On the opposite slope, beneath some thousands of roofs packed close together like heads in a crowd, lurks5 the squalor of the Faubourg Saint–Marceau. The imposing6 cupola of the Pantheon, and the grim melancholy7 dome8 of the Val-du-Grace, tower proudly up above a whole town in itself, built amphitheatre-wise; every tier being grotesquely9 represented by a crooked10 line of street, so that the two public monuments look like a huge pair of giants dwarfing11 into insignificance12 the poor little houses and the tallest poplars in the valley. To your left behold13 the observatory14, the daylight, pouring athwart its windows and galleries, producing such fantastical strange effects that the building looks like a black spectral15 skeleton. Further yet in the distance rises the elegant lantern tower of the Invalides, soaring up between the bluish pile of the Luxembourg and the gray tours of Saint–Sulpice. From this standpoint the lines of the architecture are blended with green leaves and gray shadows, and change every moment with every aspect of the heavens, every alteration16 of light or color in the sky. Afar, the skyey spaces themselves seem to be full of buildings; near, wind the serpentine18 curves of waving trees and green footpaths20.
Away to your right, through a great gap in this singular landscape, you see the canal Saint–Martin, a long pale stripe with its edging of reddish stone quays21 and fringes of lime avenue. The long rows of buildings beside it, in genuine Roman style, are the public granaries.
Beyond, again, on the very last plane of all, see the smoke-dimmed slopes of Belleville covered with houses and windmills, which blend their freaks of outline with the chance effects of cloud. And still, between that horizon, vague as some childish recollection, and the serried22 range of roofs in the valley, a whole city lies out of sight: a huge city, engulfed23, as it were, in a vast hollow between the pinnacles24 of the Hopital de la Pitie and the ridge25 line of the Cimetiere de l’Est, between suffering on the one hand and death on the other; a city sending up a smothered26 roar like Ocean grumbling27 at the foot of a cliff, as if to let you know that “I am here!”
When the sunlight pours like a flood over this strip of Paris, purifying and etherealizing the outlines, kindling28 answering lights here and there in the window panes29, brightening the red tiles, flaming about the golden crosses, whitening walls and transforming the atmosphere into a gauzy veil, calling up rich contrasts of light and fantastic shadow; when the sky is blue and earth quivers in the heat, and the bells are pealing30, then you shall see one of the eloquent31 fairy scenes which stamp themselves for ever on the imagination, a scene that shall find as fanatical worshipers as the wondrous32 views of Naples and Byzantium or the isles33 of Florida. Nothing is wanting to complete the harmony, the murmur34 of the world of men and the idyllic35 quiet of solitude36, the voices of a million human creatures and the voice of God. There lies a whole capital beneath the peaceful cypresses37 of Pere–Lachaise.
The landscape lay in all its beauty, sparkling in the spring sunlight, as I stood looking out over it one morning, my back against a huge elm-tree that flung its yellow flowers to the wind. At the sight of the rich and glorious view before me, I thought bitterly of the scorn with which even in our literature we affect to hold this land of ours, and poured maledictions on the pitiable plutocrats who fall out of love with fair France, and spend their gold to acquire the right of sneering38 at their own country, by going through Italy at a gallop39 and inspecting that desecrated40 land through an opera-glass. I cast loving eyes on modern Paris. I was beginning to dream dreams, when the sound of a kiss disturbed the solitude and put philosophy to flight. Down the sidewalk, along the steep bank, above the rippling42 water, I saw beyond the Ponte des Gobelins the figure of a woman, dressed with the daintiest simplicity43; she was still young, as it seemed to me, and the blithe44 gladness of the landscape was reflected in her sweet face. Her companion, a handsome young man, had just set down a little boy. A prettier child has never been seen, and to this day I do not know whether it was the little one or his mother who received the kiss. In their young faces, in their eyes, their smile, their every movement, you could read the same deep and tender thought. Their arms were interlaced with such glad swiftness; they drew close together with such marvelous unanimity45 of impulse that, conscious of nothing but themselves, they did not so much as see me. A second child, however — a little girl, who had turned her back upon them in sullen46 discontent — threw me a glance, and the expression in her eyes startled me. She was as pretty and engaging as the little brother whom she left to run about by himself, sometimes before, sometimes after their mother and her companion; but her charm was less childish, and now, as she stood mute and motionless, her attitude and demeanor47 suggested a torpid48 snake. There was something indescribably mechanical in the way in which the pretty woman and her companion paced up and down. In absence of mind, probably, they were content to walk to and fro between the little bridge and a carriage that stood waiting nearby at a corner in the boulevard, turning, stopping short now and again, looking into each other’s eyes, or breaking into laughter as their casual talk grew lively or languid, grave or gay.
I watched this delicious picture a while from my hiding-place by the great elm-tree, and should have turned away no doubt and respected their privacy, if it had not been for a chance discovery. In the face of the brooding, silent, elder child I saw traces of thought overdeep for her age. When her mother and the young man at her side turned and came near, her head was frequently lowered; the furtive49 sidelong glances of intelligence that she gave the pair and the child her brother were nothing less than extraordinary. Sometimes the pretty woman or her friend would stroke the little boy’s fair curls, or lay a caressing50 finger against the baby throat or the white collar as he played at keeping step with them; and no words can describe the shrewd subtlety52, the ingenuous53 malice54, the fierce intensity55 which lighted up that pallid56 little face with the faint circles already round the eyes. Truly there was a man’s power of passion in the strange-looking, delicate little girl. Here were traces of suffering or of thought in her; and which is the more certain token of death when life is in blossom — physical suffering, or the malady57 of too early thought preying58 upon a soul as yet in bud? Perhaps a mother knows. For my own part, I know of nothing more dreadful to see than an old man’s thoughts on a child’s forehead; even blasphemy59 from girlish lips is less monstrous60.
The almost stupid stolidity61 of this child who had begun to think already, her rare gestures, everything about her, interested me. I scrutinized62 her curiously63. Then the common whim64 of the observer drew me to compare her with her brother, and to note their likeness65 and unlikeness.
Her brown hair and dark eyes and look of precocious66 power made a rich contrast with the little one’s fair curled head and sea-green eyes and winning helplessness. She, perhaps, was seven or eight years of age; the boy was full four years younger. Both children were dressed alike; but here again, looking closely, I noticed a difference. It was very slight, a little thing enough; but in the light of after events I saw that it meant a whole romance in the past, a whole tragedy to come. The little brown-haired maid wore a linen67 collar with a plain hem17, her brother’s was edged with dainty embroidery68, that was all; but therein lay the confession69 of a heart’s secret, a tacit preference which a child can read in the mother’s inmost soul as clearly as if the spirit of God revealed it. The fair-haired child, careless and glad, looked almost like a girl, his skin was so fair and fresh, his movements so graceful70, his look so sweet; while his older sister, in spite of her energy, in spite of the beauty of her features and her dazzling complexion71, looked like a sickly little boy. In her bright eyes there was none of the humid softness which lends such charm to children’s faces; they seemed, like courtiers’ eyes, to be dried by some inner fire; and in her pallor there was a certain swarthy olive tint72, the sign of vigorous character. Twice her little brother came to her, holding out a tiny hunting-horn with a touching73 charm, a winning look, and wistful expression, which would have sent Charlet into ecstasies, but she only scowled74 in answer to his “Here, Helene, will you take it?” so persuasively75 spoken. The little girl, so sombre and vehement77 beneath her apparent indifference78, shuddered79, and even flushed red when her brother came near her; but the little one seemed not to notice his sister’s dark mood, and his unconsciousness, blended with earnestness, marked a final difference in character between the child and the little girl, whose brow was overclouded already by the gloom of a man’s knowledge and cares.
“Mamma, Helene will not play,” cried the little one, seizing an opportunity to complain while the two stood silent on the Ponte des Gobelins.
“Let her alone, Charles; you know very well that she is always cross.”
Tears sprang to Helene’s eyes at the words so thoughtlessly uttered by her mother as she turned abruptly80 to the young man by her side. The child devoured81 the speech in silence, but she gave her brother one of those sagacious looks that seemed inexplicable82 to me, glancing with a sinister83 expression from the bank where he stood to the Bievre, then at the bridge and the view, and then at me.
I as afraid lest my presence should disturb the happy couple; I slipped away and took refuge behind a thicket84 of elder trees, which completely screened me from all eyes. Sitting quietly on the summit of the bank, I watched the ever-changing landscape and the fierce-looking little girl, for with my head almost on a level with the boulevard I could still see her through the leaves. Helene seemed uneasy over my disappearance85, her dark eyes looked for me down the alley3 and behind the trees with indefinable curiosity. What was I to her? Then Charles’ baby laughter rang out like a bird’s song in the silence. The tall, young man, with the same fair hair, was dancing him in his arms, showering kisses upon him, and the meaningless baby words of that “little language” which rises to our lips when we play with children. The mother looked on smiling, now and then, doubtless, putting in some low word that came up from the heart, for her companion would stop short in his full happiness, and the blue eyes that turned towards her were full of glowing light and love and worship. Their voices, blending with the child’s voice, reached me with a vague sense of a caress51. The three figures, charming in themselves, composed a lovely scene in a glorious landscape, filling it with a pervasive86 unimaginable grace. A delicately fair woman, radiant with smiles, a child of love, a young man with the irresistible87 charm of youth, a cloudless sky; nothing was wanting in nature to complete a perfect harmony for the delight of the soul. I found myself smiling as if their happiness had been my own.
The clocks struck nine. The young man gave a tender embrace to his companion, and went towards the tilbury which an old servant drove slowly to meet him. The lady had grown grave and almost sad. The child’s prattle88 sounded unchecked through the last farewell kisses. Then the tilbury rolled away, and the lady stood motionless, listening to the sound of the wheels, watching the little cloud of dust raised by its passage along the road. Charles ran down the green pathway back to the bridge to join his sister. I heard his silver voice calling to her.
“Why did you not come to say good-bye to my good friend?” cried he.
Helene looked up. Never surely did such hatred89 gleam from a child’s eyes as from hers at that moment when she turned them on the brother who stood beside her on the bank side. She gave him an angry push. Charles lost his footing on the steep slope, stumbled over the roots of a tree, and fell headlong forwards, dashing his forehead on the sharp-edged stones of the embankment, and, covered with blood, disappeared over the edge into the muddy river. The turbid90 water closed over a fair, bright head with a shower of splashes; one sharp shriek91 after another rang in my ears; then the sounds were stifled92 by the thick stream, and the poor child sank with a dull sound as if a stone had been thrown into the water. The accident had happened with more than lightning swiftness. I sprang down the footpath19, and Helene, stupefied with horror, shrieked93 again and again:
“Mamma! mamma!”
The mother was there at my side. She had flown to the spot like a bird. But neither a mother’s eyes nor mine could find the exact place where the little one had gone under. There was a wide space of black hurrying water, and below in the bed of the Bievre ten feet of mud. There was not the smallest possibility of saving the child. No one was stirring at that hour on a Sunday morning, and there are neither barges94 nor anglers on the Bievre. There was not a creature in sight, not a pole to plumb95 the filthy96 stream. What need was there for me to explain how the ugly-looking accident had happened — accident or misfortune, whichever it might be? Had Helene avenged97 her father? Her jealousy98 surely was the sword of God. And yet when I looked at the mother I shivered. What fearful ordeal99 awaited her when she should return to her husband, the judge before whom she must stand all her days? And here with her was an inseparable, incorruptible witness. A child’s forehead is transparent100, a child’s face hides no thoughts, and a lie, like a red flame set within glows out red that colors even the eyes. But the unhappy woman had not thought as yet of the punishment awaiting her at home; she was staring into the Bievre.
Such an event must inevitably101 send ghastly echoes through a woman’s life, and here is one of the most terrible of the reverberations that troubled Julie’s love from time to time.
Several years had gone by. The Marquis de Vandenesse wore mourning for his father, and succeeded to his estates. One evening, therefore, after dinner it happened that a notary102 was present in his house. This was no pettifogging lawyer after Sterne’s pattern, but a very solid, substantial notary of Paris, one of your estimable men who do a stupid thing pompously103, set down a foot heavily upon your private corn, and then ask what in the world there is to cry out about? If, by accident, they come to know the full extent of the enormity, “Upon my word,” cry they, “I hadn’t a notion!” This was a well-intentioned ass41, in short, who could see nothing in life but deeds and documents.
Mme. de Aiglemont had been dining with M. de Vandenesse; her husband had excused himself before dinner was over, for he was taking his two children to the play. They were to go to some Boulevard theatre or other, to the Ambigu–Comique or the Gaiete, sensational104 melodrama105 being judged harmless here in Paris, and suitable pabulum for childhood, because innocence106 is always triumphant107 in the fifth act. The boy and girl had teased their father to be there before the curtain rose, so he had left the table before dessert was served.
But the notary, the imperturbable108 notary, utterly109 incapable110 of asking himself why Mme. d’Aiglemont should have allowed her husband and children to go without her to the play, sat on as if he were screwed to his chair. Dinner was over, dessert had been prolonged by discussion, and coffee delayed. All these things consumed time, doubtless precious, and drew impatient movements from that charming woman; she looked not unlike a thoroughbred pawing the ground before a race; but the man of law, to whom horses and women were equally unknown quantities, simply thought the Marquise a very lively and sparkling personage. So enchanted111 was he to be in the company of a woman of fashion and a political celebrity112, that he was exerting himself to shine in conversation, and taking the lady’s forced smile for approbation113, talked on with unflagging spirit, till the Marquise was almost out of patience.
The master of the house, in concert with the lady, had more than once maintained an eloquent silence when the lawyer expected a civil reply; but these significant pauses were employed by the talkative nuisance in looking for anecdotes114 in the fire. M. de Vandenesse had recourse to his watch; the charming Marquise tried the experiment of fastening her bonnet115 strings116, and made as if she would go. But she did not go, and the notary, blind and deaf, and delighted with himself, was quite convinced that his interesting conversational117 powers were sufficient to keep the lady on the spot.
“I shall certainly have that woman for a client,” said he to himself.
Meanwhile the Marquise stood, putting on her gloves, twisting her fingers, looking from the equally impatient Marquis de Vandenesse to the lawyer, still pounding away. At every pause in the worthy118 man’s fire of witticisms119 the charming pair heaved a sigh of relief, and their looks said plainly, “At last! He is really going!”
Nothing of the kind. It was a nightmare which could only end in exasperating120 the two impassioned creatures, on whom the lawyer had something of the fascinating effect of a snake on a pair of birds; before long they would be driven to cut him short.
The clever notary was giving them the history of the discreditable ways in which one du Tillet (a stockbroker121 then much in favor) had laid the foundations of his fortune; all the ins and outs of the whole disgraceful business were accurately122 put before them; and the narrator was in the very middle of his tale when M. de Vandenesse heard the clock strike nine. Then it became clear to him that his legal adviser123 was very emphatically an idiot who must be sent forthwith about his business. He stopped him resolutely124 with a gesture.
“The tongs125, my lord Marquis?” queried126 the notary, handing the object in question to his client.
“No, monsieur, I am compelled to send you away. Mme. d’Aiglemont wishes to join her children, and I shall have the honor of escorting her.”
“Nine o’clock already! Time goes like a shadow in pleasant company,” said the man of law, who had talked on end for the past hour.
He looked for his hat, planted himself before the fire, with a suppressed hiccough; and, without heeding127 the Marquise’s withering128 glances, spoke76 once more to his impatient client:
“To sum up, my lord Marquis. Business before all things. To-morrow, then, we must subpoena129 your brother; we will proceed to make out the inventory130, and faith, after that ——”
So ill had the lawyer understood his instructions, that his impression was the exact opposite to the one intended. It was a delicate matter, and Vandenesse, in spite of himself, began to put the thick-headed notary right. The discussion which followed took up a certain amount of time.
“Listen,” the diplomatist said at last at a sign from the lady, “You are puzzling my brains; come back tomorrow, and if the writ131 is not issued by noon tomorrow, the days of grace will expire, and then —”
As he spoke, a carriage entered the courtyard. The poor woman turned sharply away at the sound to hide the tears in her eyes. The Marquis rang to give the servant orders to say that he was not at home; but before the footman could answer the bell, the lady’s husband reappeared. He had returned unexpectedly from the Gaiete, and held both children by the hand. The little girl’s eyes were red; the boy was fretful and very cross.
“What can have happened?” asked the Marquise.
“I will tell you by and by,” said the General, and catching132 a glimpse through an open door of newspapers on the table in the adjoining sitting-room133, he went off. The Marquise, at the end of her patience, flung herself down on the sofa in desperation. The notary, thinking it incumbent134 upon him to be amiable135 with the children, spoke to the little boy in an insinuating136 tone:
“Well, my little man, and what is there on at the theatre?”
“The Valley of the Torrent137,” said Gustave sulkily.
“Upon my word and honor,” declared the notary, “authors nowadays are half crazy. The Valley of the Torrent! Why not the Torrent of the Valley? It is conceivable that a valley might be without a torrent in it; now if they had said the Torrent of the Valley, that would have been something clear, something precise, something definite and comprehensible. But never mind that. Now, how is the drama to take place in a torrent and in a valley? You will tell me that in these days the principal attraction lies in the scenic138 effect, and the title is a capital advertisement. — And did you enjoy it, my little friend?” he continued, sitting down before the child.
When the notary pursued his inquiries139 as to the possibilities of a drama in the bed of a torrent, the little girl turned slowly away and began to cry. Her mother did not notice this in her intense annoyance140.
“Oh! yes, monsieur, I enjoyed it very much,” said the child. “There is a dear little boy in the play, and he was all alone in the world, because his papa could not have been his real papa. And when he came to the top of the bridge over the torrent, a big, naughty man with a beard, dressed all in black, came and threw him into the water. And then Helene began to sob141 and cry, and everybody scolded us, and father brought us away quick, quick ——”
M. de Vandenesse and the Marquise looked on in dull amazement142, as if all power to think or move had been suddenly paralyzed.
“Do be quiet, Gustave!” cried the General. “I told you that you were not to talk about anything that happened at the play, and you have forgotten what I said already.”
“Oh, my lord Marquis, your lordship must excuse him,” cried the notary. “I ought not to have asked questions, but I had no idea —”
“He ought not to have answered them,” said the General, looking sternly at the child.
It seemed that the Marquise and the master of the house both perfectly143 understood why the children had come back so suddenly. Mme. d’Aiglemont looked at her daughter, and rose as if to go to her, but a terrible convulsion passed over her face, and all that could be read in it was relentless144 severity.
“That will do, Helene,” she said. “Go into the other room, and leave off crying.”
“What can she have done, poor child!” asked the notary, thinking to appease145 the mother’s anger and to stop Helene’s tears at one stroke. “So pretty as she his, she must be as good as can be; never anything but a joy to her mother, I will be bound. Isn’t that so, my little girl?”
Helene cowered146, looked at her mother, dried her eyes, struggled for composure, and took refuge in the next room.
“And you, madame, are too good a mother not to love all your children alike. You are too good a woman, besides, to have any of those lamentable147 preferences which have such fatal effects, as we lawyers have only too much reason to know. Society goes through our hands; we see its passions in that most revolting form, greed. Here it is the mother of a family trying to disinherit her husband’s children to enrich the others whom she loves better; or it is the husband who tries to leave all his property to the child who has done his best to earn his mother’s hatred. And then begin quarrels, and fears, and deeds, and defeasances, and sham148 sales, and trusts, and all the rest of it; a pretty mess, in fact, it is pitiable, upon my honor, pitiable! There are fathers that will spend their whole lives in cheating their children and robbing their wives. Yes, robbing is the only word for it. We were talking of tragedy; oh! I can assure you of this that if we were at liberty to tell the real reasons of some donations that I know of, our modern dramatists would have the material for some sensational bourgeois149 dramas. How the wife manages to get her way, as she invariably does, I cannot think; for in spite of appearances, and in spite of their weakness, it is always the women who carry the day. Ah! by the way, they don’t take me in. I always know the reason at the bottom of those predilections150 which the world politely styles ‘unaccountable.’ But in justice to the husbands, I must say that they never discover anything. You will tell me that this is a merciful dispens —”
Helene had come back to the drawing-room with her father, and was listening attentively151. So well did she understand all that was said, that she gave her mother a frightened glance, feeling, with a child’s quick instinct, that these remarks would aggravate152 the punishment hanging over her. The Marquise turned her white face to Vandenesse; and, with terror in her eyes, indicated her husband, who stood with his eyes fixed153 absently on the flower pattern of the carpet. The diplomatist, accomplished154 man of the world though he was, could no longer contain his wrath155, he gave the man of law a withering glance.
“Step this way, sir,” he said, and he went hurriedly to the door of the ante-chamber156; the notary left his sentence half finished, and followed, quaking, and the husband and wife were left together.
“Now, sir” said the Marquise de Vandenesse — he banged the drawing-room door, and spoke with concentrated rage —“ever since dinner you have done nothing but make blunders and talk folly157. For heaven’s sake, go. You will make the most frightful158 mischief159 before you have done. If you are a clever man in your profession, keep to your profession; and if by any chance you should go into society, endeavor to be more circumspect160.”
With that he went back to the drawing-room, and did not even wish the notary good-evening. For a moment that worthy stood dumfounded, bewildered, utterly at a loss. Then, when the buzzing in his ears subsided161, he thought he heard someone moaning in the next room. Footsteps came and went, and bells were violently rung. He was by no means anxious to meet the Marquis again, and found the use of his legs to make good his escape, only to run against a hurrying crowd of servants at the door.
“Just the way of all these grand folk,” said he to himself outside in the street as he looked about for a cab. “They lead you on to talk with compliments, and you think you are amusing them. Not a bit of it. They treat you insolently162; put you at a distance; even put you out at the door without scruple163. After all, I talked very cleverly, I said nothing but what was sensible, well turned, and discreet164; and, upon my word, he advises me to be more circumspect in future. I will take good care of that! Eh! the mischief take it! I am a notary and a member of my chamber! — Pshaw! it was an ambassador’s fit of temper, nothing is sacred for people of that kind. To-morrow he shall explain what he meant by saying that I had done nothing but blunder and talk nonsense in his house. I will ask him for an explanation — that is, I will ask him to explain my mistake. After all is done and said, I am in the wrong perhaps —— Upon my word, it is very good of me to cudgel my brains like this. What business is it of mine?”
So the notary went home and laid the enigma165 before his spouse166, with a complete account of the evening’s events related in sequence.
And she replied, “My dear Crottat, His Excellency was perfectly right when he said that you had done nothing but blunder and talk folly.”
“Why?”
“My dear, if I told you why, it would not prevent you from doing the same thing somewhere else tomorrow. I tell you again — talk of nothing but business when you go out; that is my advice to you.”
“If you will not tell me, I shall ask him tomorrow —”
“Why, dear me! the veriest noodle is careful to hide a thing of that kind, and do you suppose that an ambassador will tell you about it? Really, Crottat, I have never known you so utterly devoid167 of common-sense.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
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blase
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| adj.厌烦于享乐的 | |
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ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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lurks
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| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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dwarfing
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| n.矮化病 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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observatory
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| n.天文台，气象台，瞭望台，观测台 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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footpaths
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| 人行小径，人行道( footpath的名词复数 ) | |
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quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pinnacles
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| 顶峰( pinnacle的名词复数 )； 顶点； 尖顶； 小尖塔 | |
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25
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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26
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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27
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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28
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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29
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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30
pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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31
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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32
wondrous
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| 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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33
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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34
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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35
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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36
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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37
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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38
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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39
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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40
desecrated
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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42
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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43
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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44
blithe
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| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
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45
unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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46
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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47
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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48
torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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49
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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50
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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51
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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52
subtlety
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|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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53
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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54
malice
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|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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55
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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56
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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57
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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58
preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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59
blasphemy
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|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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60
monstrous
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|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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61
stolidity
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|
| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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62
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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64
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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65
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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66
precocious
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|
| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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67
linen
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|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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68
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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69
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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70
graceful
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|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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71
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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72
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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73
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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74
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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76
spoke
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|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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77
vehement
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|
| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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78
indifference
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|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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79
shuddered
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|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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80
abruptly
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|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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81
devoured
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|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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82
inexplicable
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|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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83
sinister
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|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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84
thicket
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|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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85
disappearance
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|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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86
pervasive
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|
| adj.普遍的；遍布的，(到处)弥漫的；渗透性的 | |
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87
irresistible
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|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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88
prattle
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|
| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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89
hatred
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|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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90
turbid
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|
| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
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91
shriek
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|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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92
stifled
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|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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93
shrieked
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|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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95
plumb
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|
| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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96
filthy
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|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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97
avenged
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|
| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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98
jealousy
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|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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99
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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100
transparent
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|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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101
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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102
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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103
pompously
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|
| adv.傲慢地，盛大壮观地；大模大样 | |
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104
sensational
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|
| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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105
melodrama
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|
| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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106
innocence
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|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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107
triumphant
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|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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108
imperturbable
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|
| adj.镇静的 | |
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109
utterly
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|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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110
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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111
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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112
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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113
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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114
anecdotes
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|
| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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115
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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116
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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117
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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118
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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119
witticisms
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| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
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120
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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121
stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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122
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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123
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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124
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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125
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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126
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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127
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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128
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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129
subpoena
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| n.（法律）传票；v.传讯 | |
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130
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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131
writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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132
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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133
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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134
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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135
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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136
insinuating
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|
| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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137
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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138
scenic
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| adj.自然景色的，景色优美的 | |
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139
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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140
annoyance
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|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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141
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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142
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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143
perfectly
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|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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144
relentless
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|
| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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145
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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146
cowered
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|
| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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147
lamentable
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|
| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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148
sham
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|
| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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149
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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150
predilections
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|
| n.偏爱，偏好，嗜好( predilection的名词复数 ) | |
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151
attentively
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|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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152
aggravate
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|
| vt.加重(剧)，使恶化；激怒，使恼火 | |
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153
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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154
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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155
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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156
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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157
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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158
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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159
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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160
circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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161
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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162
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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163
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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164
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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165
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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166
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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167
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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