It happened I was with this Savka one fine May evening. I remember I was lying on a torn and dirty sackcloth cover close to the shanty19 from which came a heavy, fragrant20 scent21 of hay. Clasping my hands under my head I looked before me. At my feet was lying a wooden fork. Behind it Savka’s dog Kutka stood out like a black patch, and not a dozen feet from Kutka the ground ended abruptly22 in the steep bank of the little river. Lying down I could not see the river; I could only see the tops of the young willows23 growing thickly on the nearer bank, and the twisting, as it were gnawed24 away, edges of the opposite bank. At a distance beyond the bank on the dark hillside the huts of the village in which Savka lived lay huddling25 together like frightened young partridges. Beyond the hill the afterglow of sunset still lingered in the sky. One pale crimson26 streak27 was all that was left, and even that began to be covered by little clouds as a fire with ash.
A copse with alder-trees, softly whispering, and from time to time shuddering28 in the fitful breeze, lay, a dark blur29, on the right of the kitchen gardens; on the left stretched the immense plain. In the distance, where the eye could not distinguish between the sky and the plain, there was a bright gleam of light. A little way off from me sat Savka. With his legs tucked under him like a Turk and his head hanging, he looked pensively30 at Kutka. Our hooks with live bait on them had long been in the river, and we had nothing left to do but to abandon ourselves to repose31, which Savka, who was never exhausted32 and always rested, loved so much. The glow had not yet quite died away, but the summer night was already enfolding nature in its caressing33, soothing34 embrace.
Everything was sinking into its first deep sleep except some night bird unfamiliar35 to me, which indolently uttered a long, protracted36 cry in several distinct notes like the phrase, “Have you seen Ni-ki-ta?” and immediately answered itself, “Seen him, seen him, seen him!”
“Why is it the nightingales aren’t singing tonight?” I asked Savka.
He turned slowly towards me. His features were large, but his face was open, soft, and expressive37 as a woman’s. Then he gazed with his mild, dreamy eyes at the copse, at the willows, slowly pulled a whistle out of his pocket, put it in his mouth and whistled the note of a hen-nightingale. And at once, as though in answer to his call, a landrail called on the opposite bank.
“There’s a nightingale for you . . . ” laughed Savka. “Drag-drag! drag-drag! just like pulling at a hook, and yet I bet he thinks he is singing, too.”
“I like that bird,” I said. “Do you know, when the birds are migrating the landrail does not fly, but runs along the ground? It only flies over the rivers and the sea, but all the rest it does on foot.”
“Upon my word, the dog . . . ” muttered Savka, looking with respect in the direction of the calling landrail.
Knowing how fond Savka was of listening, I told him all I had learned about the landrail from sportsman’s books. From the landrail I passed imperceptibly to the migration38 of the birds. Savka listened attentively39, looking at me without blinking, and smiling all the while with pleasure.
“And which country is most the bird’s home? Ours or those foreign parts?” he asked.
“Ours, of course. The bird itself is hatched here, and it hatches out its little ones here in its native country, and they only fly off there to escape being frozen.”
“It’s interesting,” said Savka. “Whatever one talks about it is always interesting. Take a bird now, or a man . . . or take this little stone; there’s something to learn about all of them. . . . Ah, sir, if I had known you were coming I wouldn’t have told a woman to come here this evening. . . . She asked to come to-day.”
“Oh, please don’t let me be in your way,” I said. “I can lie down in the wood. . . . ”
“What next! She wouldn’t have died if she hadn’t come till to-morrow. . . . If only she would sit quiet and listen, but she always wants to be slobbering. . . . You can’t have a good talk when she’s here.”
“Are you expecting Darya?” I asked, after a pause.
“No . . . a new one has asked to come this evening . . . Agafya, the signalman’s wife.”
Savka said this in his usual passionless, somewhat hollow voice, as though he were talking of tobacco or porridge, while I started with surprise. I knew Agafya. . . . She was quite a young peasant woman of nineteen or twenty, who had been married not more than a year before to a railway signalman, a fine young fellow. She lived in the village, and her husband came home there from the line every night.
“Your goings on with the women will lead to trouble, my boy,” said I.
“Well, may be. . . . ”
And after a moment’s thought Savka added:
“I’ve said so to the women; they won’t heed40 me. . . . They don’t trouble about it, the silly things!”
Silence followed. . . . Meanwhile the darkness was growing thicker and thicker, and objects began to lose their contours. The streak behind the hill had completely died away, and the stars were growing brighter and more luminous41. . . . The mournfully monotonous42 chirping43 of the grasshoppers44, the call of the landrail, and the cry of the quail45 did not destroy the stillness of the night, but, on the contrary, gave it an added monotony. It seemed as though the soft sounds that enchanted46 the ear came, not from birds or insects, but from the stars looking down upon us from the sky. . . .
Savka was the first to break the silence. He slowly turned his eyes from black Kutka and said:
“I see you are dull, sir. Let’s have supper.”
And without waiting for my consent he crept on his stomach into the shanty, rummaged47 about there, making the whole edifice48 tremble like a leaf; then he crawled back and set before me my vodka and an earthenware49 bowl; in the bowl there were baked eggs, lard scones50 made of rye, pieces of black bread, and something else. . . . We had a drink from a little crooked52 glass that wouldn’t stand, and then we fell upon the food. . . . Coarse grey salt, dirty, greasy53 cakes, eggs tough as india-rubber, but how nice it all was!
“You live all alone, but what lots of good things you have,” I said, pointing to the bowl. “Where do you get them from?”
“The women bring them,” mumbled54 Savka.
“What do they bring them to you for?”
“Oh . . . from pity.”
Not only Savka’s menu, but his clothing, too, bore traces of feminine “pity.” Thus I noticed that he had on, that evening, a new woven belt and a crimson ribbon on which a copper55 cross hung round his dirty neck. I knew of the weakness of the fair sex for Savka, and I knew that he did not like talking about it, and so I did not carry my inquiries56 any further. Besides there was not time to talk. . . . Kutka, who had been fidgeting about near us and patiently waiting for scraps57, suddenly pricked58 up his ears and growled59. We heard in the distance repeated splashing of water.
“Someone is coming by the ford60,” said Savka.
Three minutes later Kutka growled again and made a sound like a cough.
“Shsh!” his master shouted at him.
In the darkness there was a muffled61 thud of timid footsteps, and the silhouette62 of a woman appeared out of the copse. I recognized her, although it was dark — it was Agafya. She came up to us diffidently and stopped, breathing hard. She was breathless, probably not so much from walking as from fear and the unpleasant sensation everyone experiences in wading63 across a river at night. Seeing near the shanty not one but two persons, she uttered a faint cry and fell back a step.
“Ah . . . that is you!” said Savka, stuffing a scone51 into his mouth.
“Ye-es . . . I,” she mutte red, dropping on the ground a bundle of some sort and looking sideways at me. “Yakov sent his greetings to you and told me to give you . . . something here. . . . ”
“Come, why tell stories? Yakov!” laughed Savka. “There is no need for lying; the gentleman knows why you have come! Sit down; you shall have supper with us.”
Agafya looked sideways at me and sat down irresolutely64.
“I thought you weren’t coming this evening,” Savka said, after a prolonged silence. “Why sit like that? Eat! Or shall I give you a drop of vodka?”
“What an idea!” laughed Agafya; “do you think you have got hold of a drunkard? . . . ”
“Oh, drink it up. . . . Your heart will feel warmer. . . . There!”
Savka gave Agafya the crooked glass. She slowly drank the vodka, ate nothing with it, but drew a deep breath when she had finished.
“You’ve brought something,” said Savka, untying66 the bundle and throwing a condescending67, jesting shade into his voice. “Women can never come without bringing something. Ah, pie and potatoes. . . . They live well,” he sighed, turning to me. “They are the only ones in the whole village who have got potatoes left from the winter!”
In the darkness I did not see Agafya’s face, but from the movement of her shoulders and head it seemed to me that she could not take her eyes off Savka’s face. To avoid being the third person at this tryst68, I decided69 to go for a walk and got up. But at that moment a nightingale in the wood suddenly uttered two low contralto notes. Half a minute later it gave a tiny high trill and then, having thus tried its voice, began singing. Savka jumped up and listened.
“It’s the same one as yesterday,” he said. “Wait a minute.”
And, getting up, he went noiselessly to the wood.
“Why, what do you want with it?” I shouted out after him, “Stop!”
Savka shook his hand as much as to say, “Don’t shout,” and vanished into the darkness. Savka was an excellent sportsman and fisherman when he liked, but his talents in this direction were as completely thrown away as his strength. He was too slothful to do things in the routine way, and vented70 his passion for sport in useless tricks. For instance, he would catch nightingales only with his hands, would shoot pike with a fowling71 piece, he would spend whole hours by the river trying to catch little fish with a big hook.
Left alone with me, Agafya coughed and passed her hand several times over her forehead. . . . She began to feel a little drunk from the vodka.
“How are you getting on, Agasha?” I asked her, after a long silence, when it began to be awkward to remain mute any longer.
“Very well, thank God. . . . Don’t tell anyone, sir, will you?” she added suddenly in a whisper.
“That’s all right,” I reassured72 her. “But how reckless you are, Agasha! . . . What if Yakov finds out?”
“He won’t find out.”
But what if he does?”
“No . . . I shall be at home before he is. He is on the line now, and he will come back when the mail train brings him, and from here I can hear when the train’s coming. . . . ”
Agafya once more passed her hand over her forehead and looked away in the direction in which Savka had vanished. The nightingale was singing. Some night bird flew low down close to the ground and, noticing us, was startled, fluttered its wings and flew across to the other side of the river.
Soon the nightingale was silent, but Savka did not come back. Agafya got up, took a few steps uneasily, and sat down again.
“What is he doing?” she could not refrain from saying. “The train’s not coming in to-morrow! I shall have to go away directly.”
“Savka,” I shouted. “Savka.”
I was not answered even by an echo. Agafya moved uneasily and sat down again.
“It’s time I was going,” she said in an agitated73 voice. “The train will be here directly! I know when the trains come in.”
The poor woman was not mistaken. Before a quarter of an hour had passed a sound was heard in the distance.
Agafya kept her eyes fixed on the copse for a long time and moved her hands impatiently.
“Why, where can he be?” she said, laughing nervously74. “Where has the devil carried him? I am going! I really must be going.”
Meanwhile the noise was growing more and more distinct. By now one could distinguish the rumble75 of the wheels from the heavy gasps76 of the engine. Then we heard the whistle, the train crossed the bridge with a hollow rumble . . . another minute and all was still.
“I’ll wait one minute more,” said Agafya, sitting down resolutely65. “So be it, I’ll wait.
At last Savka appeared in the darkness. He walked noiselessly on the crumbling77 earth of the kitchen gardens and hummed something softly to himself.
“Here’s a bit of luck; what do you say to that now?” he said gaily78. “As soon as I got up to the bush and began taking aim with my hand it left off singing! Ah, the bald dog! I waited and waited to see when it would begin again, but I had to give it up.”
Savka flopped79 clumsily down to the ground beside Agafya and, to keep his balance, clutched at her waist with both hands.
“Why do you look cross, as though your aunt were your mother?” he asked.
With all his soft-heartedness and good-nature, Savka despised women. He behaved carelessly, condescendingly with them, and even stooped to scornful laughter of their feelings for himself. God knows, perhaps this careless, contemptuous manner was one of the causes of his irresistible80 attraction for the village Dulcineas. He was handsome and well-built; in his eyes there was always a soft friendliness81, even when he was looking at the women he so despised, but the fascination82 was not to be explained by merely external qualities. Apart from his happy exterior83 and original manner, one must suppose that the touching84 position of Savka as an acknowledged failure and an unhappy exile from his own hut to the kitchen gardens also had an influence upon the women.
“Tell the gentleman what you have come here for!” Savka went on, still holding Agafya by the waist. “Come, tell him, you good married woman! Ho-ho! Shall we have another drop of vodka, friend Agasha?”
I got up and, threading my way between the plots, I walked the length of the kitchen garden. The dark beds looked like flattened-out graves. They smelt85 of dug earth and the tender dampness of plants beginning to be covered with dew. . . . A red light was still gleaming on the left. It winked86 genially87 and seemed to smile.
I heard a happy laugh. It was Agafya laughing.
“And the train?” I thought. “The train has come in long ago.”
Waiting a little longer, I went back to the shanty. Savka was sitting motionless, his legs crossed like a Turk, and was softly, scarcely audibly humming a song consisting of words of one syllable88 something like: “Out on you, fie on you . . . I and you.” Agafya, intoxicated89 by the vodka, by Savka’s scornful caresses90, and by the stifling91 warmth of the night, was lying on the earth beside him, pressing her face convulsively to his knees. She was so carried away by her feelings that she did not even notice my arrival.
“Agasha, the train has been in a long time,” I said.
“It’s time — it’s time you were gone,” Savka, tossing his head, took up my thought. “What are you sprawling92 here for? You shameless hussy!”
Agafya started, took her head from his knees, glanced at me, and sank down beside him again.
“You ought to have gone long ago,” I said.
Agafya turned round and got up on one knee. . . . She was unhappy. . . . For half a minute her whole figure, as far as I could distinguish it through the darkness, expressed conflict and hesitation93. There was an instant when, seeming to come to herself, she drew herself up to get upon her feet, but then some invincible94 and implacable force seemed to push her whole body, and she sank down beside Savka again.
“Bother him!” she said, with a wild, guttural laugh, and reckless determination, impotence, and pain could be heard in that laugh.
I strolled quietly away to the copse, and from there down to the river, where our fishing lines were set. The river slept. Some soft, fluffy-petalled flower on a tall stalk touched my cheek tenderly like a child who wants to let one know it’s awake. To pass the time I felt for one of the lines and pulled at it. It yielded e asily and hung limply — nothing had been caught. . . . The further bank and the village could not be seen. A light gleamed in one hut, but soon went out. I felt my way along the bank, found a hollow place which I had noticed in the daylight, and sat down in it as in an arm-chair. I sat there a long time. . . . I saw the stars begin to grow misty95 and lose their brightness; a cool breath passed over the earth like a faint sigh and touched the leaves of the slumbering96 osiers. . . .
“A-ga-fya!” a hollow voice called from the village. “Agafya!”
It was the husband, who had returned home, and in alarm was looking for his wife in the village. At that moment there came the sound of unrestrained laughter: the wife, forgetful of everything, sought in her intoxication97 to make up by a few hours of happiness for the misery98 awaiting her next day.
I dropped asleep.
When I woke up Savka was sitting beside me and lightly shaking my shoulder. The river, the copse, both banks, green and washed, trees and fields — all were bathed in bright morning light. Through the slim trunks of the trees the rays of the newly risen sun beat upon my back.
“So that’s how you catch fish?” laughed Savka. “Get up!”
I got up, gave a luxurious99 stretch, and began greedily drinking in the damp and fragrant air.
“Has Agasha gone?” I asked.
“There she is,” said Savka, pointing in the direction of the ford.
I glanced and saw Agafya. Dishevelled, with her kerchief dropping off her head, she was crossing the river, holding up her skirt. Her legs were scarcely moving. . . .
“The cat knows whose meat it has eaten,” muttered Savka, screwing up his eyes as he looked at her. “She goes with her tail hanging down. . . . They are sly as cats, these women, and timid as hares. . . . She didn’t go, silly thing, in the evening when we told her to! Now she will catch it, and they’ll flog me again at the peasant court . . . all on account of the women. . . . ”
Agafya stepped upon the bank and went across the fields to the village. At first she walked fairly boldly, but soon terror and excitement got the upper hand; she turned round fearfully, stopped and took breath.
“Yes, you are frightened!” Savka laughed mournfully, looking at the bright green streak left by Agafya in the dewy grass. “She doesn’t want to go! Her husband’s been standing waiting for her for a good hour. . . . Did you see him?”
Savka said the last words with a smile, but they sent a chill to my heart. In the village, near the furthest hut, Yakov was standing in the road, gazing fixedly100 at his returning wife. He stood without stirring, and was as motionless as a post. What was he thinking as he looked at her? What words was he preparing to greet her with? Agafya stood still a little while, looked round once more as though expecting help from us, and went on. I have never seen anyone, drunk or sober, move as she did. Agafya seemed to be shrivelled up by her husband’s eyes. At one time she moved in zigzags101, then she moved her feet up and down without going forward, bending her knees and stretching out her hands, then she staggered back. When she had gone another hundred paces she looked round once more and sat down.
“You ought at least to hide behind a bush . . . ” I said to Savka. “If the husband sees you . . . ”
“He knows, anyway, who it is Agafya has come from. . . . The women don’t go to the kitchen garden at night for cabbages — we all know that.”
I glanced at Savka’s face. It was pale and puckered102 up with a look of fastidious pity such as one sees in the faces of people watching tortured animals.
“What’s fun for the cat is tears for the mouse . . . ” he muttered.
Agafya suddenly jumped up, shook her head, and with a bold step went towards her husband. She had evidently plucked up her courage and made up her mind.
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1
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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4
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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parsimony
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| n.过度节俭，吝啬 | |
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arrears
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| n.到期未付之债，拖欠的款项；待做的工作 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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huddling
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| n. 杂乱一团, 混乱, 拥挤 v. 推挤, 乱堆, 草率了事 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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migration
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| n.迁移，移居，（鸟类等的）迁徙 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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40
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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41
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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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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43
chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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44
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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45
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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46
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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rummaged
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的过去式和过去分词 )； 已经海关检查 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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earthenware
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| n.土器，陶器 | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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scone
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| n.圆饼，甜饼，司康饼 | |
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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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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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54
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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57
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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58
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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62
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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tryst
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| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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vented
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| 表达，发泄（感情，尤指愤怒）( vent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fowling
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| 捕鸟，打鸟 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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75
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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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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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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83
exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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85
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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88
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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92
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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94
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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95
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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96
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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97
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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98
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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99
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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100
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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101
zigzags
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| n.锯齿形的线条、小径等( zigzag的名词复数 )v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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