These traits are perhaps the evidences of the weakness of Toryism;—but then Frau Frohmann also had all its strength. She was thoroughly7 pervaded8 by a determination that, in as far as in her lay, all that had aught to do with herself should be “well-to-do” in the world. It was a grand ambition in her mind that every creature connected with her establishment, from the oldest and most time-honoured guest down to the last stray cat that had taken refuge under her roof, should always have enough to eat. Hunger, unsatisfied{3} hunger, disagreeable hunger, on the part of any dependent of hers, would have been a reproach to her. Her own eating troubled her little or not at all, but the cooking of the establishment generally was a great care to her mind. In bargaining she was perhaps hard, but hard only in getting what she believed to be her own right. Aristides was not more just. Of bonds, written bonds, her neighbours knew not much; but her word for twenty miles round was as good as any bond. And though she was perhaps a little apt to domineer in her bargains,—to expect that she should fix the prices and to resent opposition,—it was only to the strong that she was tyrannical. The poor sick widow and the little orphan9 could generally deal with her at their own rates; on which occasions she would endeavour to hide her dealings from her own people, and would give injunctions to the favoured ones that the details of the transaction should not be made public. And then, though the Frau was, I regret to say, no better than a Papist, she was a thoroughly religious woman, believing in real truth what she professed10 to believe, and complying, as far as she knew how, with the ordinances11 of her creed12.
Therefore I say that if ever there was a Tory, the Frau Frohmann was one.
And now it will be well that the reader should see the residence of the Frau, and learn something of her condition in life. In one of the districts of the Tyrol, lying some miles south of Innsbruck, between that town and Brixen, there is a valley called the Brunnenthal,{4} a most charming spot, in which all the delights of scenery may be found without the necessity of climbing up heart-rending mountains, or sitting in oily steamboats, or paying for greedy guides, or riding upon ill-conditioned ponies13. In this valley Frau Frohmann kept an hotel called the Peacock, which, however, though it was known as an inn, and was called by that name, could hardly be regarded as a house of common public entertainment. Its purpose was to afford recreation and comfort to a certain class of customers during the summer months,—persons well enough to do in the world to escape from their town work and their town residences for a short holiday, and desirous during that time of enjoying picturesque14 scenery, good living, moderate comfort, and some amount of society. Such institutions have now become so common that there is hardly any one who has not visited or at any rate seen such a place. They are to be found in every country in Europe, and are very common in America. Our own Scotland is full of them. But when the Peacock was first opened in Brunnenthal they were not so general.
Of the husband of the Frau there are not many records in the neighbourhood. The widow has been a widow for the last twenty years at least, and her children,—for she has a son and daughter,—have no vivid memories of their father. The house and everything in it, and the adjacent farm, and the right of cutting timber in the forests, and the neighbouring quarry15, are all the undoubted property of the Frau,{5} who has a reputation for great wealth. Though her son is perhaps nearly thirty, and is very diligent16 in the affairs of the establishment, he has no real authority. He is only, as it were, the out-of-doors right hand of his mother, as his sister, who is perhaps five years younger, is an in-doors right hand. But they are only hands. The brain, the intelligence, the mind, the will by which the Brunnenthal Peacock is conducted and managed, come all from the Frau Frohmann herself. To this day she can hardly endure a suggestion either from Peter her son or from her daughter Amalia, who is known among her friends as Malchen, but is called “the fraulein” by the Brunnenthal world at large. A suggestion as to the purchase of things new in their nature she will not stand at all, though she is liberal enough in maintaining the appurtenances of the house generally.
But the Peacock is more than a house. It is almost a village; and yet every shed, cottage, or barn at or near the place forms a part of the Frau’s establishment. The centre or main building is a large ordinary house of three stories,—to the lower of which there is an ascent17 by some half-dozen stone steps,—covered with red tiles, and with gable ends crowded with innumerable windows. The ground-floor is devoted18 to kitchens, offices, the Frau’s own uses, and the needs of the servants. On the first-story are the two living rooms of the guests, the greater and by far the more important being devoted to eating and drinking. Here, at certain hours, are collected all the forces of the{6} establishment,—and especially at one o’clock, when, with many ringing of bells and great struggles in the culinary department, the dinner is served. For to the adoption20 of this hour has the Frau at last been driven by the increasing infirmities of the world around her. The scenery of the locality is lovely; the air is considered to be peculiarly health-compelling; the gossipings during the untrammelled idleness of the day are very grateful to those whose lives are generally laborious21; the love-makings are frequent, and no doubt sweet; skittles and bowls and draughts22 and dominoes have their devotees; and the smoking of many pipes fills up the vacant hours of the men.
But, at the Brunnenthal, dinner is the great glory of the day. It would be vain for any ?sthetical guest, who might conceive himself to be superior to the allurements23 of the table, to make little of the Frau’s dinner. Such a one had better seek other quarters for his summer’s holiday. At the Brunnenthal Peacock it is necessary that you should believe in the paramount24 importance of dinner. Not to come to it at the appointed time would create, first marvel25, in the Frau’s mind, then pity,—as to the state of your health,—and at last hot anger should it be found that such neglect arose from contempt. What muse26 will assist me to describe these dinners in a few words? They were commenced of course by soup,—real soup, not barley27 broth28 with a strong prevalence of the barley. Then would follow the boiled meats, from which the soup was supposed to have been made,—but such boiled{7} meat, so good, that the supposition must have contained a falsehood. With this there would be always potatoes and pickled cabbages and various relishes29. Then there would be two other kinds of meat, generally with accompaniment of stewed30 fruit; after that fish,—trout from the neighbouring stream, for the preservation31 of which great tanks had been made. Vegetables with unknown sauces would follow,—and then would come the roast, which consisted always of poultry32, and was accompanied of course by salad. But it was after this that were made the efforts on which the Frau’s fame most depended. The puddings, I think, were the subject of her greatest struggles and most complete success. Two puddings daily were, by the rules of the house, required to be eaten; not two puddings brought together so that you might choose with careless haste either one or the other; but two separate courses of puddings, with an interval33 between for appreciation34, for thought, and for digestion35. Either one or both can, no doubt, be declined. No absolute punishment,—such as notice to leave the house,—follows such abstention. But the Frau is displeased36, and when dressed in her best on Sundays does not smile on those who abstain37. After the puddings there is dessert, and there are little cakes to nibble38 if you will. They are nibbled39 very freely. But the heat of the battle is over with the second pudding.
They have a great fame, these banquets; so that ladies and gentlemen from Innsbruck have themselves driven out here to enjoy them. The distance each way{8} is from two to three hours, so that a pleasant holiday is made by a visit to the Frau’s establishment. There is a ramble40 up to the waterfall and a smoking of pipes among the rocks, and pleasant opportunities for secret whispers among young people;—but the Frau would not be well pleased if it were presumed that the great inducement for the visit were not to be found in the dinner which she provides. In this way, though the guests at the house may not exceed perhaps thirty in number, it will sometimes be the case that nearly twice as many are seated at the board. That the Frau has an eye to profit cannot be doubted. Fond of money she is certainly;—fond of prosperity generally. But, judging merely from what comes beneath his eye, the observer will be led to suppose that her sole ambition on these occasions is to see the food which she has provided devoured41 by her guests. A weak stomach, a halting appetite, conscientious42 scruples43 as to the over-enjoyment of victuals44, restraint in reference to subsequent excesses or subsequent eatings,—all these things are a scandal to her. If you can’t, or won’t, or don’t eat your dinner when you get it, you ought not to go to the Brunnenthal Peacock.
This banqueting-hall, or Speise-Saal, occupies a great part of the first-floor; but here also is the drawing-room, or reading-room, as it is called, having over the door “Lese-Saal” painted, so that its purpose may not be doubted. But the reading-room is not much, and the guests generally spend their time chiefly out of doors or in their bedrooms when they are not{9} banqueting. There are two other banquets, breakfast and supper, which need not be specially19 described;—but of the latter it may be said that it is a curtailed45 dinner, having limited courses of hot meat, and only one pudding.
On this floor there is a bedroom or two, and a nest of others above; but the accommodation is chiefly afforded in other buildings, of which the one opposite is longer, though not so high, as the central house; and there is another, a little down the road, near the mill, and another as far up the stream, where the baths have been built,—an innovation to which Frau Frohmann did not lend herself without much inward suffering. And there are huge barns and many stables; for the Frau keeps a posting establishment, and a diligence passes the door three times each way in the course of the day and night, and the horses are changed at the Peacock;—or it was so, at any rate, in the days of which I am speaking, not very long ago. And there is the blacksmith’s forge, and the great carpenter’s shed, in which not only are the carts and carriages mended, but very much of the house furniture is made. And there is the mill, as has been said before, in which the corn is ground, and three or four cottages for married men, and a pretty little chapel46, built by the Frau herself, in which mass is performed by her favourite priest once a month,—for the parish chapel is nearly three miles distant if you walk by the mountain path, but is fully47 five if you have yourself carried round by the coach road. It must, I think, be many years since the{10} Frau can have walked there, for she is a dame48 of portly dimensions.
Whether the buildings are in themselves picturesque I will not pretend to say. I doubt whether there has been an attempt that way in regard to any one except the chapel. But chance has so grouped them, and nature has so surrounded them, that you can hardly find anywhere a prettier spot. Behind the house, so as to leave only space for a little meadow which is always as green as irrigation can make it, a hill rises, not high enough to be called a mountain, which is pine-clad from the foot to the summit. In front and around the ground is broken, but immediately before the door there is a way up to a lateral49 valley, down which comes a nameless stream which, just below the house, makes its way into the Ivil, the little river which runs from the mountain to the inn, taking its course through that meadow which lies between the hill and the house. It is here, a quarter of a mile perhaps up this little stream, at a spot which is hidden by many turnings from the road, that visitors come upon the waterfall,—the waterfall which at Innsbruck is so often made to be the excuse of these outings which are in truth performed in quest of Frau Frohmann’s dinners. Below the Peacock, where the mill is placed, the valley is closely confined, as the sombre pine-forests rise abruptly50 on each side; and here, or very little lower, is that gloomy or ghost-like pass through the rocks, which is called the H?llenthor; a name which I will not translate. But it is a narrow ravine, very dark{11} in dark weather, and at night as black as pitch. Among the superstitious51 people of the valley the spot is regarded with the awe52 which belonged to it in past ages. To visitors of the present day it is simply picturesque and sublime53. Above the house the valley spreads itself, rising, however, rapidly; and here modern engineering has carried the road in various curves and turns round knolls54 of hills and spurs of mountains, till the traveller as he ascends55 hardly knows which way he is going. From one or two points among these curves the view down upon the Peacock with its various appendages56, with its dark-red roofs, and many windows glittering in the sun, is so charming, that the tourist is almost led to think that they must all have been placed as they are with a view to effect.
The Frau herself is what used to be called a personable woman. To say that she is handsome would hardly convey a proper idea. Let the reader suppose a woman of about fifty, very tall and of large dimensions. It would be unjust to call her fat, because though very large she is still symmetrical. When she is dressed in her full Tyrolese costume,—which is always the case at a certain hour on Sunday, and on other stated and by no means unfrequent days as to which I was never quite able to learn the exact rule,—when she is so dressed her arms are bare down from her shoulders, and such arms I never saw on any human being. Her back is very broad and her bust57 expansive. But her head stands erect58 upon it as the head of some old Juno, and in all her motions,—{12}though I doubt whether she could climb by the mountain path to her parish church,—she displays a certain stately alertness which forbids one to call her fat. Her smile,—when she really means to smile and to show thereby59 her good-will and to be gracious,—is as sweet as Hebe’s. Then it is that you see that in her prime she must in truth have been a lovely woman. There is at these moments a kindness in her eyes and a playfulness about her mouth which is apt to make you think that you can do what you like with the Frau. Who has not at times been charmed by the frolic playfulness of the tiger? Not that Frau Frohmann has aught of the tiger in her nature but its power. But the power is all there, and not unfrequently the signs of power. If she be thwarted60, contradicted, counselled by unauthorised counsellors,—above all if she be censured,—then the signs of power are shown. Then the Frau does not smile. At such times she is wont61 to speak her mind very plainly, and to make those who hear her understand that, within the precincts and purlieus of the Brunnenthal Peacock, she is an irresponsible despot. There have been guests there rash enough to find some trifling62 faults with the comforts provided for them,—whose beds perhaps have been too hard, or their towels too limited, or perhaps their hours not agreeably arranged for them. Few, however, have ever done so twice, and they who have so sinned,—and have then been told that the next diligence would take them quickly to Innsbruck if they were discontented,—have rarely stuck to their complaints{13} and gone. The comforts of the house, and the prices charged, and the general charms of the place have generally prevailed,—so that the complainants, sometimes with spoken apologies, have in most cases sought permission to remain. In late years the Frau’s certainty of victory has created a feeling that nothing is to be said against the arrangements of the Peacock. A displeased guest can exercise his displeasure best by taking himself away in silence.
The Frau of late years has had two counsellors; for though she is but ill inclined to admit advice from those who have received no authority to give it, she is not therefore so self-confident as to feel that she can live and thrive without listening to the wisdom of others. And those two counsellors may be regarded as representing—the first or elder her conscience, and the second and younger her worldly prudence63. And in the matter of her conscience very much more is concerned than simple honesty. It is not against cheating or extortion that her counsellor is sharp to her; but rather in regard to those innovations which he and she think to be prejudicial to the manner and life of Brunnenthal, of Innsbruck, of the Tyrol, of the Austrian empire generally, and, indeed, of the world at large. To be as her father had been before her,—for her father, too, had kept the Peacock; to let life be cheap and simple, but yet very plentiful64 as it had been in his days, this was the counsel given by Father Conolin the old priest, who always spent two nights in each month at the establishment, and was not unfrequently to be{14} seen there on other occasions. He had been opposed to many things which had been effected,—that alteration65 of the hour of dinner, the erection of the bathhouse, the changing of plates at each course, and especially certain, notifications and advertisements by which foreigners may have been induced to come to the Brunnenthal. The kaplan, or chaplain, as he was called, was particularly averse66 to strangers, seeming to think that the advantages of the place should be reserved, if not altogether for the Tyrolese, at any rate for the Germans of Southern Germany, and was probably of opinion that no real good could be obtained by harbouring Lutherans. But, of late, English also had come, to whom, though he was personally very courteous67, he was much averse in his heart of hearts. Such had ever been the tendency of his advice, and it had always been received with willing, nay68, with loving ears. But the fate of the kaplan had been as is the fate of all such counsellors. Let the toryism of the Tory be ever so strong, it is his destiny to carry out the purposes of his opponents. So it had been, and was, with the Frau. Though she was always in spirit antagonistic69 to the other counsellor, it was the other counsellor who prevailed with her.
At Innsbruck for many years there had lived a lawyer, or rather a family of lawyers, men always of good repute and moderate means, named Schlessen; and in their hands had been reposed70 by the Frau that confidence as to business matters which almost every one in business must have in some lawyer. The first{15} Schlessen whom the Frau had known in her youth, and who was then a very old man, had been almost as Conservative as the priest. Then had come his son, who had been less so, but still lived and died without much either of the light of progress or contamination of revolutionary ideas from the outer world. But about three years before the date of our tale he also had passed away, and now young Fritz Schlessen sat in the chair of his forefathers71. It was the opinion of Innsbruck generally that the young lawyer was certainly equal, probably superior, in attainments72 and intellect to any of his predecessors73. He had learned his business both at Munich and Vienna, and though he was only twenty-six when he was left to manage his clients himself, most of them adhered to him. Among others so did our Frau, and this she did knowing the nature of the man and of the counsel she might expect to receive from him. For though she loved the priest, and loved her old ways, and loved to be told that she could live and thrive on the rules by which her father had lived and thriven before her,—still, there was always present to her mind the fact that she was engaged in trade, and that the first object of a tradesman must be to make money. No shoemaker can set himself to work to make shoes having as his first intention an ambition to make the feet of his customers comfortable. That may come second, and to him, as a conscientious man, may be essentially74 necessary. But he sets himself to work to make shoes in order that he may earn a living. That law,—almost of nature we may say,—{16}had become so recognised by the Frau that she felt that it must be followed, even in spite of the priest if need were, and that, in order that it might be followed, it would be well that she should listen to the advice of Herr Schlessen. She heard, therefore, all that her kaplan would say to her with gracious smiles, and something of what her lawyer would say to her, not always very graciously; but in the long-run she would take her lawyer’s advice.
It will have to be told in a following chapter how it was that Fritz Schlessen had a preponderating75 influence in the Brunnenthal, arising from other causes than his professional soundness and general prudence. It may, however, be as well to explain here that Peter Frohmann the son sided always with the priest, and attached himself altogether to the conservative interest. But he, though he was honest, diligent, and dutiful to his mother, was lumpy, uncouth76, and slow both of speech and action. He understood the cutting of timber and the making of hay,—something perhaps of the care of horses and of the nourishment77 of pigs; but in money matters he was not efficient. Amalia, or Malchen, the daughter, who was four or five years her brother’s junior, was much brighter, and she was strong on the reforming side. British money was to her thinking as good as Austrian, or even Tyrolese. To thrive even better than her forefathers had thriven seemed to her to be desirable. She therefore, though by her brightness and feminine ways she was very dear to the priest, was generally opposed to him in the family conclaves78.{17} It was chiefly in consequence of her persistency79 that the table napkins at the Peacock were now changed twice a week.
点击收听单词发音
1 adherence | |
n.信奉,依附,坚持,固着 | |
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2 paternal | |
adj.父亲的,像父亲的,父系的,父方的 | |
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3 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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4 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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6 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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7 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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8 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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10 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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11 ordinances | |
n.条例,法令( ordinance的名词复数 ) | |
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12 creed | |
n.信条;信念,纲领 | |
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13 ponies | |
矮种马,小型马( pony的名词复数 ); £25 25 英镑 | |
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14 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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15 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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16 diligent | |
adj.勤勉的,勤奋的 | |
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17 ascent | |
n.(声望或地位)提高;上升,升高;登高 | |
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18 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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19 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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20 adoption | |
n.采用,采纳,通过;收养 | |
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21 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
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22 draughts | |
n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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23 allurements | |
n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 );吸引;诱惑物;有诱惑力的事物 | |
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24 paramount | |
a.最重要的,最高权力的 | |
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25 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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26 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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27 barley | |
n.大麦,大麦粒 | |
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28 broth | |
n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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29 relishes | |
n.滋味( relish的名词复数 );乐趣;(大量的)享受;快乐v.欣赏( relish的第三人称单数 );从…获得乐趣;渴望 | |
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30 stewed | |
adj.焦虑不安的,烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 );煨;思考;担忧 | |
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31 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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32 poultry | |
n.家禽,禽肉 | |
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33 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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34 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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35 digestion | |
n.消化,吸收 | |
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36 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
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37 abstain | |
v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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38 nibble | |
n.轻咬,啃;v.一点点地咬,慢慢啃,吹毛求疵 | |
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39 nibbled | |
v.啃,一点一点地咬(吃)( nibble的过去式和过去分词 );啃出(洞),一点一点咬出(洞);慢慢减少;小口咬 | |
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40 ramble | |
v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
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41 devoured | |
吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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42 conscientious | |
adj.审慎正直的,认真的,本着良心的 | |
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43 scruples | |
n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 );顾虑,顾忌v.感到于心不安,有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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44 victuals | |
n.食物;食品 | |
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45 curtailed | |
v.截断,缩短( curtail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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47 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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48 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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49 lateral | |
adj.侧面的,旁边的 | |
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50 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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51 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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52 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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53 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
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54 knolls | |
n.小圆丘,小土墩( knoll的名词复数 ) | |
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55 ascends | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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56 appendages | |
n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 );依附的人;附属器官;附属肢体(如臂、腿、尾等) | |
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57 bust | |
vt.打破;vi.爆裂;n.半身像;胸部 | |
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58 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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59 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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60 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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61 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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62 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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63 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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64 plentiful | |
adj.富裕的,丰富的 | |
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65 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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66 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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67 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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68 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
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69 antagonistic | |
adj.敌对的 | |
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70 reposed | |
v.将(手臂等)靠在某人(某物)上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71 forefathers | |
n.祖先,先人;祖先,祖宗( forefather的名词复数 );列祖列宗;前人 | |
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72 attainments | |
成就,造诣; 获得( attainment的名词复数 ); 达到; 造诣; 成就 | |
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73 predecessors | |
n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 );前辈;(被取代的)原有事物;前身 | |
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74 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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75 preponderating | |
v.超过,胜过( preponderate的现在分词 ) | |
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76 uncouth | |
adj.无教养的,粗鲁的 | |
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77 nourishment | |
n.食物,营养品;营养情况 | |
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78 conclaves | |
n.秘密会议,教皇选举会议,红衣主教团( conclave的名词复数 ) | |
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79 persistency | |
n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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