After a while, the door communicating with the tribunal opened, and the humpbacked jailer made his appearance, leading in Trudaine and Rose.
“You will have to wait here,” said the little man, “till the rest of them have been tried and sentenced; and then you will all go back to prison in a lump. Ha, citizen,” he continued, observing Lomaque at the other end of the hall, and bustling5 up to him. “Here still, eh? If you were going to stop much longer, I should ask a favor of you.”
“I am in no hurry,” said Lomaque, with a glance at the two prisoners.
“Good!” cried the humpback, drawing his hand across his mouth; “I am parched6 with thirst, and dying to moisten my throat at the wine-shop over the way. Just mind that man and woman while I’m gone, will you? It’s the merest form—there’s a guard outside, the windows are barred, the tribunal is within hail. Do you mind obliging me?”
“On the contrary, I am glad of the opportunity.”
“That’s a good fellow—and, remember, if I am asked for, you must say I was obliged to quit the court for a few minutes, and left you in charge.”
With these words, the humpbacked jailer ran off to the wine-shop.
He had scarcely disappeared before Trudaine crossed the room, and caught Lomaque by the arm.
“Save her,” he whispered; “there is an opportunity—save her!” His face was flushed—his eyes wandered—his breath on the chief agent’s cheek, while he spoke7, felt scorching8 hot. “Save her!” he repeated, shaking Lomaque by the arm, and dragging him toward the door. “Remember all you owe to my father—remember our talk on that bench by the river—remember what you said to me yourself on the night of the arrest—don’t wait to think—save her, and leave me without a word! If I die alone, I can die as a man should; if she goes to the scaffold by my side, my heart will fail me—I shall die the death of a coward! I have lived for her life—let me die for it, and I die happy!”
He tried to say more, but the violence of his agitation9 forbade it. He could only shake the arm he held again and again, and point to the bench on which Rose sat—her head sunk on her bosom10, her hands crossed listlessly on her lap.
“There are two armed sentinels outside—the windows are barred—you are without weapons—and even if you had them, there is a guard-house within hail on one side of you, and the tribunal on the other. Escape from this room is impossible,” answered Lomaque.
“Impossible!” repeated the other, furiously. “You traitor11! you coward! can you look at her sitting there helpless, her very life ebbing12 away already with every minute that passes, and tell me coolly that escape is impossible?”
In the frenzy13 of his grief and despair, he lifted his disengaged hand threateningly while he spoke. Lomaque caught him by the wrist, and drew him toward a window open at the top.
“You are not in your right senses,” said the chief agent, firmly; “anxiety and apprehension14 on your sister’s account have shaken your mind. Try to compose yourself, and listen to me. I have something important to say—” (Trudaine looked at him incredulously.) “Important,” continued Lomaque, “as affecting your sister’s interests at this terrible crisis.”
That last appeal had an instantaneous effect. Trudaine’s outstretched hand dropped to his side, and a sudden change passed over his expression.
“Give me a moment,” he said, faintly; and turning away, leaned against the wall and pressed his burning forehead on the chill, damp stone. He did not raise his head again till he had mastered himself, and could say quietly, “Speak; I am fit to hear you, and sufficiently15 in my senses to ask your forgiveness for what I said just now.”
“When I left the tribunal and entered this room,” Lomaque began in a whisper, “there was no thought in my mind that could be turned to good account, either for your sister or for you. I was fit for nothing but to deplore16 the failure of the confession17 which I came to St. Lazare to suggest to you as your best plan of defense18. Since then, an idea has struck me, which may be useful—an idea so desperate, so uncertain—involving a proposal so absolutely dependent, as to its successful execution, on the merest chance, that I refuse to confide19 it to you except on one condition.”
“Mention the condition! I submit to it before hand.”
“Give me your word of honor that you will not mention what I am about to say to your sister until I grant you permission to speak. Promise me that when you see her shrinking before the terrors of death to-night, you will have self-restraint enough to abstain20 from breathing a word of hope to her. I ask this, because there are ten—twenty—fifty chances to one that there is no hope.”
“I have no choice but to promise,” answered Trudaine.
Lomaque produced his pocket-book and pencil before he spoke again.
“I will enter into particulars as soon as I have asked a strange question of you,” he said. “You have been a great experimenter in chemistry in your time—is your mind calm enough, at such a trying moment as this, to answer a question which is connected with chemistry in a very humble21 way? You seem astonished. Let me put the question at once. Is there any liquid or powder, or combination of more than one ingredient known, which will remove writing from paper, and leave no stain behind?”
“Certainly! But is that all the question? Is there no greater difficulty?”
“None. Write the prescription22, whatever it may be, on that leaf,” said the other, giving him the pocket-book. “Write it down, with plain directions for use.” Trudaine obeyed. “This is the first step,” continued Lomaque, putting the book in his pocket, “toward the accomplishment23 of my purpose—my uncertain purpose, remember! Now, listen; I am going to put my own head in danger for the chance of saving yours and your sister’s by tampering24 with the death-list. Don’t interrupt me! If I can save one, I can save the other. Not a word about gratitude25! Wait till you know the extent of your obligation. I tell you plainly, at the outset, there is a motive26 of despair, as well as a motive of pity, at the bottom of the action in which I am now about to engage. Silence! I insist on it. Our time is short; it is for me to speak, and for you to listen. The president of the tribunal has put the deathmark against your names on the prison list of to-day. That list, when the trials are over and it is marked to the end, will be called in this room before you are taken to St. Lazare. It will then be sent to Robespierre, who will keep it, having a copy made of it the moment it is delivered, for circulation among his colleagues—St. Just, and the rest. It is my business to make a duplicate of this copy in the first instance. The duplicate will be compared with the original, and possibly with the copy, too, either by Robespierre himself, or by some one in whom he can place implicit27 trust, and will then be sent to St. Lazare without passing through my hands again. It will be read in public the moment it is received, at the grating of the prison, and will afterward28 be kept by the jailer, who will refer to it, as he goes round in the evening with a piece of chalk, to mark the cell doors of the prisoners destined29 for the guillotine to-morrow. That duty happens, to-day, to fall to the hunchback whom you saw speaking to me. He is a confirmed drinker, and I mean to tempt30 him with such wine as he rarely tastes. If—after the reading of the list in public, and before the marking of the cell doors—I can get him to sit down to the bottle, I will answer for making him drunk, for getting the list out of his pocket, and for wiping your names out of it with the prescription you have just written for me. I shall write all the names, one under another, just irregularly enough in my duplicate to prevent the interval31 left by the erasure32 from being easily observed. If I succeed in this, your door will not be marked, and your names will not be called to-morrow morning when the tumbrils come for the guillotine. In the present confusion of prisoners pouring in every day for trial, and prisoners pouring out every day for execution, you will have the best possible chance of security against awkward inquiries33, if you play your cards properly, for a good fortnight or ten days at least. In that time—”
“Well! well!” cried Trudaine, eagerly.
Lomaque looked toward the tribunal door, and lowered his voice to a fainter whisper before he continued, “In that time Robespierre’s own head may fall into the sack! France is beginning to sicken under the Reign34 of Terror. Frenchmen of the Moderate faction35, who have lain hidden for months in cellars and lofts36, are beginning to steal out and deliberate by twos and threes together, under cover of the night. Robespierre has not ventured for weeks past to face the Convention Committee. He only speaks among his own friends at the Jacobins. There are rumors37 of a terrible discovery made by Carnot, of a desperate resolution taken by Tallien. Men watching behind the scenes see that the last days of the Terror are at hand. If Robespierre is beaten in the approaching struggle, you are saved—for the new reign must be a Reign of Mercy. If he conquers, I have only put off the date of your death and your sister’s, and have laid my own neck under the axe38. Those are your chances—this is all I can do.”
He paused, and Trudaine again endeavored to speak such words as might show that he was not unworthy of the deadly risk which Lomaque was prepared to encounter. But once more the chief agent peremptorily39 and irritably40 interposed:
“I tell you, for the third time,” he said, “I will listen to no expressions of gratitude from you till I know when I deserve them. It is true that I recollect41 your father’s timely kindness to me—true that I have not forgotten what passed, five years since at your house by the river-side. I remember everything, down to what you would consider the veriest trifle—that cup of coffee, for instance, which your sister kept hot for me. I told you then that you would think better of me some day. I know that you do now. But this is not all. You want to glorify42 me to my face for risking my life for you. I won’t hear you, because my risk is of the paltriest43 kind. I am weary of my life. I can’t look back to it with pleasure. I am too old to look forward to what is left of it with hope. There was something in that night at your house before the wedding—something in what you said, in what your sister did—which altered me. I have had my days of gloom and self-reproach, from time to time, since then. I have sickened at my slavery, and subjection, and duplicity, and cringing44, first under one master then under another. I have longed to look back at my life, and comfort myself with the sight of some good action, just as a frugal45 man comforts himself with the sight of his little savings46 laid by in an old drawer. I can’t do this, and I want to do it. The want takes me like a fit, at uncertain intervals—suddenly, under the most incomprehensible influences. A glance up at the blue sky—starlight over the houses of this great city, when I look out at the night from my garret window—a child’s voice coming suddenly, I don’t know where from—the piping of my neighbor’s linnet in his little cage—now one trifling47 thing, now another—wakes up that want in me in a moment. Rascal48 as I am, those few simple words your sister spoke to the judge went through and through me like a knife. Strange, in a man like me, isn’t it? I am amazed at it myself. My life? Bah! I’ve let it out for hire to be kicked about by rascals49 from one dirty place to another, like a football! It’s my whim50 to give it a last kick myself, and throw it away decently before it lodges51 on the dunghill forever. Your sister kept a good cup of coffee hot for me, and I give her a bad life in return for the compliment. You want to thank me for it? What folly52! Thank me when I have done something useful. Don’t thank me for that!”
He snapped his fingers contemptuously as he spoke, and walked away to the outer door to receive the jailer, who returned at that moment.
“Well,” inquired the hunchback, “has anybody asked for me?”
“No,” answered Lomaque; “not a soul has entered the room. What sort of wine did you get?”
“So-so! Good at a pinch, friend—good at a pinch.”
“Ah! you should go to my shop and try a certain cask, filled with a particular vintage.”
“What shop? Which vintage?”
“I can’t stop to tell you now; but we shall most likely meet again to-day. I expect to be at the prison this afternoon. Shall I ask for you? Good! I won’t forget!” With those farewell words he went out, and never so much as looked back at the prisoners before he closed the door.
Trudaine returned to his sister, fearful lest his face should betray what had passed during the extraordinary interview between Lomaque and himself. But, whatever change there might be in his expression, Rose did not seem to notice it. She was still strangely inattentive to all outward things. That spirit of resignation, which is the courage of women in all great emergencies, seemed now to be the one animating53 spirit that fed the flame of life within her.
When her brother sat down by her, she only took his hand gently and said: “Let us stop together like this, Louis, till the time comes. I am not afraid of it, for I have nothing but you to make me love life, and you, too, are going to die. Do you remember the time when I used to grieve that I had never had a child to be some comfort to me? I was thinking, a moment ago, how terrible it would have been now, if my wish had been granted. It is a blessing54 for me, in this great misery55, that I am childless. Let us talk of old days, Louis, as long as we can—not of my husband; or my marriage—only of the old times, before I was a burden and a trouble to you.”
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1
perfectly
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adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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2
solitude
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n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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filthy
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adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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incessantly
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ad.不停地 | |
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bustling
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adj.喧闹的 | |
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parched
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adj.焦干的;极渴的;v.(使)焦干 | |
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spoke
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n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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8
scorching
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adj. 灼热的 | |
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agitation
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n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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10
bosom
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n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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traitor
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n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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ebbing
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(指潮水)退( ebb的现在分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
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frenzy
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n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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apprehension
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n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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15
sufficiently
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adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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deplore
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vt.哀叹,对...深感遗憾 | |
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confession
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n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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18
defense
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n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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confide
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v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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20
abstain
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v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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21
humble
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adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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22
prescription
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n.处方,开药;指示,规定 | |
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23
accomplishment
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n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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24
tampering
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v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 );篡改;(用不正当手段)影响;瞎摆弄 | |
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25
gratitude
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adj.感激,感谢 | |
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motive
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n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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27
implicit
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a.暗示的,含蓄的,不明晰的,绝对的 | |
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afterward
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adv.后来;以后 | |
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29
destined
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adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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30
tempt
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vt.引诱,勾引,吸引,引起…的兴趣 | |
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31
interval
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n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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32
erasure
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n.擦掉,删去;删掉的词;消音;抹音 | |
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33
inquiries
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n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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34
reign
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n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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faction
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n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
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lofts
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阁楼( loft的名词复数 ); (由工厂等改建的)套房; 上层楼面; 房间的越层 | |
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rumors
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n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 );[古]名誉;咕哝;[古]喧嚷 | |
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38
axe
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n.斧子;v.用斧头砍,削减 | |
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peremptorily
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adv.紧急地,不容分说地,专横地 | |
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40
irritably
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ad.易生气地 | |
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41
recollect
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v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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glorify
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vt.颂扬,赞美,使增光,美化 | |
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43
paltriest
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paltry(微小的)的最高级形式 | |
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44
cringing
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adj.谄媚,奉承 | |
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45
frugal
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adj.节俭的,节约的,少量的,微量的 | |
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46
savings
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n.存款,储蓄 | |
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trifling
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adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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48
rascal
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n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
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49
rascals
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流氓( rascal的名词复数 ); 无赖; (开玩笑说法)淘气的人(尤指小孩); 恶作剧的人 | |
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50
whim
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n.一时的兴致,突然的念头;奇想,幻想 | |
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51
lodges
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v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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52
folly
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n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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53
animating
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v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 );驱动;使栩栩如生地动作;赋予…以生命 | |
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54
blessing
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n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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55
misery
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n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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