As the clock struck one he slammed his door and descended3 the stairs alertly. The concierge4, on the threshold of her “loge,” peered up at him.
“Good morning, Madame Leclerc; it’s a fine day,” said Kreisler, in his heavy French, his cold direct gaze incongruously ornamented5 by a cheerful smile.
“Monsieur has got up late this morning,” replied the concierge, with very faint amiability6.
“Yes, I have lost all sense of time. J’ai perdu le temps! Ha ha!” He grinned mysteriously. The watch had gone the way of the dress clothes some days already.
She followed him slowly along the passage, become extremely grave. “Quel original! quel genre7!” With a look of perplexed8 distrust she watched him[87] down the street.—This German good humour and sudden expansiveness has always been a portentous10 thing to French people. Latin races are as scandalized at northern amenities11, the badness of our hypocrisies12 or manners and total immodesty displayed, as the average man of Teutonic race is with the shameful13 perfection of and ease in deceit shown by the French neighbour. Kreisler, still beneath the eye of the concierge, with his rhythmic14 martial15 tread, approached the restaurant. A few steps from the threshold he slowed down, dragging his long German boots, which acted as brakes.
The Restaurant Lejeune, like many others in Paris, had been originally a clean, tranquil16 little creamery, consisting of a small shop a few feet either way.—Then one customer after another had become more gluttonous17. He had asked, in addition to his daily glass of milk, for beefsteak and spinach18, or some other terrific nourishment19, which the decent little business at first supplied with timid protest. But perpetual scenes of sanguine20 voracity—weeks of compliance21 with the most brutal22 and unbridled appetites of man—gradually brought about a change in its character.—It became frankly23 a place where the most carnivorous palate might be palled24. As trade grew, the small business had burrowed25 backwards26 into the house—the victorious27 flood of commerce had burst through walls and partitions, flung down doors, discovered many dingy28 rooms in the interior that it instantly filled with serried29 cohorts of eaters. It had driven out terrified families, had hemmed30 the apoplectic31 concierge in her “loge,” it had broken out on to the court at the back in shed-like structures. And in the musty bowels32 of the house it had established a broiling33, luridly-lighted, roaring den9, inhabited by a rushing and howling band of slatternly savages34.—The chef’s wife sat at a desk immediately fronting the entrance door. When a diner had finished, adding up the bill himself on a printed slip of paper, he paid it there on his way out. In the first room a tunnel-like and ill-lit recess35 furnished with a[88] long table formed a cul-de-sac to the left. Into this Kreisler got. At the right-hand side the passage led to the inner rooms.
A mind feeling the need for things clean and clear cut would have been better content, although demurring36, with Kreisler’s military morning suit, slashed37 with thick seams; carefully cut hair, short behind, a little florid and bunched on the top; his German high-crowned bowler38 hat, and plain cane39, than the Charivari of the Art-fashion and uniform of The Brush in those about him, chiefly students from the neighbouring Art schools.
He was staring at the bill of fare when some one took the seat in front of him.—He looked up, put down the card. A young woman was sitting there, who now seemed waiting, as though Kreisler might be expected, after a rest, to take up the menu again and go on reading it.
“Have you done with?? May I??”
At the sound of her voice he moved a little forward, and in handing it to her, spoke40 in German.
“Danke sch?n,” she said, smiling with a German nod of racial recognition.
He ordered his soup.—Usually this meal passed in surly impassible inspection41 of his neighbours and the newspaper. Staring at and through the figure in front of him, he spent several minutes. He seemed making up his mind.
“Monsieur est distrait43 aujourd’hui,” Jeanne said, who was waiting to take his order.
Contrary to custom, he sought for some appetizing dish, to change the routine. Appetite had not woken, but he had become restless before the usual dull programme. There were certain tracts44 of menu he never explored. His eye always guided him at once to the familiar place where the “plat du jour” was to be found, and the alternative sweets heading the list. He now plunged45 his eye down the long line of unfamiliar46 dishes.
He fixed47 his eye on Jeanne with indecision too, and picked up the menu. “My vis-à-vis is pretty!” he thought.
[89]
“Lobster48 salad, mayonnaise, and a pommes à l’huile, Jeanne,” he called out.
This awakening49 to beauties of the menu brought with it a survey of his neighbour. Vaguely50, she must be connected with lobster salad. How could that be?
First he was surprised that such a beautiful girl should be sitting there. Beautiful people wander dangerously about in life, just like ordinary folk. He appeared to think that they should be isolated51 like powder magazines or lepers. This man could never leave good luck alone, or reflect that that, too, was a dangerous vagrant52. He could not quite grasp that it was a general good luck and easily explained phenomenon.
He had already been examined by the beautiful girl. Throwing an absent far-away look into her eyes, she let them wander over him. Afterwards she cast them down into her soup. As a pickpocket53, after brisk work in a crowd, hurries home to examine and evaluate his spoil, so she then examined collectedly what her dreamy eyes had noted54. This method was not characteristic of her, but of the category of useful habits bequeathed us, each sex having its own. Perhaps in her cloudy soup she beheld55 something of the storm and shock that inhabited her neighbour.
Without preliminary reflection Kreisler found himself addressing her, a little abashed56 when he suddenly heard his voice, and with eerie57 feeling when it was answered.
“From your hesitation58 in choosing your lunch, gn?diges Fr?ulein, I suppose you have not been long in Paris?”
“No, I only arrived a week ago, from America.” She settled her elbows on the table for a moment.
“Allow me to give you some idea of what the menu of this restaurant is like.” This was like a lesson. He started ponderously59. “At the head of each list you will find simple dishes; elemental dishes, I might call them! (Elementalische pl?tter!) This[90] is the rough material from which the others are evolved. Each list is like an oriental dance. It gets wilder as it goes along. In the last dish you can be sure that the potatoes will taste like tomatoes, and the pork like a sirloin of beef.”
“So!” laughed the young woman, with good German guttural. “I’m glad to say I have ordered dishes that head the list.”
“Garlic is an enemy usually ambushed60 in gigot.—That is his only quite certain haunt.”
“Good; I will avoid gigot.” She was indulgent to his clowning, and drawled a little in sympathy. Between language and feeding, Kreisler sought to gain the young lady’s confidence, adhering conventionally to the progress of Creation.
He found his neighbour inclined to slight Nature. He, too, was a little overlooked; in waiving61 of conventions being blandly62 forestalled63. There was something uncomfortable about all this. He must brace64 himself. He realized with the prophetic logic65 of his hysteria, racing66 through the syllogisms his senses divined, sensations now anachronisms, afterwards recognized as they burst out in due course. This precocity67 in the restaurant took him to the solution of what their coming together might mean.
One plethoric68 impression of her was received—although from her—instalment of a senseless generosity69.
She wore a heavy black burnous, very voluminous and severe; a large ornamental70 bag was on the chair at her side, which you expected to contain herbs and trinkets, paraphernalia71 of the witch, rather than powder, lip-cream, and secrets. Her hat was immense and sinuous72; generally she implied an egotistic code of advanced order, full of insolent73 strategies.
Other women in the restaurant appeared dragged down and drained of vitality75 by their clothes beside her, Kreisler thought, although she wore so much more than they did. Her large square-shouldered and slim body swam in hers like a duck.
When she laughed, this commotion76 was transmitted to her body as though sharp, sonorous77 blows had been[91] struck on her mouth. Her lips were long, hard bubbles risen in the blond heavy pool of her face, ready to break, pitifully and gaily78. Grown forward with ape-like intensity79, they refused no emotion noisy egress80 if it got so far. Her eyes were large, stubborn, and reflective, brown coming out of blondness. Her head was like a deep white egg in a tobacco-coloured nest. She exuded81 personality with alarming and disgusting intensity. It was an ostentation82 similar to diamonds and gold watch-chains. Kreisler felt himself in the midst of a cascade83, a hot cascade.
She seemed to feel herself a travelling circus of tricks and wonders, beauty shows and monstrosities. Quite used to being looked at, she had become resigned to inability to avoid performing. She possessed84 the geniality85 of public character and the genius of sex. Kreisler was a strange loafer talked to easily, without any consciousness of condescension86.
Just as he was most out of his depth, Kreisler had run up against all this! It all had the mellowness87 of sunset, and boomed in this small alcove88 infernally.—By the fact of sex this figure seems to offer him a traditional substantiality. He clutches at it eagerly as at something familiar and unmetamorphosed—and somewhat unmetamorphosable—by Fate.
In the first flush he revolves89 with certain skill in this new champ de man?uvres, executing one or two very pretty gymnastics. He has only to flatter himself on the excellent progress, really, that he makes.
“My name is Anastasya,” she says irrelevantly90 to him, as if she had stupidly forgotten, before, this little detail.
Whew! his poor ragged74 eyelashes flutter, a cloud of astonishment91 passes grotesquely92 over his face; like the clown of the piece, he looks as though he were about to rub his head, click his tongue, and give his nearest man-neighbour an enthusiastic kick. “Anastasya!” It will be “Tasy” soon!
He outwardly becomes more solemn than ever,[92] like a merchant who sees an incredible dupe before him, and would in some way conceal93 his exhilaration. But he calls her carefully at regular intervals94, Anastasya!
“I suppose you’ve come here to work?” he asked.
“I don’t want to work any more than is absolutely necessary. I am overworked as it is, by living merely.” He could well believe it; she must do some overtime96! “If it were not for my excellent constitution?”
This was evidently, Kreisler felt, the moment to touch on the heaviness of life’s burden; as her expression was perfectly97 even and non-committal.
“Ah, yes,” he sighed heavily, one side of the menu rising gustily98 and relapsing, “Life gives one work enough.”
She looked at him and reflected, “What work does ‘cet oiseau-là’ perform?”
“Have you many friends here, Anastasya?”
“None.”—She laughed with ostentatious satisfaction at his funniness. “I came here, as a matter of fact, to be alone. I want to see only fresh people. I have had all the gusto and illusion I had lent all round steadily99 handed back to me where I come from. ‘I beg your pardon! Your property, ma’am!’ The result is that I am amazingly rich!—I am tremendously rich!” She opened her eyes wide; Kreisler pricked100 up his ears and wondered if this were to be taken in another sense. He cast down his eyes respectfully. “I have the sort of feeling that I have enough to go all round.—But perhaps I haven’t!”
Kreisler lingered over her first observation: “wanted to be alone.” The indirect compliment conveyed (and he felt, when it was said, that he was somewhere near the frontier, surely, of a German confidence) was rather mitigated101 by what followed. The “having enough to go all round”; that was very universal, and included him too easily in its sweep.
“Do you want to go all round?” he asked, with[93] heavy plagiarism102 of her accent, and solemn sentimental103 face.
“I don’t want to be mean.”
His eyes struggled with hers; he was easily thrown.
But she had the regulation feminine foible of charity, he reassured104 himself, by her answer.
Kreisler’s one great optimism was a belief in the efficacy of women.—You did not deliberately105 go there—at least, he usually did not—unless you were in straits. But there they were all the time, vast dumping-ground for sorrow and affliction—a world-dimensioned pawnshop, in which you could deposit not your dress-suit or garments, but yourself, temporarily, in exchange for the gold of the human heart. Their hope consisted, no doubt, in the reasonable uncertainty106 as to whether you would ever be able to take yourself out again. Kreisler had got in and out again almost as many times as his “smokkin” in its pawnshop.
Women were Art or expression for him in this way. They were Man’s Theatre. The Tragedies played there purged107 you periodically of the too violent accumulations of desperate life. There its burden of laughter as well might be exploded.—Woman was a confirmed Schauspielerin or play-actress; but coming there for illusion he was willingly moved. Much might be noticed in common between him and the drunken navvy on Saturday night, who comes home bellicosely towards his wife, blows raining gladly at the mere95 sight of her. He may get practically all the excitement and exertion108 he violently needs, without any of the sinister109 chances a more real encounter would present. His wife is “his little bit” of unreality, or play. He can declaim, be outrageous110 to the top of his bent111; can be maudlin112 too; all conducted almost as he pleases, with none of the shocks of the real and too tragic113 world. In this manner woman was the ?sthetic element in Kreisler’s life. Love, too, always meant unhappy love for him, with its misunderstandings and wistful separations.[94] He issued forth114 solemnly and the better for it. He approached a love affair as the deutscher Student engages in a student’s duel115—no vital part exposed, but where something spiritually of about the importance of a nose might be lost; at least stoically certain that blood would be drawn116.
A casual observer of the progress of Otto Kreisler’s life might have said that the chief events, the crises, consisted of his love affairs—such as that unfortunate one with his present stepmother.—But, in the light of a careful analysis, this would have been an inversion117 of the truth. When the events of his life became too unwieldy or overwhelming, he converted them into love, as he might have done, with specialized118 talent, into some art or other. He was a sculptor119—a German sculptor of a mock-realistic and degenerate120 school—in the strange sweethearting of the “free-life.” The two or three women he had left about the world in this way—although perhaps those symbolic121 statues had grown rather characterless in Time’s weather and perhaps lumpish—were monuments of his perplexities. After weeks of growing estrangement122, he would sever42 all relations suddenly one day—usually on some indigestible epigram, that worried the poor girl for the rest of her days. Being no adept123 in the science of his heart, there remained a good deal of mystery for him about the appearance of “Woman” in his life. He felt that she was always connected with its important periods; he thought, superstitiously124, that his existence was in some way implicated125 with dem Weib. She was, in any case, for him, a stormy petrel. He would be killed by a woman, he sometimes thought. This superstition126 had flourished with him before he had yet found for it much raison d’être.—A serious duel having been decided127 on in his early student days, this reflection, “I am quite safe; it is not thus that I shall die,” had given him a grisly coolness. His opponent nearly got himself killed, because he, for his part, had no hard and fast theory about the sort of death in store for him.
This account, to be brought up to date, must be[95] modified. Since knowing Volker, no woman had come conspicuously128 to disturb him. Volker had been the ideal element of balance in his life.
But between this state—the minimum degree of friendship possible—a distant and soothing129 companionship—and more serious states, there was no possible foothold for Kreisler.
Friendship usually dates from unformed years. But Love still remains130 in full swing long after Kreisler’s age at that time; a sort of spurious and intense friendship.
An uncomfortable thing happened now. He realized suddenly all the possibilities of this chance acquaintanceship, plainly and cinematographically.—He was seized with panic.—He must make a good impression.—From that moment he ran the risk of doing the reverse. For he was unaccustomed to act with calculation.—There he was like some individual who had gone nonchalantly into the presence of a prince; who—just in the middle of the audience—when he would have been getting over his first embarrassment—is overcome with a tardy131 confusion, the imagination in some way giving a jump. It is the imagination, repressed and as it were slighted, revenging itself.
Casting about desperately132 for means of handling the situation, he remembered she had spoken of getting a dog to guide her.—What had she meant? Anyway, he grasped at the dog. He could regain133 possession of himself in romantic stimulus134 of this figure. He would be her dog! Lie at her feet! He would fill with a merely animal warmth and vivacity135 the void that must exist in her spirit. His imagination, flattered, came in as ally. This, too, exempted136 him from the necessity of being victorious. All he asked was to be her dog!—only wished to impress her as a dog! Even if she did not feel much sympathy for him now, no matter.—He would humbly137 follow her up, put himself at her disposal, not be exigent. It was a r?le difficult to refuse him. Sense[96] of security the humility138 of this resolution brought about caused him to regain a self-possession. Only it imposed the condition, naturally, of remaining a dog.—Every time he felt his retiring humbleness139 giving place to another sensation, he anew felt qualms140.
“Do you intend studying here, Fr?ulein?” he asked, with a new deference141 in his tone—hardly a canine142 whine143, but deep servient bass144 of the faithful St. Bernard.—She seemed to have noticed this something new already, and Kreisler on all fours evidently astonished her. She was inclined to stroke him, but at the same time to ask what was the matter.
“A year or two ago I escaped from a bourgeois145 household in an original manner. Shall I tell you about that, Otto?”
Confidence for confidence, he had told Anastasya that he was Otto.
“Please!” he said, with reverent146 eagerness.
“Well, the bourgeois household was that of my father and mother.—I got out of it in this way.—I made myself such a nuisance to my family that they had to get rid of me.” Otto flung himself back in his chair with dramatic incredulity. “It was quite simple.—I began scribbling147 and scratching all over the place—on blotting-pads, margins148 of newspapers, on my father’s correspondence, the wall-paper. I inundated149 my home with troublesome images. It was like vermin; my multitude of little figures swarmed150 everywhere. They simply had to get rid of me.—I said nothing. I pretended to be possessed. I got a girl-friend in Münich to write enthusiastic letters: her people lived quite near us when we were in Germany.”
Kreisler looked at her rather dully, and smiled solemnly, with really something of the misplaced and unaccountable pathos151 and protest of dogs (although still with a slavish wagging of the tail) at some pleasantry of the master.—Her expansiveness, as a fact, embarrassed him very much at this point. He was divided between his inclination152 to[97] respond to it in some way, and mature their acquaintance at once, and his determination to be merely a dog. Yet he felt that her familiarity, if adopted, in turn, by him, might not be the right thing. And yet, as it was, he would appear to be holding back, would seem “reserved” in his mere humility. He was a very perplexed dog for some time.
He remained dumb, smiling up at her with appealing pathos from time to time. She wondered if he had indigestion or what. He made several desperate dog-like sorties. But she saw he was clearly in difficulties—As her lunch was finished, she called the waitress.—Her bill was made out, Kreisler scowling153 at her all the while. Her attitude, suggesting, “Yes, you are funny, you know you are. I’d better go, then you’ll be better,” was responded to by him with the same offended dignity as the drunken man displays when his unsteadiness is observed. He repudiated154 sulkily the suggestion that there was anything wrong. Then he grew angry with her. His nervousness was her doing.—All was lost. He was very near some violence.—But when she stood up, he was so impressed that he sat gaping155 after her. He remained cramped156 in his place until she had left the restaurant.
He moved in his chair stiffly; he ached as though he had been sitting for his portrait. The analogy struck him. Had he been sitting for his portrait? These people dining near him as though they had suddenly appeared out of the ground—he was embarrassed at finding himself alone with them. They knew all that had happened, but were pretending not to. He had not noticed that they were there all round him, overbearing and looking on. It was as though he had been talking to himself, and had just become aware of it. A tide of magnetism157 had flowed away, leaving him bare and stranded158.—He cursed his stupidity. He then stopped this empty mental racket abruptly159.—Only a few minutes had passed since Anastasya’s departure. He seized hat and stick and hurried up to the desk.—Once outside[98] he gave his glasses an adjusting pull, gazed up and down the boulevard in all directions. No sign of the tall figure he was pursuing. He started off, partly at a run, in the likeliest direction.—At the Café Berne corner, where several new vistas160 opened, there she was, some way down the Boulevard du Paradis, on the edge of the side-walk, waiting till a tram had passed to cross. Having seen so much, should he not go back? For there was nothing else to be done. To catch her up and force himself on her could have only one result, he thought. He might, perhaps, follow a little way. That was being done already.
They went on for some hundred yards, she a good distance ahead on the other side of the boulevard. Walking for a moment, his eyes on the ground, he looked up and caught her head pivoting161 slowly round. She no doubt had seen him.—With shame he realized what was happening.—“Here I am following this girl as though we were strangers! This is what I began in the restaurant. I am putting the final touch by following her in the street, as though we had never spoken!” Either he must catch her up at once or vanish. He promptly162 turned up a side street, and circled round to his starting-point.
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1
overdue
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| adj.过期的，到期未付的；早该有的，迟到的 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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concierge
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| n.管理员；门房 | |
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ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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genre
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| n.(文学、艺术等的)类型，体裁，风格 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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amenities
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| n.令人愉快的事物；礼仪；礼节；便利设施；礼仪( amenity的名词复数 )；便利设施；（环境等的）舒适；（性情等的）愉快 | |
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hypocrisies
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| n.伪善，虚伪( hypocrisy的名词复数 ) | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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gluttonous
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| adj.贪吃的，贪婪的 | |
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spinach
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| n.菠菜 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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compliance
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| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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palled
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| v.（因过多或过久而）生厌，感到乏味，厌烦( pall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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demurring
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的现在分词 ) | |
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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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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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41
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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42
sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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43
distrait
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| adj.心不在焉的 | |
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44
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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45
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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46
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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47
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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48
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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49
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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50
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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51
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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52
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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53
pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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54
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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55
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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56
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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58
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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59
ponderously
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60
ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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61
waiving
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| v.宣布放弃( waive的现在分词 )；搁置；推迟；放弃（权利、要求等） | |
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62
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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63
forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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65
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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66
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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67
precocity
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| n.早熟，早成 | |
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68
plethoric
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| adj.过多的，多血症的 | |
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69
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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70
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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71
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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72
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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73
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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74
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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75
vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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76
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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77
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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78
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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79
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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80
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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81
exuded
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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82
ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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83
cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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84
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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85
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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86
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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87
mellowness
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| 成熟； 芳醇； 肥沃； 怡然 | |
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88
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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89
revolves
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的第三人称单数 )；细想 | |
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90
irrelevantly
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| adv.不恰当地，不合适地；不相关地 | |
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91
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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92
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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93
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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94
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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95
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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96
overtime
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| adj.超时的，加班的；adv.加班地 | |
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97
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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98
gustily
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| adv.暴风地，狂风地 | |
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99
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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100
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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101
mitigated
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
plagiarism
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| n.剽窃，抄袭 | |
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103
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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104
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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105
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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106
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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107
purged
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| 清除（政敌等）( purge的过去式和过去分词 )； 涤除（罪恶等）； 净化（心灵、风气等）； 消除（错事等）的不良影响 | |
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108
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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109
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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110
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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111
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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112
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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113
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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114
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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115
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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116
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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117
inversion
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| n.反向，倒转，倒置 | |
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118
specialized
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| adj.专门的，专业化的 | |
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119
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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120
degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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121
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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122
estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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123
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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124
superstitiously
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| 被邪教所支配 | |
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125
implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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126
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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127
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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128
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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129
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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130
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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131
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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132
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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133
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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134
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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135
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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136
exempted
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| 使免除[豁免]( exempt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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138
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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139
humbleness
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| n.谦卑，谦逊；恭顺 | |
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140
qualms
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| n.不安；内疚 | |
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141
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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142
canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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143
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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144
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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145
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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146
reverent
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| adj.恭敬的，虔诚的 | |
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147
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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148
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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149
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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150
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 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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151
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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152
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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153
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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154
repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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155
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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156
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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157
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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158
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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159
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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160
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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161
pivoting
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| n.绕轴旋转，绕公共法线旋转v.（似）在枢轴上转动( pivot的现在分词 )；把…放在枢轴上；以…为核心，围绕（主旨）展开 | |
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162
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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