfully, as I got out at the other door, and shut the carriage up.
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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benighted
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| adj.蒙昧的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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whit
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| n.一点，丝毫 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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persevering
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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bondage
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delectable
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adoption
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| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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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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28
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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29
placidly
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| adv.平稳地，平静地 | |
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30
mountebank
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| n.江湖郎中；骗子 | |
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31
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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32
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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33
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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34
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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35
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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36
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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37
prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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38
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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39
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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40
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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41
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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42
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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43
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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44
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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45
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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46
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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47
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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48
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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49
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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50
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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51
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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52
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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53
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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54
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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55
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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56
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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57
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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58
obtruded
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| v.强行向前，强行，强迫( obtrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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60
spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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61
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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62
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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63
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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65
vaudeville
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| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
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66
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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67
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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68
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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69
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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70
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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71
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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72
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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73
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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74
gushes
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| n.涌出，迸发( gush的名词复数 )v.喷，涌( gush的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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75
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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76
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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77
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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78
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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79
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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80
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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81
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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82
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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83
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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84
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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85
puniest
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| adj.小于一般尺寸的( puny的最高级 )；微不足道的；弱小的；微弱的 | |
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86
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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87
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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88
outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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89
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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90
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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91
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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92
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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93
forefingers
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| n.食指( forefinger的名词复数 ) | |
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94
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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95
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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96
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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97
goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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98
recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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99
gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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100
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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101
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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102
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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103
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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104
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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105
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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106
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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107
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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108
glandular
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| adj.腺体的 | |
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109
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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110
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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111
consistency
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| n.一贯性，前后一致，稳定性；(液体的)浓度 | |
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112
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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113
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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114
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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115
domes
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| n.圆屋顶( dome的名词复数 )；像圆屋顶一样的东西；圆顶体育场 | |
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116
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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117
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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118
thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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119
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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120
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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121
espying
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| v.看到( espy的现在分词 ) | |
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122
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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123
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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124
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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125
inveterately
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| adv.根深蒂固地，积习地 | |
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126
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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127
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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128
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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129
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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130
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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131
constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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132
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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133
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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135
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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136
concurrent
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| adj.同时发生的，一致的 | |
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137
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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138
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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139
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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