The table rang with the knocking of knuckles3 and the low cries of half-tipsy boys as the half-tipsy old man rose solemnly before them, and proceeded to deliver himself in his earliest style of his famous carol of 'Bet, the Bagman's Daughter.' He was certainly in excellent feather. Standing4 tall and erect5, with the enlivenment of the wine to support him for the moment; all the creases6 smoothed out of his back, and half the wrinkles out of his brow; even his coarse, bloated face softened7 a little by the unusual society in which he found himself, Mr. Plantagenet sang his song as he had never sung it at the White Horse at Chiddingwick, with great verve, go, and vigour9. He half blushed once or twice—at least, he would have blushed if his cheeks were capable of getting much redder—when he came to the most doubtful verses of that very doubtful composition; but the lads beside him only clapped the harder, and cried, 'Bravo!' 'Jolly good song!' and 'Well done, Mr. Plantagenet!' so he kept through bravely to the very end, singing as he had never sung before since he was a promising10 young man of eight-and-twenty, the lion of Lady Postlethwaite's delightful11 entertainments.
As he sat down a perfect chorus of applause rent the air, and Faussett, anxious not to let so good an opportunity slip by, took occasion to fill Mr. Plan-tagenet's glass twice over in succession: once during the course of the boisterous12 song, and once at the end to reward his efforts.
The old man had been unusually circumspect13, for him, at first, for he vaguely14 suspected in his own mind that Faussett might have asked him there on purpose to make him drunk; and though there was nothing he liked better than an opportunity of attaining15 that supreme16 end of his existence at somebody else's expense, he had still some faint sense of self-respect left, lingering somewhere in some unsuspected back corner of his poor old ruined personality, which made him loath17 to exhibit his shame and degradation18 before so many well-bred and gentlemanly young Oxonians. But as time wore on, and the lads applauded all his jokes and songs and stories to the echo, Mr. Plantagenet's heart began by degrees to soften8. He was wronging these ingenuous19 and eminently20 companionable young fellows. He was over-suspicious in supposing they wanted to make fun of him or to get fun out of him. They had been naturally attracted and pleased by his marked social qualities and characteristics. They recognised in him, under all disguises of capricious fortune, a gentleman and a Plantagenet. He helped himself complacently21 to another glass of sherry. He held up the golden liquid and glanced askance at the light through it, then he took a delicate sip22 and rolled it on his palate appreciatively.
It was not very good sherry. An Oxford23 winemerchant's thirty-six shilling stuff (for undergraduate consumption) can hardly be regarded as a prime brand of Spanish vintage; but it was, at least, much better than Mr. Plantagenet had been in the habit of tasting for many years past, and perhaps his palate was hardly capable any longer of distinguishing between the nicer flavours of hocks or clarets. He put his glass down with rising enthusiasm.
'Excellent Amontillado!' he said, pursing up his lips with the air of a distinguished24 connoisseur25. 'Ex-cellent Amontillado! It's a very long time since I tasted any better.'
Which was perfectly26 true, as far as it went, though not exactly in the nature of a high testimonial to the character of the wine.
Now, nothing pleases a boy of twenty, posing as a man, so much as to praise his port and sherry. Knowing nothing about the subject himself, and inwardly conscious of his own exceeding ignorance, he accepts the verdict of anybody who ventures upon having an opinion with the same easy readiness as the crowd at the Academy accepts the judgment27 of anyone present who says aloud, with dogmatic certainty, that any picture in the place is well or ill painted.
'It is good sherry,' Faussett repeated, much mollified. 'Have another glass!'
Mr. Plantagenet assented28, and leaned back in an easy-chair as being the safest place from which to deliver at ease his aesthetic29 judgments30 for the remainder of that evening. For the wine-party was beginning now to arrive at the boisterous stage. There were more songs to follow, not all of them printable; and there was loud, dull laughter, and there was childish pulling of bonbon31 crackers32, and still more childish shying of oranges at one another's heads across the centre table. The fun was waxing fast and furious. Mr. Plantagenet at the same time was waxing hilarious33.
'Gentlemen,' he said, holding his glass a little obliquely34 in his right hand, and eyeing it with his head on one side in a very doubtful attitude—'Gentlemen.' And at that formal beginning a hush35 of expectation fell upon the flushed faces of the noisy lads, ready to laugh at the drunken old man who might have been the father of any one among them.
'Hush, hush, there! Mr. Plantagenet for a speech!' Faussett shouted aloud, drumming his glass on the table.
'Hear, hear!' Gillingham cried, echoing the appeal heartily36. 'The Plantagenet for a speech! Give us a speech, Mr. Plantagenet!'
Gillingham was a great deal soberer than any of the others, but he was anxious to make notes internally of this singular phenomenon. The human intellect utterly37 sunk and degraded by wine and debauchery forms a psychological study well worthy39 the Born Poet's most attentive40 consideration. He may need it some day for a Lear or an Othello.
Mr. Plantagenet struggled up manfully upon his shaky legs. 'Gentlemen,' he murmured, in a voice a little thick, to be sure, with drinking, but still preserving that exquisitely41 clear articulation42 for which Edmund Plantagenet had always been famous—'Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to find myself at last, after a long interval43 of comparative eclipse, in such exceedingly congenial and delightful society. In fact, I may say in the society of my equals—yes, gentlemen, of my equals. I am not proud; I will put it simply “of my equals.” Time was, 'tis true, when the name of Plantagenet would, perhaps, have implied something more than mere44 equality—but I pass that. To insist upon the former greatness and distinction of one's family is as ill-bred and obtrusive45 as it is really superfluous46. But since we here this evening have now sunk into our anecdotage, I will venture to narrate47 to you a little anecdote48'— here Mr. Plantagenet swayed uneasily from one side to the other, and Gillingham, ever watchful49, propped50 him up from behind with much anxious show of solicitous51 politeness—'a little anecdote of a member of my own kith and kin2, with whose name you are all doubtless well acquainted. My late relative, Edward Plantagenet, the Black Prince——'
At the mention of this incongruous association, most seriously delivered, such a sudden burst of unanimous laughter broke at once from the whole roomful of unruly boys that Mr. Plantagenet, taken aback, felt himself quite unable to continue his family reminiscences. The roar of amusement stunned52 and half sobered him. He drew his hand across his forehead with a reflective air, steadied himself on his legs, and, shading his eyes with his hand, looked across the table with a frown at the laughing conspirators53. Then a light seemed to dawn upon him spasmodically for a moment; the next, again, it had faded away. He forgot entirely54 the thread of his story, gazed around him impotently with a bland55 smile of wonder, and sank back into his chair at last with the offended dignity of hopeless drunkenness. It was a painful and horrible sight. To hide his confusion he filled his glass up once more with the profoundest solemnity, tossed it off at a gulp56 to prevent spilling it, and glanced round yet again upon the tittering company, as if he expected another round of generous applause to follow his efforts.
'He's drunk now, anyhow—dead drunk,' one of the gentlemanly and congenial young fellows half whispered to Gillingham. 'Let's mix all the heeltaps for him with a little soapsuds, and make him swallow them off out of the washhand basin, shall we?'
Gillingham's taste was revolted by the gross vulgarity of this practical suggestion. 'No, no!' he replied, without attempting to conceal57 his genuine disgust; 'have you no respect at all for his age and his degradation? Don't you know that a drunken old man is too sacred a thing to be made the common butt58 of your vulgar ridicule59? Dionysus was a great god—a great god in his cups—and even Silenus still retains the respect due to gray hairs. Let him alone, I say; he has lowered himself enough, and more than enough, already, without your trying to lower him any further.'
'Why, you helped in the fun as well as we did,' Westall answered, grumbling60. 'You needn't try to go and make yourself out such a saint as all that after it's done and finished, for it was you who got him on his legs to make a fool of himself, anyhow.' 'Shakespeare must have studied his Falstaff at all moments and in all phases,' Gillingham replied oracularly, with his gravest irony61; 'but I refuse to believe he ever conspired62 with a set of young blockheads at the Boar in Eastcheap to mix dregs of sherris sack with beer and soapsuds in a common washhand basin for Green or Marlowe. The Born Poet observes; he does not instigate63.'
'Hush, hush!' Faussett cried again. 'Mr. Plantagenet is going to address us. Another speech from the Plantagenet!'
'Hear, hear!' Gillingham echoed as before. 'More experiences, more experiences! Life is wide, and its reflection must be many-sided; we want all experiences harmoniously64 combined to produce the poet, the philosopher, and the ruler.'
'Gentlemen,' Mr. Plantagenet began afresh, rising feebly to his legs and gazing around upon the assembled little crowd in puzzled bewilderment, 'I'm not quite myself this evening, ladies and gentlemen; my old complaint, my old complaint, gentlemen.' Here he laid his hand pathetically upon his heart, amid a chorus of titters. 'Gentlemen, choose your partners. Bow, and fall into places. Eight bars before beginning, then advance in couples—right, left—down the middle. I'll strike up immediately. My violin, my violin! what have you done with it, gentlemen?'
'Gracious heavens!' Gillingham cried, looking over to Faussett, and hardly more than half whispering; 'why, don't you understand? the man's a dancing-master. He thinks we're his pupils, and he's going to make us dance the lancers!'
'By Jove, so he is!' Faussett exclaimed, delighted at this new development of the situation.
'Let's humour him. Fall into places, and let's have the lancers. Here, Tremenbeere, you be my partner.'
But before they could carry out this ingenious arrangement Mr. Plantagenet had suddenly discovered his mistake, and sat down, or, rather, sank with Gillingham's assistance into his easy-chair, where he sat now once more, blankly smiling a vacuous65 and impenetrable smile upon the uproarious company.
'Stick him out in the yard!' 'Pour cold water over him!' 'Give him a dose of cayenne!'
'Turn his coat inside out, and send him to find his way home with a label pinned upon him!' shouted a whole chorus of congenial and gentlemanly young fellows in varying voices, with varying suggestions for completing the degradation of the poor drunken old creature.
'No!' Gillingham thundered out in a voice of supreme command; 'do nothing of the sort. You wretched Philistines66, you've had your fun out of him; and precious poor fun it is, too—all you, who are not students of human nature. You've got to leave him alone, now, I tell you, and give him time to recover.—Here, Faussett, lend me a hand with him; he's sound asleep. Let's put him over here to sleep it off upon the sofa.'
Faussett obeyed without a word, and they laid the old man out at full length on the couch to sleep off his first drowsiness67.
'Now draw him a bottle of neat seltzer,' Gillingham went on with a commanding air; 'you've got to get him out of college somehow before twelve o'clock, you know; and it's better for yourselves to get him out sober. There'll be a precious hot row if he goes out so drunk that the porter has to help him, and worse still if the scouts68 come in and find him here in your rooms tomorrow morning.'
This common-sense argument, though coming from the Born Poet, seemed so far cogent69 to the half-tipsy lads that they forthwith exerted themselves to the utmost of their power in drawing the seltzer, and to holding it to Mr. Plantagenet's unwilling70 lips. After a time the old man half woke up again dreamily, and then Gillingham set to work to try a notable experiment.
'Have you ever heard of Barry Neville, Westall?' he asked, looking hard at him.
'Neville? Neville?' Westall murmured, turning the name over dubiously71. 'Well, no, I don't think so. Of this college?'
'Of this college!' Gillingham echoed contemptuously. 'Of this college indeed! No, not of this college. The ideas of most Durham men seem to be bounded strictly72 by the four blessed walls of this particular college! I thought you wouldn't know him; I guessed as much. And yet he had once a European reputation. Barry Neville,' raising his voice so that Mr. Plantagenet should hear him distinctly—'Barry Neville was an able essayist, poet and journalist of the middle period of this present century.'
'Well?' Westall went on inquiringly.
'Well,' Gillingham answered, nodding his head with a mysterious look towards the half-awakened drunkard, who had started up at the sound of that familiar name, 'there he lies over on the sofa.'
This last was murmured below his breath to the other lads, so that Mr. Plantagenet didn't catch it in his further corner.
'I'm going to try the effect of a bit of his own writing upon him to-night,' Gillingham continued quietly. 'I'm going to see whether it'll rouse him, or whether he'll even recognise it.—Here, you men, stop your row. I'm thinking of giving you a little recitation.'
'Hear, hear!' Faussett cried, languidly interested in the strange experiment. 'Gillingham for a recitation!—You know, Mr. Plantagenet, our friend Gillingham, the Born Poet, is celebrated73 as one of the finest and most versatile74 reciters in all England.'
'What's he going to give us?' Mr. Plantagenet asked, endeavouring to seem quite wide-awake, and to assume a carefully critical attitude.
'A piece from a forgotten author,' Gillingham answered with quiet dignity. And then, mounting upon the table, and ensuring silence by a look or two flung with impartial75 aim at the heads of all those who still continued to talk or giggle76, he began, in his clear, loud, sonorous77 voice, to deliver with very effective rhetoric78 a flashy show-piece, which he had long known by heart among his immense repertory, from the 'Collected Essays of Barry Neville.'
'But of all the terrible downfalls which this world encloses for the eye of the attentive and observant spectator, what downfall, I ask, can be more terrible or more ghastly than that inevitable79 decadence80 from the golden hopes and aspirations81 of youth, to the dreary82 realities and blasted ideals of dishonoured83 age? For the young man, this prosaic84 planet floats joyously86 and lightly down a buoyant atmosphere of purpled clouds; his exuberant87 fancy gilds88 the common earth as the dying sunlight gilds the evening waters with broad streets and paths of refulgent89 glory. To the old man, the sun itself has faded slowly, but hopelessly, out of the twilight90 heavens: dark and murky91 fogs, risen from behind the shadows of that unknown future, have obscured and disfigured with their dark exhalations the bright imaginings of his joyous85 springtide: evil habits, begun in the mere rush of youthful spirits, have clung to and clogged92 the marred93 wings of his soul, till at last, disheartened, disgraced, unhonoured and unfriended, he drifts gradually onward94 down the unrelenting stream of the years to that final cataract95 where all his hopes, alike of time and of eternity96, are doomed97 to be finally wrecked98 and confounded together in one unutterable and irretrievable ruin.
'“Nay, think not, young man, that, because you are gay and bright and vital to-day, you will find the path of life throughout as smooth and easy as you find it now at the very start or outset of your appointed pilgrimage. Those juicy fruits that stretch so temptingly by the bosky wayside—those golden apples of the Hesperides that hang so lusciously99 from the bending boughs—those cool draughts100 that spring so pellucid101 from yon welling fountain—those fair nymphs that bid you loiter so often among the roses and eglantines of yon shady bowers102—all, all, though they smile so innocent and so attractive, are but deceitful allurements103 to delay your feet and intoxicate104 your senses, toils105 to lead you aside from the straight but thorny106 road of right and duty into the brighter but deadly track of fatal self-indulgence. Yet, above all things, if you would be wise, O youth! shun107 that sparkling beaker, which the cunning tempter, like Comus in the masque, holds out to you too enticingly108 to quench109 your ardent110 thirst: quaff111 it not, though it dance and glitter so merrily in the sunlight, for there is death in the cup; it leads you on slowly and surely to the dishonoured grave; it loses you, one after another, health, wealth, and youth, and friends, and children; it covers you with shame, disgrace, and humiliation112, and in the end this, this, this is the miserable113 plight114 to which it finally reduces what may once have been a man of birth, of learning, of genius, and of reputation.”' It was a tawdry bit of cheap rhetoric enough, to be sure, penned by Edmund Plantagenet in his palmiest days, when he still cherished his dream of literary greatness, in feeble imitation of De Quincey's rounded and ornate periods; but delivered as Trevor Gillingham knew how to deliver the merest tinsel, with rolling voice and profound intonations115 of emotion, it struck even those graceless, half-tipsy undergraduates as a perfect burst of the divinest eloquence116. They didn't notice at the moment its cheap effectiveness, its muddled117 metaphors118, its utter vulgarity of idea and expression; they were taken unexpectedly by its vivid separate elements, its false gallop119 of prose, its quick turns of apostrophe, exhortation120 and sentimentalism, its tricky121 outer semblance122 of poetical123 phraseology. And Gillingham knew how to make the very best of it: pointing now with his left hand upward to the golden apples of the Hesperides hanging from the imaginary branches of trees overhead; now with his right to one side toward the fair nymphs loitering unperceived in their invisible bowers among the Carlsbad plums; and now again with both together downwards124 towards the awful abyss that he seemed to behold125 opening unseen upon the carpet before him. And when at last he reached the weak and tawdry climax126, 'this, this is the plight to which it finally reduces a man of genius,' he gave fresh point to the words by turning his forefinger127 relentlessly128 and reproachfully toward the very author who wrote them, the now fully-awakened and listening dancing-master.
And Edmund Plantagenet himself? Sitting up, half recumbent, upon the bare little sofa, with bloodshot eyes gazing out straight in front of him, he seemed transfixed and spell-bound by the sudden sound of his own young words coming back to him so unexpectedly across the gulf129 of blighted130 hopes and forgotten aspirations. Listening eagerly with strained ears to Gillingham's high and measured, cadences131, the old man felt for a moment inspired with a new and strange admiration132 for his own unrecognised eloquence. The phrases, though he remembered them well, seemed to him far finer than when he first had written them—and so indeed they were, transfigured and reduced to a semblance of higher meaning by the practised reciter's stirring elocution. The reciter had produced a deeper effect than he intended. One minute the old man sat there silent after Gillingham had finished, looking round him defiantly133 with his bloated red face upon those now sobered boys; then, with an unwonted burst of energy and fire, he cried aloud in a tone of suppressed passion:
'Lads, lads, he says the truth! He says the truth! Every word of it. Do you know who wrote that magnificent passage of English rhetoric he has just repeated to you? Do you know who wrote it? It was me, me, me, the last of the Plantagenets! And he knows it. He's been reciting it now to shame and disgrace me in my blighted old age. But, still—he has done wisely. He thought I was past shaming. Lads, lads, I'm not past it. I remember well when I wrote that passage—and many another as fine, or finer. But that's all gone now, and what am I to-day? A miserable drunken old country dancing-master, that a pack of irreverent Oxford boys ask up to their rooms to make fun of him by getting him to drink himself silly. But when I wrote that passage I was young, and full of hope, and an author, and a gentleman. Yes, boys, a gentleman. I knew all the best men and women of my time, and they thought well of me, and prophesied134 fair things for me not a few. Ah, yes, you may smile, but I remember to-night how Samuel Taylor Coleridge himself took me once by the hand in those days, and laid his honoured palms on my head, and gave me his blessing135. And finely it's been fulfilled!' he added bitterly. 'And finely it's been fulfilled—as you see this evening!'
He rose, steady now and straight as an arrow, shaking his long gray hair fiercely off his forehead, and glaring with angry eyes at Trevor Gillingham. 'Come, come,' he said; 'you've had your fun out, boys; you've seen the humiliation of a ruined old man. You've gloated over the end of somebody better to begin with than any one of you is or ever will be, if you live to be twice as old as Methuselah; and now you may go to your own rooms, and sleep your own silly debauch38 off at your leisure. I will go, too. I have learned something to-night. I have learned that Edmund Plantagenet's spirit isn't as wholly dead or as broken as you thought it, and as he thought it, and I'm glad for my own sake, Mr. Gillingham, to have learned it. Good-night, and good-bye to you all, young gentlemen. You won't have the chance to mock an old man's shame again, if I can help it. But go on as you've begun—go on as you've begun, my fine fellows, and your end will be ten thousand times worse than mine is. Why,' with a burst of withering136 indignation, 'when I was your age, you soulless, senseless, tipsy young reprobates137, I'd have had too much sense of shame, to get my passing amusement out of the pitiable degradation of a man who might fairly have been my grandfather!'
He walked to the door, upright, without flinching138, and turned the handle, as sober for the minute as if he hadn't tasted a single glass of sherry. Gillingham, thoroughly139 frightened now, tried his best to stop him.
'I'm sorry I've hurt your feelings, Mr. Plan-tagenet,' he stammered140 out, conscious even as he spoke141 how weak and thin were his own excuses by the side of the old man's newly-quickened indignation. 'I—I didn't mean to offend you. I wanted to see—to see what effect a few of your own powerful words and periods would produce upon you, falling so unexpectedly on your ear in a society where you probably imagined you had never been heard of. I—I intended it merely as a delicate compliment.'
Edmund Plantagenet answered him never a word, but with a profound bow that had nothing of the dancing-master in it, but a great deal of the angry courtesy of fifty years since, shut the door sternly in his face, and turned to descend142 the winding143 stone staircase.
'I'm afraid we've done it now, Faussett,' Trevor Gillingham exclaimed, with a very white face, turning round to the awed144 and silent company. 'I hope to goodness he won't go and do himself some mischief145!'
'Too drunk for that,' Faussett answered carelessly. 'By the time he's got downstairs he'll forget all about it, and reel home to his lodgings146 as well as he can; he'll never remember a word to-morrow morning.'
A minute later the door opened with a slight knock, and Richard Plantagenet entered, pale and trembling.
'My father,' he cried, looking about the room with a restless glance—'what have you done with my father? I heard his voice as I passed below your windows outside college a minute ago.—Where's he gone, Gillingham? What's he been doing in these rooms with you?'
'Mr. Plantagenet has been spending the evening as my guest,' Faussett answered, trying to look as unconcerned as possible; 'but he's just now left, and I believe he's gone home to his own lodgings.'
Dick drew back in horror. He knew from the sound of his father's voice something very unwonted and terrible had happened. Though he had not caught a single word, never before had he heard those lips speak out with such real and angry dignity, and he trembled for the result of so strange an adventure. He rushed back to the porter's lodge147, for he had taken a stroll outside that evening on purpose, lest he should see his father the laughing-stock of Faussett and his companions.
'For heaven's sake, porter!' he cried with fervour, 'let me out—let me out—let me out, or there may be murder!'
'Very sorry, sir,' the porter answered with official calmness; the clock's gone eleven. Can't allow you out now without leave from the Dean, sir.'
'Then Heaven save him!' Richard cried, wringing148 his hands in helpless terror; 'for if he goes out alone like that, God only knows what may become of him!'
'If you mean the elderly gentleman from Mr. Faussett's rooms, sir,' the porter answered cheerfully, 'he seemed to me to walk out quite soberlike and straight, as far as I could see, sir.'
But Dick turned and rushed wildly to his own rooms in the Back Quad149, in an agony of suspense150 for his father's safety.
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hurrah
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| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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soften
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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promising
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delightful
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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circumspect
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| adj.慎重的，谨慎的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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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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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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ingenuous
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eminently
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complacently
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sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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distinguished
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connoisseur
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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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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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judgments
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| 判断( judgment的名词复数 )； 鉴定； 评价； 审判 | |
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31
bonbon
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| n.棒棒糖；夹心糖 | |
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crackers
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| adj.精神错乱的，癫狂的n.爆竹( cracker的名词复数 )；薄脆饼干；（认为）十分愉快的事；迷人的姑娘 | |
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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35
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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36
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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37
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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38
debauch
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| v.使堕落，放纵 | |
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39
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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40
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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41
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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42
articulation
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| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
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43
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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44
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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45
obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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46
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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47
narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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48
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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49
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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50
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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52
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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53
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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54
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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55
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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56
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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57
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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58
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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59
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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60
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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61
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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62
conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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63
instigate
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| v.教唆，怂恿，煽动 | |
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64
harmoniously
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| 和谐地，调和地 | |
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65
vacuous
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| adj.空的，漫散的，无聊的，愚蠢的 | |
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66
philistines
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| n.市侩，庸人( philistine的名词复数 )；庸夫俗子 | |
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67
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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68
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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69
cogent
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| adj.强有力的，有说服力的 | |
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70
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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71
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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72
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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73
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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74
versatile
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| adj.通用的，万用的；多才多艺的，多方面的 | |
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75
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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76
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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77
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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78
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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79
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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80
decadence
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| n.衰落，颓废 | |
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81
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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82
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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83
dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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84
prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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85
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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86
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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87
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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88
gilds
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| 把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 )； 给…上金色； 作多余的修饰（反而破坏原已完美的东西）； 画蛇添足 | |
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89
refulgent
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| adj.辉煌的，灿烂的 | |
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90
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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91
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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92
clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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93
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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94
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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95
cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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96
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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97
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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98
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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99
lusciously
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100
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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101
pellucid
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| adj.透明的，简单的 | |
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102
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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103
allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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104
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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105
toils
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| 网 | |
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106
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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107
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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108
enticingly
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109
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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110
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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111
quaff
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| v.一饮而尽；痛饮 | |
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112
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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113
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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114
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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115
intonations
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| n.语调，说话的抑扬顿挫( intonation的名词复数 )；（演奏或唱歌中的）音准 | |
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116
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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117
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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118
metaphors
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| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
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119
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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120
exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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121
tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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122
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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123
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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124
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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125
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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126
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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127
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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128
relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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129
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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130
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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131
cadences
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| n.（声音的）抑扬顿挫( cadence的名词复数 )；节奏；韵律；调子 | |
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132
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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133
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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134
prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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136
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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137
reprobates
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| n.道德败坏的人，恶棍( reprobate的名词复数 ) | |
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138
flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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139
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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140
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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141
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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142
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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143
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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144
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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145
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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146
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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147
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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148
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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149
quad
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| n.四方院；四胞胎之一；v.在…填补空铅 | |
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150
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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