Never was there a town so given over to its festival. Everything else—all trade, commerce, occupation, work, or pleasure even, was at a dead standstill. In all the city there was but one thought, one object, one end in view. This was the great day of the Fête-Dieu. To this blessed feast of the Sacrament the townspeople had been looking forward for weeks.
It is their June Christmas. The great day brings families together.
[Illustration: AN EXCITING MOMENT—A COUTANCES INTERIOR]
From all the country round the farm wagons7 had been climbing the hill for hours. The peasants were in holiday dress. Gold crosses and amber8 beads9 encircled leathery old necks; the gossamer10 caps, real Normandy caps at last, crowned heads held erect11 today, with the pride of those who had come to town clad in their best. Even the younger women were in true peasant garb12; there was a touch of a ribbon, brilliant red and blue stockings, and the sparkle of silver shoe-buckles and gold necklaces to prove they had donned their finery in honor of the fête. The men wore their blue and purple blouses over their holiday suits; but almost all had pinned a sprig of bright geranium or honeysuckle to brighten up the shiny cotton of the preservative13 blouse. Even the children carried bouquets14; and thus many of the farm wagons were as gay as the streets.
No, gay is not the word. Neither the city nor the streets were really gay. The city, as a city, was too dead in earnest, too absorbed, too intent, to indulge in gayety. It was the greatest of all the days of the year in Coutances. In the climaxic moments of life, one is solemn, not gay. It was not only the greatest, but the busiest, day of the year for this cathedral town. Here was a whole city to deck; every street, every alleyway must be as beautiful as a church on a feast-day. The city, in truth, must be changed from a bustling15, trading, commercial entrep?t into an altar. And this altar must be beautiful—as beautiful, as ingeniously picturesque16 as only the French instinct for beauty could make it.
Think you, with such a task on hand, this city-ful of artists had time for frivolous17 idling? Since dawn these artists had been scrubbing their doors, washing windows, and sluicing18 the gutters19. One is not a provincial20 for nothing; one is honest in the provinces; one does not drape finery over a filthy21 frame. The city was washed first, before it was adorned22.
Opposite, across from our inn door-sill, where we lingered a moment before we began our journey through the streets, we could see for ourselves how thorough was this cleansing23. A shopkeeper and his wife were each mounted on a step-ladder. One washed the inside and the other the outside of the low shop-windows. They were in the greatest possible haste, for they were late in their preparations. In two hours the procession was to pass. Their neighbors stopped to cry up to them:
"Tendez vous, aujourd'hui?" It is the universal question, heard everywhere.
"Mais oui," croaked24 out the man, his voice sounding like the croak25 of a rook, from the height from which he spoke26. "Only we are late, you see."
It was his wife who was taking the question to heart. She saw in it just cause for affront27.
"Ah, those Espergnons, they're always on time, they are; they had their hangings out a week ago, and now they are as filthy as wash-rags. No wonder they have time to walk the streets!" and the indignant dame28 gave her window-pane an extra polish.
"Here, Leon, catch hold, I'm ready now!"
The woman was holding out one end of a long, snowy sheet. Leon meekly29 took his end; both hooked the stuff to some rings ready to secure the hanging; the facade31 of the little house was soon hidden behind the white fall of the family linen32; and presently Leon and his wife began very gravely to pin tiny sprigs of purple clematis across the white surface. This latter decoration was performed with the sure touch of artists. No mediaeval designer of tapestry34 could have chosen, with more secure selection, the precise points of distance at which to place the bouquets; nor could the tones and tints35 of the greens and purples, and the velvet36 of the occasional heartsease, sparsely37 used, have been more correctly combined. When the task was ended, the commonplace house was a palace wall, hung with the sheen of fine linen, on which bloomed geometric figures beautifully spaced.
All the city was thus draped. One walked through long walls of snow, in which flowers grew. Sometimes the floral decorations expanded from the more common sprig into wreaths and garlands. Here and there the Coutances fancy worked itself out in fleur-de-lis emblems38 or in armorial bearings. But everywhere an astonishing, instinctive39 sense of beauty, a knowledge of proportion, and a natural sense for color were obvious. There was not, in all the town, a single offence committed against taste. Is it any wonder, with such an heredity at their fingers' ends, that the provinces feed Paris, and that Paris sets the fashions in beauty for the rest of the world?
Come with us, and look upon this open-air chapel40. It stands in the open street, in front of an old house of imposing41 aspect. The two commonplace-looking women who are putting—the finishing—touches to this beautiful creation tell us it is the reposoir of Madame la Baronne. They have been working on it since the day before. In the night the miracle was finished—nearly—they were so weary they had gone to bed at dawn. They do not tell you it is a miracle. They think it fine, oh, yes—"c'est beau—Madame la Baronne always has the most beautiful of all the reposoirs," but then they have decked these altars since they were born; their grandmothers built them before ever they saw the light. For always in Coutances "on la fête beaucoup;" this feast of the Sacrament has been a great day in Coutances for centuries past. But although they are so used to it, these natural architects love the day. "It's so fine to see—si beau à voir all the reposoirs, and the children and the fine ladies walking—through the streets, and then, all kneeling—when Monseigneur l'Archevêque prays. Ah yes, it is a fine sight." They nod, and smile, and then they turn to light a taper42, and to consult about the placing of a certain vase from out of which an Easter lily towers.
At the foot of these miniature altars trees had been planted. Gardens had also been laid out; the parterres were as gravely watered as if they were to remain in the middle of a bustling high street in perpetuity. Steps lead up to the altar. These were covered with rugs and carpets; for the feet of the bishop43 must tread only on velvet and flowers. Candelabra, vases, banners, crosses, crucifixes, flowers, and tall thin tapers44—all the altars were crowded with such adornments. Human vanity and the love of surpassing one's neighbors, these also figured conspicuously45 among the things the fitfully shining sun looks down upon. But what a charm there is in such a contest! Surely the desire to beautify the spot on which the Blessed Sacrament rests this is only another way of professing46 one's adoration47.
As we passed through the streets a multitude of pictures crowded upon the eyes. In an archway groups of young first communicants were forming; they were on their way to the cathedral. Their white veils against the gloom of the recessed48 archways were like sunlit clouds caught in an abyss. Priests in gorgeous vestments were walking quickly through the streets. All the peasants were going also toward the cathedral. A group stopped, as did we, to turn into a side-street. For there was a picture we should not see later on. Between some lovely old turrets49, down from convent walls a group of nuns50 fluttered tremulously; they were putting the last touches to the reposoir of their own Sacré Coeur. Some were carrying huge gilt51 crosses, staggering as they walked; others were on tiptoe filling the tall vases; others were on their knees, patting into perfect smoothness the turf laid about the altar steps. There was an old curé among them and a young carpenter whom the curé was directing. Everyone of the nuns had her black skirts tucked up; their stout52 shoes must be free to fly over the ground with the swiftness of hounds. How pretty the faces were, under the great caps, in that moment of unwonted excitement! The cheeks, even of the older nuns, were pink; it was a pink that made their habitual53 pallor have a dazzling beauty. The eyes were lighted into a fresh flame of life, and the lips were temptingly crimson54; they were only women, after all, these nuns, and once a year at least this feast of the Sacrament brings all their feminine activities into play.
Still we moved on, for within the cathedral the procession had not yet formed. There was still time to make a tour of the town.
To plunge55 into the side-streets away from the wide cathedral parvis, was to be confronted with a strange calm. These narrow thoroughfares had the stillness which broods over all ancient cities' by-ways. Here was no festival bustle56; all was grave and sad. The only dwellers57 left in the antique fifteenth century houses were those who must remain at home till a still smaller house holds them. We passed several aged58 Coutan?ais couples. By twos they were seated at the low windows; they had been dressed and then left; they were sitting here, in the pathetic patience of old age; they were hoping something of the fête might come their way. Two women, in one of the low interiors, were more philosophic59 than their neighbors; if their stiffened60 knees would not carry them to the fête, at least their gnarled old hands could hold a pack of cards. They were seated close to the open casement61, facing each other across a small round table; along the window-sill there were rows of flower-pots; a pewter tankard was set between them; and out of the shadowy interior came the topaz gleam of the Normandy brasses62, the huge bed, with its snowy draperies, the great chests, and the flowery chintz-frill defining the width of the yawning fireplace. The two old faces, with the strong features, deep wrinkles, sunken mouths, and bald heads tied up in dazzling white coifs, were in full relief against the dim background. They were as motionless as statues; neither looked up as our footfall struck along the cobbles; it was an exciting moment in the game.
[Illustration: A STREET IN COUTANCES—EGLISE SAINT-PIERRE]
Below these old houses stretched the public gardens. Here also there was a great stillness. For us alone the rose gardens bloomed, the tropical trees were shivering, and the palms were making a night of shade for wide acres of turf. Rarely does a city boast of such a garden. It was no surprise to learn, later, that these lovely paths and noble terraces had been the slow achievement of a lover of landscape gardening, one who, dying, had given this, his master-piece, to his native town.
There is no better place from which to view the beautiful city. From the horizontal lines of the broad terraces flows the great sweep of the hillside; it takes a swift precipitous plunge, and rests below in wide stretches of meadow. The garden itself seemed, by virtue63 of this encompassing64 circle of green, to be only a more exquisitely65 cultivated portion of the lovely outlying hills and wooded depths. The cows, grazing below in the valleys, were whisking their tails, and from the farm-yards came the crow of the chanticleer.
One turned to look upward—to follow heavenward the soaring glory of the cathedral towers. From the plane of the streets their geometric perfection had made their lines seem cold. Through this aerial perspective the eye followed, enraptured66, the perfect Gothic of the spires68 and the lower central tower. The great nave69 roof and the choir70 lifted themselves above the turrets and the tiled house-tops of the city, as gray mountains of stone rise above the huts of pygmies. Coutances does well to be proud of its cathedral.
The sound of a footstep, crunching71 the gravel33 of the garden-walk, caused us to turn. It was to find, face to face, the hero of the night before; the celebrated72 Coutances lawyer was also taking his constitutional. But not alone, some friends were with him, come up to town doubtless for the fête or the trial. He was showing them his city. He stretched a hand forth, with the same magisterial73 gesture of the night before, to point out the glory of the prospect74 lying below the terrace. He faced the cathedral towers, explaining the points of their perfection. And then, for he was a Frenchman, he perceived the presence of two ladies. In an instant his hat was raised, and as quickly his eyes told us he had seen us before, in the courtroom. The bow was the lower because of this recognition, and the salute75 was accompanied by a grave smile.
Manners in the provinces are still good, you perceive—if only you are far enough away from Paris.
Someone else also bestowed76 on us the courtesy of a passing greeting. It was a curé who was saying his Ave, as he paced slowly, in the sun, up and down the yew77 path. He was old; one leg was already tired of life—it must be dragged painfully along, when one walked in the sun. The curé himself was not in the least tired of life. His smile was as warm as the sun as he lifted his calotte.
"Surely, mesdames, you will not miss the fête? It must be forming now."
He had taken an old man's, and a priest's, privilege. We were all three looking down into the valley, which lay below, a pool of freshness. He had spoken, first of the beauty of the prospect, and then of the great day. To be young and still strong, to be able to follow the procession from street to street, and yet to be lingering here among the roses!—this passed the simple curé's comprehension. The reproach in his mild old eyes was quickly changed to approval, however; for upon the announcement that the procession was already in motion we started, bidding him a hurried adieu.
The huge cathedral portals yawned at the top of the hill; they were like a gaping78 chasm79. The great place of the cathedral square was half filled; a part of the procession had passed already beyond the gloom of the vast aisles80 into the frank openness of day. Winding81 in and out of the white-hung streets a long line of figures was marching; part of the line had reached the first reposoir and gradually the swaying of the heads was slackening, as, by twos and twos, the figures stopped.
Still, from between the cathedral doors an unending multitude of people kept pouring forth upon the cathedral square. Now it was an interminable line of young girls, first communicants, in their white veils and gowns; against the grays and browns of the cathedral facade this mass of snow was of startling purity—a great white rose of light. Closely following the dazzling line marched a grave company of nuns; with their black robes sweeping82 the flower-strewn streets, the pallor of their faces, and the white wings of their huge coifs, they might have been so many marble statues moving with slow, automatic step, repeating in life the statues in stone above their heads, incarnations of meek30 renunciation. With the free and joyous83 step of a vigorous youth not yet tamed to complete self-obliteration, next there stepped forth into the sun a group of seminarists. In the lace and scarlet84 of their bright robes they were like unto so many young kings. High in the summer air they swung their golden censers; from huge baskets, heaped with flowers, they scattered85 flowers as they swayed, in the grace of their youth, from side to side, with priestly rhythmic87 motion.
In the days of Greece, under the Attic88 tent of sky, it was Jove that was thus worshipped; here in Coutances, under the paler, less ardent89 blue of France, it was the Christian90 God these youths were honoring. So men have continued to scatter86 flowers; to swing incense91; to bend the knee; surely in all ages the long homage92 of men, like the procession here before us, has been but this—the longing93 to worship the Invisible, and to make the act one with beauty.
Is it Greek, is it Christian, this festival? If it be Catholic, it is also pagan. It is as composite a union of religious ceremonials as man is himself an aggregate94 of lost types, for there is a subtle law of repetition which governs both men and ceremonials.
How pagan was the color! how Greek the sense of beauty that lies in contrasts! how Jewish the splendor95 of the priestly vestments as the gold and silver tissues gleamed in the sun! How mediaeval this survival of an old miracle play! See this group of children, half-frightened, half-proud, wandering from side to side as children unused to walking soberly ever march. They were following the leadership of a huge Suisse. This latter was magnificently apparelled. He carried a great mace96, and this he swung high in the air. The children, little John the Baptist, Christ, Mary the Mother, and Magdalen, were magnetized by his mighty97 skill. They were looking at the golden stick; they were thinking only of how high he, this splendid giant who terrified them so, would throw it the next time, and if he would always surely catch it. The small Virgin98, in her long brown robes, tripped as she walked. The cherubic John the Baptist, with only his sheepskin and his cross, shivered as he stumbled after her.
"At least they might have covered his arms, le pauvre petit," one stout peasant among the bystanders was Christian enough to mutter, "Poor little John!" Even in summer the sun is none too hot on this hill-top; and a sheepskin is a garment one must be used to, it appears. Christ, himself, was no better off. He was wearing his crown of thorns, but he had only his night-dress, bound with a girdle, to keep his naked little body warm. An angel, in gossamer wings and a huge rose-wreath, being of the other sex, had her innate99 woman's love of finery to make her oblivious100 to the light sting of the wind, as it passed through her draperies. As this group in the procession moved slowly along, the city took on a curiously101 antique aspect. In every lattice window a head was framed. The lines of the townspeople pressed closer and closer; they made a serried102 mass of blouses and caps, of shiny coats and bared heads. The very houses seemed to recognize that a part of their own youth was passing them by; these were the figures they had looked out upon, time after time, in the old fourteenth and fifteenth century days, when the great miracle plays drew the country around, for miles and miles, to this Coutances square.
Across the square, in the long gray distance of the streets, the archbishop's canopy103 was motionless. A sweet groaning104 murmur105 rippled107 from lip to lip.
Then a swift and mighty rustling108 filled the air, for the bones of thousands of knees were striking the stones of the street;—even heretic knees were bent109 when the Host was lifted. It was the moment of silent prayer. It was also, perhaps, the most beautiful, it was assuredly the most consummately110 picturesque moment of the day. The bent heads; the long vistas111 of kneeling figures; the lovely contrasts of the flowing draperies; the trailing splendor of the priests' robes dying into the black note made by the nuns' sombre skirts; the gossamer brilliance112 of the hundreds of white veils, through which the young rapture67 of religious awe113 on lips and brow made even commonplace features beautiful; the choristers' scarlet petticoats; the culminating note of splendor, the Archbishop, throned like some antique scriptural king under the feathers and velvets of his crimson canopy; then the long lines of the townspeople with the groups of peasants beside them, whose well-sunned skins made even their complexion114 seem pale by the side of cheeks that brought the burn of noon-suns in the valleys to mind; and behind this wall of kneeling figures, those other walls, the long white-hung house facades115, with their pendent sprigs and wreaths and garlands above which hung the frieze116 of human heads beneath the carved cornices; surely this was indeed the culminating moment, both in point of beauty and in impressiveness, of the great day's festival.
Thus was reposoir after reposoir visited. Again and again the multitude was on its knees. Again and again the Host was lifted. And still we followed. Sometimes all the line was in full light, a long perspective of color and of prismatic radiance. And then the line would be lost; some part of it was still in a side-street; and the rest were singing along the edges of the city's ramparts, under the great branches of the trees. Here, in the gray of the narrow streets, the choristers' gowns were startling in their richness. Yonder, in full sunlight, the brightness on the maidens117' robes made the shadows in their white skirts as blue as light caught in a grotto's depth.
Still they sang. In the dim streets or under the trees, where the gay banners were still fluttering, and the white veils, like airy sails, were bulging118 in the wind, the hymn119 went on. It was thin and pathetically weak in the mouths of the babes that walked. It was clear, as fresh and pure as a brooklet's ripple106, from the mouths of the young communicants. It was of firm contralto strength from the throats of the grave nuns. The notes gained and gained in richness; the hymn was almost a chant with the priests; and in the mouths of the people it was as a ringing chorus. Together with the swelling120 music swung the incense into high air; and to the Host the rose-leaves were flung.
Still we followed. Still the long line moved on from altar to altar.
Then, when the noon was long past, wearily we climbed upward to our inn.
In the high streets there was much going to and fro. The shop-keepers already were taking down their linen. Pouffe! Pouffe! there was much blowing through mouths and a great standing121 on tiptoes to reach the tall tapers on the reposoirs.
Coutances was pious122. Coutances was proud of its fête. But Coutances was also a thrifty123 city. Once the cortege had passed, it was high time to snuff out the tapers. Who could stand by and see good candles blowing uselessly in the wind, and one's money going along with the dripping?
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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preservative
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| n.防腐剂；防腐料；保护料；预防药 | |
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bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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sluicing
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| v.冲洗( sluice的现在分词 )；（指水）喷涌而出；漂净；给…安装水闸 | |
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gutters
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| （路边）排水沟( gutter的名词复数 )； 阴沟； （屋顶的）天沟； 贫贱的境地 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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croaked
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croak
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| vi.嘎嘎叫，发牢骚 | |
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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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affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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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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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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45
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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46
professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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47
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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48
recessed
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| v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的过去式和过去分词 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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49
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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50
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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51
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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53
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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54
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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55
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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56
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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57
dwellers
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| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
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58
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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59
philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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60
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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61
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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62
brasses
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| n.黄铜( brass的名词复数 )；铜管乐器；钱；黄铜饰品（尤指马挽具上的黄铜圆片） | |
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63
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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encompassing
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| v.围绕( encompass的现在分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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66
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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68
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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70
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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71
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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72
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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73
magisterial
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| adj.威风的，有权威的；adv.威严地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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75
salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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76
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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78
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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79
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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81
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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82
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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83
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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84
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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85
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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86
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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87
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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88
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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89
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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90
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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91
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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92
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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93
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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94
aggregate
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| adj.总计的，集合的；n.总数；v.合计；集合 | |
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95
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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96
mace
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| n.狼牙棒，豆蔻干皮 | |
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97
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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98
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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99
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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100
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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101
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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102
serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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103
canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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104
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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105
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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106
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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107
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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108
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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109
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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110
consummately
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| adv.完成地，至上地 | |
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111
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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112
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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113
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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114
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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115
facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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116
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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117
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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118
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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119
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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120
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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121
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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122
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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123
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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