"You'll excuse me, Aunt Caroline," remarked the Senator, "but your complexion2 isn't by any means right yet. It's a warm day and a long drive. Just as likely as not you'll be down sick after it."
"Stuff!" said Mrs. Portheris. "I thank my stars I have got no enfeebled American constitution. I am perfectly3 equal to it, thank you."
"It's most unwise," observed Mr. Mafferton.
"Darned—I mean extremely risky," sighed Dicky.
Mrs. Portheris faced upon them. "And pray what do you know about it?" she demanded.
Then momma put in her oar4, taking most unguardedly a privilege of relationship. "Of course, you are the best judge of how you feel yourself, Aunt Caroline, but we are told there are some steps to ascend5 when we get there—and you know how fleshy you are."
In the instant of ominous6 silence which occurred while Mrs. Portheris was getting her chin into the angle of its greatest majesty7, Mr. Mafferton considerately walked to the door. When it was accomplished8 she looked at momma sideways and down her nose, precisely9 in the manner of the late Mr. Du Maurier's ladies in Punch, in the same state of mind. She might have sat or stood to him. It was another ideal realised.
"That is the latest, the very latest Americanism which I have observed in your conversation, Augusta. In your native land it may be admissible, but please understand that I cannot permit it to be applied10 to me personally. To English ears it is offensive, very offensive. It is also quite improper11 for you to assume any familiarity with my figure. As you say, I may be aware of its corpulence, but nobody else—er—can possibly know anything about it."
Momma was speechless, and, as usual, the Senator came to the rescue. He never will allow momma to be trampled12 on, and there was distinct retaliation13 in his manner. "Look here, aunt," he said, "there's nothing profane14 in saying you're fleshy when you are, you know, and you don't need to remove so much as your bonnet15 strings16 for the general public to be aware of it. And when you come to America don't you ever insult anybody by calling her corpulent, which is a perfectly indecent expression. Now if you won't go back to bed and tranquillise your mind—on a plain soda17——"
"I won't," said Mrs. Portheris.
"De carriages is already," said the head porter, glistening18 with an amiability19 of which we all appreciated the balm. And we entered the carriages—Mrs. Portheris and the downcast Isabel and Mr. Mafferton in one, and momma, poppa, Dicky, and I in the other. For no American would have been safe in Mrs. Portheris's carriage for at least two hours, and this came home even to Mr. Dod.
"Never again!" exclaimed momma as we rattled20 down among the narrow streets that crowd under the Funicular railway. "Never again will I call that woman Aunt Caroline."
"Don't call her fleshy, my dear, that's what really irritated her," remarked the Senator. The Senator's discrimination, I have often noticed, is not the nicest thing about him.
Hours and hours it seemed to take, that drive to Pompeii. Past the ambitious confectioner with his window full of cherry pies, each cherry round and red and shining like a marble, and the plate glass dry-goods store where ready-made costumes were displayed that looked as if they might fit just as badly as those of Westbourne Grove21, and so by degrees and always down hill through narrower and shabbier streets where all the women walked bareheaded and the shops were mostly turned out on the pavement for the convenience of customers, and a good many of them went up and down in wheelbarrows. And often through narrow ways so high-walled and many-windowed that it was quite cool and dusky down below, and only a strip of sun showed far up along the roofs of one side. Here and there a wheelbarrow went strolling through these streets too, and we saw at least one family marketing22. From a little square window a prodigious23 way up came, as we passed, a cry with custom in it, and a wheelbarrow paused beneath. Then down from the window by a long, long rope slid a basket from the hands of a young woman leaning out in red, and the vendor24 took the opportunity of sitting down on his barrow handle till it arrived. Soldi and a piece of paper he took out of the basket and a cabbage and onions he put in, and then it went swinging upwards25 and he picked up his barrow again, and we rattled on and left him shouting and pushing his hat back—it was not a soft felt but a bowler26—to look up at the other windows. In spite of the bowler it was a picturesque27 and Neapolitan incident, and it left us much divided as to the contents of the piece of paper.
"My idea is," said the Senator, "that the young woman in the red jersey28 was the hired girl and that note was what you might call a clandestine29 communication."
"Since we are in Naples," remarked Mr. Dod, "I think, Senator, your deduction30 is correct. Where we come from a slavey with any self-respect would put her sentiments on a gilt-edged correspondence card in a scented31 envelope with a stamp on the outside and ask you to kindly33 drop it into the pillar box on your way to business; but this chimes in with all you read about Naples."
"Perfectly ridiculous!" said momma. "Mark my words, that note was either a list of vegetables wanted, or an intimation that if they weren't going to be fresher than the last, that man needn't stop for orders in future. And in a country as destitute34 of elevators as this one is I suppose you couldn't keep a servant a week if you didn't let her save the stairs somehow. But I must say if I were going to have cabbage and onions the same day I wouldn't like the neighbours to know it."
I entirely35 agreed with momma, and was reflecting, while they talked of something else, on the injustice36 of considering ours the sentimental37 sex, when the Senator leaned forward and advised me in an undertone to make a note of the market basket.
"And take my theory to account for the piece of paper," said he; "your mother's may be the most likely, but mine is what the public will expect."
And always the shadows of the narrow streets crooked38 in the end into a little plaza39 full of sun and beggars, and lemonade stands, and hawkers of wild strawberries, and when the great bank of a flower-stall stood just where the shadow ended sharply and the sun began, it made something to remember. After that our way lay through a suburban40 parish fête, and we pursued it under strings and strings of little glass lanterns, red, and green, and blue, that swung across the streets; and there were goats and more children, and momma vainly endeavoured to keep off the smells with her parasol. Then a region of docks and masts rising unexpectedly, and many little fish shops, and a glitter of scales on the pavement, and disconnected coils of rope, and lounging men with earrings41, and unkempt women with babies, and above and over all the warm scent32, standing42 still in the sun, of hemp43, and tar1, and the sea.
"The city," said the Senator, casting his practised eye on a piece of dead wall that ran along the pavement, "is evidently in the turmoil44 of a general election, though you mightn't notice it. It's the third time I've seen those posters 'Viva il Prefétto!' and 'Viva L'opposizione! That seems to be about all they can do, just as if we contented45 ourselves with yelling ''Rah for Bryan!' 'One more for McKinley!' I must say if they haven't any more notion of business than that they don't either of 'em deserve to get there."
"In France," observed Mr. Dod, "they stick up little handbills addressed to their 'chers concitoyens' as if voters were a lot of baa-lambs and willie-boys. It makes enervating46 reading."
"Young man," said poppa in a burst of feeling, "they say the American eagle might keep her beak47 shut with advantage, more than she does; but I tell you," and the Senator's hand came down hard on Dicky's knee, "a trip around Europe is enough to turn her into a singing bird, sir, a singing bird."
I don't get my imagination entirely from momma.
"Viva il Prefétto! Viva L'opposizione!" poppa repeated pityingly, as another pair of posters came in sight. "Well, it won't ever do the Government of Italy any good, but I guess I'm with the Opposizione."
The road grew emptier and sandy white, and commerce forsook48 it but for here and there a little shop with fat yellow bags, which were the people's cheeses, hanging in bladders at the door. Crumbled49 gateways50 began to appear, and we saw through them that the villa51 gardens inside ran down and dropped their rose leaves into the blue of the Mediterranean52. We met the country people going their ways to town; they looked at us with friendly patronage53, knowing all about us, what we had come to see, and the foolishness of it, and especially the ridiculous cost of carozza that take people to Pompeii. And at last, just as the sun and the jolting54 and the powdery white dust combined had instigated55 us all to suggest to the Senator how much better it would have been to come by rail, the ponies56 made a glad and jingling57 sweep under the acacias of the H?tel Diomede, which is at the portals of Pompeii.
It seemed a casual and a cheerful place, full of open doors and proprietary58 Neapolitans who might have been brothers and sisters-in-law, whose conversation we interrupted coming in. There had been domestic potations; a very fat lady, with a horn comb in her hair, wiped liquid rings off the table with her apron59, removing the glasses, while a collarless male person with an agreeable smile and a soft felt hat placed wooden chairs for us in a row. Poppa knows no Italian, but they seemed to understand from what he said that we wanted things to drink, and brought us with surprising accuracy precisely what each of us preferred, lemonade for momma and me, and beverages60 consisting largely, though not entirely, of soda water for the Senator and Mr. Dod. While we refreshed ourselves, another, elderly, grizzled, and one-eyed, came and took up a position just outside the door opposite and sang a song of adventurous61 love, boxing his own ears in the chorus with the liveliest effect. A further agreeable person waited upon us and informed us that he was the interpreter, he would everything explain to us, that this was a beggar man who wanted us to give him some small money, but there was no compulsion if we did not wish to do so. I think he gave us that interpretation62 for nothing. The fat lady then produced a large fan which she waved over us assiduously, and the collarless man in the soft hat stood by to render aid in any further emergency, smiling upon us as if we were delicacies63 out of season. Poppa bore it as long as he could, and we all made an unsuccessful effort to appear as if we were quite accustomed to as much attention and more in the hotels of America; but in a very few minutes we knew all the disadvantages of being of too much importance. Presently the one-eyed man gave way to a pair of players on the flute64 and mandolin.
"Look here," said poppa at this, to the interpreter, "you folks are putting yourselves out on our account a great deal more than is necessary. We are just ordinary travelling public, and you don't need to entertain us with side shows that we haven't ordered any more than if we belonged to your own town. See?" But the interpreter did not see. He beckoned65 instead to an engaging daughter of the fat lady, who approached modestly with a large book of photographs, which she opened before the Senator, kneeling beside his chair.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed poppa, "I'm not a crowned head. Rise, Miss Diomede."
Removing his cigar, he assisted the young lady to her feet and led her to a sofa at the other end of the room, where, as they turned over the photographs together, I heard him ask her if she objected to tobacco.
"You may go," said momma to the interpreter, "and explain the scenes. Mr. Wick will enjoy them much more if he understands them." The freedom from conventional restraint which characterises American society very seldom extends to married gentlemen.
We had to wait twenty minutes for the other party, on account of their British objection to anybody's dust. Even Mr. Mafferton looked quelled66 when they arrived, and Isabel quite abject67, while Mrs. Portheris wore that air of justification68 which no circumstance could impair69, which was particularly her own. She would not sit down. "It gives these people a claim on you," she said. "I did not come here to run up an hotel bill, but to see Pompeii. Pompeii I demand to see." The players on the flute and mandolin looked at Mrs. Portheris consideringly and then strolled away, and the guide, with a sorrowful glance at the landlady70, put on his hat. "I can explain you everything," he said with an inflection that placed the responsibility for remaining in ignorance upon our own heads, but Mrs. Portheris waved him away with her fan. "No," she said. "I beg that this man shall not be allowed to inflict71 himself upon our party. I particularly desire to form my own impression of the historic city, that city that did so much for the reputation of Sir Henry Bulwer Lytton. Besides, these people mount up ridiculously, and with servants at home on half wages, and Consols in the state they are, one is really compelled to economise."
"I'm not a crowned head!"
"I'm not a crowned head!"
It was difficult to protest against Mrs. Portheris's regulations, and impossible to contravene72 them, so I have nothing to report of that guide but his card, which bore the name "Antonio Plicco," and his memory, which is a blank.
There was an ascent73, and Mrs. Portheris mounted it proudly. I pointed74 out to poppa half-way up that his esteemed75 relative hadn't turned a hair, but he was inclined to be incredulous; said you couldn't tell what was going on in the Department of the Interior. The Senator often uses a political reference to carry him over a delicate allusion76. Flowering shrubs77 and bushes lined the path we climbed, silent in the sunshine, dustily decorative78, and at the top the turning of a key let us into a strange place. Always a strange place, however often the guide-books beat their iterations upon it, a place that leaps at imagination, peering into other days through the mists that lie between, and blinds it with a rush of light—the place where they have gathered together what was left of the dead Pompeiians and their world. There they lay before us for our wonderment as they ran, and tripped, and struggled, and fell in the night of that day when they and the gods together were overwhelmed, and they died as they thought in the end of time. And through an open door Vesuvius sent up its eternal gentle woolly curl again the daylight sky, and vineyards throve, and birds sang, and we, who had survived the gods, came curious to look. The figures lay in glass cases, and Dicky remarked, with unusual seriousness, that it was like a dead-house.
"Except," said poppa, "that in this mortuary there isn't ever going to be anybody who can identify the remains79. When you come to think of it—that's kind of hard."
"No chance of Christian80 burial once you get into a museum," said Dick with solicitude81.
"I should like," remarked Mrs. Portheris, polishing her pince nez to get a better view of a mother and daughter lying on their faces. "I should like to see the clergyman who would attempt it. These people were heathen, and richly deserved their fate. Richly!"
Momma looked at her husband's Aunt Caroline with indignant scorn. "Do you really think so?" she asked, but we could all see that her words were a very inadequate82 expression for her emotions. Mrs. Portheris drew all the guns of her orthodoxy into line for battle. "I am surprised——" she began, and then the Senator politely but firmly interfered83.
"Ladies," he said, "'De mortuis nisi bonum,' which is to say it isn't customary to slang corpses85, especially, as you may say, in their presence. I guess we can all be thankful, anyhow, that heathen nowadays have got a cooler earth to live on," and that for the moment was the end of it, but momma still gazed commiseratingly at the figures, with a suspicious tendency to look for her handkerchief.
"It's too terrible," she said. "We can actually see their features."
"Don't let them get on your nerves, Augusta," suggested poppa.
"I won't if I can help it. But when you see their clothes and their hair and realise——"
"It happened over eighteen hundred years ago, my dear, and most of them got away."
"That didn't make it any better for those who are now before us," and momma used her handkerchief threateningly, though it was only in connection with her nose.
"Well now, Augusta, I hate to destroy an illusion like that, because they're not to be bought with money, but since you're determined86 to work yourself up over these unfortunates, I've got to expose them to you. They're not the genuine remains you take them for. They're mere87 worthless imitations."
"Alexander," said momma suspiciously, "you never hesitate to tamper88 with the truth if you think it will make me any more comfortable. I don't believe you."
"All right," returned the Senator; "when we get home you ask Bramley. It was Bramley that put me on to it. Whenever one of those Pompeii fellows dropped, the ashes kind of caked over him, and in the course of time there was a hole where he had been. See? And what you're looking at is just a collection of those holes filled up with composition and then dug out. Mere holes!"
"The illusion is dreadfully perfect," sighed momma. "Fancy dying like a baked potato in hot ashes! Somehow, Alexander, I don't seem able to get over it," and momma gazed with distressed89 fascination90 at the grim form of the negro porter.
"We've got no proper grounds for coming to that conclusion either," replied poppa firmly. "Just as likely they were suffocated91 by the gas that came up out of the ground."
"Oh, if I could think that!" momma exclaimed with relief. "But if I find you've been deceiving me, Alexander, I'll never forgive you. It's too solemn!"
"You ask Bramley," I heard the Senator reply. "And now come and tell me if this loaf of bread somebody baked eighteen hundred and twenty something years ago isn't exactly the same shape as the Naples bakers92 are selling right now."
"Daughter," said momma as she went, "I hope you are taking copious93 notes. This is the wonder of wonders that we behold94 to-day." I said I was, and I wandered over to where Mrs. Portheris examined with Mr. Mafferton an egg that was laid on the last day of Pompeii. Mrs. Portheris was asking Mr. Mafferton, in her most impressive manner, if it was not too wonderful to have positive proof that fowls95 laid eggs then just as they do now; and I made a note of that too. Dicky and Isabel bemoaned96 the fate of the immortal97 dog who still bites his flank in the pain extinguished so long ago. I hardly liked to disturb them, but I heard Dicky say as I passed that he didn't mind much about the humans, they had their chance, but this poor little old tyke was tied up, and that on the part of Providence98 was playing it low down.
Then we all stepped out into the empty streets of Pompeii and Mr. Mafferton read to us impressively, from Murray, the younger Pliny's letter to Tacitus describing its great disaster. The Senator listened thoughtfully, for Pliny goes into all kinds of interesting details. "I haven't much acquaintance with the classics," said he, as Mr. Mafferton finished, "but it strikes me that the modern New York newspaper was the medium to do that man justice. It's the most remarkable99 case I've noticed of a good reporter born before his time."
"A terrible retribution," said Mrs. Portheris, looking severely100 at the Tavern101 of Ph?bus, forever empty of wine-bibbers. "They worshipped Jupiter, I understand, and other deities102 even less respectable. Can we wonder that a volcano was sent to destroy them! One thing we may be quite sure of—if the city had only turned from its wickedness and embraced Christianity, this never would have happened."
Momma compressed her lips and then relaxed them again to say, "I think that idea perfectly ridiculous." I scented battle and hung upon the issue, but the Senator for the third time interposed.
"Why no, Augusta," he said, "I guess that's a working hypothesis of Aunt Caroline's. Here's Vesuvius smokin' away ever since just the same, and there's Naples with a bishop103 and the relics104 of Saint Januarius. You can read in your guide-book that whenever Vesuvius has looked as if he meant business for the past few hundred years, the people of Naples have simply called on the bishop to take out the relics of Saint Januarius and walk 'em round the town; and that's always been enough for Vesuvius. Now the Pompeii folks didn't know a saint or a bishop by sight, and Jupiter, as Aunt Caroline says, was never properly qualified105 to interfere84. That's how it was, I presume. I don't suppose the people of Naples take much stock in the laws of nature; they don't have to, with Januarius in a drawer. And real estate keeps booming right along."
"You have an extraordinary way of putting things," remarked Mrs. Portheris to her nephew. "Very extraordinary. But I am glad to hear that you agree with me," and she looked as if she did not understand momma's acquiescent106 smile.
We went our several ways to see the baths, and the Comic Theatre, the bakehouse and the gymnasium; and I had a little walk by myself in the Street of Abundance, where the little empty houses waited patiently on either side for those to return who had gone out, and the sun lay full on their floors of dusty mosaic107, and their gardens where nothing grew. It seemed to me, as it seems to everybody, that Pompeii was not dead, but asleep, and her tints108 were so clear and gay that her dreams might be those of a ballet-girl. A solitary109 yellow dog chased a lizard110 in the sun, and the pebbles111 he knocked about made an absurdly disturbing noise. Beyond the vague tinted112 roofless walls that stretched over the pleasant little peninsula, the blue sea rippled113 tenderly, remembering much delight, and the place seemed to smile in its sleep. It was easy to understand why Cicero chose to have his villa in the midst of such light-heartedness, and why the gods, perhaps, decided114 that they had lent too much laughter to Pompeii. I made free of the hospitality of Cornelius Rufus and sat for a while in his exedra, where he himself, in marble on a little pillar in the middle of the room, made me as welcome as if I had been a client or a neighbour. We considered each other across the centuries, making mutual115 allowances, and spent the most sociable116 half-hour. I take a personal interest in the city's disaster now—it overwhelmed one of my friends.
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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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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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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retaliation
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| n.报复，反击 | |
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profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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strings
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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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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vendor
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| n.卖主；小贩 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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picturesque
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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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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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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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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hemp
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| n.大麻；纤维 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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46
enervating
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| v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的现在分词 ) | |
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47
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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48
forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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49
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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50
gateways
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| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
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51
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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52
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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53
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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54
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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55
instigated
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| v.使（某事物）开始或发生，鼓动( instigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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57
jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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58
proprietary
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| n.所有权，所有的；独占的；业主 | |
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59
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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60
beverages
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| n.饮料( beverage的名词复数 ) | |
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61
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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64
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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65
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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quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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69
impair
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| v.损害，损伤；削弱，减少 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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71
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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contravene
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| v.违反，违背，反驳，反对 | |
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73
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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76
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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77
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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80
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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81
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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82
inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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83
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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84
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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86
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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87
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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88
tamper
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| v.干预，玩弄，贿赂，窜改，削弱，损害 | |
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89
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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bakers
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| n.面包师( baker的名词复数 )；面包店；面包店店主；十三 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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95
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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bemoaned
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| v.为（某人或某事）抱怨( bemoan的过去式和过去分词 )；悲悼；为…恸哭；哀叹 | |
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97
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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98
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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99
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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100
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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101
tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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102
deities
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| n.神，女神( deity的名词复数 )；神祗；神灵；神明 | |
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103
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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104
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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105
qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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106
acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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107
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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108
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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109
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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110
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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111
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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112
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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113
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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114
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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115
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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116
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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