She stood up in the sledge1, and her husband, Vladimir Nikititch, and the friend of her childhood, Vladimir Mihalovitch, held her arms to prevent her falling. The three horses were galloping2 fast.
"I said you ought not to have given her brandy," Vladimir Nikititch whispered to his companion with vexation. "What a fellow you are, really!"
The Colonel knew by experience that in women like his wife, Sofya Lvovna, after a little too much wine, turbulent gaiety was followed by hysterical3 laughter and then tears. He was afraid that when they got home, instead of being able to sleep, he would have to be administering compresses and drops.
"Wo!" cried Sofya Lvovna. "I want to drive myself!"
She felt genuinely gay and triumphant4. For the last two months, ever since her wedding, she had been tortured by the thought that she had married Colonel Yagitch from worldly motives5 and, as it is said, _par dépit_; but that evening, at the restaurant, she had suddenly become convinced that she loved him passionately6. In spite of his fifty-four years, he was so slim, agile8, supple9, he made puns and hummed to the gipsies' tunes10 so charmingly. Really, the older men were nowadays a thousand times more interesting than the young. It seemed as though age and youth had changed parts. The Colonel was two years older than her father, but could there be any importance in that if, honestly speaking, there were infinitely11 more vitality12, go, and freshness in him than in herself, though she was only twenty-three?
"Oh, my darling!" she thought. "You are wonderful!"
She had become convinced in the restaurant, too, that not a spark of her old feeling remained. For the friend of her childhood, Vladimir Mihalovitch, or simply Volodya, with whom only the day before she had been madly, miserably13 in love, she now felt nothing but complete indifference14. All that evening he had seemed to her spiritless, torpid15, uninteresting, and insignificant16, and the _sangfroid_ with which he habitually17 avoided paying at restaurants on this occasion revolted her, and she had hardly been able to resist saying, "If you are poor, you should stay at home." The Colonel paid for all.
Perhaps because trees, telegraph posts, and drifts of snow kept flitting past her eyes, all sorts of disconnected ideas came rushing into her mind. She reflected: the bill at the restaurant had been a hundred and twenty roubles, and a hundred had gone to the gipsies, and to-morrow she could fling away a thousand roubles if she liked; and only two months ago, before her wedding, she had not had three roubles of her own, and had to ask her father for every trifle. What a change in her life!
Her thoughts were in a tangle18. She recalled, how, when she was a child of ten, Colonel Yagitch, now her husband, used to make love to her aunt, and every one in the house said that he had ruined her. And her aunt had, in fact, often come down to dinner with her eyes red from crying, and was always going off somewhere; and people used to say of her that the poor thing could find no peace anywhere. He had been very handsome in those days, and had an extraordinary reputation as a lady-killer. So much so that he was known all over the town, and it was said of him that he paid a round of visits to his adorers every day like a doctor visiting his patients. And even now, in spite of his grey hair, his wrinkles, and his spectacles, his thin face looked handsome, especially in profile.
Sofya Lvovna's father was an army doctor, and had at one time served in the same regiment19 with Colonel Yagitch. Volodya's father was an army doctor too, and he, too, had once been in the same regiment as her father and Colonel Yagitch. In spite of many amatory adventures, often very complicated and disturbing, Volodya had done splendidly at the university, and had taken a very good degree. Now he was specialising in foreign literature, and was said to be writing a thesis. He lived with his father, the army doctor, in the barracks, and had no means of his own, though he was thirty. As children Sofya and he had lived under the same roof, though in different flats. He often came to play with her, and they had dancing and French lessons together. But when he grew up into a graceful20, remarkably21 handsome young man, she began to feel shy of him, and then fell madly in love with him, and had loved him right up to the time when she was married to Yagitch. He, too, had been renowned22 for his success with women almost from the age of fourteen, and the ladies who deceived their husbands on his account excused themselves by saying that he was only a boy. Some one had told a story of him lately that when he was a student living in lodgings23 so as to be near the university, it always happened if one knocked at his door, that one heard his footstep, and then a whispered apology: "_Pardon, je ne suis pas setul._" Yagitch was delighted with him, and blessed him as a worthy24 successor, as Derchavin blessed Pushkin; he appeared to be fond of him. They would play billiards25 or picquet by the hour together without uttering a word, if Yagitch drove out on any expedition he always took Volodya with him, and Yagitch was the only person Volodya initiated26 into the mysteries of his thesis. In earlier days, when Yagitch was rather younger, they had often been in the position of rivals, but they had never been jealous of one another. In the circle in which they moved Yagitch was nicknamed Big Volodya, and his friend Little Volodya.
Besides Big Volodya, Little Volodya, and Sofya Lvovna, there was a fourth person in the sledge--Margarita Alexandrovna, or, as every one called her, Rita, a cousin of Madame Yagitch--a very pale girl over thirty, with black eyebrows27 and a pince-nez, who was for ever smoking cigarettes, even in the bitterest frost, and who always had her knees and the front of her blouse covered with cigarette ash. She spoke28 through her nose, drawling every word, was of a cold temperament29, could drink any amount of wine and liquor without being drunk, and used to tell scandalous anecdotes30 in a languid and tasteless way. At home she spent her days reading thick magazines, covering them with cigarette ash, or eating frozen apples.
"Sonia, give over fooling," she said, drawling. "It's really silly."
As they drew near the city gates they went more slowly, and began to pass people and houses. Sofya Lvovna subsided31, nestled up to her husband, and gave herself up to her thoughts. Little Volodya sat opposite. By now her light-hearted and cheerful thoughts were mingled32 with gloomy ones. She thought that the man sitting opposite knew that she loved him, and no doubt he believed the gossip that she married the Colonel _par dépit_. She had never told him of her love; she had not wanted him to know, and had done her best to hide her feeling, but from her face she knew that he understood her perfectly33 --and her pride suffered. But what was most humiliating in her position was that, since her wedding, Volodya had suddenly begun to pay her attention, which he had never done before, spending hours with her, sitting silent or chattering34 about trifles; and even now in the sledge, though he did not talk to her, he touched her foot with his and pressed her hand a little. Evidently that was all he wanted, that she should be married; and it was evident that he despised her and that she only excited in him an interest of a special kind as though she were an immoral35 and disreputable woman. And when the feeling of triumph and love for her husband were mingled in her soul with humiliation36 and wounded pride, she was overcome by a spirit of defiance37, and longed to sit on the box, to shout and whistle to the horses.
Just as they passed the nunnery the huge hundred-ton bell rang out. Rita crossed herself.
"Our Olga is in that nunnery," said Sofya Lvovna, and she, too, crossed herself and shuddered39.
"Why did she go into the nunnery?" said the Colonel.
"_Par dépit_," Rita answered crossly, with obvious allusion40 to Sofya's marrying Yagitch. "_Par dépit_ is all the fashion nowadays. Defiance of all the world. She was always laughing, a desperate flirt41, fond of nothing but balls and young men, and all of a sudden off she went--to surprise every one!"
"That's not true," said Volodya, turning down the collar of his fur coat and showing his handsome face. "It wasn't a case of _par dépit_; it was simply horrible, if you like. Her brother Dmitri was sent to penal42 servitude, and they don't know where he is now. And her mother died of grief."
He turned up his collar again.
"Olga did well," he added in a muffled43 voice. "Living as an adopted child, and with such a paragon44 as Sofya Lvovna,--one must take that into consideration too!"
Sofya Lvovna heard a tone of contempt in his voice, and longed to say something rude to him, but she said nothing. The spirit of defiance came over her again; she stood up again and shouted in a tearful voice:
"I want to go to the early service! Driver, back! I want to see Olga."
They turned back. The nunnery bell had a deep note, and Sofya Lvovna fancied there was something in it that reminded her of Olga and her life. The other church bells began ringing too. When the driver stopped the horses, Sofya Lvovna jumped out of the sledge and, unescorted and alone, went quickly up to the gate.
"Make haste, please!" her husband called to her. "It's late already."
She went in at the dark gateway45, then by the avenue that led from the gate to the chief church. The snow crunched46 under her feet, and the ringing was just above her head, and seemed to vibrate through her whole being. Here was the church door, then three steps down, and an ante-room with ikons of the saints on both sides, a fragrance47 of juniper and incense48, another door, and a dark figure opening it and bowing very low. The service had not yet begun. One nun38 was walking by the ikon-screen and lighting49 the candles on the tall standard candlesticks, another was lighting the chandelier. Here and there, by the columns and the side chapels50, there stood black, motionless figures. "I suppose they must remain standing51 as they are now till the morning," thought Sofya Lvovna, and it seemed to her dark, cold, and dreary--drearier than a graveyard52. She looked with a feeling of dreariness53 at the still, motionless figures and suddenly felt a pang54 at her heart. For some reason, in one short nun, with thin shoulders and a black kerchief on her head, she recognised Olga, though when Olga went into the nunnery she had been plump and had looked taller. Hesitating and extremely agitated55, Sofya Lvovna went up to the nun, and looking over her shoulder into her face, recognised her as Olga.
"Olga!" she cried, throwing up her hands, and could not speak from emotion. "Olga!"
The nun knew her at once; she raised her eyebrows in surprise, and her pale, freshly washed face, and even, it seemed, the white headcloth that she wore under her wimple, beamed with pleasure.
"What a miracle from God!" she said, and she, too, threw up her thin, pale little hands.
Sofya Lvovna hugged her and kissed her warmly, and was afraid as she did so that she might smell of spirits.
"We were just driving past, and we thought of you," she said, breathing hard, as though she had been running. "Dear me! How pale you are! I . . . I'm very glad to see you. Well, tell me how are you? Are you dull?"
Sofya Lvovna looked round at the other nuns56, and went on in a subdued57 voice:
"There've been so many changes at home . . . you know, I'm married to Colonel Yagitch. You remember him, no doubt. . . . I am very happy with him."
"Well, thank God for that. And is your father quite well?"
"Yes, he is quite well. He often speaks of you. You must come and see us during the holidays, Olga, won't you?"
"I will come," said Olga, and she smiled. "I'll come on the second day."
Sofya Lvovna began crying, she did not know why, and for a minute she shed tears in silence, then she wiped her eyes and said:
"Rita will be very sorry not to have seen you. She is with us too. And Volodya's here. They are close to the gate. How pleased they'd be if you'd come out and see them. Let's go out to them; the service hasn't begun yet."
"Let us," Olga agreed. She crossed herself three times and went out with Sofya Lvovna to the entrance.
"So you say you're happy, Sonitchka?" she asked when they came out at the gate.
"Very."
"Well, thank God for that."
The two Volodyas, seeing the nun, got out of the sledge and greeted her respectfully. Both were visibly touched by her pale face and her black monastic dress, and both were pleased that she had remembered them and come to greet them. That she might not be cold, Sofya Lvovna wrapped her up in a rug and put one half of her fur coat round her. Her tears had relieved and purified her heart, and she was glad that this noisy, restless, and, in reality, impure58 night should unexpectedly end so purely59 and serenely60. And to keep Olga by her a little longer she suggested:
"Let us take her for a drive! Get in, Olga; we'll go a little way."
The men expected the nun to refuse--saints don't dash about in three-horse sledges61; but to their surprise, she consented and got into the sledge. And while the horses were galloping to the city gate all were silent, and only tried to make her warm and comfortable, and each of them was thinking of what she had been in the past and what she was now. Her face was now passionless, inexpressive, cold, pale, and transparent62, as though there were water, not blood, in her veins63. And two or three years ago she had been plump and rosy64, talking about her suitors and laughing at every trifle.
Near the city gate the sledge turned back; when it stopped ten minutes later near the nunnery, Olga got out of the sledge. The bell had begun to ring more rapidly.
"The Lord save you," said Olga, and she bowed low as nuns do.
"Mind you come, Olga."
"I will, I will."
She went and quickly disappeared through the gateway. And when after that they drove on again, Sofya Lvovna felt very sad. Every one was silent. She felt dispirited and weak all over. That she should have made a nun get into a sledge and drive in a company hardly sober seemed to her now stupid, tactless, and almost sacrilegious. As the intoxication65 passed off, the desire to deceive herself passed away also. It was clear to her now that she did not love her husband, and never could love him, and that it all had been foolishness and nonsense. She had married him from interested motives, because, in the words of her school friends, he was madly rich, and because she was afraid of becoming an old maid like Rita, and because she was sick of her father, the doctor, and wanted to annoy Volodya.
If she could have imagined when she got married, that it would be so oppressive, so dreadful, and so hideous66, she would not have consented to the marriage for all the wealth in the world. But now there was no setting it right. She must make up her mind to it.
They reached home. Getting into her warm, soft bed, and pulling the bed-clothes over her, Sofya Lvovna recalled the dark church, the smell of incense, and the figures by the columns, and she felt frightened at the thought that these figures would be standing there all the while she was asleep. The early service would be very, very long; then there would be "the hours," then the mass, then the service of the day.
"But of course there is a God--there certainly is a God; and I shall have to die, so that sooner or later one must think of one's soul, of eternal life, like Olga. Olga is saved now; she has settled all questions for herself. . . . But if there is no God? Then her life is wasted. But how is it wasted? Why is it wasted?"
And a minute later the thought came into her mind again:
"There is a God; death must come; one must think of one's soul. If Olga were to see death before her this minute she would not be afraid. She is prepared. And the great thing is that she has already solved the problem of life for herself. There is a God . . . yes . . . . But is there no other solution except going into a monastery67? To go into the monastery means to renounce68 life, to spoil it . . . ."
Sofya Lvovna began to feel rather frightened; she hid her head under her pillow.
"I mustn't think about it," she whispered. "I mustn't. . . ."
Yagitch was walking about on the carpet in the next room with a soft jingle69 of spurs, thinking about something. The thought occurred to Sofya Lvovna that this man was near and dear to her only for one reason--that his name, too, was Vladimir. She sat up in bed and called tenderly:
"Volodya!"
"What is it?" her husband responded.
"Nothing."
She lay down again. She heard a bell, perhaps the same nunnery bell. Again she thought of the vestibule and the dark figures, and thoughts of God and of inevitable70 death strayed through her mind, and she covered her ears that she might not hear the bell. She thought that before old age and death there would be a long, long life before her, and that day by day she would have to put up with being close to a man she did not love, who had just now come into the bedroom and was getting into bed, and would have to stifle71 in her heart her hopeless love for the other young, fascinating, and, as she thought, exceptional man. She looked at her husband and tried to say good-night to him, but suddenly burst out crying instead. She was vexed72 with herself.
"Well, now then for the music!" said Yagitch.
She was not pacified73 till ten o'clock in the morning. She left off crying and trembling all over, but she began to have a splitting headache. Yagitch was in haste to go to the late mass, and in the next room was grumbling74 at his orderly, who was helping75 him to dress. He came into the bedroom once with the soft jingle of his spurs to fetch something, and then a second time wearing his epaulettes, and his orders on his breast, limping slightly from rheumatism76; and it struck Sofya Lvovna that he looked and walked like a bird of prey77.
She heard Yagitch ring the telephone bell.
"Be so good as to put me on to the Vassilevsky barracks," he said; and a minute later: "Vassilevsky barracks? Please ask Doctor Salimovitch to come to the telephone . . ." And a minute later: "With whom am I speaking? Is it you, Volodya? Delighted. Ask your father to come to us at once, dear boy; my wife is rather shattered after yesterday. Not at home, you say? H'm! . . . Thank you. Very good. I shall be much obliged . . . _Merci_."
Yagitch came into the bedroom for the third time, bent78 down to his wife, made the sign of the cross over her, gave her his hand to kiss (the women who had been in love with him used to kiss his hand and he had got into the habit of it), and saying that he should be back to dinner, went out.
At twelve o'clock the maid came in to announce that Vladimir Mihalovitch had arrived. Sofya Lvovna, staggering with fatigue79 and headache, hurriedly put on her marvellous new lilac dressing-gown trimmed with fur, and hastily did up her hair after a fashion. She was conscious of an inexpressible tenderness in her heart, and was trembling with joy and with fear that he might go away. She wanted nothing but to look at him.
Volodya came dressed correctly for calling, in a swallow-tail coat and white tie. When Sofya Lvovna came in he kissed her hand and expressed his genuine regret that she was ill. Then when they had sat down, he admired her dressing-gown.
"I was upset by seeing Olga yesterday," she said. "At first I felt it dreadful, but now I envy her. She is like a rock that cannot be shattered; there is no moving her. But was there no other solution for her, Volodya? Is burying oneself alive the only solution of the problem of life? Why, it's death, not life!"
At the thought of Olga, Volodya's face softened80.
"Here, you are a clever man, Volodya," said Sofya Lvovna. "Show me how to do what Olga has done. Of course, I am not a believer and should not go into a nunnery, but one can do something equivalent. Life isn't easy for me," she added after a brief pause. "Tell me what to do. . . . Tell me something I can believe in. Tell me something, if it's only one word."
"One word? By all means: tararaboomdeeay."
"Volodya, why do you despise me?" she asked hotly. "You talk to me in a special, fatuous81 way, if you'll excuse me, not as one talks to one's friends and women one respects. You are so good at your work, you are fond of science; why do you never talk of it to me? Why is it? Am I not good enough?"
Volodya frowned with annoyance82 and said:
"Why do you want science all of a sudden? Don't you perhaps want constitutional government? Or sturgeon and horse-radish?"
"Very well, I am a worthless, trivial, silly woman with no convictions. I have a mass, a mass of defects. I am neurotic83, corrupt84, and I ought to be despised for it. But you, Volodya, are ten years older than I am, and my husband is thirty years older. I've grown up before your eyes, and if you would, you could have made anything you liked of me--an angel. But you"--her voice quivered-- "treat me horribly. Yagitch has married me in his old age, and you . . ."
"Come, come," said Volodya, sitting nearer her and kissing both her hands. "Let the Schopenhauers philosophise and prove whatever they like, while we'll kiss these little hands."
"You despise me, and if only you knew how miserable85 it makes me," she said uncertainly, knowing beforehand that he would not believe her. "And if you only knew how I want to change, to begin another life! I think of it with enthusiasm!" and tears of enthusiasm actually came into her eyes. "To be good, honest, pure, not to be lying; to have an object in life."
"Come, come, come, please don't be affected86! I don't like it!" said Volodya, and an ill-humoured expression came into his face. "Upon my word, you might be on the stage. Let us behave like simple people."
To prevent him from getting cross and going away, she began defending herself, and forced herself to smile to please him; and again she began talking of Olga, and of how she longed to solve the problem of her life and to become something real.
"Ta-ra-ra-boomdee-ay," he hummed. "Ta-ra-ra-boom-dee-ay!"
And all at once he put his arm round her waist, while she, without knowing what she was doing, laid her hands on his shoulders and for a minute gazed with ecstasy87, almost intoxication, at his clever, ironical88 face, his brow, his eyes, his handsome beard.
"You have known that I love you for ever so long," she confessed to him, and she blushed painfully, and felt that her lips were twitching89 with shame. "I love you. Why do you torture me?"
She shut her eyes and kissed him passionately on the lips, and for a long while, a full minute, could not take her lips away, though she knew it was unseemly, that he might be thinking the worse of her, that a servant might come in.
"Oh, how you torture me!" she repeated.
When half an hour later, having got all that he wanted, he was sitting at lunch in the dining-room, she was kneeling before him, gazing greedily into his face, and he told her that she was like a little dog waiting for a bit of ham to be thrown to it. Then he sat her on his knee, and dancing her up and down like a child, hummed:
"Tara-raboom-dee-ay. . . . Tara-raboom-dee-ay." And when he was getting ready to go she asked him in a passionate7 whisper:
"When? To-day? Where?" And held out both hands to his mouth as though she wanted to seize his answer in them.
"To-day it will hardly be convenient," he said after a minute's thought. "To-morrow, perhaps."
And they parted. Before dinner Sofya Lvovna went to the nunnery to see Olga, but there she was told that Olga was reading the psalter somewhere over the dead. From the nunnery she went to her father's and found that he, too, was out. Then she took another sledge and drove aimlessly about the streets till evening. And for some reason she kept thinking of the aunt whose eyes were red with crying, and who could find no peace anywhere.
And at night they drove out again with three horses to a restaurant out of town and listened to the gipsies. And driving back past the nunnery again, Sofya Lvovna thought of Olga, and she felt aghast at the thought that for the girls and women of her class there was no solution but to go on driving about and telling lies, or going into a nunnery to mortify90 the flesh. . . . And next day she met her lover, and again Sofya Lvovna drove about the town alone in a hired sledge thinking about her aunt.
A week later Volodya threw her over. And after that life went on as before, uninteresting, miserable, and sometimes even agonising. The Colonel and Volodya spent hours playing billiards and picquet, Rita told anecdotes in the same languid, tasteless way, and Sofya Lvovna went about alone in hired sledges and kept begging her husband to take her for a good drive with three horses.
Going almost every day to the nunnery, she wearied Olga, complaining of her unbearable91 misery92, weeping, and feeling as she did so that she brought with her into the cell something impure, pitiful, shabby. And Olga repeated to her mechanically as though a lesson learnt by rote93, that all this was of no consequence, that it would all pass and God would forgive her.
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1
sledge
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| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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6
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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10
tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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torpid
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| adj.麻痹的，麻木的，迟钝的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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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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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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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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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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35
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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dreariness
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| 沉寂，可怕，凄凉 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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sledges
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| n.雪橇，雪车( sledge的名词复数 )v.乘雪橇( sledge的第三人称单数 )；用雪橇运载 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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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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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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pacified
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的过去式和过去分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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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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81
fatuous
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| adj.愚昧的；昏庸的 | |
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82
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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83
neurotic
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| adj.神经病的，神经过敏的；n.神经过敏者，神经病患者 | |
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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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87
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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88
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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89
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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90
mortify
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| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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rote
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| n.死记硬背，生搬硬套 | |
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