“I found it not where solemn Alps and grey
Draw crimson11 glories from the new-born day,
????Nor where huge sombre pines loom12 overhanging
Niagara’s rainbow spray.”
He was just feeling in his pocket for a pencil to jot13 down the rough draft of these few lines, when of a sudden, at the window in the next room at the side, what should he see but Florian’s pale face peeping forth14 most piteously.
“What’s the matter? Haven’t you slept?” Will inquired of his disconsolate15 friend with a sympathetic nod.
The epicurean philosopher shook a sad, slow head with a painfully cheerful air of stoical resignation. “Not a wink16 since three o’clock,” he answered, gloomily. “Those dreadful creatures have bothered me without ceasing.”
“Surely,” Will began, somewhat surprised, “not?——”
Florian shook his head wearily. “No, no; not them,” he murmured with melancholy18 emphasis. “I don’t mind about them. They, at least, are silent, and, besides, if you like, you can get up and catch them. Bells, bells! my dear fellow; bells, bells, all the morning. They’ve been tinkling19 in my ear every blessed minute since the clock struck three. It’s unendurable, horrible.”
“Oh, the cow-bells!” Will answered, laughing. “Why, for my part, I like them. They’re a feature of the place; they sound so countrified. I hardly hear them at all, or if I hear them, they come to me drowsily20 through the haze21 of my dreams like the murmur17 of water or a nurse’s lullaby. I find them, to tell you the truth, positively22 soothing23. Besides,” he added, mischievously24, with a malicious25 little smile, “in such a village as this, who cares where he sleeps, or whether he sleeps at all? He should be able to subsist26 here on scenery and the affections.”
At the words, Florian’s head disappeared incontinently. That, surely, was the unkindest cut of all. Thus convicted out of his own mouth, by his familiar friend, he could but retire abashed27 to complete his toilet. That Deverill should have slept all night long, while he lay awake, and tossed, and turned, and wished ill to the whole ill-omened race of cows, was bad enough in all conscience; but that he should pretend he liked those disgusting bells was nothing short of atrocious.
He descended28 a little later to the homely29 parlour. Will was down there before him, and had succeeded in ferreting out an old violin from a corner cupboard. He was musical, was Will?—?not, to be sure, in the grand perceptive30 and critical way, like Florian himself, who played no instrument and understood all perfectly31, but, after the inferior fashion of the mere32 dexterous33 executant, who possesses a certain physical suppleness34 and deftness35 of fingers to elicit36 from dumb strings37 the most delicate fancies of a Mendelssohn or a Chopin. In pursuance of this lesser38 gift of his?—?“the common faculty39 of the fiddler,” as Florian called it?—?Will was just then engaged by the open window in playing over to himself a pretty little song by some unknown composer. He played it very well, too, Florian admitted, condescendingly; Will had a capital ear, indeed, and was not without feeling of a sort, for the finer touches in musical composition?—?up to a certain point, you know; not quite, of course, to the high and delicate level of Florian’s own cultivated and refined perceptions. It was a charming piece, however?—?a very charming piece?—?and, after a while, Will began singing the words to it. Florian listened with pleasure and a forgiving smile to the clever twists and turns of that well-arranged melody.
As he stood there, listening, a little behind, one impressive forefinger41 held up in an attitude of discriminative42 attention, he was aware of two voices in the street outside catching43 up the tune44 naturally, and fitting it as if in sport to shapeless syllables45 of their own invention. They were women’s voices, too, young and rich and powerful; and what was odder still, to Florian’s immense surprise, they took up their proper parts as second and third in a concerted piece, like trained musicians. Strange to find such finished vocalists in a mere peasant hamlet!?—?but, there, no doubt they were some of Herr Hausberger’s Transatlantic performers. Florian moved closer to the window to observe the unknown but silvery-tongued strangers. As he did so, two plump and rosy-cheeked mountain lasses, in homespun kirtles, fled, blushing and giggling46, with their hands to their mouths, away from the close scrutiny47 of the foreign Herrschaft. Accustomed as he was by this time to marvellous incongruities48 in this land of surprises, Florian could hardly believe his own eyes when he further observed that the two girls with the divine voices were driving cows home from the pasture to the milking shed. Great heavens, yes! there was no gainsaying49 it. Shade of Wagner, incredible! The accomplished50 vocalists whose fine sense of melody so delighted his acute and critical ear were nothing but a pair of common country milkmaids!
Will Deverill, too, had risen, and, with a friendly nod, was gazing out appreciation51 at his unknown accompanists. Florian turned to him, all amazement52. “They must have practised it before,” he cried. “They must know it all of old. It must certainly be one of their own national pieces.”
“Oh, no,” the poet replied in a very confident voice. “They can’t possibly have heard it. It’s quite, quite new. I’m sure about that. It’s never yet been published.”
“But, my dear fellow,” Florian exclaimed, with much argumentative heat, “I assure you, none but the most instructed musicians could possibly take up the right chords like that, and sing them second and third, without having practised them beforehand. Allow me to know something of the musical art. Even Patti herself?——”
“Why, the song’s my own,” Will broke in, much amused, and unable to restrain himself. “I ought to know; it was I who wrote it.”
“The words! ah, yes, to be sure; the words are nothing. They didn’t sing them, of course; ’twas the melody they caught at. And the melody, I venture to assert, without fear of contradiction?—?the melody, from the peculiar53 way it modulates54 into the sub-dominant, must certainly be one of their own love songs.”
“But I composed the tune too,” Will made answer with a quiet smile. “It’s never been played before. It came up into my head in the railway carriage yesterday, and seeing this old fiddle40 in the cupboard this morning, I thought I’d try it over before scoring it down, just to hear how it sounded.”
“You wrote it!” Florian repeated, dazzled and stunned55 at the news. “You compose as well as rhyme! You set your own songs to music, do you? Well, upon my soul, Deverill, I hadn’t till this moment the slightest idea you had such an accomplishment56.”
“Oh, I’m only a beginner,” Will answered, with a faint blush, laying down the violin,?—?“or rather an amateur, for I’ve always dabbled57 in it. But I’ve only published one song. I just strum to amuse myself. Good morning, Herr Hausberger; what an exquisite day! We’d better take advantage of it for a climb up the Rauhenkopf.”
The landlord, dish in hand, bowed his courteous58 and courtly bow. There was deference59 in it, without a tinge60 of servility. Florian noted61 with approbation62 that mixture of independence and a just self-respect which formed a component63 part of his preconceived idea of the Tyrolese character. Andreas Hausberger was “right,” because he was very much as Florian would have pictured him. “Yes; a very good day for the ascent,” the landlord said, quietly. “We will put up some lunch?—?cold meat and Pilsener. You’ll get a fine view, if you start in good time, over the Zementhal glaciers.”
Florian sat down to the table, a trifle crestfallen64; but the poached eggs were excellent, and the coffee fragrant65; and he consoled himself for the cow-bells and the mishap66 about the song by the reflection that, after all, these idyllic67 milkmaids, with the voice of a prima donna and the manners of Arcadia, were in exact accordance with the operatic ideal of his own imagined Tyrol. They sang like the Chorus of Happy Peasants; they behaved as the mountain lass of poetry ought always to behave, and as the mountain lass of reality often utterly68 fails to do.
That morning on the Rauhenkopf was to Florian a day of unmixed delights. He was At Home with Nature. In a vague sort of way, without troubling himself much to know anything about them, the town-bred philosopher loved the fragrant fields, the beautiful flowers, the mossy rocks, the bright birds, the chirping69 insects. And Will Deverill knew them all?—?their names, and where to find them. The ragged70, sweet-scented pinks still loitered late in deep clefts71 of the glacier-worn rock; a few stray sky-blue gentians still starred the rich patches of Alpine72 pasture; emperors and orange-tips still flaunted73 their gaudy74 wings in full autumn sunshine. Florian drank in all these things with pure sensuous75 delight; the sweet sounds of the fields, the smell of tedded76 kine filled his ?sthetic soul, not so much with direct pleasure, as with some faint afterglow of literary reminiscence.
At one of the little alp-huts among the higher pastures, Will Deverill murmured a cheerful “Guten Morgen,” as he passed, to a buxom77 peasant lass in a woollen kirtle, who stood busy at her churn by the door of her chalet. The girl curtseyed, and looked back at them with such a good-humoured smile that Florian, as an admirer of female beauty, couldn’t resist the temptation of standing78 still for a moment to take a good long gaze at her. “What’s she doing up here alone?” he asked at last, turning curiously79 to Will, as the girl still smiled at him. “Does she come up here every day? It’s a fearful long pull for her. But then?—?this charming air! such strength! such agility80!”
“Why, she lives here,” Will answered, surprised that anyone shouldn’t know what to him was such an obvious and familiar fact. “She doesn’t come up at all, except once in the spring; and in autumn she goes down again. It must be nearly time for her to go down now, I should say. There’s not much fodder81 left in these upper alps here.”
“Lives here!” Florian exclaimed, taken aback. “What??—?and sleeps here as well? You don’t mean to say she sleeps in that little wooden box there?”
“Certainly. She’s a sennerin, you know; it’s her business to do it. All the alp girls live like that; they’ve been born and brought up to it.”
In his innermost soul, Florian was dying to know what manner of wild beast a sennerin might be?—?being undecided in his own mind as to whether it was most probably the name of a race, a religion, a caste, or a profession. But it would have been treason to his principles to confess this fact, so he compromised with his curiosity by murmuring blandly82 in reply, “Oh, ay, to be sure, a sennerin! I might have guessed it! Do you think now, Deverill, if we asked her very nicely, she’d let us go in and inspect her chalet?”
“I’m sure she would,” Will answered, half repressing a smile. “They see so little of any outsiders while they’re up here on their alps that they’re only too glad, as a rule, when a stranger visits them. We’ll give her a couple of kreuzers for a glass of milk; that’ll serve as an introduction.”
He raised his hat jauntily83, and approached the hut with a few words of apology. The sennerin smiled in return, bobbed, curtseying low, and welcomed them affably to her hospitable84 shelter. After a minute’s parley85 with Will, the good-humoured young woman brought out a jug86 of fresh milk, still frothy from the cow, and poured it out for them liberally in a blue stoneware mug. Will drank his off at a draught87; Florian hated milk, but as admirer of female beauty?—?she was a good-looking wench?—?he gulped88 it down to the dregs without even a grimace89, and handed the mug back again. Then Deverill talked for a while with their sunburnt entertainer in that unknown tongue which Florian didn’t understand; though he could see from their laughing faces and their quick tones of repartee90 that she was a merry brown lass, shy and bashful indeed before the foreign gentlefolk, but frank and fearless for all that as his soul could wish, and absolutely free from the absurd conventionalities and mauvaise honte of the women who dwell in our too civilised cities. She was no more afraid of men than of oxen. Florian liked that well. Here, at least, was true freedom; here, at least, was ancestral simplicity91 of life; here the woman held her own on equal terms with the man; here love was unfettered by law or by gold, untrammelled by those hampering92 inconvenient93 restraints of parental94 supervision95, society, or priestcraft, which impede96 its true course in our too complex communities. Florian’s lungs breathed freer in this rarified air: he had risen above the zone of Mrs Grundy.
At the end of their brisk colloquy97, which he followed but in part, the sennerin, with a gesture of countrified courtesy, turned to the door with a pretty smile and waved Florian into her chalet. “She says you may look over it and welcome,” Will Deverill explained, interrupting. Florian, nothing daunted98, entered and gazed around. It was a rough log hut, divided into two rooms by a wooden partition?—?a big one, with a door behind, for the cows and calves99; and a little one, with a door in front, for the sennerin’s own bedchamber, kitchen, and parlour. The chief article of furniture seemed to him to consist of a great black cauldron, suspended from a crane over the open fireplace, and used?—?so Will assured him?—?as the principal utensil100 in the manufacture of cheese. The fire itself blazed in a hole, dug roughly in the floor of native turf; the edge of this hole, cut out into a rude seat, did duty as sofa, couch, chair, and chimney-corner. Florian sniffed101 somewhat dubiously102. “And she sleeps here all alone?” he said, with a suppressed shudder103. This was Arcadian simplicity, he felt, with quite too much of the bloom off.
“Yes; she sleeps here all alone,” Will answered, undisturbed. “Comes up in May, when the snow first melts, and goes down in October, when it begins to lie thick again.”
The sennerin, laughing aloud, confirmed his report with many nods and shrugs104, and much good-humoured merriment. It amused her to see the stranger’s half-incredulous astonishment105.
“And aren’t you frightened?” Florian asked, Will interpreting the question for him.
The sennerin laughed the bare idea to scorn. “Why should I be?” she exclaimed, brimming over with smiles of na?ve surprise at such a grotesque106 notion. “There are plenty more girls in all the other huts on the alps round about. This hut’s Andreas Hausberger’s, and so are that and that. He owns all these pastures; we come up and herd107 cows for him.”
“Isn’t it terribly lonely, though?” Florian inquired with open eyes, reflecting silently to himself that after all there were advantages?—?of a sort?—?in Bond Street.
“Lonely!” the sennerin cried, in her own country dialect. “We’ve no time to be lonely. We have to mind the cows, don’t you see, worthy108 well-born Herr, and give milk to the calves, and make cheese and butter, and clean our pots and pans, and do everything ourselves for our food and washing. I can tell you we’re tired enough when the day’s well over, and we can creep into our loft109, and fall asleep on the straw there.”
“And she has no Society?” Florian exclaimed, all aghast at the thought. For to him the companionship of his brother man, and perhaps even more of his sister woman, was a necessary of existence.
The girl’s eye brightened with an unwonted fire as Will explained the remark to her. “Ah, yes,” she said half-saucily, with a very coquettish toss of her pretty black head; “when Saturday night comes round then sure enough our mountain lads climb up from the valley below to visit us. We have Sunday to ourselves?—?and them?—?till Monday morning; for you know the song says?—?” and she trilled it out archly in clear, quick notes?—
“With my pouch110 unhung,
And my rifle slung111,
And away to my black-eyed alp-girl!”
She sang it expressively112, in a rich full voice, far sweeter than could have been expected from so stalwart a maiden113. Florian saw an opportunity for bringing out one stray phrase from his slender stock of German. “Das ist sch?n,” he cried, clapping his hands; “sehr sch?n! So sch?n!” Then he relapsed into his mother-tongue. “And you sing it admirably!”
Their evident appreciation touched the alp-girl’s vanity. Like most of her class she had no false modesty114. She broke out at once spontaneously into another native song, with a wild free lilt, which exactly suited both her voice and character. It was excellently rendered; even Florian, that stern critic, admitted as much; and as soon as she ended both men clapped their hands in sincere applause of her unpremeditated performance. The sennerin looked down modestly when Will praised her singing. “Ah, you should just hear Linnet!” she cried, in unaffected self-depreciation.
“And who’s Linnet?” Will asked, smiling at the girl’s perfect frankness.
“Oh, she’s one of Herr Hausberger’s cow-girls,” the sennerin answered, with a little shake of her saucy115 head. “But you needn’t ask her; she’s a great deal too shy; she won’t give you a chance; she never sings before strangers.”
“That’s a pity,” Will replied, lightly, not much thinking what he said; “for if she sings better than you, worthy friend, she must be well worth hearing.”
The sennerin looked down again. Her ruddy cheek glowed ruddier. Such praise from such lips discomposed her serenity116. Will glanced at his watch. “We must be going, Florian,” he said. “Half-past twelve already! I’ve no coppers117 in my pocket. Have you anything you can offer this lady gay for her agreeable entertainment?”
Florian pulled out his purse, and took from it gingerly a well-worn twenty-kreuzer piece?—?one of those flimsy silvered shams118 which the Austrian Government in its paternal119 stinginess imposes as money upon its faithful lieges. The sennerin accepted it with a profusion120 of thanks, and smothered121 the generous donor’s hand with unstinted kisses. So much happiness may a man diffuse122 in this world of woe123 with a fourpenny bit, bestowed124 in due season! But Florian mistook that customary symbol of thanks on the alp-girl’s part for an expression of her most heart-felt personal consideration; and not to be outdone when it came to idyllic courtship, he lifted her hand in return to his own gracious lips and kissed it gallantly125. Will raised his hat and smiled, without commenting on this misconception, and with a cheery “Auf wiedersehen!” they went on their way rejoicing once more up the slopes of the mountain.
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收听单词发音
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1
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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2
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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3
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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refreshingly
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| adv.清爽地，有精神地 | |
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8
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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stanza
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| n.（诗）节，段 | |
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glaciers
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| 冰河，冰川( glacier的名词复数 ) | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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subsist
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| vi.生存，存在，供养 | |
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abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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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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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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suppleness
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| 柔软； 灵活； 易弯曲； 顺从 | |
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deftness
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elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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discriminative
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| 有判别力 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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45
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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46
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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48
incongruities
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| n.不协调( incongruity的名词复数 )；不一致；不适合；不协调的东西 | |
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49
gainsaying
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| v.否认，反驳( gainsay的现在分词 ) | |
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50
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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51
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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52
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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53
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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54
modulates
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| 调整( modulate的第三人称单数 )； （对波幅、频率的）调制； 转调； 调整或改变（嗓音）的音调 | |
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55
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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accomplishment
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| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
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57
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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58
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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60
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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61
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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62
approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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63
component
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| n.组成部分，成分，元件；adj.组成的，合成的 | |
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64
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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67
idyllic
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| adj.质朴宜人的，田园风光的 | |
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68
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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69
chirping
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的现在分词 ) | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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71
clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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73
flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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74
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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76
tedded
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| v.翻晒( ted的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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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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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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81
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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85
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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86
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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88
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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hampering
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的现在分词 ) | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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impede
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，阻止 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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utensil
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| n.器皿，用具 | |
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101
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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102
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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103
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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104
shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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105
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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106
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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107
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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108
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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109
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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110
pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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111
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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112
expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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113
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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114
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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115
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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116
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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117
coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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118
shams
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| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
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119
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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120
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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121
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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122
diffuse
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| v.扩散；传播；adj.冗长的；四散的，弥漫的 | |
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123
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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124
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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