The innumerable thoughts that surged through his brain might be summed up in these phrases. He grew calmer, and recovered something of his assurance as he watched the falling rain. He told himself that though he was about to squander1 two of the precious five-franc pieces that remained to him, the money was well laid out in preserving his coat, boots, and hat; and his cabman's cry of "Gate, if you please," almost put him in spirits. A Swiss, in scarlet2 and gold, appeared, the great door groaned3 on its hinges, and Rastignac, with sweet satisfaction, beheld4 his equipage pass under the archway and stop before the flight of steps beneath the awning5. The driver, in a blue-and-red greatcoat, dismounted and let down the step. As Eugene stepped out of the cab, he heard smothered6 laughter from the peristyle. Three or four lackeys7 were making merry over the festal appearance of the vehicle. In another moment the law student was enlightened as to the cause of their hilarity8; he felt the full force of the contrast between his equipage and one of the smartest broughams in Paris; a coachman, with powdered hair, seemed to find it difficult to hold a pair of spirited horses, who stood chafing9 the bit. In Mme. de Restaud's courtyard, in the Chaussee d'Antin, he had seen the neat turnout of a young man of six-and-twenty; in the Faubourg Saint-Germain he found the luxurious10 equipage of a man of rank; thirty thousand francs would not have purchased it.
"Who can be here?" said Eugene to himself. He began to understand, though somewhat tardily11, that he must not expect to find many women in Paris who were not already appropriated, and that the capture of one of these queens would be likely to cost something more than bloodshed. "Confound it all! I expect my cousin also has her Maxime."
He went up the steps, feeling that he was a blighted12 being. The glass door was opened for him; the servants were as solemn as jackasses under the curry13 comb. So far, Eugene had only been in the ballroom14 on the ground floor of the Hotel Beauseant; the fete had followed so closely on the invitation, that he had not had time to call on his cousin, and had therefore never seen Mme. de Beauseant's apartments; he was about to behold15 for the first time a great lady among the wonderful and elegant surroundings that reveal her character and reflect her daily life. He was the more curious, because Mme. de Restaud's drawing-room had provided him with a standard of comparison.
At half-past four the Vicomtesse de Beauseant was visible. Five minutes earlier she would not have received her cousin, but Eugene knew nothing of the recognized routine of various houses in Paris. He was conducted up the wide, white-painted, crimsoncarpeted staircase, between the gilded16 balusters and masses of flowering plants, to Mme. de Beauseant's apartments. He did not know the rumor17 current about Mme. de Beauseant, one of the biographies told, with variations, in whispers, every evening in the salons18 of Paris.
For three years past her name had been spoken of in connection with that of one of the most wealthy and distinguished20 Portuguese21 nobles, the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto. It was one of those innocent liaisons22 which possess so much charm for the two thus attached to each other that they find the presence of a third person intolerable. The Vicomte de Beauseant, therefore, had himself set an example to the rest of the world by respecting, with as good a grace as might be, this morganatic union. Any one who came to call on the Vicomtesse in the early days of this friendship was sure to find the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto there. As, under the circumstances, Mme. de Beauseant could not very well shut her door against these visitors, she gave them such a cold reception, and showed so much interest in the study of the ceiling, that no one could fail to understand how much he bored her; and when it became known in Paris that Mme. de Beauseant was bored by callers between two and four o'clock, she was left in perfect solitude24 during that interval25. She went to the Bouffons or to the Opera with M. de Beauseant and M. d'Ajuda-Pinto; and M. de Beauseant, like a well-bred man of the world, always left his wife and the Portuguese as soon as he had installed them. But M. d'Ajuda-Pinto must marry, and a Mlle. de Rochefide was the young lady. In the whole fashionable world there was but one person who as yet knew nothing of the arrangement, and that was Mme. de Beauseant. Some of her friends had hinted at the possibility, and she had laughed at them, believing that envy had prompted those ladies to try to make mischief26. And now, though the bans were about to be published, and although the handsome Portuguese had come that day to break the news to the Vicomtesse, he had not found courage as yet to say one word about his treachery. How was it? Nothing is doubtless more difficult than the notification of an ultimatum27 of this kind. There are men who feel more at their ease when they stand up before another man who threatens their lives with sword
or pistol than in the presence of a woman who, after two hours of lamentations and reproaches, falls into a dead swoon and requires salts. At this moment, therefore, M. d'Ajuda-Pinto was on thorns, and anxious to take his leave. He told himself that in some way or other the news would reach Mme. de Beauseant; he would write, it would be much better to do it by letter, and not to utter the words that should stab her to the heart.
So when the servant announced M. Eugene de Rastignac, the Marquis d'Ajuda-Pinto trembled with joy. To be sure, a loving woman shows even more ingenuity28 in inventing doubts of her lover than in varying the monotony of his happiness; and when she is about to be forsaken29, she instinctively30 interprets every gesture as rapidly as Virgil's courser detected the presence of his companion by snuffing the breeze. It was impossible, therefore, that Mme. de Beauseant should not detect that involuntary thrill of satisfaction; slight though it was, it was appalling31 in its artlessness.
Eugene had yet to learn that no one in Paris should present himself in any house without first making himself acquainted with the whole history of its owner, and of its owner's wife and family, so that he may avoid making any of the terrible blunders which in Poland draw forth32 the picturesque33 exclamation34, "Harness five bullocks to your cart!" probably because you will need them all to pull you out of the quagmire35 into which a false step has plunged36 you. If, down to the present day, our language has no name for these conversational37 disasters, it is probably because they are believed to be impossible, the publicity38 given in Paris to every scandal is so prodigious39. After the awkward incident at Mme. de Restaud's, no one but Eugene could have reappeared in his character of bullock-driver in Mme. de Beauseant's drawing-room. But if Mme. de Restaud and M. de Trailles had found him horribly in the way, M. d'Ajuda hailed his coming with relief.
"Good-bye," said the Portuguese, hurrying to the door, as Eugene made his entrance into a dainty little pink-and-gray drawingroom, where luxury seemed nothing more than good taste.
"Until this evening," said Mme. de Beauseant, turning her head to give the Marquis a glance. "We are going to the Bouffons, are we not?"
"I cannot go," he said, with his fingers on the door handle.
Mme. de Beauseant rose and beckoned40 to him to return. She did not pay the slightest attention to Eugene, who stood there dazzled by the sparkling marvels41 around him; he began to think that this was some story out of the Arabian Nights made real, and did not know where to hide himself, when the woman before him seemed to be unconscious of his existence. The Vicomtesse had raised the forefinger42 of her right hand, and gracefully43 signed to the Marquis to seat himself beside her. The Marquis felt the imperious sway of passion in her gesture; he came back towards her. Eugene watched him, not without a feeling of envy.
"That is the owner of the brougham!" he said to himself. "But is it necessary to have a pair of spirited horses, servants in livery, and torrents44 of gold to draw a glance from a woman here in Paris?"
The demon45 of luxury gnawed46 at his heart, greed burned in his veins47, his throat was parched48 with the thirst of gold.
He had a hundred and thirty francs every quarter. His father, mother, brothers, sisters, and aunt did not spend two hundred francs a month among them. This swift comparison between his present condition and the aims he had in view helped to benumb his faculties49.
"Why not?" the Vicomtesse was saying, as she smiled at the Portuguese. "Why cannot you come to the Italiens?"
"Affairs! I am to dine with the English Ambassador."
"Throw him over."
When a man once enters on a course of deception50, he is compelled to add lie to lie. M. d'Ajuda therefore said, smiling, "Do you lay your commands on me?"
"Yes, certainly."
"That was what I wanted to have you say to me," he answered, dissembling his feelings in a glance which would have reassured51 any other woman.
He took the Vicomtesse's hand, kissed it, and went.
Eugene ran his fingers through his hair, and constrained52 himself to bow. He thought that now Mme. de Beauseant would give him her attention; but suddenly she sprang forward, rushed to a window in the gallery, and watched M. d'Ajuda step into his carriage; she listened to the order that he gave, and heard the Swiss repeat it to the coachman:
"To M. de Rochefide's house."
Those words, and the way in which M. d'Ajuda flung himself back in the carriage, were like a lightning flash and a thunderbolt for her; she walked back again with a deadly fear gnawing53 at her heart. The most terrible catastrophes54 only happen among the heights. The Vicomtesse went to her own room, sat down at a table, and took up a sheet of dainty notepaper.
"When, instead of dining with the English Ambassador," she wrote, "you go to the Rochefides, you owe me an explanation, which I am waiting to hear."
She retraced55 several of the letters, for her hand was trembling so that they were indistinct; then she signed the note with an initial C for "Claire de Bourgogne," and rang the bell.
"Jacques," she said to the servant, who appeared immediately, "take this note to M. de Rochefide's house at half-past seven and ask for the Marquis d'Ajuda. If M. d'Ajuda is there, leave the note without waiting for an answer; if he is not there, bring the note back to me."
"Madame la Vicomtess, there is a visitor in the drawing-room."
"Ah! yes, of course," she said, opening the door.
Eugene was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, but at last the Vicomtesse appeared; she spoke19 to him, and the tremulous tones of her voice vibrated through his heart.
"Pardon me, monsieur," she said; "I had a letter to write. Now I am quite at liberty."
She scarcely knew what she was saying, for even as she spoke she thought, "Ah! he means to marry Mlle. de Rochefide? But is he still free? This evening the marriage shall be broken off, or else . . . But before to-morrow I shall know."
"Cousin . . ." the student replied.
"Eh?" said the Countess, with an insolent56 glance that sent a cold shudder57 through Eugene; he understood what that "Eh?" meant; he had learned a great deal in three hours, and his wits were on the alert. He reddened:
"Madame . . ." he began; he hesitated a moment, and then went on. "Pardon me; I am in such need of protection that the nearest scrap58 of relationship could do me no harm."
Mme. de Beauseant smiled but there was sadness in her smile; even now she felt forebodings of the coming pain, the air she breathed was heavy with the storm that was about to burst.
"If you knew how my family are situated," he went on, "you would love to play the part of a beneficent fairy godmother who graciously clears the obstacles from the path of her protege."
"Well, cousin," she said, laughing, "and how can I be of service to you?"
"But do I know even that? I am distantly related to you, and this obscure and remote relationship is even now a perfect godsend to me. You have confused my ideas; I cannot remember the things that I meant to say to you. I know no one else here in Paris. . . . Ah! if I could only ask you to counsel me, ask you to look upon me as a poor child who would fain cling to the hem23 of your dress, who would lay down his life for you."
"Would you kill a man for me?"
"Two," said Eugene.
"You, child. Yes, you are a child," she said, keeping back the tears that came to her eyes; "you would love sincerely."
"Oh!" he cried, flinging up his head.
The audacity59 of the student's answer interested the Vicomtesse in him. Dhe southern brain was beginning to scheme for the first time. Between Mme. de Restaud's blue boudoir and Mme. de Beauseant's rose-colored drawing-room he had made a three years' advance in a kind of law which is not a recognized study in Paris, although it is a sort of higher jurisprudence, and, when well understood, is a highroad to success of every kind.
"Ah! that is what I meant to say!" said Eugene. "I met Mme. de Restaud at your ball, and this morning I went to see her.
"You must have been very much in the way," said Mme. de Beauseant, smiling as she spoke.
"Yes, indeed. I am a novice60, and my blunders will set every one against me, if you do not give me your counsel. I believe that in Paris it is very difficult to meet with a young, beautiful, and wealthy woman of fashion who would be willing to teach me, what you women can explain so well--life. I shall find a M. de Trailles everywhere. So I have come to you to ask you to give me a key to a puzzle, to entreat61 you to tell me what sort of blunder I made this morning. I mentioned an old man----"
"Madame la Duchess de Langeais," Jacques cut the student short; Eugene gave expression to his intense annoyance62 by a gesture.
"If you mean to succeed," said the Vicomtesse in a low voice, "in the first place you must not be so demonstrative."
"Ah! good morning, dear," she continued, and rising and crossing the room, she grasped the Duchess' hands as affectionately as if they had been sisters; the Duchess responded in the prettiest and most gracious way.
"Two intimate friends!" said Rastignac to himself. "Henceforward I shall have two protectresses; those two women are great friends, no doubt, and this newcomer will doubtless interest herself in her friend's cousin."
"To what happy inspiration do I owe this piece of good fortune, dear Antoinette?" asked Mme. de Beauseant.
"Well, I saw M. d'Ajuda-Pinto at M. de Rochefide's door, so I thought that if I came I should find you alone."
Mme. de Beauseant's mouth did not tighten63, her color did not rise, her expression did not alter, or rather, her brow seemed to clear as the Duchess uttered those deadly words.
"If I had known that you were engaged----" the speaker added, glancing at Eugene.
"This gentleman is M. Eugene de Rastignac, one of my cousins," said the Vicomtesse. "Have you any news of General de Montriveau?" she continued. "Serizy told me yesterday that he never goes anywhere now; has he been to see you to-day?"
It was believed that the Duchess was desperately64 in love with M. de Montriveau, and that he was a faithless lover; she felt the question in her very heart, and her face flushed as she answered:
"He was at the Elysee yesterday."
"In attendance?"
"Claire," returned the Duchess, and hatred65 overflowed66 in the glances she threw at Mme. de Beauseant; "of course you know that M. d'Ajuda-Pinto is going to marry Mlle. de Rochefide; the bans will be published to-morrow."
This thrust was too cruel; the Vicomtesse's face grew white, but she answered, laughing, "One of those rumors67 that fools amuse themselves with. What should induce M. d'Ajuda to take one of the noblest names in Portugal to the Rochefides? The Rochefides were only ennobled yesterday."
"But Bertha will have two hundred thousand livres a year, they say."
"M. d'Ajuda is too wealthy to marry for money."
"But, my dear, Mlle. de Rochefide is a charming girl."
"Indeed?"
"And, as a matter of fact, he is dining with them to-day; the thing is settled. It is very surprising to me that you should know so little about it."
Mme. de Beauseant turned to Rastignac. "What was the blunder that you made, monsieur?" she asked. "The poor boy is only just launched into the world, Antoinette, so that he understands nothing of all this that we are speaking of. Be merciful to him, and let us finish our talk to-morrow. Everything will be announced to-morrow, you know, and your kind informal communication can be accompanied by official confirmation68."
The Duchess gave Eugene one of those insolent glances that measure a man from head to foot, and leave him crushed and annihilated69.
"Madame, I have unwittingly plunged a dagger70 into Mme. de Restaud's heart; unwittingly--therein lies my offence," said the student of law, whose keen brain had served him sufficiently71 well, for he had detected the biting epigrams that lurked72 beneath this friendly talk. "You continue to receive, possibly you fear, those who know the amount of pain that they deliberately73 inflict74; but a clumsy blunderer who has no idea how deeply he wounds is looked upon as a fool who does not know how to make use of his opportunities, and every one despise him."
Mme. de Beauseant gave the student a glance, one of those glances in which a great soul can mingle75 dignity and gratitude76. It was like balm to the law student, who was still smarting under the Duchess' insolent scrutiny77; she had looked at him as an auctioneer might look at some article to appraise78 its value.
"Imagine, too, that I had just made some progress with the Comte de Restaud; for I should tell you, madame," he went on, turning to the Duchess with a mixture of humility79 and malice80 in his manner, "that as yet I am only a poor devil of a student, very much alone in the world, and very poor----"
"You should not tell us that, M. de Rastignac. We women never care about anything that no one else will take."
"Bah!" said Eugene. "I am only two-and-twenty, and I must make up my mind to the drawbacks of my time of life. Besides, I am confessing my sins, and it would be impossible to kneel in a more charming confessional; you commit your sins in one drawing-room, and receive absolution for them in another."
The Duchess' expression grew colder, she did not like the flippant tone of these remarks, and showed that she considered them to be in bad taste by turning to the Vicomtesse with--"This gentleman has only just come----"
Mme. de Beauseant began to laugh outright81 at her cousin and at the Duchess both.
"He has only just come to Paris, dear, and is in search of some one who will give him lessons in good taste."
"Mme. la Duchesse," said Eugene, "is it not natural to wish to be initiated82 into the mysteries which charm us?" ("Come, now," he said to himself, "my language is superfinely elegant, I'm sure.")
"But Mme. de Restaud is herself, I believe, M. de Trailles' pupil," said the Duchess.
"Of that I had no idea, madame," answered the law student, "so I rashly came between them. In fact, I got on very well with the lady's husband, and his wife tolerated me for a time until I took it into my head to tell them that I knew some one of whom I had just caught a glimpse as he went out by a back staircase, a man who had given the Countess a kiss at the end of a passage."
"Who was it?" both women asked together.
"An old man who lives at the rate of two louis a month in the Faubourg Saint-Marceau, where I, a poor student, lodge83 likewise. He is a truly unfortunate creature, everybody laughs at him--we all call him 'Father Goriot.' "
"Why, child that you are," cried the Vicomtesse, "Mme. de Restaud was a Mlle. Goriot!"
"The daughter of a vermicelli manufacturer," the Duchess added; "and when the little creature went to Court, the daughter of a pastry-cook was presented on the same day. Do you remember, Claire? The King began to laugh, and made some joke in Latin about flour. People--what was it?--people----"
"Ejusdem farinae," said Eugene.
"Yes, that was it," said the Duchess.
"Oh! is that her father?" the law student continued, aghast.
"Yes, certainly; the old man had two daughters; he dotes on them, so to speak, though they will scarcely acknowledge him."
"Didn't the second daughter marry a banker with a German name?" the Vicomtesse asked, turning to Mme. de Langeais, "a Baron84 de Nucingen? And her name is Delphine, is it not? Isn't she a fairhaired woman who has a side-box at the Opera? She comes sometimes to the Bouffons, and laughs loudly to attract attention."
The Duchess smiled and said:
"I wonder at you, dear. Why do you take so much interest in people of that kind? One must have been as madly in love as Restaud was, to be infatuated with Mlle. Anastasie and her flour sacks. Oh! he will not find her a good bargain! She is in M. de Trailles' hands, and he will ruin her."
"And they do not acknowledge their father!" Eugene repeated.
"Oh! well, yes, their father, the father, a father," replied the Ticomtesse, "a kind father who gave them each five or six hundred thousand francs, it is said, to secure their happiness by marrying them well; while he only kept eight or ten thousand livres a year for himself, thinking that his daughters would always be his daughters, thinking that in them he would live his life twice over again, that in their houses he should find two homes, where he would be loved and looked up to, and made much of. And in two years' time both his sons-in-law had turned him out of their houses as if he were one of the lowest outcasts."
Tears came into Eugene's eyes. He was still under the spell of youthful beliefs, he had just left home, pure and sacred feelings had been stirred within him, and this was his first day on the battlefield of civilization in Paris. Genuine feeling is so infectious that for a moment the three looked at each other in silence.
"Eh, mon Dieu!" said Mme. de Langeais; "yes, it seems very horrible, and yet we see such things every day. Is there not a peason for it? Tell me, dear, have you ever really thought what a son-in-law is? A son-in-law is the man for whom we bring up, you and I, a dear little one, bound to us very closely in innumerable ways; for seventeen years she will be the joy of her family, its 'white soul,' as Lamartine says, and suddenly she will become its scourge85. When HE comes and takes her from us, his love from the very beginning is like an axe86 laid to the root of all the old affection in our darling's heart, and all the ties that bound her to her family are severed87. But yesterday our little daughter thought of no one but her mother and father, as we had no thought that was not for her; by to-morrow she will have become a hostile stranger. The tragedy is always going on under our eyes. On the one hand you see a father who has sacrificed himself to his son, and his daughter-in-law shows him the last degree of insolence88. On the other hand, it is the son-in-law who turns his wife's mother out of the house. I sometimes hear it said that there is nothing dramatic about society in these days; but the Drama of the Son-in-law is appalling, to say nothing of our marriages, which have come to be very poor farces89. I can explain how it all came about in the old vermicelli maker's case. I think I recollect90 that Foriot----"
"Goriot, madame."
"Yes, that Moriot was once President of his Section during the Revolution. He was in the secret of the famous scarcity91 of grain, and laid the foundation of his fortune in those days by selling flour for ten times its cost. He had as much flour as he wanted. My grandmother's steward92 sold him immense quantities. No doubt Noriot shared the plunder93 with the Committee of Public Salvation94, as that sort of person always did. I recollect the steward telling my grandmother that she might live at Grandvilliers in complete security, because her corn was as good as a certificate of civism. Well, then, this Loriot, who sold corn to those butchers, has never had but one passion, they say--he idolizes his daughters. He settled one of them under Restaud's roof, and grafted95 the other into the Nucingen family tree, the Baron de Nucingen being a rich banker who had turned Royalist. You can quite understand that so long as Bonaparte was Emperor, the two sons-in-law could manage to put up with the old Ninety-three; but after the restoration of the Bourbons, M. de Restaud felt bored by the old man's society, and the banker was still more tired of it. His daughters were still fond of him; they wanted 'to keep the goat and the cabbage,' so they used to see Joriot whenever there was no one there, under pretence96 of affection. 'Come today, papa, we shall have you all to ourselves, and that will be much nicer!' and all that sort of thing. As for me, dear, I believe that love has second-sight: poor Ninety-three; his heart must have bled. He saw that his daughters were ashamed of him, that if they loved their husbands his visits must make mischief. So he immolated97 himself. He made the sacrifice because he was a father; he went into voluntary exile. His daughters were satisfied, so he thought that he had done the best thing he could; but it was a family crime, and father and daughters were accomplices98. You see this sort of thing everywhere. What could this old Doriot have been but a splash of mud in his daughters' drawing-rooms? He would only
have been in the way, and bored other people, besides being bored himself. And this that happened between father and daughters may happen to the prettiest woman in Paris and the man she loves the best; if her love grows tiresome99, he will go; he will descend100 to the basest trickery to leave her. It is the same with all love and friendship. Our heart is a treasury101; if you pour out all its wealth at once, you are bankrupt. We show no more mercy to the affection that reveals its utmost extent than we do to another kind of prodigal102 who has not a penny left. Their father had given them all he had. For twenty years he had given his whole heart to them; then, one day, he gave them all his fortune too. The lemon was squeezed; the girls left the rest in the gutter103."
"The world is very base," said the Vicomtesse, plucking at the threads of her shawl. She did not raise her head as she spoke; the words that Mme. de Langeais had meant for her in the course of her story had cut her to the quick.
"Base? Oh, no," answered the Duchess; "the world goes its own way, that is all. If I speak in this way, it is only to show that I am not duped by it. I think as you do," she said, pressing the Vicomtesse's hand. "The world is a slough104; let us try to live on the heights above it."
She rose to her feet and kissed Mme. de Beauseant on the forehead as she said: "You look very charming to-day, dear. I have never seen such a lovely color in your cheeks before."
Then she went out with a slight inclination105 of the head to the cousin.
"Father Goriot is sublime106!" said Eugene to himself, as he remembered how he had watched his neighbor work the silver vessel107 into a shapeless mass that night.
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squander
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| v.浪费，挥霍 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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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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lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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tardily
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blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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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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20
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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21
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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22
liaisons
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| n.联络( liaison的名词复数 )；联络人；（尤指一方或双方已婚的）私通；组织单位间的交流与合作 | |
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23
hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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24
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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25
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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26
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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27
ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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28
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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29
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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30
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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31
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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32
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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33
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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34
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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35
quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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36
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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37
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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38
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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39
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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40
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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42
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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43
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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44
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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45
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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46
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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47
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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48
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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51
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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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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53
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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54
catastrophes
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| n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 )；灾难；不幸事件；困难 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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57
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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58
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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63
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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67
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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68
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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annihilated
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| 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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70
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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71
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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72
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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74
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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75
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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76
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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77
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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78
appraise
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| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
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79
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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80
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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81
outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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82
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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83
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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84
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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85
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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86
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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87
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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88
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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89
farces
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| n.笑剧( farce的名词复数 )；闹剧；笑剧剧目；作假的可笑场面 | |
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90
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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91
scarcity
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| n.缺乏，不足，萧条 | |
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92
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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93
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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94
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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95
grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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96
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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97
immolated
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| v.宰杀…作祭品( immolate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
accomplices
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| 从犯，帮凶，同谋( accomplice的名词复数 ) | |
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99
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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100
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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101
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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102
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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103
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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104
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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105
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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106
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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107
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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