“I sat with her constantly for many days; but she never spoke9 of Clément. She forced herself to talk of the little occurrences of Parisian society in former days: she tried to be conversational10 and agreeable, and to betray no anxiety or even interest in the object of Clément’s journey; and, as far as unremitting efforts could go, she succeeded. But the tones of her voice were sharp and yet piteous, as if she were in constant pain; and the glance of her eye hurried and fearful, as if she dared not let it rest on any object.
“In a week we heard of Clément’s safe arrival on the French coast. He sent a letter to this effect by the captain of the smuggler11, when the latter returned. We hoped to hear again; but week after week elapsed, and there was no news of Clément. I had told Lord Ludlow, in Madame de Créquy’s presence, as he and I had arranged, of the note I had received from her son, informing us of his landing in France. She heard, but{128} she took no notice. Yet now, evidently, she began to wonder that we did not mention any further intelligence of him in the same manner before her; and daily I began to fear that her pride would give way, and that she would supplicate12 for news before I had any to give her.
“One morning, on my awakening13, my maid told me that Madame de Créquy had passed a wretched night, and had bidden Medlicott (whom, as understanding French, and speaking it pretty well, though with that horrid15 German accent, I had put about her) request that I would go to madame’s room as soon as I was dressed.
“I knew what was coming, and I trembled all the time they were doing my hair, and otherwise arranging me. I was not encouraged by my lord’s speeches. He had heard the message, and kept declaring that he would rather be shot than have to tell her that there was no news of her son; and yet he said, every now and then, when I was at the lowest pitch of uneasiness, that he never expected to hear again: that some day soon we should see him walking in, and introducing Mademoiselle de Créquy to us.
“However, at last I was ready, and go I must.
“Her eyes were fixed16 on the door by which I entered. I went up to the bedside. She was not rouged,{129}—she had left it off now for several days,—she no longer attempted to keep up the vain show of not feeling, and loving, and fearing.
“For a moment or two she did not speak, and I was glad of the respite17.
“‘Clément?’ she said at length, covering her mouth with a handkerchief the minute she had spoken, that I might not see it quiver.
“‘There has been no news since the first letter, saying how well the voyage was performed, and how safely he had landed,—near Dieppe, you know,’ I replied as cheerfully as possible. ‘My lord does not expect that we shall have another letter; he thinks that we shall see him soon.’
“There was no answer. As I looked, uncertain whether to do or say more, she slowly turned herself in bed, and lay with her face to the wall; and, as if that did not shut out the light of day and the busy, happy world enough, she put out her trembling hands, and covered her face with her handkerchief. There was no violence: hardly any sound.
“I told her what my lord had said about Clément’s coming in some day, and taking us all by surprise. I did not believe it myself, but it was just possible,—and I had nothing else to say. Pity, to one who was striving so hard to conceal19 her feelings, would have{130} been impertinent. She let me talk; but she did not reply. She knew that my words were vain and idle, and had no root in my belief, as well as I did myself.
“I was very thankful when Medlicott came in with Madame’s breakfast, and gave me an excuse for leaving.
“But I think that conversation made me feel more anxious and impatient than ever. I felt almost pledged to Madame de Créquy for the fulfilment of the vision I had held out. She had taken entirely20 to her bed by this time; not from illness, but because she had no hope within her to stir her up to the effort of dressing21. In the same way she hardly cared for food. She had no appetite,—why eat to prolong a life of despair? But she let Medlicott feed her, sooner than take the trouble of resisting.
“And so it went on,—for weeks, months,—I could hardly count the time, it seemed so long. Medlicott told me she noticed a preternatural sensitiveness of ear in Madame de Créquy, induced by the habit of listening silently for the slightest unusual sound in the house. Medlicott was always a minute watcher of any one whom she cared about; and, one day, she made me notice by a sign madame’s acuteness of hearing, although the quick expectation was but evinced for a moment in the turn of the eye, the hushed breath—and{131} then, when the unusual footstep turned into my lord’s apartments, the soft quivering sigh, and the closed eyelids22.
“At length the intendant of the De Créquy estates,—the old man, you will remember, whose information respecting Virginie de Créquy first gave Clément the desire to return to Paris,—came to St. James’s Square, and begged to speak to me. I made haste to go down to him in the housekeeper’s room, sooner than that he should be ushered23 into mine, for fear of madame hearing any sound.
“The old man stood—I see him now—with his hat held before him in both his hands; he slowly bowed till his face touched it when I came in. Such long excess of courtesy augured24 ill. He waited for me to speak.
“‘Have you any intelligence?’ I inquired. He had been often to the house before, to ask if we had received any news; and once or twice I had seen him, but this was the first time he had begged to see me.
“‘Yes, madame,’ he replied, still standing14 with his head bent25 down, like a child in disgrace.
“‘And it is bad!’ I exclaimed.
“‘It is bad.’ For a moment I was angry at the cold tone in which my words were echoed; but directly afterwards I saw the large, slow, heavy tears of{132} age falling down the old man’s cheeks, and on to the sleeves of his poor, thread-bare coat.
“I asked him how he had heard it: it seemed as though I could not all at once bear to hear what it was. He told me that the night before, in crossing Long Acre, he had stumbled upon an old acquaintance of his; one who, like himself, had been a dependant26 upon the De Créquy family, but had managed their Paris affairs, while Fléchier had taken charge of their estates in the country. Both were now emigrants27, and living on the proceeds of such small available talents as they possessed28. Fléchier, as I knew, earned a very fair livelihood29 by going about to dress salads for dinner parties. His compatriot, Le Fèbvre, had begun to give a few lessons as a dancing-master. One of them took the other home to his lodgings30; and there, when their most immediate32 personal adventures had been hastily talked over, came the inquiry33 from Fléchier as to Monsieur de Créquy.
“‘Clément was dead—guillotined. Virginie was dead—guillotined.’
“When Fléchier had told me thus much, he could not speak for sobbing34; and I, myself, could hardly tell how to restrain my tears sufficiently35, until I could go to my own room and be at liberty to give way. He asked my leave to bring in his friend Le Fèbvre, who{133} was walking in the square, awaiting a possible summons to tell his story. I heard afterwards a good many details, which filled up the account, and made me feel—which brings me back to the point I started from—how unfit the lower orders are for being trusted indiscriminately with the dangerous powers of education. I have made a long preamble36, but now I am coming to the moral of my story.”
My lady was trying to shake off the emotion which she evidently felt in recurring37 to this sad history of Monsieur de Créquy’s death. She came behind me, and arranged my pillows, and then, seeing I had been crying—for, indeed, I was weak-spirited at the time, and a little served to unloose my tears—she stooped down, and kissed my forehead, and said “Poor child!” almost as if she thanked me for feeling that old grief of hers.
“Being once in France, it was no difficult thing for Clément to get into Paris. The difficulty in those days was to leave, not to enter. He came in dressed as a Norman peasant, in charge of a load of fruit and vegetables, with which one of the Seine barges38 was freighted. He worked hard with his companions in landing and arranging their produce on the quays39; and then, when they dispersed40 to get their breakfasts at some of the estaminets near the old{134} Marché aux Fleurs, he sauntered up a street which conducted him, by many an odd turn, through the Quartier Latin to a horrid back alley41, leading out of the Rue42 l’Ecole de Médécine; some atrocious place, as I have heard, not far from the shadow of that terrible Abbaye, where so many of the best blood of France awaited their deaths. But here some old man lived on whose fidelity43 Clément thought that he might rely. I am not sure if he had not been gardener in those very gardens behind the H?tel Créquy where Clément and Urian used to play together years before. But, whatever the old man’s dwelling44 might be, Clément was only too glad to reach it, you may be sure. He had been kept in Normandy, in all sorts of disguises, for many days after landing in Dieppe, through the difficulty of entering Paris unsuspected by the many ruffians who were always on the look-out for aristocrats47.
“The old gardener was, I believe, both faithful and tried, and sheltered Clément in his garret as well as might be. Before he could stir out, it was necessary to procure48 a fresh disguise; and one more in character with an inhabitant of Paris than that of a Norman carter was procured49; and, after waiting in-doors for one or two days, to see if any suspicion was excited, Clément set off to discover Virginie.
“He found her at the old concièrge’s dwelling.{135} Madame Babette was the name of this woman, who must have been a less faithful—or rather, perhaps I should say, a more interested—friend to her guest than the old gardener Jacques was to Clément.
“I have seen a miniature of Virginie, which a French lady of quality happened to have in her possession at the time of her flight from Paris, and which she brought with her to England unwittingly; for it belonged to the Count de Créquy, with whom she was slightly acquainted. I should fancy from it, that Virginie was taller and of a more powerful figure for a woman than her cousin Clément was for a man. Her dark-brown hair was arranged in short curls—the way of dressing the hair announced the politics of the individual, in those days, just as patches did in my grandmother’s time; and Virginie’s hair was not to my taste, or according to my principles; it was too classical. Her large, black eyes looked out at you steadily50. One cannot judge of the shape of a nose from a full-face miniature, but the nostrils51 were clearly cut and largely opened. I do not fancy her nose could have been pretty; but her mouth had a character all its own, and which would, I think, have redeemed52 a plainer face. It was wide and deep set into the cheeks at the corners; the upper lip was very much arched, and hardly closed over the teeth; so that the whole face{136} looked (from the serious, intent look in the eyes, and the sweet intelligence of the month) as if she were listening eagerly to something to which her answer was quite ready, and would come out of those red, opening lips as soon as ever you had done speaking, and you longed to know what she would say.
“Well; this Virginie de Créquy was living with Madame Babette in the concièrgerie of an old French inn, somewhere to the north of Paris, so, far enough from Clément’s refuge. The inn had been frequented by farmers from Brittany and such kind of people, in the days when that sort of intercourse53 went on between Paris and the provinces which had nearly stopped now. Few Bretons came near it now, and the inn had fallen into the hands of Madame Babette’s brother, as payment for a bad wine debt of the last proprietor54. He put his sister and her child in, to keep it open, as it were, and sent all the people he could to occupy the half-furnished rooms of the house. They paid Babette for their lodging31 every morning as they went out to breakfast, and returned or not as they chose, at night. Every three days, the wine-merchant or his son came to Madame Babette, and she accounted to them for the money she had received. She and her child occupied the porter’s office (in which the lad slept at nights) and a little, miserable55 bed-room which opened{137} out of it, and received all the light and air that was admitted through the door of communication, which was half glass. Madame Babette must have had a kind of attachment56 for the De Créquys—her De Créquys, you understand—Virginie’s father, the Count; for, at some risk to herself, she had warned both him and his daughter of the danger impending57 over them. But he, infatuated, would not believe, that his dear Human Race could ever do him harm; and, as long as he did not fear, Virginie was not afraid. It was by some ruse58, the nature of which I never heard, that Madame Babette induced Virginie to come to her abode59 at the very hour in which the Count had been recognised in the streets, and hurried off to the Lanterne. It was after Babette had got her there, safe shut up in the little back den5, that she told her what had befallen her father. From that day, Virginie had never stirred out of the gates, or crossed the threshold of the porter’s lodge60. I do not say that Madame Babette was tired of her continual presence, or regretted the impulse which had made her rush to the De Créquy’s well-known house—after being compelled to form one of the mad crowds that saw the Count de Créquy seized and hung—and hurry his daughter out, through alleys61 and back-ways, until at length she had the orphan62 safe in her own dark sleeping-room, and could tell her tale of{138} horror: but Madame Babette was poorly paid for her porter’s work by her avaricious63 brother; and it was hard enough to find food for herself and her growing boy; and, though the poor girl ate little enough, I dare say, yet there seemed no end to the burthen that Madame Babette had imposed upon herself: the De Créquys were plundered64, ruined, had become an extinct race, all but a lonely, friendless girl, in broken health and spirits; and, though she lent no positive encouragement to his suit, yet, at the time, when Clément reappeared in Paris, Madame Babette was beginning to think that Virginie might do worse than encourage the attentions of Monsieur Morin Fils, her nephew, and the wine-merchant’s son. Of course, he and his father had the entrée into the concièrgerie of the h?tel that belonged to them, in right of being both proprietors65 and relations. The son, Morin, had seen Virginie in this manner. He was fully18 aware that she was far above him in rank, and guessed from her whole aspect that she had lost her natural protectors by the terrible guillotine; but he did not know her exact name or station, nor could he persuade his aunt to tell him. However, he fell head over ears in love with her, whether she were princess or peasant; and, though at first there was something about her which made his passionate66 love conceal itself with shy, awkward{139} reserve, and then, made it only appear in the guise45 of deep, respectful devotion; yet, by-and-by,—by the same process of reasoning I suppose that his aunt had gone through even before him—Jean Morin began to let Hope oust67 Despair from his heart. Sometimes he thought—perhaps years hence—that solitary68, friendless lady, pent up in squalor, might turn to him as to a friend and comforter—and then—and then——. Meanwhile Jean Morin was most attentive69 to his aunt; whom he had rather slighted before. He would linger over the accounts; would bring her little presents; and, above all, he made a pet and favourite of Pierre, the little cousin who could tell him about all the ways of going on of Mam’selle Cannes, as Virginie was called. Pierre was thoroughly70 aware of the drift and cause of his cousin’s inquiries71; and was his ardent72 partisan73, as I have heard, even before Jean Morin had exactly acknowledged his wishes to himself.
“It must have required some patience and much diplomacy74, before Clément de Créquy found out the exact place where his cousin was hidden. The old gardener took the cause very much to heart; as, judging from my recollections, I imagine he would have forwarded any fancy, however wild, of Monsieur Clément’s. (I will tell you afterwards how I came to know all these particulars so well.){140}
“After Clément’s return, on two succeeding days, from his dangerous search, without meeting with any good result, Jacques entreated75 Monsieur de Créquy to let him take it in hand. He represented that he, as gardener for the space of twenty years and more at the H?tel de Créquy, had a right to be acquainted with all the successive concièrges at the Count’s house; that he should not go among them as a stranger, but as an old friend, anxious to renew pleasant intercourse; and that if the Intendant’s story, which he had told Monsieur de Créquy in England, was true, that Mademoiselle was in hiding at the house of a former concièrge, why, something relating to her would surely drop out in the course of conversation. So he persuaded Clément to remain in-doors, while he set off on his round, with no apparent object but to gossip.
“At night he came home,—having seen Mademoiselle. He told Clément much of the story relating to Madame Babette that I have told to you. Of course, he had heard nothing of the ambitious hopes of Morin Fils,—hardly of his existence, I should think. Madame Babette had received him kindly76; although, for some time, she had kept him standing in the carriage gateway77 outside her door. But, on his complaining of the draught78 and his rheumatism79, she had asked him in: first looking round with some anxiety, to see who was{141} in the room behind her. No one was there when he entered and sat down. But, in a minute or two, a tall, thin young lady, with great, sad eyes, and pale cheeks, came from the inner room, and, seeing him, retired80. ‘It is Mademoiselle Cannes,’ said Madame Babette, rather unnecessarily; for, if he had not been on the watch for some sign of Mademoiselle de Créquy, he would hardly have noticed the entrance and withdrawal81.
“Clément and the good old gardener were always rather perplexed82 by Madame Babette’s evident avoidance of all mention of the De Créquy family. If she were so much interested in one member as to be willing to undergo the pains and penalties of a domiciliary visit, it was strange that she never inquired after the existence of her charge’s friends and relations from one who might very probably have heard something of them. They settled that Madame Babette must believe that the Marquise and Clément were dead; and admired her for her reticence83 in never speaking of Virginie. The truth was, I suspect, that she was so desirous of her nephew’s success by this time, that she did not like letting any one into the secret of Virginie’s whereabouts who might interfere84 with their plan. However, it was arranged between Clément and his humble85 friend, that the former, dressed in the peasant’s clothes{142} in which he had entered Paris, but smartened up in one or two particulars, as if, although a countryman, he had money to spare, should go and engage a sleeping-room in the old Bréton Inn; where, as I told you, accommodation for the night was to be had. This was accordingly done, without exciting Madame Babette’s suspicions, for she was unacquainted with the Normandy accent, and consequently did not perceive the exaggeration of it which Monsieur de Créquy adopted in order to disguise his pure Parisian. But after he had for two nights slept in a queer, dark closet, at the end of one of the numerous short galleries in the H?tel Duguesclin, and paid his money for such accommodation each morning at the little bureau under the window of the concièrgerie, he found himself no nearer to his object. He stood outside in the gateway: Madame Babette opened a pane86 in her window, counted out the change, gave polite thanks, and shut to the pane with a clack, before he could ever find out what to say that might be the means of opening a conversation. Once in the streets, he was in danger from the bloodthirsty mob, who were ready in those days to hunt to death every one who looked like a gentleman, as an aristocrat46: and Clément, depend upon it, looked a gentleman, whatever dress he wore. Yet it was unwise to traverse Paris to his old friend the gardener’s grénier, so he{143} had to loiter about, where I hardly know. Only he did leave the H?tel Duguesclin, and he did not go to old Jacques, and there was not another house in Paris open to him. At the end of two days, he had made out Pierre’s existence; and he began to try to make friends with the lad. Pierre was too sharp and shrewd not to suspect something from the confused attempts at friendliness87. It was not for nothing that the Norman farmer lounged in the court and doorway88, and brought home presents of galette. Pierre accepted the galette, reciprocated89 the civil speeches, but kept his eyes open. Once, returning home pretty late at night, he surprised the Norman studying the shadows on the blind, which was drawn90 down when Madame Babette’s lamp was lighted. On going in, he found Mademoiselle Cannes with his mother, sitting by the table, and helping91 in the family mending.
“Pierre was afraid that the Norman had some view upon the money which his mother, as concièrge, collected for her brother. But the money was all safe next evening when his cousin, Monsieur Morin Fils, came to collect it. Madame Babette asked her nephew to sit down, and skilfully92 barred the passage to the inner door, so that Virginie, had she been ever so much disposed, could not have retreated. She sat silently sewing. All at once the little party were startled by{144} a very sweet tenor93 voice, just close to the street window, singing one of the airs out of Beaumarchais’ operas, which, a few years before, had been popular all over Paris. But after a few moments of silence, and one or two remarks, the talking went on again. Pierre, however, noticed an increased air of abstraction in Virginie, who, I suppose, was recurring to the last time that she had heard the song, and did not consider, as her cousin had hoped she would have done, what were the words set to the air, which he imagined she would remember, and which would have told her so much. For, only a few years before, Adam’s opera of Richard le Roi had made the story of the Minstrel Blondel and our English C?ur de Lion familiar to all the opera-going part of the Parisian public, and Clément had bethought him of establishing a communication with Virginie by some such means.
“The next night, about the same hour, the same voice was singing outside the window again. Pierre, who had been irritated by the proceeding94 the evening before, as it had diverted Virginie’s attention from his cousin, who had been doing his utmost to make himself agreeable, rushed out to the door, just as the Norman was ringing the bell to be admitted for the night. Pierre looked up and down the street; no one else was to be seen. The next day, the Norman mollified{145} him somewhat by knocking at the door of the concièrgerie, and begging Monsieur Pierre’s acceptance of some knee-buckles, which had taken the country farmer’s fancy the day before, as he had been gazing into the shops, but which, being too small for his purpose, he took the liberty of offering to Monsieur Pierre. Pierre, a French boy, inclined to foppery, was charmed, ravished by the beauty of the present and with monsieur’s goodness, and he began to adjust them to his breeches immediately, as well as he could, at least, in his mother’s absence. The Norman, whom Pierre kept carefully on the outside of the threshold, stood by, as if amused at the boy’s eagerness.
“‘Take care,’ said he, clearly and distinctly; ‘take care, my little friend, lest you become a fop; and, in that case, some day, years hence, when your heart is devoted95 to some young lady, she may be inclined to say to you’—-here he raised his voice—‘No, thank you; when I marry, I marry a man, not a petit-ma?tre; I marry a man, who, whatever his position may be, will add dignity to the human race by his virtues96.’ Farther than that in his quotation97 Clément dared not go. His sentiments (so much above the apparent occasion) met with applause from Pierre, who liked to contemplate98 himself in the light of a lover, even though it should be a rejected one, and who hailed the mention{146} of the words ‘virtues’ and ‘dignity of the human race’ as belonging to the cant99 of a good citizen.
“But Clément was more anxious to know how the invisible lady took his speech. There was no sign at the time. But when he returned at night, he heard a voice, low singing, behind Madame Babette, as she handed him his candle, the very air he had sung without effect for two nights past. As if he had caught it up from her murmuring voice, he sang it loudly and clearly as he crossed the court.
“‘Here is our opera-singer!’ exclaimed Madame Babette. ‘Why, the Norman grazier sings like Boupré,’ naming a favourite singer at the neighbouring theatre.
“Pierre was struck by the remark, and quietly resolved to look after the Norman; but again, I believe, it was more because of his mother’s deposit of money than with any thought of Virginie.
“However, the next morning, to the wonder of both mother and son, Mademoiselle Cannes proposed, with much hesitation100, to go out and make some little purchase for herself. A month or two ago, this was what Madame Babette had been never weary of urging. But now she was as much surprised as if she had expected Virginie to remain a prisoner in her rooms all the rest of her life. I suppose she had hoped that her first time of quitting it would be when she left it for Monsieur’s Morin’s house as his wife.
“A quick look from Madame Babette towards Pierre was all that was needed to encourage the boy to follow her. He went out cautiously. She was at the end of the street. She looked up and down, as if waiting for some one. No one was there. Back she came, so swiftly that she nearly caught Pierre before he could retreat through the porte-cochère. There he looked out again. The neighbourhood was low and wild, and strange; and some one spoke to Virginie,—nay, laid his hand upon her arm,—whose dress and aspect (he had emerged out of a side-street) Pierre did not know; but, after a start, and (Pierre could fancy) a little scream, Virginie recognised the stranger, and the two turned up the side street whence the man had come. Pierre stole swiftly to the corner of this street; no one was there: they had disappeared up some of the alleys. Pierre returned home to excite his mother’s infinite surprise. But they had hardly done talking, when Virginie returned, with a colour and a radiance in her face, which they had never seen there since her father’s death.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
raved
|
|
| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
delirium
|
|
| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
exhaustion
|
|
| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
nautical
|
|
| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
auspices
|
|
| n.资助，赞助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
alluding
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
smuggler
|
|
| n.走私者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
supplicate
|
|
| v.恳求；adv.祈求地，哀求地，恳求地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
horrid
|
|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
respite
|
|
| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
dressing
|
|
| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
augured
|
|
| v.预示，预兆，预言( augur的过去式和过去分词 )；成为预兆；占卜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
dependant
|
|
| n.依靠的，依赖的，依赖他人生活者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
emigrants
|
|
| n.（从本国移往他国的）移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
livelihood
|
|
| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
preamble
|
|
| n.前言；序文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
recurring
|
|
| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
barges
|
|
| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
quays
|
|
| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
aristocrat
|
|
| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
aristocrats
|
|
| n.贵族( aristocrat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
redeemed
|
|
| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
impending
|
|
| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
ruse
|
|
| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
alleys
|
|
| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
avaricious
|
|
| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
plundered
|
|
| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
oust
|
|
| vt.剥夺，取代，驱逐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
ardent
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
partisan
|
|
| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
diplomacy
|
|
| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
gateway
|
|
| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
rheumatism
|
|
| n.风湿病 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
withdrawal
|
|
| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
reticence
|
|
| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
pane
|
|
| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
reciprocated
|
|
| v.报答，酬答( reciprocate的过去式和过去分词 )；（机器的部件）直线往复运动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
skilfully
|
|
| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
tenor
|
|
| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
quotation
|
|
| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
cant
|
|
| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |