Never had Bivens's offer seemed more generous and wonderful. His pulse beat with quickened stroke as he felt the new sense of power with which he would look out on the world as a possible millionaire.
He gazed over the old Square with a feeling of regret at the thought of leaving it. He had grown to love the place in the past years of loneliness. He had become personally acquainted with every tree and shrub3 and every limb of the nearby trees. He had watched them grow from his window, seen them sway in the storm, bow beneath the ice, and grow into new beauty and life each spring. He was deciding too soon, perhaps. There were some features of Bivens's business he must understand more clearly before he could give up his freedom and devote himself body and soul to the task of money-making as his associate.
He resolved to make his decision with deliberation. But if he should go in for money, he wouldn't forget his old friends, nor would he leave Washington Square. He would buy that corner plot on Fifth Avenue across the way for his house. There should be two beautiful suites4 in it for the doctor and Harriet, and from their windows they could always see the old home on the other side. He would buy the two adjoining houses, turn them into a sanitarium, endow it and place the doctor in charge. And he would give him a fund of ten thousand a year for his outside work among the poor.
He woke from his reverie with a start and looked at his watch to find he had been standing5 there dreaming for half an hour. He hurried across the Square to take a cab at the Brevoort.
His mood was buoyant. He was looking out on life once more through rose-tinted glasses. At Eighth Street he met at right angles the swarming6 thousands hurrying across town from their work—heavy looking men who tramped with tired step, striking the pavements dully with their nailed shoes, tired anxious women, frouzle-headed little girls, sad-eyed boys half-awake—all hurrying, the fear of want and the horror of charity in their silent faces. And yet the sight touched no responsive chord of sympathy in Stuart's heart as it often had. To-night he saw only the thing that is and felt that it was good.
He pushed his way through the shabby throng7, found a cab, sprang in and gave his order to the driver. A row of taxicabs stood by the curb8. He took an old-fashioned hansom from choice. It seemed to link the present moment of his life to the memory of some wonderful hours he had spent, with Nan by his side, years ago.
As the cab whirled up Fifth Avenue he leaned back in his seat with a feeling of glowing satisfaction with himself and the world. The shadows of a beautiful spring night slowly deepened as the city drew her shining mantle9 of light about her proud form. The Avenue flashed with swift silent automobiles10 and blooded horses. These uptown crowds through whose rushing streams he passed were all well dressed and carried bundles of candy, flowers and toys. The newsboys were already crying extras with glowing advance accounts of the banquet and ball.
Stuart felt the contagious11 enthusiasm of thousands of prosperous men and women whose lives at the moment flowed about and enveloped12 his own. This was a pretty fine old world after all, and New York the only town worth living in.
And what was it that made the difference between the squalid atmosphere below Fourth Street and the glowing, flashing, radiant, jewelled world up-town? Money! It meant purple and fine linen13, delicacies14 of food and drink, pulsing machines that could make a mile a minute, high-stepping horses and high-bred dogs, music and dancing, joy and laughter, sport and adventure, the mountain and the sea, freedom from care, fear, drudgery15 and slavery!
After all in this modern passion for money might there not be something deeper than mere16 greed; perhaps the regenerating17 power of the spirit pressing man upward? Certainly he could only see the bright side of it to-night and the wonder grew on him that he had lived for twenty-five years in a fog of sentiment and ignored deliberately18 the biggest fact of the century, while the simpler mind of the poor white boy in Bivens had grasped the truth at once and built his life squarely on it from the beginning. Well, he had set his mind to it at last in time to reach the highest goal of success, if he so willed. For that he was thankful.
As his cab swung into Riverside Drive from Seventy-second Street the sight which greeted him was one of startling splendour.
Bivens's yacht lay at anchor in the river just in front of his house. She was festooned with electric lights from the water line to the top of her towering steel masts. From every shroud19 and halyard hung garlands of light, and the flags which flew from her peaks were illumined with waving red, white and blue colours. From the water's edge floated the songs of Venetian gondoliers imported from Italy for the night's festival, moving back and forth20 from the yacht.
The illumination of the exterior21 of the Bivens house was remarkable22. The stone and iron fence surrounding the block, which had been built at a cost of a hundred thousand dollars, was literally23 ablaze24 with lights. Garlands of tiny electric bulbs had been fastened on every iron picket25, post and cross bar, and the most wonderful effect of all had been achieved by leading these garlands of light along the lines of cement in the massive granite26 walls on which the iron stanchions rested. The effect was a triumph of artistic27 skill, a flashing electric fence built on huge boulders28 of light.
The house was illumined from its foundations to the top of each towering minaret29 with ruby30-coloured lights. Each window, door, cornice, column and line of wall glowed in soft red. The palace gleamed in the darkness like a huge oriental ruby set in diamonds.
Stuart passed up the grand stairs through a row of gorgeous flunkies and greeted his hostess.
Nan grasped his hand with a smile of joy.
"You are to lead me in to dinner, Jim, at the stroke of eight."
"I'll not forget," Stuart answered, his face flushing with surprise at the unexpected honour.
"Cal wishes to see you at once. You will find him in the library."
Bivens met him at the door.
"Ah, there you are!" he cried cordially, "Come back down stairs with me. I want you to see some people as they come in to-night. I've a lot of funny things to tell you about them."
The house was crowded with an army of servants, attendants, musicians, singers, entertainers and reporters.
The doctor had been recognized by one of the butlers whom he had befriended on his arrival from the Old World. The grateful fellow had gone out of the way to make him at home, and in his enthusiasm had put an alcove31 which opened off the ball room at his and Harriet's disposal. The doctor was elated at this evidence of Bivens's good feeling and again congratulated himself on his common sense in coming.
Bivens led Stuart to a position near the grand stairway, from which he could greet his guests as they returned from their formal presentation to the hostess.
He kept up a running fire of biographical comment which amused Stuart beyond measure.
"That fellow, Jim," he whispered, as a tall finely groomed32 man passed and touched his hand, "that fellow is as slick a political grafter33 as ever stole the ear-rings from the sleeping form of a fallen angel. He levies35 blackmail36 on almost every crime named in the code. But you can't prove it in court and he's worth millions. His influence on legislation is enormous and he can't be ignored. He's one of the kind who like this sort of thing, and he goes everywhere. Money is power. No matter how you get it. Once gotten, it's divine. Call the man a thief and grafter if you will, but the laws of centuries protect him. There are no rights now except property rights. I'd like to kick him out of the house. I'd as lief a toad37 or a lizard38 touched my wife's hand, but he's here to-night, well, because I'm afraid of him."
Stuart nodded.
"Yes. I tried to send the gentleman to the penitentiary39 last year."
"But you didn't even get in speaking distance of him, did you?"
"No, and——"
"You bet you didn't; he's a lawyer himself."
"I thought he smiled when he shook hands."
"You remember that old Latin proverb we used to get off at college? I was punk in Latin, but I never forgot that—'Harus pex ad harus picem' when one priest meets another it's to smile! The lawyers are the high priests of the modern world. Only the women support the church."
"At least we can thank God there are only a few such men who force their way into decent society."
"I guess you are right," Bivens answered, "and he couldn't do it by the brute40 power of his money only. He has brains and culture combined with the daring of the devil. Still, Jim, most of the big bugs41 who come here to-night live in glass houses and have long ago learned that it don't pay to throw stones."
A titled nobleman passed, and Bivens winked42.
"The poor we have with us always!"
Stuart smiled and returned at once to the point.
"Just what did you mean by that last remark about glass houses?"
"Simply this, old man, that all these high-browed society people who turn up their noses behind my back and marvel43 at my low origin and speak in bated whispers about my questionable44 financial strokes—all have their little secrets. For my own comfort I've made a special study of great fortunes in America. The funny thing is that apparently45 every one of them was founded on some questionable trick of trade."
"Not every one, surely."
"In my study of the subject I ran across a brilliant young Socialist46 by the name of Gustavus who has devoted47 his life to the study of the origin of these fortunes. He has written a book about them. I have read it in manuscript. It will fill four volumes when completed. Honestly I've laughed over it until I cried. For instance, speaking of the devil, here comes Major Viking. His people are no longer in trade. Such vulgarity is beneath them. He comes here because I'm supposed to be worth a hundred million and belong to the inner circle of the elect. There are less than two dozen of us, you know."
"Delighted to greet you, Major. My old friend and college mate, James Stuart."
The proud head of the house of Viking grasped Stuart's hand and gave it a friendly shake. His manner was simple, unaffected, manly48 and the bronzed look of his face told its story of life in the open.
"Not our distinguished49 young district attorney whom the politicians had to get rid of?" he asked in tones of surprise and pleasure.
"The very same," Bivens answered gravely.
The Major gripped Stuart's hand a second time.
"Then I want to shake again and offer you my congratulations on the service you have rendered the Nation. It's an honour to know you, sir."
Stuart was too much amazed at such a speech to reply before the tall figure had disappeared.
Bivens pressed his arm.
"That's why I could afford to pay you a million a year."
"You don't mean to say that his fortune is streaked50 with the stain of fraud?" Stuart asked, in low tones.
"Certainly. Personally, he's a fine fellow. He's a big man and lives in a big world. His fortune is not less than two hundred million, securely salted down in gilt-edged real estate, most of it. But the original fortune was made by fraud and violence in the old days of colonial history. The elder Viking was a furrier. The fur trade was enormously profitable. Why? Because the whole scheme was built on the simple process by which an Indian was made drunk and in one brief hour cheated out of the results of a year's work. His agents never paid money for skins. They first used whiskey to blind their victims and then traded worthless beads51 and trinkets for priceless treasures of fur. And on such a foundation was the great house founded."
"It's incredible."
"The facts have been published. If they were not true the publisher could be driven out of business. The Vikings maintain a dignified52 silence. They have to do it, but softly, here is the head of the house of Black Friday. Everybody knows about his father's sins. Yet he was the friend and comrade of the great who were canonized while he was cannonaded. Good fellow, too, all the same breed when you come right down to it, only some of them have the genius for getting away with the goods and saving their reputations at the same time."
"For instance?" Stuart asked.
Bivens craned his neck toward the stairs.
"There's one of them, now, one of the great railroad kings, not one of your Western bounders, but the real Eastern, New York patriotic53 brand, one of the brave, daring pioneers who risked all to push great transcontinental railroads through the trackless deserts of the West—with millions furnished by the government—which they dumped into their own pockets while the world was shouting their praises for developing the Nation's resources."
"My friend, Mr. James Stuart, Mr. Van Dam."
It was with difficulty that the young lawyer kept his face straight during those introductions.
Van Dam bowed with grave courtesy, and when he was beyond the reach of Bivens's voice the little dark biographer went on:
"Old Van Dam, the founder54 of the house, whose palaces now crowd Fifth Avenue, was a plain-spoken, hard-swearing, God-fearing, man-hating old scoundrel who put on no airs, but simply went for what he wanted and got it. He was the first big transportation king we developed. His fortune was founded on the twin arts of bribery56 and blackmail. The lobby he maintained in secret collusion with his alleged57 rivals in Washington while he was working his subsidy58 bills through Congress was a wonder, even in its day. He and his rival with two gangs of thieves publicly lobbying against each other met in secret and divided the spoils when the campaign was over. If a real rival succeeded in getting a Government subsidy for a transportation line in which he had no share, his procedure was always the same; he began the construction or equipment of a rival line until they bought him off by a big payment of monthly blackmail. His income from blackmail alone was frequently more than a million a year. His sons are fine fellows and doubled the old man's millions in bigger, cleaner ways, as I've doubled mine. But it gives me a pain when these men begin to nose around; inquiring about my early history."
"Well, Cal," Stuart broke in with a laugh, "the one thing I like about you is that you have never been ashamed of your humble59 origin."
"Still I'm not without my weak spot, even there, Jim," the little man said, with an accent of pain that startled Stuart.
"What do you mean?"
"You see that bunch of newspaper reporters over there? They are the ghosts that haunt my dreams. Oh, not what they'll say in their dirty papers. We can control that, we own them. But there's a magazine muckraker among them. He has nosed his way in here to-night as a reporter, for some devilish purpose. He has been down in North Carolina, moving heaven and earth to find my poor old father and mother and get under my hide with a biographical sketch60. He has written a volume of lies about them already—but list, here's another one of the great ones you must know, old Grantly, the proud possessor of a fortune made in the services of the Nation for the nominal61 consideration of fifty per cent. profit, a typical Civil War nabob."
Bivens bowed with exaggerated courtesy to the great man, introduced him and said with a quiet sneer62:
"The kind that makes me really sick is the patriotic poser. I suppose it was because my dad wasn't a very brave soldier." He laughed quietly. "Remember the day you knocked those brutes63 down at college for forcing me to make a speech in praise of my father's heroism64? I could have died for you that day, Jim."
"Oh, that was nothing," Stuart protested lightly.
"To you, maybe, but to me—well, as I was saying, the great man who just passed is very proud, not only because he is a multi-millionaire but because his house is supposed to be one of the pillars of the Nation. The truth is that during the Civil War he formed a 'union Defense65 Committee' and raised funds to carry on the war. Incidentally—quite incidentally, of course—he got contracts for supplies from the Government and made millions by the frauds he practised. One of his tricks was the importation of worthless arms from Europe which he sold the Government at enormous profits. He made more than a half-million selling these worthless guns to the State authorities of the North. The Hall Carbine was his favourite weapon, a gun that would blow the fingers off the soldier who tried to shoot it, but was never known to do any harm to the man who stood in front of it. I never knew what the fellow meant when he said 'Patriotism66 is the last refuge of a scoundrel,' until I became personally acquainted with that gentleman."
Bivens bent67 low and whispered:
"The sweetest memory of my life is that I pulled a couple of millions of wool out of his hide in the recent panic. Jim, you love to hunt. You don't know what real sport is until you jump a skunk68 like that in a panic. You go all the way to Virginia to shoot ducks. When you get to my office in Wall Street I'll take you on a hunt you'll not forget. What's the use to waste your time for a whole day trying to kill a poor little duck when there are hundreds of big, fat, juicy animals like that roaming around loose in New York!"
"I see," Stuart laughed, "that's what you mean by the game."
"Surely, my boy,—it's the only game worth playing, this big red game of life and death with a two-footed human beast the quarry69."
Bivens's little swarthy figure suddenly stiffened70 and his black eyes flashed. He looked up the stairs and a smile lighted his face.
"Now, Jim, here comes one into whose hide I know you'd enjoy putting a harpoon—a pillar of the church. Look at the cut of those solemn Presbyterian whiskers. It makes me faint to remember how many times I've tried and failed to get my hooks into him. I know you could land the deacon. I'd joyfully71 give you a million just to see him wriggle73 in my hands."
Bivens grasped his hand with pious74 unction.
"A glorious night, deacon. I know you won't stay for the ball, but if you'll do justice to the dinner I'll forgive you."
The deacon murmured his thanks and hurried on.
"It's evident that however much he loves the Lord he don't love you, Cal."
"No, he's just afraid of me. That's why he came to-night. Jim, if you can get even with him for me, I'd give you the half of my kingdom."
"Why don't you like him?"
"Because he has slipped through my hands like an eel2 every time I thought I had him. His specialty75 is piety76. That makes me tired. I'm a church member myself, but I don't trade on my piety."
"Well, there couldn't have been anything crooked77 about his fortune?"
Bivens chuckled79 softly.
"No. It was a masterpiece of fine art! His father was the original founder of the importing trade graft34. He was the first man to discover that a colossal80 fortune could be made over night by swindling the United States Government at the port of New York. His people have been noted81 for their solid and substantial standing in the business world. The head of the house was known as the premier82 among the high-toned business men of the old school. His family set up his statue in a public square in New York. I suppose they bribed83 the city fathers to get a permit. Well, one day before this statue was unveiled a plain little honest fool of a U.S. Treasury84 agent got onto the old man's curves and the Government brought suit for a part of what he had stolen. Old William Crookes paid into the Treasury the neat sum of one million and compromised the case. Some of his modern imitators with their false weights and scales haven't been so wise."
"The world has never heard of this—that's funny!" Stuart exclaimed.
"Not so funny, Jim, when you think of the power of money to make the world forget. God only knows how many fortunes in America had their origin in thefts from the Nation during the Civil War, and the systematic85 frauds that have been practised on our Government since. I've turned some pretty sharp tricks, Jim, in stalking my game in this big man-hunt of Wall Street, but at least I've never robbed the wounded or the dead on a battlefield and I've never used a dark lantern to get into the Government vaults86 at Washington. I'm not asking you to stand for that."
"If you did——"
"Yes, I know the answer, but speak softly, his majesty87 the king approaches—long live the king!"
Bivens spoke55 in low, half-joking tones, but the excitement of his voice told Stuart only too plainly that he fully72 appreciated the royal honour his majesty was paying in this the first social visit he had ever made to his home.
The little financier's eyes danced with pleasure and his delicate hand trembled as he extended it to the great one.
The king gave him a pleasant nod and grasped Stuart's hand with a hearty88 cordial grip. He was a man of few words, but he always said exactly what he thought.
"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Stuart. You've done us a good turn in sending some of our crooks89 to the penitentiary. You've cleared the air and made it possible for an old-fashioned banker to breathe in New York. It's a pleasure to shake hands with you."
The king passed on into the crowd, the focus of a hundred admiring eyes. Bivens could scarcely believe his ears when he listened with open mouth while his majesty spoke to Stuart.
"Great Scott, Jim!" he gasped90 at last. "That's the longest speech I ever heard him make. I knew you had scored the biggest hit any lawyer has made in this town in a generation, but I never dreamed you'd capture the king's imagination. I'm beginning to think my offer wasn't so generous after all. Look here, you've got to promise me one thing right now. When you do go in to make your pile it shall be with me and no other man."
Nan passed and threw him a gracious smile.
"It will be with you, if I go, Cal, I promise."
"Well, it's settled, then. Your word's as good as a Government bond. His majesty is in a gracious mood to-night. Watch him unbend and chat with the boys."
"At least, Cal," Stuart broke in, jokingly, "there's one exception to your indictment91 of all great fortunes."
"That's the funniest thing of all," Bivens whispered. "He's not an exception. Understand, I'm loyal to the king. He's a wonder. I like him, I like his big head, his big shaggy eyebrows92, his big hands and big feet. I like to hear him growl93 and snap his answer—'Yes', 'No'—that means life or death to men who kneel at his feet. He's a dead game sport. But he, too, has his little blots94 in his early copy-books at school if you care to turn the pages."
"No!" Stuart interrupted, incredulously.
Bivens glanced about to make sure he could not be overheard and continued in low tones.
"Yes, sir, he turned the slickest trick on Uncle Sam of all the bunch. He was a youngster and it was his first deal. When the Civil War broke out the Government had no guns for the volunteers. He learned that there were 5,000 old Hall carbines stored away among the junk in one of the national arsenals95 in New York. He bought these guns (on a credit) for a song—about $3 apiece—and shipped them to General Fremont, who was in St. Louis howling for arms. Fremont agreed to pay $22.50 each for the new rifles and closed the deal at once by drawing on the Government for enough to enable the young buccaneer to pay his $3-contract price to Uncle Sam in New York and lay aside a snug96 sum for a rainy day besides.
"When Fremont found that the guns were worthless, he advised the Government to stop payment on the balance. It was stopped on the ground of fraud. And then the youngster showed the stuff he was made of. Did he crawl and apologize? Not much. He sued the United States Government for the full amount and pushed that suit to the Supreme97 Court. In the face of the sneers98 of his enemies he won, and took the full amount with interest. He's the king to-day because he was born a king. His father was a millionaire before him. He's the greatest financial genius of the century."
Bivens paused and a dreamy look came into the black eyes.
"Jim," he continued with slow emphasis, "I'd rather get my fingers on his throat in a death-struggle than lead the combined armies of the world to victory."
Stuart was silent.
The financier moved uneasily and asked:
"What are you brooding over now?"
"I was just wondering why the devil you've taken the pains to tell me all these incredible stories about the great ones here to-night?"
"And I answer with perfect frankness. When you come in with me it must be with your whole soul, without a single reservation. When it comes to the critical moment of your decision it may turn on a sentimental99 whim—a question of high-browed honour. I want you to come with your eyes wide open. I want you to know that I'm no better, no worse, than the best of the big ones whose names fill the world with awe100. Every word I've told you about them is true and a great deal more that will never be told; and mind you there's not a Jew among the fellows I've sketched101. There are two men in New York of old Scotch102 ancestry103 who have more money than the whole Hebrew race in America."
"The stuff you've told me seems beyond belief."
"Exactly. That's why I wanted you to know. The truth is, Jim, you'd just as well face it at once. I am asking you to resign your place in the old academic world to enter commerce, the real modern world. Commerce is built on the power to over-reach. Isn't deceit the foundation of all successful trade? The butcher, the baker104, the candle-stick maker105, the banker, the broker—their business is all alike. A trader is a trader, one who clutches and fights his competitor and lays traps for his customers, in short, his victims. A trader is one who by hook or crook78 beats down the price at which he will buy below its market value and marks it up to the limit of his victim's credulity when he sells. That's the grain of truth beneath the mountain of chaff106 in the old aristocratic hatred108 of people who are in trade. The world has outgrown109 this hatred. The age of the aristocrat107 is past."
"I'm not so sure of that," Stuart answered, thoughtfully. "The old aristocracy had their weaknesses. They were always gamblers and the devotees of licentiousness110. But they despised lying and stealing. And the feudal111 code of the old patrician112 bred a high type of man. The new code of the liar113 has not yet made this demonstration114. The grace, elegance115, breeding and culture of the past are no longer binding116 laws on the new masters of the world. I think you may get on a while without the patrician, but the question is how long can you live without his virtues117?"
An answer was on Bivens's lips when the soft tones of hidden oriental gongs began to chime the call for dinner. The chimes melted into a beautiful piece of orchestral music which seemed to steal from the sky, so skilfully118 had the musicians been concealed119.
Nan suddenly appeared by Stuart's side, and he was given the honour of leading his hostess into the banquet hall, before even the king, while the great ones of earth slowly followed.
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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suites
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| n.套( suite的名词复数 )；一套房间；一套家具；一套公寓 | |
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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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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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mantle
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automobiles
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contagious
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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delicacies
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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mere
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regenerating
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deliberately
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shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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forth
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exterior
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remarkable
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literally
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ablaze
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picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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26
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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28
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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29
minaret
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| n.（回教寺院的）尖塔 | |
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30
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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31
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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32
groomed
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| v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的过去式和过去分词 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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33
grafter
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| 嫁接的人，贪污者，收贿者； 平铲 | |
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34
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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35
levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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36
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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37
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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38
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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39
penitentiary
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| n.感化院；监狱 | |
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40
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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41
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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42
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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43
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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44
questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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45
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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46
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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47
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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48
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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49
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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50
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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51
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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52
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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53
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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54
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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55
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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56
bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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57
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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58
subsidy
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| n.补助金，津贴 | |
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59
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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60
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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61
nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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62
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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63
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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64
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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65
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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66
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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67
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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68
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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69
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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70
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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71
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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72
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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73
wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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74
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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75
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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76
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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77
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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78
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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79
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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81
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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82
premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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83
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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84
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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85
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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86
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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87
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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88
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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89
crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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90
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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91
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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92
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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93
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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94
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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95
arsenals
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| n.兵工厂，军火库( arsenal的名词复数 )；任何事物的集成 | |
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96
snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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97
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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98
sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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99
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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100
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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101
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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102
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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103
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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104
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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105
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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106
chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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107
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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108
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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109
outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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110
licentiousness
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| n.放肆，无法无天 | |
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111
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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112
patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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113
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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114
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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115
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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116
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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117
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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118
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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119
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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