Week after week, on Saturday afternoon, from the beginning of May till the end of July, this crowd of those whose names were all for some reason or another much on the lips of the world in which she lived, descended7 on her like a flock of brilliantly plumaged birds, and made the social history of the current season. There was very little process of selection in{71} her invitations, for with so numerous a party it really mattered little if it contained utterly8 incongruous elements, for all were fused by the agreeable fact that it was a cachet and a distinction to be here at all.
She made no rule of asking husbands and wives together, for with her usual commonsense9 she argued that they generally saw enough, if not too much, of each other already, and these parties were rather of the nature of a slipping of the domestic chain. Besides, it was easily possible in those free-and-easy days, which were characteristic of the first decade and a half of the twentieth century, that a man admired somebody else beside his wife, and a woman looked not without favour on a man who had not the good fortune to be her husband. But never did she ask two men who admired the same woman to any very special degree, nor two women who happened to be setting their modish10 hats at the same man. She was much too good-natured to take pleasure in awkward situations, and it was the rarest thing in the world for her party not to split up into the most amicable11 groups and couples, which could be shaken together again into one shining piece of quicksilver by the arrival of mealtimes. No kind of precedence in the way of rank was observed, for she rightly considered that a stray duchess might easily bore or be bored by a stray duke, and boredom12 was not among the objects of her parties.
For herself she proposed to be taken in to dinner to-night by Kuhlmann, an immense tenor13 at the Covent Garden opera about whom all London raved14. He had soft, purring manners, and at heart was about as civilized15 as the average wild-cat. There was no Frau Kuhlmann, as far as she was aware, but people said that there ought to have been a great many. He{72} had sung the part of Walther last night at the opera, and Helen Grote, in spite of Lady Massingberd’s firm assertion that she did not know one note from another, had nearly fallen out of her box from sheer emotion in the Preislied.... And Grote should take in Gracie Massingberd, to show that his wife paid no attention to ridiculous things that people, she believed, were saying, and Mr. Boyton should take in the Duchess of Lindfield, because he adored duchesses, and she flattery, and Lord Thorley should take in Mrs. Trayle, who had written the mystical play that nobody understood, but everybody considered quite wonderful. Lord Thorley had been nine times to see it in the hope of understanding it; the seventh time he thought he had understood it, only to become aware at the eighth that he had done nothing of the sort. But perhaps the authoress could throw some light on it on behalf of so earnest an inquirer.
Then there was Mrs. Lockwater, who was asked here because she was simply the most beautiful creature ever seen, and so deserved her place. She seldom opened her mouth, but was an admirable listener, with a bad memory, so that it was perfectly16 safe to tell her anything. She would obviously fall to the arm of the great portrait-painter, Geoffrey Bellingham, who neither listened nor stopped talking in long, abstruse17 sentences, from which he could not always extricate18 himself. When this happened, he began again and put it all differently. These periods were packed full of wit and wisdom, if you only could extract it; but the style of his speech resembled that of refractory19 ore from which it was difficult to win the gold. All this was obvious, and for the rest she could easily see, between tea and dinner, who gravitated to whom.
It occasionally happened, though rarely, that some{73} guest or other showed no signs of gravitating to anybody, in which case this most complete of hostesses singled him out, at whatever personal inconvenience, for her own especial attention. To-day there seemed to be no such present, and as the loggia filled up and emptied again, with fresh arrivals and previous arrivals who strolled out together after tea, some down to the river, some to the tennis-courts, there were no signs of detached units. Most of her guests, as was natural in the middle of the season among those who spend three months in an incessant20 interchange of meetings with others, were already acquainted, many were friends, and there were none who found themselves in any way on alien territory.
The French Ambassador, a tall, emaciated22 person, whom no one could ever have suspected of being the first of European gourmets23, had shown an unmistakable preference for Lady Instow, whose chef he had already tried to seduce24 into his service; and Mr. Boyton, as by some inevitable25 law that governs the movements of heavy bodies, had been already drawn26 into a reverential orbit round the Duchess of Lindfield, who, according to her custom, was swiftly denuding27 him of cigarettes. But to Mr. Boyton a cigarette of his own smoked by a duchess was worth a hundred cigarettes smoked by himself, and he came near to being vexed28 when Lady Grote, observing this marauding process, told a footman to put a case of cigarettes on a table close to her Grace. But he found some little consolation29 in shutting up his own case and supplying himself from this, for these were, at any rate, titled cigarettes. He also felt a quiet and secret pleasure in being the only snob30 of the old school present: thus he had a fair field to himself, and no one disputed his desire to talk to a dull duchess. For the rest, he was a stout31, middle{74}-aged gentleman, with hair of a suspiciously uniform honey-colour parted in the middle.
He had a wife, a fact which nobody here present probably knew, who kept his house in Hampstead in a wholly admirable manner. She was the only person in the world who loved him, and would have perished with terror had there been any serious reason to suppose that she would be asked to the tables at which her Arthur was so deservedly popular, for he had an apt and amusing tongue ready to trim itself with sycophancy32 when exposed to the high lights of such a firmament33. His eminence34 consisted in the fact that he was always there: he crawled, he climbed, he flew. But he invariably got there. A hostess asked Mr. Boyton as a matter of course: he was there to eat his dinner just as naturally as the footmen were there to give it him. He sang for it, too, making himself invariably agreeable to those who were worth the trouble. And as he saw no others, he never proved a disappointment.
All, then, was going well in the assembling of this particular party. Everything always did go well, but with a rather touching35 humility36 Lady Grote never ceased to fear as Saturday afternoon became more populous37, that her guests were not going to enjoy themselves. That was her main anxiety: she had no solid self-assurance that would permit her to think that they must enjoy themselves, since they formed her party. A tremendous under-tow of modesty38 lay below the surface of her nature: she never rated herself at the figure at which the whole of her world rated her. She was never dazzled by the brilliance39 that she shed. She could not get over the notion that it was very nice of others to appear to enjoy her hospitality.
With her admirable memory, long trained in the requirements needed by a hostess, she knew that soon{75} after six all her guests had arrived with the exception of Robin40 and her husband. The boy had certainly said he would come to-day, but had not said how or when he would get there: that was rather like him. Perhaps he would swim down the river from Cambridge, and arrive at the steps by the bottom of the wood with no clothes of any description....
She mentioned this possibility to Geoffrey Bellingham, who was a late arrival, and was sitting by her with a cup of tea, a glass of hock-cup, a tea-cake and a peach on the table beside him. It did not seem that he wished to consume any of those items of provender41: he had but absently taken them from trays that were handed him, and they now formed a sort of phalanx of food ready to hand. Soon he added to them a glass of brandy-and-soda, a cigar and a cigarette. The last of these, without lighting42 it, he brandished43 as an instrument of gesticulation.
“But there is, in fact, my dear lady,” he said, “no apprehension44 justly founded which could lead you seriously to contemplate45 so unusual an occurrence as our dear Robin’s appearance here in that state which you so delicately allude46 to as nudity. Even if it were so, what sight could be more delectable47 to our over-civilized eyes than a young, unconscious Greek god, an Aphrodite, in fact, though of the more muscular sex, appearing suddenly from the wave in all the unashamedness of youthful beauty among our sophisticated frocks and frills? You would, if your maternal48 instincts prompted you, lend him a skirt, and I would hesitatingly offer him a coat more than ample for his slimness. Then, clad with a shoe of Lady Massingberd’s and a boot of our amiable49 Boyton’s, is there any more alluring50 spectacle—in fact, we shall all be delighted to see Robin, irrespective of his position as the son of our{76} dear hostess, whenever and however he arrives. But if, unless I am mistaken, it is the Cam that glides51 by his studious walls, there is no real chance of the aqueous phenomenon you have suggested, as he comes, I understand, from the banks of a river which suffers a sea-change in the Wash. Had Oxford52 the honour of claiming him as an alumnus, there would have been the chance of his debouching, so to speak, at Grote, which, I cannot believe I am mistaken in thinking, casts its spell over the Thames. In fact, Robin, if he comes by river in any form, will have to face a voyage down the North Sea, or German Ocean as the geography books, probably Teutonic in origin, so impudently53 call it, before he can win a footing on our beloved Thames. And even then he would have to swim up from Gravesend or some ill-defined settlement that enriches the estuary54!”
His eyes suddenly fell on the peach, the tea-cake, the brandy-and-soda, the tea and the hock-cup.
“I had not been aware,” he said, “that so complete a paraphernalia55 of what would make the most sumptuous56 sort of dinner had been provided me. It is slightly embarrassing to be so beautifully equipped with what the Prayer-book calls the kindly57 fruits of the earth, without having had the slightest intention of claiming their benign58 aid to bridge over the chasm59, as we may call it, which intervenes—in fact, the smallest possible selection from an apparently60 unlimited61 store would more than suffice for me. In short, a cup of tea and nothing more would be remarkably62 pleasant. I seem to have taken a cigar, too, a delicacy63 of desiccated foliage64 of which I am wholly unworthy. And so Robin is expected.”
That seemed to be the gist65 of it all, and Helen Grote{77} took firm hold of this life-preserver that floated on the flood of Geoffrey Bellingham’s discourse66.
“He said he would come this afternoon,” she said, clinging to that which kept her head above water. “But one never knows about Robin.”
She was instantly swept off again into the sea.
“Therein you outline the most glorious of all relationships, I need not say—do not tell me that I need say—that I allude to that between mothers and sons. Had I been so fortunate as to have a son, granting the premiss that I had already gained the most essential of all conditions for that—namely, that of husbandhood—there is nothing that would delight me more than the existence of that supreme67 and entrancing uncertainty68 of how a son is going to behave. The younger generation, my dear lady, must inevitably69 be ahead of us in development, and, therefore, in incomprehensibility. If you could understand your dear Robin—may we say ‘our’ dear Robin?—it would imply that he was a generation behind his time. Nothing fills me with more delighted wonder and surfeits70 me with more entranced surmise71 than how the younger generation are going to govern the world. The reins72 are already slipping from our effete73 and rheumatic fingers—you will understand, of course, that no fingers of those which I see so gracefully74 round me are alluded75 to in any sort of implication, however remote—but, in point of fact, mothers and fathers, and the elderly bachelors and the even more elderly maids, are now, at this present moment, sitting round in a dusk and D?mmerung, and bright eyes, dimly seen, but sparkling with purpose, gleam from the corners of our crumbling76 habitations, and watch for the opportunity which must surely come, and come soon, of, in fact, scragging us.{78}”
Lady Grote gave a little shiver, quite involuntary, quite sincere.
“You are horrible,” she said. “Do you mean that Robin is going to cut my throat? But you are more than fascinating. You are a Pied Piper; is he not, Mr. Kuhlmann?”
Kuhlmann, who was sitting on the other side of her, made a little purring noise in his throat like a contented78 cat.
“Also,” said he, “I do not understand a word of what Mr. Bellingham says. But I like the noise he makes. Ach, one word I did understand, and he says you are in the D?mmerung. There is a dusk closing in on England. So?”
Mr. Bellingham remembered, with a sense of relief, the fact that Kuhlmann had not arrived till after his remarks about the sea so impudently called the German Ocean.
“A dusk closing in on England?” he said. “I must surely have expressed myself with more than my accustomed infelicity, if I have left that impression. The dusk, Mr. Kuhlmann, is but the dusk of certain expiring ashes, such as my own, which will rekindle79 in a nobler fire to light the ways of our world’s obscure transit80 through infinite space, than has ever yet been seen. The words that should convey to you how eagerly I make fuel of myself for that incomparable Ph?nix immeasurably fail me. But if, in the ways of a stuttering tongue and a speech to which the babbling81 of a brook82—any brook you please—is of the nature of speech more coherent than is given to me, I am capable of conveying the impression that is so irradicably fixed83 on my mind that no other picture is aught but colourless beside it, I would endeavour to make this at least plain.” Bellingham was now in full splendid blast.{79} He outlined and emphasized his point with strokes of his unlit cigar, using it like a brush against the canvas of the air, and his voice boomed out impressively.
“From a race of heroic fathers and mothers has come forth, with explosion as of gorse-seed, an infinitely84 more heroic offspring. The steadfast85 eyes of boys and girls to-day, I assure you, frighten me. They are steadfast on their pleasure, if you will, or on each other, or on those extraordinary games they play, in which you have to hit a small india-rubber ball, or so I take it to be, as few times as possible, putting it, at uncertain intervals86, into a species of small jam-pot sunk in little lawns, in order to win this very serious game. Golf, I think, is the name of the sport which I am feeling for. Or, again, they fix those same steadfast eyes, unwittingly perhaps, but in obedience87 to the life force, as poor Shaw put it, on the mist that assuredly now more than ever veils the future from us. The destiny of the world! Where does that lie but in the solar plexus of boys and girls? How commonplace to the verge88 of conspicuousness89 that sounds! But in the history of the world did ever the future lie—like, like this plucked peach, all pink with the sun that has ripened90 it, more fatefully, more conclusively91, in the hands of the young? There it lies, as it were, a bomb built of fire and explosiveness, tame for the moment as this plucked peach, which it really would be a crime not to eat, and, as I am without criminal instincts, I forthwith proceed to plunge92 the spoon in it, thus and thus—and, in fact, may the future be as soft and as sweet.
“The fuse is attached; I image it for you, in fact, with what seems to be, and in fact is, if for the moment you will allow me to translate such imagery into the actual terms of what we may call, in the analogy of cutlery implying steel, argentery, implying silver,{80} with this spoon, and push it into the peach which so beautifully awaits me. But the peach, irrespective of this consuming and already delighted mouth, must stand for us as the bomb which the Robins93 and the swimmers of fresh rivers hold in their hands, and will deal with, as the D?mmerung of the older generation closes round it, and the clouds brighten with the dawning of a day that is, to the licence allowed to the self-made seer, the herald94 of the more serene95 than ever was yet day.”
Lord Thorley had made an inconspicuous entry during this monologue96, and, after a rather incomprehensible greeting on the part of Mr. Bellingham, who hailed him as “our dear lantern,” joined the circle. This salutation was soon explained, for with a wealth of delicate and elusive97 imagery, Mr. Bellingham made it moderately clear that Lord Thorley’s intellect was the light that would illuminate98 the future for them. “No will-of-the-wisp, my dear friend,” he handsomely concluded, “but the beam of the steadfast lighthouse on menacing and broken seas. Tell us, then, ever so lightly indicate to us, that which for the incomparable brightness of your revolving99 reflectors that cast pencils of imperishable light—in fact, my dear Thorley, what do you make of the future as in the hands of the rising generation?”
Lord Thorley weighed his pince-nez a moment in his open hand.
“Really, there seems an epidemic100 of inquiry about that matter,” said he. “Only just now Lady Grote and I were discussing it.”
“I curse myself, I pour dust on my head, for not, in fact, coming by an earlier train,” said Mr. Bellingham.
“We disagreed,” began Lord Thorley.
“And I missed the chance of observing the exquisite{81} thrust and riposte of those incomparable gladiators. Another round, I beseech101 you for another round, or at least the report of the contest.”
“Well, Helen was all for our being in a melting-pot, and in her richly-mixed metaphor102 wondered what kind of soup would come out of it. I cannot see that we are in a melting-pot at all, or in the soup, either. Every generation, so I ventured to suggest, has always fancied it lived in critical times: memoirs103 prove that. But the crisis passes, and except for the memoirs subsequent generations would never imagine there had been one.”
“But, in fact,” said Bellingham, “sometimes surely, as at the end of the eighteenth century, it was not only in memoirs subsequently proved guilty of wild exaggeration that France—in short, I allude to the French Revolution.”
“I am disposed even to dispute that. The French Revolution was not really a great event: it was only the last chapter of a process that had been going on for fifty years. And, again, as we were talking of the young generation, it is important to remember that it was not the young who had their hands on the levers. I don’t think the young, with the exception perhaps of poets, ever do anything much. Ibsen, is it not, tells us in one of his practically unreadable plays that the young are knocking at the door? That is as far as they get. They knock at the door and run away like mischievous104 street boys. They do not, as a matter of fact, come in till they have ceased to be young.”
“Our dear lantern, in fact,” remarked Mr. Bellingham, “shows us a calm sea and children playing on the sand. But I doubt whether it is not the peacefulness of your own effulgence105, my dear Thorley, that makes{82} the object on which it plays partake of the same serene quality.”
“You agree with Helen.”
“If I err21, I err then in the most delightful106 company in the world. Indeed, one might prefer to stray from the high road and the direct path with so entrancing a guide, though, of course, I cannot consent to underrate the enthralling107 prospect108 of marching breast-forward, my dear Thorley, with you. You see me in a quandary109. Whichever course I adopt, I must be widowed of the most amiable of companions. To your secret eyes, then, there is no D?mmerung approaching, no brightness of youth ready to pounce110 on us from the dimness.”
“I cannot see it,” said Lord Thorley; “the political horizon, I am bound to say, seems to me very serene. I see no fresh bogies there, they are all the well-worn properties. A European war, a revolution in Ireland—I need not enumerate111 the old familiar faces. And, as regards the young, I see nothing more than I have always seen. Some clever boy from Oxford writes a book that makes a nine days’ wonder. Some clever group of artists evolves a new scheme of pictorial112 representation, and loads the walls of our exhibitions with crude and violent diagrams of a wholly puerile113 nature. Some excitable young women break shop windows and commit similar outrages114 in order to show us how fit they are to receive the franchise115. But I must confess that I am unable to see any significance in such pranks116. There are always, I am glad to say, clever young men and obstreperous117 young women keeping the world young. In a sense, of course, the future belongs to the young, because they will be alive when we are all dead. But when that not very regrettable day occurs, they will be no longer{83} young. Emphatically, in my opinion, it is the middle-aged118 who matter.”
“A comfortable, a well-wadded and delightful doctrine,” exclaimed Mr. Bellingham. “But yet it seems to me that as with plastic clay the young are shaping the features of the future, each in his smock with slender finger-tips bedaubed with what we may call the materials of days yet unborn. We are being picked up, we older men—this at least to me is the secret lesson of which I am but learning the alphabet, and which in a sort of impotent babble119 I haltingly strive to express. In fact, in my own case I feel that the young just scoop120 me up like the lump of clay, and set me with pressing thumb and forefinger121 into the great image that grows beneath their hands. A very curious observer might possibly detect in that image a tuft of my already depleted122 hair, and say, ‘Surely this is a remnant, a capillary123 adjunct sadly grey and thin, of what once was Bellingham. Now with other past modes he is but a morsel124 of a rib77 or some other less honourable125 and expressive126 a portion of the entire anatomy127.’”
He and Lord Thorley, an oddly contrasting pair, had strolled away from the loggia (leaving Mr. Bellingham’s provisions, all but the peach, unconsumed) across the lawn in front of the house. Bellingham’s sonorous128 voice fitted well with his thick-set form, his massive and powerful face; from that strong efficiency of body you might have conjectured129 a man of action, who dealt in practical matters and wielded131 a world that he had organized. Yet this was the artist, the dweller132 in visions, the discerner of nothing more material than the inward personality of his sitters, while the loose, languid man, who seemed to all bodily appearance to have but the slightest connection with the tangible{84} things of the world, was the man of action who shaped the destinies of a nation. A stranger merely informed of the collective identities of the two must surely have given to each the name-label of the other, and yet the stranger who did so would have shown himself a person of imperfect perception. For Bellingham’s work was instinct with virile134 comprehension; he had the firmest of grasps upon the material world, while Lord Thorley, as he had always confessed, brought nothing of the brutal135 actuality of first-hand material considerations into his deft136 political weavings. He handled these with the delicate insight of a scholar brooding over obscure texts, the finesse137 and subtle observation of the philosopher in his study. Therein lay both his strength and weakness, for while the obscure seldom evaded138 his penetrative power, he was apt to overlook the obvious. It was by a great flaring139 torch, dripping with the pitch of humanity, and casting strong shadows and raising high lights, that Bellingham looked at the world he knew so well, and loved with all the veins140 and arteries141 that bucketed gallons of human blood through his body; it was almost with a grotesque142 appreciation143 of his kinship with it that he beheld144 it. But Lord Thorley, holding up his dry white light in his dry white hand, noted145, like a doctor by a bedside, the less appreciable146 maladies of his patient.
They met friends on the terrace across the lawn, and the collective spirit of the party began to develop. Above all things, it was “up to date”; it dwelled, that is to say, with extraordinary vividness in the actual present moment, and cared as little for the past as it recked of the future. For most of them, a majority sufficient to form the prevailing147 note, the rose was now full-blown; it was enough to inhale148 the perfection of{85} its fragrance149 without thought of the promise of its budding, or of the seeds that already were maturing in the womb from which the petals150 sprang. All appurtenances of extravagance and luxury were contained in the scent151 of it; so, too, was the sense that took all these things for granted. It was perfectly natural to those who assembled for dinner that Vandycks and Holbeins lived on the brocaded walls of the room, where they waited for the more tardy152 guests, that silk Persian rugs made feet noiseless, that Empire mirrors reflected the bare shoulders of beautiful women. That was how things “happened”; it was part of the indulgent constitution of the world that you moved quite naturally in so splendid a setting. It was natural also, a thing not to be considered, that a band played in the loggia with a discretion153 that did not mar6 conversation, that you ate off silver, that the masterpieces of Reynolds and Romney floated swimmingly on the walls.
Indeed, it was hardly remarked that about the middle of dinner the loud whirrings of an aeroplane sounded over the house, in a pause of the band, and that presently Lord Grote, who, from his seat at the end of the table, looked out on to the lawn, made the announcement than an aeroplane had landed there, and wondered, to the point of leaving his quail154 uneaten, who it could be, going out to ascertain155. Naturally enough, it was Robin, who, instead of swimming from Cambridge, had been a passenger in a flight from Hendon. He came in, handsome and debonair156, while the pilot was taken for refreshment157 somewhere else, since Robin explained that he would not at all like to come into the middle of a dinner-party. For himself he was frightfully hungry, and would like to start square with soup. Yes, it was quite exciting and jolly, great luck to have had the chance of going up. The pilot would start{86} back again at sunrise: that was his plan. Robin was not sure if he would not fly back with him. He had hoped to arrive before dinner, when everyone was out on the lawn, and the leather coat was too hot now that one was down on earth again, and he really must take it off....
Below the leather coat was a thick woollen jersey158, and Robin, in the midst of tiaras and satins, ate his belated dinner with as little a sense of embarrassment159 as he would have felt if he had been picking at a cold duck with Damon. But Mr. Bellingham could not quite leave these remarkable160 occurrences without comment.
“And you actually permitted yourself, my dear Robin,” he said, “to be whirled away among the inconstant breezes without a word of protest? For me I should have protested with all the violence of which my nature is capable. They would have had to bind161 me hand and foot before I embarked162.”
Robin laughed.
“But I wanted to go; I paid for it. Why should I protest at getting what I wanted?”
“True, true; there is the younger generation again. And what impression, what etching of an image, was conveyed to your sensory163 nerves at the moment when you began to leave that pellet of conglomerated matter, which, for want of a better word, we call the world? Were there not ‘fallings-from you, vanishings,’ as the most didactic of all poets puts it? In fact, my dear boy, didn’t it make you feel at all sick?”
But the sensation of Robin’s arrival, even in those days, when a flying machine was not quite the common fowl164 it has become, was a matter to be reckoned in minutes only; indeed, the scale of seconds was sufficient to see its complete extinction165. Nothing was surprising{87} nowadays, though so many things were new, and before Robin had fairly got out of his leather coat, Lord Thorley was again immersed in the attempt to understand Mrs. Trayle’s explanation of her mystical play, which really seemed to become more and more involved with every step of her elucidation166, and Mr. Boyton was indulging his Duchess with that type of story that was so immensely characteristic of him. It was not in itself actually shocking, but could not fail to produce in the mind of the listener comments and reflections that were. His stories had the effect of raising giggles167 rather than laughter, and he told them with a babe-like innocence168 that set off their little saletés to perfection. Elsewhere Mr. Bellingham was robustly169 discoursing170 to Mrs. Lockwater, who was fulfilling her complete functions of being dumb and beautiful, and the French Ambassador, with his ascetic171 face alight with enthusiasm, was being dithyrambic to Lady Instow on the subject of a sauce of escargots.
The spirit of the gathering172, distilled173 from all those various personalities174, poured out in ever-increasing volume. The main ingredient in it was a sort of Athenian irresponsibility: nothing mattered but the present hour, and the delight of “some new thing.” Wit, beauty, intelligence, above all, an astonishing youthfulness of mind, gave their grapes to compose the heady compound, that foamed175 and sparkled from one end of the table to the other. Some, though those were the minority of the guests, had some serious business in life, that professionally occupied them, but most were utterly idle people, apart from their feverishly176 busy pursuit of the pleasure of the extravagant177 minute. For most of them only two ills existed in life, the one physical ill-health, the other boredom; the one highest and all-embracing blessing178 which life offered, was the{88} sense of being amused, and being “in it,” and every minute not employed in either avoiding the ills of life or securing its blessings179 was a wasted opportunity let slip from careless or incompetent180 fingers into the chill waters of past time.
Excitement, physical and mental, was what each of them was out for, with the exception perhaps of Lord Thorley, who, in conditions of the utmost-conceivable perturbation, would have maintained his detached tranquillity181. But for the rest, even for the mystical Mrs. Trayle, the whirl of the moment, the striking of the clock were the things to be waited and listened for. The ferment182 of the world, and in particular, the ferment of the little world which is called the great world, was the intoxication183 they all demanded. In Lady Grote’s house that ferment invaded hole and corner; whatever was of contemporaneous interest was focussed there, be it painting, or singing, or politics, or love. Nothing was amiss, so long as it was alive, but it had to be alive with the vitality184 of to-day. In a fashion, also, this house with its opulence185 of extravagance and noble entertainment, signified all that was now going on: the people collected here every Saturday were types as well as individuals, each “stood for” something of which he was only a specimen186.
Dinner broke up gradually: there was no formal exit of women that left the men to circulate port and cigarettes and stories that up till that moment could not be perfectly enjoyed. From the thirty guests there some twenty drifted away, but the exit was not only of women, nor was it all of the feminine portion of the diners who went out. Mrs. Trayle, for instance, remained, so, too, did Lady Massingberd, sitting next her host. Before long Lord Grote and she got up and wandered out into the big starry187 night; the other{89} couples left, and soon the dining-room was empty, and bridge-tables and corners of conversation began to sort themselves into groups in the loggia. Then somebody alluded to poker188, and a half dozen of people, Robin and Bellingham among them, collected round a baize-topped table. Counters arranged themselves into heaps, packs of cards appeared, and a table of half a dozen players found themselves possessed189 of a hundred pounds each, in blue-coronetted counters, which denoted five pounds, in yellow counters which denoted one, and in silver counters that implied a shilling. Something vague was said about limit, but anybody, apparently, who wanted a hundred pounds, had it instantly supplied. It all happened, just happened....
This gratuitous190 distribution of capital naturally roused Mr. Bellingham to abstruse reflection as he received his cards.
“And this, I take it,” said he, “is, in fact, hospitality in excelsis. I have merely to sit down, and by the act of what we may call squatting191, my dear Robin, am given a whole century of the gold which—— Indeed, I feel as if I had been granted a bounty192 from the Civil List, in aid of my probably impecunious193 old age. I figure to myself what would happen if I pocketed these extraordinary artistic194 symbols of a wealth which is not actually mine. My dear lady, I will take one card, but the immodesty of that which I am playing for beggars and denudes195 all sense of decency196. The full house, for instance, surely all evening, as long as we play this entrancing and hazardous197 sport, must surely remain in our hostess’s charming hands. If ever a house was full, it is hers. Yes, in fact, I see that two pounds, and with all the timidity possible to so middle-aged a creature, I venture to raise it another two.{90}”
Robin was on Mr. Bellingham’s left, and came in with a further rise of three pounds. No one else took any interest in the hand, and Mr. Bellingham, as he saw Robin’s three pounds, and got dreadfully mixed about what to do next, contrived198 to pour out an abstruse soliloquy.
“I see you and raise you—is that the consecrated199 phrase,” he said, “as if it was not enough to see Robin, and as impossible to raise him. And then you see me, do you, which can hardly, I may say, be worth doing, so commonplace an object as I unfortunately am. Nevertheless, should you insist on gazing at what is called my hand, you will find, as I show you, that I have, in fact, usurped200 the full house which belongs as by right to our hostess. In fact, I have three kings and not less than two sevens. And that, I conjecture130 by your returning your cards face downwards201 to the dustbin, I may say, of the rest of the pack, is in the jargon202 of our game, good, and I annex203, do I not, a pool that for its attractive amplitude204 may fairly be called a lake.”
The game proceeded on its engrossing205 course: occasionally another player or two came in, and was supplied, or supplied himself, with as many counters as he felt inclined to take; occasionally a player, having had enough of it, counted up his gains or losses, and was duly entered by Robin in what he called the Washing-book: in fact, the poker-table was a sort of buffet of refreshing206 excitement, permanently207 open for anyone who wished to partake. The band had moved into the ball-room, and played dance-music for anyone who felt inclined to revolve208, while for those who preferred the fresh air and more intimate conversation, there was the loggia, or the terrace that gleamed beneath the blaze of the full moon, already beginning to decline{91} to its setting. Down below shone the silver riband of the river, and the woods on each side whispered, as in sleep, with the breath of the night-wind. But the rather banal209 simplicity210 of untutored nature, was but little to the minds of Lady Grote’s guests, who, indeed, had not this afternoon so much gone into the country as brought there a square or a street of Mayfair, and only a stray couple left the house where there was so much going on in the way of stimulating211 diversions.
In one corner of the loggia a game of bridge was in progress for those who cared for the mingling212 of a little intelligence with mere133 hazard, and in another, dimmed and darkened by the putting out of the local electric lights, a spiritualistically-minded party, of which the priestess was Mrs. Trayle, were seated round a table which under their hands moved about in an inexplicable213 manner, and answered questions by means of unaccountable rappings. Lord Thorley was the most earnest of these students of the occult, for in the presence of psychical214 phenomena215, the dry white light of his critical mind was always extinguished like a candle in a gale216, and he became credulous217 at just the point when most people begin to be sceptical.
Not long after midnight a rumour218 began to go about concerning supper in the dining-room, and after the nerve-exhaustion219 produced by poker, and the physical exhaustion produced by dancing, a good number of the party repaired these ravages220 with rather solid refreshments221, and stimulated222 themselves with champagne223 cup. Thereafter there began leisurely movements towards bed, with a good deal of conversation on the stairs and outside doors, but half a dozen enthusiasts224 still remained unwearied in their worship of the ambiguous goddess who settles what cards shall favour her votaries225, and it was not for a couple of hours later{92} that a final round of jack-pots was proposed. All evening Kuhlmann had scarcely left Lady Grote’s side, and when accounts were adjusted at the end, it was found that he had lost exactly five shillings, while she had won precisely226 the same amount. She got up with a laugh.
“To think of all the agonies and raptures227 I have gone through,” she said, “to earn that! You are even in worse case, Mr. Kuhlmann, for you have lost.”
He rose too.
“But, then, I have had no agonies,” he said, “the evening has been one of entire rapture228.”
“Ah, it is nice of you to have enjoyed it.”
“If you think how I have spent it,” said he, “you will wonder at that no longer.”
By a single movement of her eyes across to Robin, who was counting his money just opposite, and back to Kuhlmann, she indicated exactly what she meant to convey.
“Robin, my darling,” she said, “I haven’t had a word with you all evening. You must take me out on the river to-morrow.”
“To-night, if you like,” said the boy.
“No, my dear, it’s too late,” she said. “It’s bed-time: else we shall all be wrecks229 to-morrow.”
He finished his countings.
“I’ve won eleven pounds and a shilling,” he said, “and I don’t want to go to bed. Let’s all go on the river for half an hour. I can get the keys of the boathouse. Oh, do come, mother. We can get out a couple of punts: all the cushions are down there. Come on: who is coming?”
“I confess myself an insatiable hedonist,” said Mr. Bellingham. “Let us have a turn on the river, so long as it is distinctly understood that I am not required to{93} make any of those pokings and fumblings with a pole, a rod, pole or perch230, in fact, as the arithmetic books have it, which would infallibly lead to my total immersion231. In fact, Robin, will you rod, pole or perch me?”
Once again Lady Grote exchanged an imperceptible glance with Kuhlmann, and some five of them went down the long white steps, shining with dew, below the terrace. Mr. Bellingham and Lady Instow, under Robin’s conductorship, stepped into one punt, Lady Grote and Kuhlmann into another. Under Kuhlmann’s very inexpert watermanship the others soon distanced them.
They both laughed at his awkward attempts at propulsion, and presently she said:
“We shall never catch them up, Mr. Kuhlmann. Let us wait where we are, or rather where the stream takes us, till they come back. Come and sit down.”
He laid the dripping punt-pole along the edge of the boat, that slewed232 slowly round in the current, and with a soft hushing noise ran into a belt of reeds and tall sedge.
“You are singing on Monday, in Tristan, are you not?” she asked.
For answer he purred the first notes of the great love-duet.
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1
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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8
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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9
commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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modish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
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amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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15
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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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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17
abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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18
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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19
refractory
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| adj.倔强的，难驾驭的 | |
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20
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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21
err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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22
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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23
gourmets
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| 讲究吃喝的人，美食家( gourmet的名词复数 ) | |
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24
seduce
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| vt.勾引，诱奸，诱惑，引诱 | |
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25
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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26
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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27
denuding
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| v.使赤裸( denude的现在分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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28
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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29
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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30
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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32
sycophancy
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| n.拍马屁，奉承，谄媚；吮痈舐痔 | |
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firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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36
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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42
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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43
brandished
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| v.挥舞( brandish的过去式和过去分词 )；炫耀 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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46
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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48
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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49
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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50
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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51
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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52
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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53
impudently
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54
estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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55
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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56
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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57
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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benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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59
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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60
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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61
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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62
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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63
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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64
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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70
surfeits
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| v.吃得过多( surfeit的第三人称单数 )；由于过量而厌腻 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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72
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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73
effete
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| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
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74
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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rekindle
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| v.使再振作；再点火 | |
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transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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81
babbling
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| n.胡说，婴儿发出的咿哑声adj.胡说的v.喋喋不休( babble的现在分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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82
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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83
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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86
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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87
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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88
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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89
conspicuousness
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| 显著，卓越，突出； 显著性 | |
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90
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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92
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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93
robins
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| n.知更鸟，鸫( robin的名词复数 )；（签名者不分先后，以避免受责的）圆形签名抗议书（或请愿书） | |
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94
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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95
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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96
monologue
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| n.长篇大论，（戏剧等中的）独白 | |
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97
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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98
illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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99
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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100
epidemic
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| n.流行病；盛行；adj.流行性的，流传极广的 | |
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101
beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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102
metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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103
memoirs
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| n.回忆录；回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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104
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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105
effulgence
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| n.光辉 | |
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106
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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107
enthralling
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| 迷人的 | |
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108
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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109
quandary
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| n.困惑，进迟两难之境 | |
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110
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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111
enumerate
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| v.列举，计算，枚举，数 | |
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112
pictorial
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| adj.绘画的；图片的；n．画报 | |
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113
puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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114
outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
franchise
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| n.特许，特权，专营权，特许权 | |
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116
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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117
obstreperous
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| adj.喧闹的，不守秩序的 | |
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118
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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119
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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120
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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121
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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122
depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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123
capillary
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| n.毛细血管；adj.毛细管道；毛状的 | |
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124
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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125
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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126
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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127
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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128
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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129
conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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131
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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132
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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133
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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134
virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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135
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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136
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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137
finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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138
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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139
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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140
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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141
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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142
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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143
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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144
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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145
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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146
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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147
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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148
inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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149
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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150
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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151
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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152
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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153
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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154
quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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155
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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156
debonair
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| adj.殷勤的，快乐的 | |
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157
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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158
jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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159
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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160
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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161
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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162
embarked
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| 乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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163
sensory
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| adj.知觉的，感觉的，知觉器官的 | |
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164
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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165
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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166
elucidation
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| n.说明，阐明 | |
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167
giggles
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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168
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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169
robustly
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| adv.要用体力地，粗鲁地 | |
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170
discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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171
ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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172
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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173
distilled
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| adj.由蒸馏得来的v.蒸馏( distil的过去式和过去分词 )；从…提取精华 | |
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174
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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175
foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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176
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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177
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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178
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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179
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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180
incompetent
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| adj.无能力的，不能胜任的 | |
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181
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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182
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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183
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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184
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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185
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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186
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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187
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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188
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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189
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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190
gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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191
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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192
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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193
impecunious
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| adj.不名一文的，贫穷的 | |
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194
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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195
denudes
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| v.使赤裸( denude的第三人称单数 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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196
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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197
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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198
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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199
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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200
usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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201
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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202
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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203
annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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204
amplitude
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| n.广大；充足；振幅 | |
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205
engrossing
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| adj.使人全神贯注的，引人入胜的v.使全神贯注( engross的现在分词 ) | |
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206
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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207
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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208
revolve
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| vi.(使)旋转；循环出现 | |
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209
banal
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| adj.陈腐的，平庸的 | |
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210
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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211
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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212
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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213
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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214
psychical
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| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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215
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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216
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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217
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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218
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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219
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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220
ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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221
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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222
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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223
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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224
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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225
votaries
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| n.信徒( votary的名词复数 )；追随者；（天主教）修士；修女 | |
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226
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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227
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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228
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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229
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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230
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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231
immersion
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| n.沉浸；专心 | |
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slewed
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| adj.喝醉的v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去式 )( slew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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