To my dear Ursula Mirouet, daughter of my natural half-brother, Joseph Mirouet, and Dinah Grollman:—
My dear Angel — The fatherly affection I bear you — and which you have so fully1 justified2 — came not only from the promise I gave your father to take his place, but also from your resemblance to my wife, Ursula Mirouet, whose grace, intelligence, frankness, and charm you constantly recall to my mind. Your position as the daughter of a natural son of my father-inlaw might invalidate all testamentary bequests3 made by me in your favor —
“The old rascal5!” cried the post master.
Had I adopted you the result might also have been a lawsuit6, and I shrank from the idea of transmitting my fortune to you by marriage, for I might live years and thus interfere7 with your happiness, which is now delayed only by Madame de Portenduere. Having weighted these difficulties carefully, and wishing to leave you enough money to secure to you a prosperous existence —
“The scoundrel, he has thought of everything!”
— without injuring my heirs —
“The Jesuit! as if he did not owe us every penny of his money!”
— I intend you to have the savings8 from my income which I have for the last eighteen years steadily9 invested, by the help of my notary10, seeking to make you thereby11 as happy as any one can be made by riches. Without means, your education and your lofty ideas would cause you unhappiness. Besides, you ought to bring a liberal dowry to the fine young man who loves you. You will therefore find in the middle of the third volume of Pandects, folio, bound in red morocco (the last volume on the first shelf above the little table in the library, on the side of the room next the salon12), three certificates of Funds in the three-per-cents, made out to bearer, each amounting to twelve thousand francs a year —
“What depths of wickedness!” screamed the post master. “Ah! God would not permit me to be so defrauded13.”
Take these at once, and also some uninvested savings made to this date, which you will find in the preceding volume. Remember, my darling child, that you must obey a wish that has made the happiness of my whole life; a wish that will force me to ask the intervention14 of God should you disobey me. But, to guard against all scruples15 in your dear conscience — for I well know how ready it is to torture you — you will find herewith a will in due form bequeathing these certificates to Monsieur Savinien de Portenduere. So, whether you possess them in your own name, or whether they come to you from him you love, they will be, in every sense, your legitimate16 property.
Your godfather, Denis Minoret.
To this letter was annexed18 the following paper written on a sheet of stamped paper.
This is my will: I, Denis Minoret, doctor of medicine, settled in Nemours, being of sound mind and body, as the date of this document will show, do bequeath my soul to God, imploring19 him to pardon my errors in view of my sincere repentance20. Next, having found in Monsieur le Vicomte Savinien de Portenduere a true and honest affection for me, I bequeath to him the sum of thirty-six thousand francs a year from the Funds, at three per cent, the said bequest4 to take precedence of all inheritance accruing21 to my heirs.
Written by my own hand, at Nemours, on the 11th of January, 1831.
Denis Minoret.
Without an instant’s hesitation22 the post master, who had locked himself into his wife’s bedroom to insure being alone, looked about for the tinder-box, and received two warnings from heaven by the extinction23 of two matches which obstinately24 refused to light. The third took fire. He burned the letter and the will on the hearth25 and buried the vestiges26 of paper and sealing-wax in the ashes by way of superfluous27 caution. Then, allured28 by the thought of possessing thirty-six thousand francs a year of which his wife knew nothing, he returned at full speed to his uncle’s house, spurred by the only idea, a clear-cut, simple idea, which was able to piece and penetrate29 his dull brain. Finding the house invaded by the three families, now masters of the place, he trembled lest he should be unable to accomplish a project to which he gave no reflection whatever, except so far as to fear the obstacles.
“What are you doing here?” he said to Massin and Cremiere. “We can’t leave the house and the property to be pillaged30. We are the heirs, but we can’t camp here. You, Cremiere, go to Dionis at once and tell him to come and certify31 to the death; I can’t draw up the mortuary certificate for an uncle, though I am assistant-mayor. You, Massin, go and ask old Bongrand to attach the seals. As for you, ladies,” he added, turning to his wife and Mesdames Cremiere and Massin, “go and look after Ursula; then nothing can be stolen. Above all, close the iron gate and don’t let any one leave the house.”
The women, who felt the justice of this remark, ran to Ursula’s bedroom, where they found the noble girl, so cruelly suspected, on her knees before God, her face covered with tears. Minoret, suspecting that the women would not long remain with Ursula, went at once to the library, found the volume, opened it, took the three certificates, and found in the other volume about thirty bank notes. In spite of his brutal32 nature the colossus felt as though a peal33 of bells were ringing in each ear. The blood whistled in his temples as he committed the theft; cold as the weather was, his shirt was wet on his back; his legs gave way under him and he fell into a chair in the salon as if an axe34 had fallen on his head.
“How the inheritance of money loosens a man’s tongue! Did you hear Minoret?” said Massin to Cremiere as they hurried through the town. “‘Go here, go there,’ just as if he knew everything.”
“Yes, for a dull beast like him he had a certain air of —”
“Stop!” said Massin, alarmed at a sudden thought. “His wife is there; they’ve got some plan! Do you do both errands; I’ll go back.”
Just as the post master fell into the chair he saw at the gate the heated face of the clerk of the court who returned to the house of death with the celerity of a weasel.
“Well, what is it now?” asked the post master, unlocking the gate for his co-heir.
“Nothing; I have come back to be present at the sealing,” answered Massin, giving him a savage35 look.
“I wish those seals were already on, so that we could go home,” said Minoret.
“We shall have to put a watcher over them,” said Massin. “La Bougival is capable of anything in the interests of that minx. We’ll put Goupil there.”
“Goupil!” said the post master; “put a rat in the meal!”
“Well, let’s consider,” returned Massin. “To-night they’ll watch the body; the seals can be affixed36 in an hour; our wives could look after them. To-morrow we’ll have the funeral at twelve o’clock. But the inventory37 can’t be made under a week.”
“Let’s get rid of that girl at once,” said the colossus; “then we can safely leave the watchman of the town-hall to look after the house and the seals.”
“Good,” cried Massin. “You are the head of the Minoret family.”
“Ladies,” said Minoret, “be good enough to stay in the salon; we can’t think of our dinner today; the seals must be put on at once for the security of all interests.”
He took his wife apart and told her Massin’s proposition about Ursula. The women, whose hearts were full of vengeance38 against the minx, as they called her, hailed the idea of turning her out. Bongrand arrived with his assistants to apply the seals, and was indignant when the request was made to him, by Zelie and Madame Massin, as a near friend of the deceased, to tell Ursula to leave the house.
“Go and turn her out of her father’s house, her benefactor’s house yourselves,” he cried. “Go! you who owe your inheritance to the generosity39 of her soul; take her by the shoulders and fling her into the street before the eyes of the whole town! You think her capable of robbing you? Well, appoint a watcher of the seals; you have a right to do that. But I tell you at once I shall put no seals on Ursula’s room; she has a right to that room, and everything in it is her own property. I shall tell her what her rights are, and tell her too to put everything that belongs to her in this house in that room — Oh! in your presence,” he said, hearing a growl40 of dissatisfaction among the heirs.
“What do you think of that?” said the collector to the post master and the women, who seemed stupefied by the angry address of Bongrand.
“Call him a magistrate41!” cried the post master.
Ursula meanwhile was sitting on her little sofa in a half-fainting condition, her head thrown back, her braids unfastened, while every now and then her sobs42 broke forth43. Her eyes were dim and their lids swollen44; she was, in fact, in a state of moral and physical prostration45 which might have softened46 the hardest hearts — except those of the heirs.
“Ah! Monsieur Bongrand, after my happy birthday comes death and mourning,” she said, with the poetry natural to her. “You know, you, what he was. In twenty years he never said an impatient word to me. I believed he would live a hundred years. He has been my mother,” she cried, “my good, kind mother.”
These simple thoughts brought torrents47 of tears from her eyes, interrupted by sobs; then she fell back exhausted48.
“My child,” said the justice of peace, hearing the heirs on the staircase. “You have a lifetime before you in which to weep, but you have now only a moment to attend to your interests. Gather everything that belongs to you in this house and put it into your own room at once. The heirs insist on my affixing49 the seals.”
“Ah! his heirs may take everything if they choose,” cried Ursula, sitting upright under an impulse of savage indignation. “I have something here,” she added, striking her breast, “which is far more precious —”
“What is it?” said the post master, who with Massin at his heels now showed his brutal face.
“The remembrances of his virtues50, of his life, of his words — an image of his celestial51 soul,” she said, her eyes and face glowing as she raised her hand with a glorious gesture.
“And a key!” cried Massin, creeping up to her like a cat and seizing a key which fell from the bosom52 of her dress in her sudden movement.
“Yes,” she said, blushing, “that is the key of his study; he sent me there at the moment he was dying.”
The two men glanced at each other with horrid53 smiles, and then at Monsieur Bongrand, with a meaning look of degrading suspicion. Ursula who intercepted54 it, rose to her feet, pale as if the blood had left her body. Her eyes sent forth the lightnings that perhaps can issue only at some cost of life, as she said in a choking voice:—
“Monsieur Bongrand, everything in this room is mine through the kindness of my godfather; they may have it all; I have nothing on me but the clothes I wear. I shall leave the house and never return to it.”
She went to her godfather’s room, and no entreaties55 could make her leave it — the heirs, who now began to be slightly ashamed of their conduct, endeavoring to persuade her. She requested Monsieur Bongrand to engage two rooms for her at the “Vieille Poste” inn until she could find some lodging56 in town where she could live with La Bougival. She returned to her own room for her prayer-book, and spent the night, with the abbe, his assistant, and Savinien, in weeping and praying beside her uncle’s body. Savinien came, after his mother had gone to bed, and knelt, without a word, beside his Ursula. She smiled at him sadly, and thanked him for coming faithfully to share her troubles.
“My child,” said Monsieur Bongrand, bring her a large package, “one of your uncle’s heirs has taken these necessary articles from your drawers, for the seals cannot be opened for several days; after that you will recover everything that belongs to you. I have, for your own sake, placed the seals on your room.”
“Thank you,” she replied, pressing his hand. “Look at him again — he seems to sleep, does he not?”
The old man’s face wore that flower of fleeting57 beauty which rests upon the features of the dead who die a painless death; light appeared to radiate from it.
“Did he give you anything secretly before he died?” whispered M. Bongrand.
“Nothing,” she said; “he spoke58 only of a letter.”
“Good! it will certainly be found,” said Bongrand. “How fortunate for you that the heirs demanded the sealing.”
At daybreak Ursula bade adieu to the house where her happy youth was passed; more particularly, to the modest chamber59 in which her love began. So dear to her was it that even in this hour of darkest grief tears of regret rolled down her face for the dear and peaceful haven60. With one last glance at Savinien’s windows she left the room and the house, and went to the inn accompanied by La Bougival, who carried the package, by Monsieur Bongrand, who gave her his arm, and by Savinien, her true protector.
Thus it happened that in spite of all his efforts and cautions the worst fears of the justice of peace were realized; he was now to see Ursula without means and at the mercy of her benefactor’s heirs.
The next afternoon the whole town attended the doctor’s funeral. When the conduct of the heirs to his adopted daughter was publicly known, a vast majority of the people thought it natural and necessary. An inheritance was involved; the good man was known to have hoarded61; Ursula might think she had rights; the heirs were only defending their property; she had humbled62 them enough during their uncle’s lifetime, for he had treated them like dogs and sent them about their business.
Desire Minoret, who was not going to do wonders in life (so said those who envied his father), came down for the funeral. Ursula was unable to be present, for she was in bed with a nervous fever, caused partly by the insults of the heirs and partly by her heavy affliction.
“Look at that hypocrite weeping,” said some of the heirs, pointing to Savinien, who was deeply affected63 by the doctor’s death.
“The question is,” said Goupil, “has he any good grounds for weeping. Don’t laugh too soon, my friends; the seals are not yet removed.”
“Pooh!” said Minoret, who had good reason to know the truth, “you are always frightening us about nothing.”
As the funeral procession left the church to proceed to the cemetery64, a bitter mortification65 was inflicted66 on Goupil; he tried to take Desire’s arm, but the latter withdrew it and turned away from his former comrade in presence of all Nemours.
“I won’t be angry, or I couldn’t get revenge,” thought the notary’s clerk, whose dry heart swelled67 in his bosom like a sponge.
Before breaking the seals and making the inventory, it took some time for the procureur du roi, who is the legal guardian68 of orphans69, to commission Monsieur Bongrand to act in his place. After that was done the settlement of the Minoret inheritance (nothing else being talked of in the town for ten days) began with all the legal formalities. Dionis had his pickings; Goupil enjoyed some mischief-making; and as the business was profitable the sessions were many. After the first of these sessions all parties breakfasted together; notary, clerk, heirs, and witnesses drank the best wines in the doctor’s cellar.
In the provinces, and especially in little towns where every one lives in his own house, it is sometimes very difficult to find a lodging. When a man buys a business of any kind the dwelling-house is almost always included in the purchase. Monsieur Bongrand saw no other way of removing Ursula from the village inn than to buy a small house on the Grand’Rue at the corner of the bridge over the Loing. The little building had a front door opening on a corridor, and one room on the ground-floor with two windows on the street; behind this came the kitchen, with a glass door opening to an inner courtyard about thirty feet square. A small staircase, lighted on the side towards the river by small windows, led to the first floor where there were three chambers70, and above these were two attic71 rooms. Monsieur Bongrand borrowed two thousand francs from La Bougival’s savings to pay the first instalment of the price — six thousand francs — and obtained good terms for payment of the rest. As Ursula wished to buy her uncle’s books, Bongrand knocked down the partition between two rooms on the bedroom floor, finding that their united length was the same as that of the doctor’s library, and gave room for his bookshelves.
Savinien and Bongrand urged on the workmen who were cleaning, painting, and otherwise renewing the tiny place, so that before the end of March Ursula was able to leave the inn and take up her abode72 in the ugly house; where, however, she found a bedroom exactly like the one she had left; for it was filled with all her furniture, claimed by the justice of peace when the seals were removed. La Bougival, sleeping in the attic, could be summoned by a bell placed near the head of the young girl’s bed. The room intended for the books, the salon on the ground-floor and the kitchen, though still unfurnished, had been hung with fresh papers and repainted, and only awaited the purchases which the young girl hoped to make when her godfather’s effects were sold.
Though the strength of Ursula’s character was well known to the abbe and Monsieur Bongrand, they both feared the sudden change from the comfort and elegancies to which her uncle had accustomed her to this barren and denuded73 life. As for Savinien he wept over it. He did, in fact, make private payments to the workman and to the upholsterer, so that Ursula should perceive no difference between the new chamber and the old one. But the young girl herself, whose happiness now lay in Savinien’s own eyes, showed the gentlest resignation, which endeared her more and more to her two old friends, and proved to them for the hundredth time that no troubles but those of the heart could make her suffer. The grief she felt for the loss of her godfather was far too deep to let her even feel the bitterness of her change of fortune, though it added fresh obstacles to her marriage. Savinien’s distress74 in seeing her thus reduced did her so much harm that she whispered to him, as they came from mass on the morning on the day when she first went to live in her new house:
“Love could not exist without patience; let us wait.”
As soon as the form of the inventory was drawn75 up, Massin, advised by Goupil (who turned to him under the influence of his secret hatred76 to the post master), summoned Monsieur and Madame de Portenduere to pay off the mortgage which had now elapsed, together with the interest accruing thereon. The old lady was bewildered at a summons to pay one hundred and twenty-nine thousand five hundred and seventeen francs within twenty-four hours under pain of execution on her house. It was impossible for her to borrow the money. Savinien went to Fontainebleau to consult a lawyer.
“You are dealing77 with a bad set of people who will not compromise,” was the lawyer’s opinion. “They intend to sue in the matter and get your farm at Bordieres. The best way for you would be to make a voluntary sale of it and so escape costs.”
This dreadful news broke down the old lady. Her son very gently pointed78 out to her that had she consented to his marriage in Minoret’s life-time, the doctor would have left his property to Ursula’s husband and they would today have been opulent instead of being, as they now were, in the depths of poverty. Though said without reproach, this argument annihilated79 the poor woman even more than the thought of her coming ejectment. When Ursula heard of this catastrophe80 she was stupefied with grief, having scarcely recovered from her fever, and the blow which the heirs had already dealt her. To love and be unable to succor81 the man she loves — that is one of the most dreadful of all sufferings to the soul of a noble and sensitive woman.
“I wished to buy my uncle’s house,” she said, “now I will buy your mother’s.”
“Can you?” said Savinien. “You are a minor17, and you cannot sell out your Funds without formalities to which the procureur du roi, now your legal guardian, would not agree. We shall not resist. The whole town will be glad to see the discomfiture82 of a noble family. These bourgeois83 are like hounds after a quarry84. Fortunately, I still have ten thousand francs left, on which I can support my mother till this deplorable matter is settled. Besides, the inventory of your godfather’s property is not yet finished; Monsieur Bongrand still thinks he shall find something for you. He is as much astonished as I am that you seem to be left without fortune. The doctor so often spoke both to him and to me of the future he had prepared for you that neither of us can understand this conclusion.”
“Pooh!” she said; “so long as I can buy my godfather’s books and furniture and prevent their being dispersed85, I am content.”
“But who knows the price these infamous86 creatures will set on anything you want?”
Nothing was talked of from Montargis to Fontainebleau but the million for which the Minoret heirs were searching. But the most minute search made in every corner of the house after the seals were removed, brought no discovery. The one hundred and twenty-nine thousand francs of the Portenduere debt, the capital of the fifteen thousand a year in the three per cents (then quoted at 76), the house, valued at forty thousand francs, and its handsome furniture, produced a total of about six hundred thousand francs, which to most persons seemed a comforting sum. But what had become of the money the doctor must have saved?
Minoret began to have gnawing87 anxieties. La Bougival and Savinien, who persisted in believing, as did the justice of peace, in the existence of a will, came every day at the close of each session to find out from Bongrand the results of the day’s search. The latter would sometimes exclaim, before the agents and the heirs were fairly out of hearing, “I can’t understand the thing!” Bongrand, Savinien, and the abbe often declared to each other that the doctor, who received no interest from the Portenduere loan, could not have kept his house as he did on fifteen thousand francs a year. This opinion, openly expressed, made the post master turn livid more than once.
“Yet they and I have rummaged88 everywhere,” said Bongrand — “they to find money, and I to find a will in favor of Monsieur de Portenduere. They have sifted89 the ashes, lifted the marbles, felt of the slippers90, bored into the wood-work of the beds, emptied the mattresses91, ripped up the quilts, turned his eider-down inside-out, examined every inch of paper piece by piece, searched the drawers, dug up the cellar floor — and I have urged on their devastations.”
“What do you think about it?” said the abbe.
“The will has been suppressed by one of the heirs.”
“But where’s the property?”
“We may whistle for it!”
“Perhaps the will is hidden in the library,” said Savinien.
“Yes, and for that reason I don’t dissuade92 Ursula from buying it. If it were not for that, it would be absurd to let her put every penny of her ready money into books she will never open.”
At first the whole town believed the doctor’s niece had got possession of the unfound capital; but when it was known positively93 that fourteen hundred francs a year and her gifts constituted her whole fortune the search of the doctor’s house and furniture excited a more wide-spread curiosity than before. Some said the money would be found in bank bills hidden away in the furniture, others that the old man had slipped them into his books. The sale of the effects exhibited a spectacle of the most extraordinary precautions on the part of the heirs. Dionis, who was doing duty as auctioneeer, declared, as each lot was cried out, that the heirs only sold the article (whatever it was) and not what it might contain; then, before allowing it to be taken away it was subjected to a final investigation94, being thumped95 and sounded; and when at last it left the house the sellers followed with the looks a father might cast upon a son who was starting for India.
“Ah, mademoiselle,” cried La Bougival, returning from the first session in despair, “I shall not go again. Monsieur Bongrand is right, you could never bear the sight. Everything is ticketed. All the town is coming and going just as in the street; the handsome furniture is being ruined, they even stand upon it; the whole place is such a muddle96 that a hen couldn’t find her chicks. You’d think there had been a fire. Lots of things are in the courtyard; the closets are all open, and nothing in them. Oh! the poor dear man, it’s well he died, the sight would have killed him.”
Bongrand, who bought for Ursula certain articles which her uncle cherished, and which were suitable for her little house, did not appear at the sale of the library. Shrewder than the heirs, whose cupidity97 might have run up the price of the books had they known he was buying them for Ursula, he commissioned a dealer98 in old books living in Melun to buy them for him. As a result of the heir’s anxiety the whole library was sold book by book. Three thousand volumes were examined, one by one, held by the two sides of the binding99 and shaken so that loose papers would infallibly fall out. The whole amount of the purchases on Ursula’s account amounted to six thousand five hundred francs or thereabouts. The book-cases were not allowed to leave the premises100 until carefully examined by a cabinet-maker, brought down from Paris to search for secret drawers. When at last Monsieur Bongrand gave orders to take the books and the bookcases to Mademoiselle Mirouet’s house the heirs were tortured with vague fears, not dissipated until in course of time they saw how poorly she lived.
Minoret bought up his uncle’s house, the value of which his co-heirs ran up to fifty thousand francs, imagining that the post master expected to find a treasure in the walls; in fact the house was sold with a reservation on this subject. Two weeks later Minoret disposed of his post establishment, with all the coaches and horses, to the son of a rich farmer, and went to live in his uncle’s house, where he spent considerable sums in repairing and refurnishing the rooms. By making this move he thoughtlessly condemned101 himself to live within sight of Ursula.
“I hope,” he said to Dionis the day when Madame de Portenduere was summoned to pay her debt, “that we shall soon be rid of those nobles; after they are gone we’ll drive out the rest.”
“That old woman with fourteen quarterings,” said Goupil, “won’t want to witness her own disaster; she’ll go and die in Brittany, where she can manage to find a wife for her son.”
“No,” said the notary, who had that morning drawn out a deed of sale at Bongrand’s request. “Ursula has just bought the house she is living in.”
“That cursed fool does everything she can to annoy me!” cried the post master imprudently.
“What does it signify to you whether she lives in Nemours or not?” asked Goupil, surprised at the annoyance102 which the colossus betrayed.
“Don’t you know,” answered Minoret, turning as red as a poppy, “that my son is fool enough to be in love with her? I’d give five hundred francs if I could get Ursula out of this town.”
点击收听单词发音
1 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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2 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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3 bequests | |
n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 );遗产,遗赠物 | |
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4 bequest | |
n.遗赠;遗产,遗物 | |
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5 rascal | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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6 lawsuit | |
n.诉讼,控诉 | |
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7 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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8 savings | |
n.存款,储蓄 | |
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9 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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10 notary | |
n.公证人,公证员 | |
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11 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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12 salon | |
n.[法]沙龙;客厅;营业性的高级服务室 | |
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13 defrauded | |
v.诈取,骗取( defraud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 intervention | |
n.介入,干涉,干预 | |
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15 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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17 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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18 annexed | |
[法] 附加的,附属的 | |
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19 imploring | |
恳求的,哀求的 | |
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20 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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21 accruing | |
v.增加( accrue的现在分词 );(通过自然增长)产生;获得;(使钱款、债务)积累 | |
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22 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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23 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
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24 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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25 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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26 vestiges | |
残余部分( vestige的名词复数 ); 遗迹; 痕迹; 毫不 | |
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27 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
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28 allured | |
诱引,吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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30 pillaged | |
v.抢劫,掠夺( pillage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 certify | |
vt.证明,证实;发证书(或执照)给 | |
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32 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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33 peal | |
n.钟声;v.鸣响 | |
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34 axe | |
n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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35 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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36 affixed | |
adj.[医]附着的,附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 );粘贴;加以;盖(印章) | |
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37 inventory | |
n.详细目录,存货清单 | |
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38 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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39 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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40 growl | |
v.(狗等)嗥叫,(炮等)轰鸣;n.嗥叫,轰鸣 | |
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41 magistrate | |
n.地方行政官,地方法官,治安官 | |
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42 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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43 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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44 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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45 prostration | |
n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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46 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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47 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
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48 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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49 affixing | |
v.附加( affix的现在分词 );粘贴;加以;盖(印章) | |
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50 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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51 celestial | |
adj.天体的;天上的 | |
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52 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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53 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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54 intercepted | |
拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 ); 截住; 截击; 拦阻 | |
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55 entreaties | |
n.恳求,乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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56 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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57 fleeting | |
adj.短暂的,飞逝的 | |
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58 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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59 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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60 haven | |
n.安全的地方,避难所,庇护所 | |
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61 hoarded | |
v.积蓄并储藏(某物)( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
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63 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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64 cemetery | |
n.坟墓,墓地,坟场 | |
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65 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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66 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67 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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68 guardian | |
n.监护人;守卫者,保护者 | |
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69 orphans | |
孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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70 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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71 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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72 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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73 denuded | |
adj.[医]变光的,裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 );剥光覆盖物 | |
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74 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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75 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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76 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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77 dealing | |
n.经商方法,待人态度 | |
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78 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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79 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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80 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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81 succor | |
n.援助,帮助;v.给予帮助 | |
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82 discomfiture | |
n.崩溃;大败;挫败;困惑 | |
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83 bourgeois | |
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子 | |
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84 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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85 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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86 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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87 gnawing | |
a.痛苦的,折磨人的 | |
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88 rummaged | |
翻找,搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 ); 已经海关检查 | |
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89 sifted | |
v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
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90 slippers | |
n. 拖鞋 | |
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91 mattresses | |
褥垫,床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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92 dissuade | |
v.劝阻,阻止 | |
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93 positively | |
adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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94 investigation | |
n.调查,调查研究 | |
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95 thumped | |
v.重击, (指心脏)急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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96 muddle | |
n.困惑,混浊状态;vt.使混乱,使糊涂,使惊呆;vi.胡乱应付,混乱 | |
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97 cupidity | |
n.贪心,贪财 | |
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98 dealer | |
n.商人,贩子 | |
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99 binding | |
有约束力的,有效的,应遵守的 | |
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100 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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101 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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102 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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