It was New Year’s day, and the sun was streaming through the open windows. Mousmé had already crept from her white mattress4 beneath the smoke-blue mosquito curtains, and was doubtless sunning herself, after a hasty toilet, in the wonderful garden which we had fashioned out of the rocks and red-brown soil.
I stretched sleepily, and wondered vaguely6 what they were doing in England, and whether my estimable, though trying, sister Lou (fashionable to her finger-tips) had cajoled my unfortunate brother-in-law into changing her last year’s set of furs for “something a little more the thing, don’t you know, Stanmere.”
[126]
Mousmé requires no furs. Her wants are few. A piece of silk with wonderful patterns over it—birds which seem to fly, irises7 whose vivid tints9 almost make unaccustomed eyes ache, and chrysanthemums10 which one could swear nod upon their slender, almost leafless stalks—which she fashions into a robe of delight. A few jade11 and lacquer pins for her wonderful jet-black hair. Some new tabi. Long white digitated stockings reaching above her dimpled knees. A sash to make her girl acquaintances and married brother’s wife jealous. And so you have the costume in which she is prepared to receive her visitors and to glide14 with a soothing15 shish-shish over the white matting of the floor and through the comically narrow passages.
The mail arrived yesterday week, and down at Kotmasu’s office I found Lou’s usual parcel of New Year’s gifts. For[127] me there were several new novels—the pictures in which will cause Mousmé to wonder and open her almond eyes wide, with the little trick of quivering the lids which she has—some papers, tobacco—five pounds of it in a sealed tin (a good soul is Stanmere)—a shaving tidy worked by Irene in some mysterious stitch which seems to have come into fashion since I scorned crewel-work anti-macassars with lace frills that hung on the back buttons of one’s coat, turning one at afternoon tea into an object of interest and amusement.
For Mousmé there was a Paris hat (Lou will never, I fear, realise that Paris fashions have as yet little interest for Nagasaki belles), in which Mousmé’s piquant16 face would be smothered17 and turned to no account, a silk tea-gown which she will wear with the dignity becoming five feet one inch and a half of really married Japanese womanhood.
[128]
There was also something more.
My present, which I have had sent out from the Compagnie des Fondants Parisiens—a huge box of the best confectionery that money could buy. I knew that Mousmé would like this better than anything else, and that for the time the native teriyaki and such-like sugar-coated joys would be nowhere.
All the presents are in the little room I use as a study—a room into which Mousmé creeps with awe19. It is (to her untutored mind) so full of books and mysterious writings.
I had risen and was gazing out over the harbour, which lay below me veiled in a gauze-like, opalescent20 haze21, when the farther paper-panelled door was slid softly back in its groove22, and Mousmé entered.
A quaint13 little figure with the flush of dawn transferred to her porcelain23 cheeks and eyes bright with the early morning[129] air of the scented24 garden; her elaborate coiffure, with its many pins, a striking contrast to the négligée of her plum-coloured kimono with its sprays of bamboo in gold thread. Against her bare little throat and dimpled shoulders she pressed a wealth of iris8 and lotus blooms and tender green shoots of the slenderest bamboo, her face peeping out elfish and smiling from the midst.
“These are for you, Cy-reel,” she said, laughing and casting the brilliant blossoms on to the floor in a patch of sunlight at my feet. “Now den5 what have you for me?”
It is difficult to resist Mousmé when she pulls one’s face down to her own smiling one, and throws slender but wonderfully tenacious26 little arms round one’s neck.
Mousmé, since she married, has lost some of the shyness for the “velly much rich Englishman” who had so strange a fancy[130] as to marry her right away, and in its place has come the knowledge of certain privileges of her sex (for she knows little as yet of the “advanced” woman), and she exacts them with a pretty persistence27 which I find charming.
We went along the passage to the room in which are all the presents. They have been taken out of their case, and piled with masculine breadth of effect upon two low lacquer-and-bamboo settees in a corner near one of the windows.
“Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Mousmé, and then she fell down before this wonderful collection of gifts, her tiny hands fluttering over them like those of a child uncertain which thing to touch first.
Irene’s shaving tidy, the tin of tobacco sent by Stanmere, Lou’s gift of books—all these things are brushed aside, and the wonderful pale blue tea-gown is at last taken up. It is absurdly long for her, of[131] course, and as she slipped into it she laughed softly at the comical figure she presented.
“It is velly nice, I like it. But it must be cut off. You cannot come near me with all this on the floor.”
She glided28 once or twice across the room, like a big-winged moth18, with the soft sound of silk frou-frou on the matting, and then the gown was laid aside, so that she might more easily find the other presents.
Then the box of fondants was discovered. What rapture29! Smiles stole over her face. Her little fingers trembled when she at last made up her mind to undo30 the satin ribbon, which, crossing from corner to corner, is tied in a great bow in the centre of the lid. There are wonderful sweets of all sorts, things which Mousmé almost fears to taste, and which when once tasted encourage her to further depredations31 and experiments.
[132]
“Mousmé, you’ll be ill.”
“No, Cy-reel, not nearly so sweet and ill-producing as teriyaki.”
I laughed at the gentle sophistry32 and suggested that we should go to breakfast.
After the meal a huge bullock-cart came along the road which runs at the foot of our sloping garden. It is laden33 with New Year’s gifts to tempt34 those who have put off the inevitable35 spending of sen and yen36 till the last possible moment.
Mousmé drew me along the garden path, past the iris pond, in the shade of which gold-fish are keeping New Year’s day on a fly-and-mosquito diet, to the side of the cart. The proprietors37 in new suits are explaining the merits of their wares38, which are cheapened enormously as at Western “sale” times. A light air stirred the paper lanterns with which the cart was decked.
One represented a huge gold-fish with a gold and vermilion body and fins39 boldly[133] sketched40 in black. It took Mousmé’s fancy. We purchased it, and earned the absurdly exaggerated thanks of the smiling vendors41, knowing the while that we did not require it, and that it would be placed with a score of others, hung on their slight bamboo rods, in the cupboard at the end of the passage.
Some night, perhaps, unless another lantern comes more easily to hand, we might take it out to guide us on our way down to the chaya at which the best geishas dance.
During the whole of the morning we were expectant. Before sunset many of Mousmé’s numerous relations will have called to wish us New Year joys: and my respected, if too effusive42, mother-in-law will have once more asked me if I am satisfied with her daughter.
She even yet seems to think that her daughter is on approval, and liable at any[134] time to be returned with liquidated43 damages in the form of an extra handsome kimono from Nara-Ya’s famous store on the Bund. Everyone calls on everyone, and after mid-day we are not long left without visitors.
Kotmasu turned up in good time. He brought Mousmé the tiny dog she has been longing44 for. A charming present, which she will almost want to wear round her neck with a chain, lest it be lost.
It was only when our little home almost trembled and our garden seemed to swarm45 with the incursion of Mousmé’s relatives that I realised how throughly I was married. By the time the sun had commenced its downward flight into the sea behind the hills, many had arrived, and little moon-faced Aki had taken the usual and seemingly inevitable plunge46 into the water-lily pond in search of the sprites who are supposed to dwell therein.
[135]
These obsequious48 relatives by marriage amuse me immensely. They all take so much au sérieux. But how truly polite they all are. Even the sampanman (a cousin of whom Mousmé is not quite sure) is a polished gentleman, and the new suit with which he has managed to start the year, with the manners thrown in, gave him quite a distinguished49 air. I noticed that the box of sweets was reserved by Mousmé for those who were drinking tea, surrounded by many plates and cups—the favoured few, mostly girl friends.
If only I might have believed the charming prevarications of my relatives, how beautiful everything belonging to me must have been.
At length the last of them disappeared down the road. And the paper lanterns, whose dull white surfaces challenge the moon swinging in the sky above the amethyst50 hills, swung round the corner.[136] Mousmé waved her hand sympathetically, and then we sat down together on the veranda51 to watch the last hours of a New Year’s Day glide into the ?ons of the past.
One day is so very much like another to me in this strange land, where I have the lightest of business duties to perform, few friends other than Kotmasu, and no great desire to gain any more, though I find the natives I know vastly more interesting than the few English who are settled more or less permanently52 in Nagasaki for business or other purposes.
Everything has a certain charm—Mousmé always—but four long years have robbed my surroundings of that subtlest of all interests, novelty. I am eager to test my experiment, which is answering here so admirably, with a new environment.
“Mousmé in Bond Street.” Kotmasu’s phrase haunts me with a sinister53 purpose, but I am not to be daunted54 easily, for I have[137] my own opinions. Have I not? I ask myself.
I remember the Frenchman who, with some delicacy55, sums up the question of marriage in every clime where any ceremony is attached to the rite47: “Given a woman and one possesses the possibility of great happiness—or its exact antithesis,” and I am thankful that my experiment so far has resulted well.
Mousmé is neither the serpent nor the eel25 of another French writer’s experience, but is always fresh, always charming. She is a graduate in the art of pleasing. She knows nothing further of astronomy than to suspect that the stars are really big diamonds, nor of mathematics than what generally enables her to make a good bargain for an obi, dress or hairpin56. Hers are entirely57 applied58 mathematics, and of the simplest kind. All this ignorance is very stupid, no doubt, to you. I can well imagine the[138] smile of the Girton girl or “superior person” which will reward my confession59 of Mousmé’s ignorance, but then you are at a disadvantage—in short, you do not know Mousmé as I do. She has lately taken to writing me love-letters whilst I am away down in the town, and when she is tired of trying to read what is printed underneath60 the pictures in the papers and magazines—queer narrow little strips of letters, folded ever so many times, which she places in her prettiest envelopes, and lays upon my writing-desk; then hides behind a paper screen, or in the next room, to watch me unobserved whilst I read them.
Of course, she could tell me all that they contain, and often does; but Mousmé is quite a child in some things—the blending of childishness with womanhood, which is one of her most delightful61 traits.
There are such quaint turns of expression[139] in these rice-paper billets-doux, which by turns bring smiles and tears into my eyes, such na?ve confessions62, such strange lapses63 into her limited vocabulary of English words.
To-day there is one of those notes on my writing-table, in a shrimp-pink envelope, on which is depicted64 a dainty little geisha dancing in one corner. There is a rather strong air—I cannot call it a wind, or even breeze—stirring; and Mousmé, fearful lest the treasury65 of her love should be blown away, has weighed it down with the bronze frog I use for a paper-weight, which she made me buy as an ornament66 (!) for my table the other day.
I take the little letter up, of course, with the knowledge that Mousmé’s eye is upon me from some near retreat, from which she can steal forth67 silently to kiss me, English fashion; or startle me with some sudden noise, in imitation of the mice which scamper[140] about in the basement at night, or with a mimicry68 of the strange han! han! of the vultures which whirl, screaming hoarsely69 and as if in complaint, over the water of the harbour below.
Mousmé comes out softly from her hiding-place behind the turquoise-blue paper screen in the corner, unaware70 that two tell-tale glasses, her big one (which she soon made me purchase for her) and my little one, have from their juxtaposition71 long ago betrayed to me the secret of her whereabouts.
Two soft white arms, bare to the elbows, encircle my neck suddenly from behind; a pretty, piquant face appears over my left shoulder, and—well, after a time, when we stand up and look at each other, there is a peal72 of gay, spontaneous laughter. And, behold73! there is a tell-tale patch of white upon my cheek and coat where her face has rested.
[141]
It is several days since we have been anywhere—that is, further afield than a flying visit to my mother-in-law down the hill—and to-night we are going to the fête at the great temple away up the hillside. I have been to such before, but Mousmé is crazy to go with her real husband; and as there is certainly no valid74 objection to urge against her desire, we are going.
Mousmé puts the little shrimp-coloured love-letter in a box on top of the numerous others she has written me during our three months of married life, and then we sit down to a dinner of the usual perplexing dishes.
We talk gaily75 enough in Japanese, Mousmé describing to me all the delights she is anticipating from the proposed excursion, and telling me all that has occurred during my two hours’ absence.
What a charming little vis-a-vis she proves as we, seated on our squares of[142] spotless matting, pretend to make a good meal off impossible dishes, as to the constituents76 of which, even now, after some years of experience, I am frequently in mysterious doubt! Oka, our cook, is of an inventive turn of mind, and to-day he serves on the tiny blue plates wee potatoes à la marrons glacés, and cherries in vinegar! But Mousmé pronounces them a success, and insists on leaning across the elaborate square of magenta77 silk worked with white cranes fishing, which she has instituted as a tribute to European ideas of a table-cloth, to put the larger of the cherries in my mouth on the end of a chop-stick. All this is very frivolous78, doubtless; but very charming. To be anything but gay with such make-believe surroundings, and Mousmé sitting opposite playful and smiling, would be out of place. I assert this to myself whenever the thought of Lou crosses my mind. I am compelled to[143] do so to lay the ghost of Lou’s outraged79 sense of propriety80, for, truth to tell, she is very proper over some things, a somewhat hide-bound devotee of society etiquette81 with the responsibilities of a rapidly upgrowing daughter.
What a child Mousmé is! And yet there is an indefinable charm inseparable from womanhood about her. She was pouting82 just now because the camellia she had stuck in the front of her gown had fallen in a shower of scarlet83 petals84 into a tiny cup of tea on her knees. Now she is smiling again, and giving herself a lesson in English.
“Cy-reel! Cy-reel!” She always seems to practise this first; and then, “I luv yew85. I luv yew velly much.” This over and over again, till we both burst out laughing, and the scene ends in the usual way.
At present our life is a dainty comédie à deux, and is nothing approaching the farce[144] with its underlying86 tragic87 note which timorous88 Kotmasu feared and predicted.
Soon after sunset we start out—Mousmé and I—to make our way to the temple. The moon swims up rapidly into the cloud-clear vault89 of heaven, and floods our scented garden with a pure silver radiance. We have our paper lanterns all the same, although in competition with the strong white moonbeams they look almost trumpery90.
Our garden, with its narrow paths and tangled91 vegetation, is full of exquisite92 perfumes released by the blossoming flowers, scents93 wafted94 under one’s nostrils95 by the faintest breath of air, which causes the full-blown tea-roses to shiver and then shatter in a hail of falling petals.
As we turn the corner of the path near the largest of our several fountains, we look back (as we always do) at our home. The door-panels of the rooms leading on to the[145] verandah are open, and I can see right into our bed-chamber. On its bracket a little lamp is burning, and near it Mousmé has placed a tiny image of Buddha96—an ivory god with a fixed97 smile. She does not pray to it now, however. I am vaguely conscious that I have ousted98 the ivory Buddha from its temple. Why Mousmé keeps it there I have been as yet unable to discover. How strange it seems to leave the whole side of one’s house open after dark! Ere we step out on to the road through the bamboo wicket with its quaintly99 chased brass100 hinges, I take one more look back, and see Oka’s wife with her funny little squat101 figure pass along the verandah on her way to tidy the rooms.
Mousmé is charmingly dressed to-night in a peach-coloured silk gown, so stiff and rich, and an amber-yellow sash. Her hair is done into a marvellous butterfly, and her head is full of half a score of the most[146] handsome of her many pins. The moonlight gives a silver sheen to her ebon locks; and did I not know how black they are, I might have a chill come to my heart because of Mousmé’s getting grey.
We make our way as rapidly as we can down into the town.
Long before we arrive at the commencement of the town proper we are made aware that the fête is in full swing by the sounds of gaiety, the blaze of lanterns which is reflected above the town as if there were a conflagration102, and the softened103, confused roar of the thronging104 multitudes in the streets.
We reach the end of the street at last, and Mousmé is almost torn from my arm by the crowd by which we are immediately absorbed.
Every one is gay and good-humoured. I tread upon some one’s heels, but he only smiles, and assures me that my “honourable[147] feet” have not hurt his humble106 heel. My toes are trodden on in turn, Mousmé laughs, and even I, the injured party, do not remonstrate107. Indeed, I almost say, “Gomen navai,” as though I were the offender108 and do murmur109 politely—“It is no matter”—that is all I reply to the polite speech with which the offender asks pardon.
Mousmé is used to this, and she pilots me amid this bewildering blaze of ambulatory lanterns, swaying recklessly on the ends of their quivering sticks.
The moving crowds of women and girls diffuse110 a subtle perfume from the flowers they wear in their dresses and hair. Mousmés in the brilliant colours of their gayest holiday attire111 jostle one another good-humouredly—laughing, thoughtless little souls. The men are seemingly suffering from a bad attack of “European fever,” as is indicated by the frequent[148] presence of the top-hat or “bowler” above their amiable112 though unbeautiful faces, and the occasional presence of trousers beneath their skirt-like robes.
Alas113! just as we near the temple, the pressure of the throng105 drives us into the proximity114 of my mother-in-law, and little Aki, who is carrying high above his queer shaven head, with its one tuft of hair or rather fringe—which is like nothing so much as the traditional chimney-sweep’s circular broom—a lantern, like the banner in “Excelsior,” “with a strange device”—a most quaintly hideous115 imp12.
Mother-in-law is too busy protecting one of my “handsome presents,” a ruby-coloured silken obi, from contamination with the crowd, to notice us. But I quickly perceive that Aki’s narrow slots of eyes have spied us out, for the imp-like lantern sways violently upon its stick as he pushes his way through the dense116 crowd towards us.
[149]
We are so hedged in that escape is impossible even if we wished; but Mousmé has a penchant117 for this queer little brother with his intelligent monkey-face and ever-present smile.
She, too, has caught sight of the struggling Aki, who at times seems swallowed up in the crowd, as though never to reappear. But he does. And we can see him working an eel-like course towards the fluttering banner under which he doubtless noticed we were standing118.
He reaches us at last, and advertises the fact by unconsciously swinging his imp lantern into my face.
Mousmé bursts out laughing, and so do I—merriment is so infectious; and in a moment the people near us are laughing too.
Aki is delighted, and seizes hold of a hand of mine and one of Mousmé’s, and we advance along the street a little further.
The shops we pass are simply blazing[150] with lights. They have stall-like extensions, encroaching upon the roadway, all of them piled up with astonishing sweetmeats of brilliant hues119, toys, flowers, and hideously120 grotesque121 masks.
Aki is so attracted by the latter that we make scarcely any progress. Mousmé, who is getting impatient, makes a brilliant suggestion.
“Cy-reel, buy Aki a mask. He will never cease gazing at them or come along if you don’t. And we shall never reach the temple. No one can see my obi and dress here.”
I laugh quietly to myself at this last remark. The woman had popped out unwittingly.
I buy my little brother-in-law a most monstrous122 head. He is in raptures123, and Mousmé and I are in convulsions of laughter at the hideous god into which little Aki is at once transformed. We get on famously[151] now, till his acquisitive eyes light upon a pile of crystal trumpets124.
“Ah!” exclaims Mousmé, as she sees him pause, “he must have one.”
It is obvious that queer little Aki’s heart is set upon possessing one of these weirdly125 articulate instruments, so another quarter of a yen changes hands, and Aki adds his quota127 to the unearthly, gobbling sounds which dozens of these strange instruments produce, blown by other equally lusty-lunged boys.
The houses we pass by are all thrown open, and decorated exquisitely128 with flowers and foliage129. It is a scene of fairy-like beauty, and Mousmé at my side, upon whom I have to look down to admire, is a fairy.
She is getting tired; Aki is dragging on her arm, and I am glad when the climb up is done, and we are at last at the bottom of the first flight of the temple steps.
[152]
Below us once more, as from our verandah (only from a different and almost opposite point) we see the town and the land-locked bay flooded in a silver haze of moonlight, which fails, however, to make the crimson130 and golden reflection from the thousands of lanterns less apparent.
The scene is like nothing that can be imagined in beauty, and all around us appears to be enveloped131 in a veil of impalpable light.
We are close to the portico132 of the temple, and we pass underneath it and enter the courtyard, carried onward133 by the pressure of the multitude from behind.
We pass two enormous white-and-blue porcelain lanterns with encircling serpents of mythological134 type, and then we are in fairyland again.
Mousmé heaves a little sigh of delight; her colour is deepened by the crimson of excitement, and her eyes are dancing like[153] fire-flies. Aki is lost, and we forget all about him. He will be all right. There are scores of other children straying about, and no one seems to take any notice. Besides, they mostly wear masks, and blow intermittently135 upon crystal horns, the noise of which reminds me of the irate136 gobble-gobble of turkeys engaged in a farmyard fracas137.
“Cy-reel, is England like this?” Mousmé asks in an excited whisper.
“No,” I am forced to admit, though foreseeing the inevitable rejoinder.
“Then I don’t think I shall like England,” says Mousmé the child.
“We shall see.”
We make our way to the terrace, bordered by tea-houses, now thronged138 by the beauties and golden youths of Nagasaki and the country round. At every turn we seem to meet some acquaintance of Mousmé’s, who keeps up a continuous series of bows and nods and smiles.
[154]
The grove139 of giant camellias, camphor-wood trees, and cryptomerias stretch out like a vast roof, the camellias covered with a wealth of blood-red blossoms which, falling in continuous showers in the vibrating air, form a crimson carpet under the feet. Even the dark recesses140 are luminous141 with the flood of light which streams from the lanterns and brilliantly illuminated142 interiors of the tea-houses. We find seats at last.
In an instant a mousmé with huge pins in her hair, a humble smile, and gaily rouged143 and whitened cheeks, brings us tiny cups of tea.
Beyond and below us we can hear noises which tell of the presence of side-shows, wrestlers, mountebanks; and the roar of approving audiences makes Mousmé hasten to drink her tea and eat her beans in sugar with the greatest possible speed.
When she has finished, we make our[155] way along a terrace and take up our position to form a part of the audience outside a miniature theatre.
There is not much to see. What there is would scarcely amuse any one less unsophisticated in the Thespian144 art than the Japanese. It is something like a shadow-show. Only the horrible puppets which appear and go through almost incomprehensible antics are realities, which, in truly terrifying masks, cause Mousmé what are known as delightful “creeps,” and send her hand clutching at my arm. The noises from an orchestra of four or five which accompany the doings of the characters, some of which are a mixture of man and beast, ghoul-like and given to sudden and unlooked-for appearances and disappearances145, are weird126 and disquieting146; of harmony the musicians know nothing. Their colour tones are all blues147, greens, grays, and bilious148 yellows; their merits, that they are[156] in accord with the impressions of the puppets.
We remain watching these human puppets for some time, surrounded by a dense crowd craning their necks, and on tip-toe as each new shadow appears upon the scene. Some of the antics of these shadow-like forms are so monstrous that I begin to think that Mousmé is getting really frightened, and so I propose moving on to where some clever tumblers, contortionists and conjurers are to be seen.
“No,” says Mousmé, “let us go home.”
Then, seeing I do not quite understand her desire, she explains with charming na?veté that she is afraid of bad dreams.
How queer, little Mousmé! and how childlike, to be sure!
Mousmé’s words have made me notice that the crowd is lessening149 in density150, and the lanterns are going out. Or is it they are paling before the coming dawn?
[157]
I look into the face of Mousmé, and then into the faces of the people near us. Yes, that is it. The moon is gone down into the sea, and the sun will be climbing up the first steps of another day’s journey ere we arrive home.
We leave the terrace, with its lingering crowds of tired-faced holiday-makers, and fading light of lanterns and tea-houses, and by a short cut gain a mountain-path leading close home.
The sound of the trumpets is less and less distinct, and that of the ever-chirping cicalas more so, as we wend our way—Mousmé and I—along the narrow, rough, unpaved path in the rapidly growing dawn of a Japanese morning.
Below us to the left lies the town as yet indistinct in the slowly increasing light, a mysterious mass of shadows and projections151 which mark the places of streets and roofs of houses. Here and there[158] twinkle yellowish red points of light which grow dimmer each moment in the quickening dawn. The harbour stretches a mist-obscured expanse, with gaps here and there like chrysoprases laid in cotton wool. Soon the shipping152 will become visible, and the mist roll off the face of the tranquil153 water, like a gauze curtain lifted by unseen hands.
The path runs between fields of flowers, and is edged with dewy grass. The perfume of the blossoms and the keen freshness of the morning air arouse Mousmé’s almost slumbering154 senses. Through the indescribable fragrance155 and glamour156 of an Eastern dawn we wend our way homewards slowly and with tired feet.
The women, in blue cotton garments, are already coming up to work in the fields. Good-looking children accompanying them chase each other across the dew-spangled grass, trampling157 under foot flowers which would have graced a palace.
At last we have walked up the little garden path, slippery now with the morning exhalations. Indoors all are asleep. Everywhere is quiet.
But no matter. When Mousmé has drowsily158 mounted the verandah steps we have only to enter our little house, which looks so lonely and mysterious at this early hour, by pushing aside one of those sliding paper panels; to cross the creaking floor covered with spotlessly clean matting; and[160] then fall asleep in two minutes on the soft, mosquito-guarded mattress, lulled159, if we need a lullaby, by Oka’s muffled160 snores down below.
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croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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irises
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| n.虹( iris的名词复数 )；虹膜；虹彩；鸢尾（花） | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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imp
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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14
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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15
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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16
piquant
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| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
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17
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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18
moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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19
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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20
opalescent
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| adj.乳色的，乳白的 | |
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21
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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22
groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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23
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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24
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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25
eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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26
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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27
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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28
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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29
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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30
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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31
depredations
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| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
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32
sophistry
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| n.诡辩 | |
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33
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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34
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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35
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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36
yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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37
proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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38
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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39
fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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40
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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41
vendors
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| n.摊贩( vendor的名词复数 )；小贩；（房屋等的）卖主；卖方 | |
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42
effusive
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| adj.热情洋溢的；感情(过多)流露的 | |
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43
liquidated
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| v.清算( liquidate的过去式和过去分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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44
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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45
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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46
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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47
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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48
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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49
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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50
amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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51
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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52
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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53
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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54
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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56
hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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57
entirely
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|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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58
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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59
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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60
underneath
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|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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61
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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62
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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63
lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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64
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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65
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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66
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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67
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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68
mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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69
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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70
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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71
juxtaposition
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| n.毗邻，并置，并列 | |
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72
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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73
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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74
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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75
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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76
constituents
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|
| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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77
magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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78
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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79
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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80
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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81
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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82
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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83
scarlet
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|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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84
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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85
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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86
underlying
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|
| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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87
tragic
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|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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88
timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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89
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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90
trumpery
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|
| n.无价值的杂物；adj.（物品）中看不中用的 | |
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91
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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92
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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93
scents
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|
| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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94
wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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96
Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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97
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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98
ousted
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| 驱逐( oust的过去式和过去分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
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99
quaintly
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| adv.古怪离奇地 | |
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100
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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101
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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102
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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103
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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104
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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105
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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106
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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107
remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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108
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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109
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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110
diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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111
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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112
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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113
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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114
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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115
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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116
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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117
penchant
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| n.爱好，嗜好；（强烈的）倾向 | |
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118
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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119
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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120
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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121
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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122
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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123
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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124
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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125
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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126
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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127
quota
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| n.（生产、进出口等的）配额，（移民的）限额 | |
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128
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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129
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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130
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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131
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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133
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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134
mythological
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| adj.神话的 | |
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135
intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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136
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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137
fracas
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| n.打架；吵闹 | |
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138
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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139
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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140
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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141
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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142
illuminated
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|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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143
rouged
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
thespian
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| adj.戏曲的；n.演员；悲剧演员 | |
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145
disappearances
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| n.消失( disappearance的名词复数 )；丢失；失踪；失踪案 | |
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146
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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147
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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148
bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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149
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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150
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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151
projections
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| 预测( projection的名词复数 )； 投影； 投掷； 突起物 | |
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152
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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153
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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154
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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155
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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156
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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157
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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158
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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159
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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160
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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