There are some books, when we close them; one or two in the course of our life, difficult as it may be to analyse or ascertain8 the cause; our minds seem to have made a great leap. A thousand obscure things receive light; a multitude of indefinite feelings are determined9. Our intellect grasps and grapples with all subjects with a capacity, a flexibility10, and a vigour11, before unknown to us. It masters questions hitherto perplexing, which are not even touched or referred to in the volume just closed. What is this magic? It is the spirit of the supreme12 author, by a magentic influence blending with our sympathising intelligence, that directs and inspires it. By that mysterious sensibility we extend to questions which he has not treated, the same intellectual force which he has exercised over those which he has expounded13. His genius for a time remains14 in us. ‘Tis the same with human beings as with books. All of us encounter, at least once in our life, some individual who utters words that make us think for ever.
There are men whose phrases are oracles15; who condense in a sentence the secrets of life; who blurt16 out an aphorism17 that forms a character or illustrates18 an existence. A great thing is a great book; but greater than all is the talk of a great man.
And what is a great man? Is it a Minister of State? Is it a victorious19 General? A gentleman in the Windsor uniform? A Field Marshal covered with stars? Is it a Prelate, or a Prince? A King, even an Emperor? It may be all these; yet these, as we must all daily feel, are not necessarily great men. A great man is one who affects the mind of his generation: whether he be a monk20 in his cloister21 agitating22 Christendom, or a monarch23 crossing the Granicus, and giving a new character to the Pagan World.
Our young Coningsby reached Beaumanoir in a state of meditation24. He also desired to be great. Not from the restless vanity that sometimes impels25 youth to momentary26 exertion27, by which they sometimes obtain a distinction as evanescent as their energy. The ambition of our hero was altogether of a different character. It was, indeed, at present not a little vague, indefinite, hesitating, inquiring, sometimes desponding. What were his powers? what should be his aim? were often to him, as to all young aspirants28, questions infinitely29 perplexing and full of pain. But, on the whole, there ran through his character, notwithstanding his many dazzling qualities and accomplishments30, and his juvenile31 celebrity32, which has spoiled so much promise, a vein33 of grave simplicity34 that was the consequence of an earnest temper, and of an intellect that would be content with nothing short of the profound.
His was a mind that loved to pursue every question to the centre. But it was not a spirit of scepticism that impelled35 this habit; on the contrary, it was the spirit of faith. Coningsby found that he was born in an age of infidelity in all things, and his heart assured him that a want of faith was a want of nature. But his vigorous intellect could not take refuge in that maudlin36 substitute for belief which consists in a patronage37 of fantastic theories. He needed that deep and enduring conviction that the heart and the intellect, feeling and reason united, can alone supply. He asked himself why governments were hated, and religions despised? Why loyalty38 was dead, and reverence39 only a galvanised corpse40?
These were indeed questions that had as yet presented themselves to his thought in a crude and imperfect form; but their very occurrence showed the strong predisposition of his mind. It was because he had not found guides among his elders, that his thoughts had been turned to the generation that he himself represented. The sentiment of veneration41 was so developed in his nature, that he was exactly the youth that would have hung with enthusiastic humility42 on the accents of some sage43 of old in the groves44 of Academus, or the porch of Zeno. But as yet he had found age only perplexed45 and desponding; manhood only callous46 and desperate. Some thought that systems would last their time; others, that something would turn up. His deep and pious47 spirit recoiled48 with disgust and horror from such lax, chance-medley maxims49, that would, in their consequences, reduce man to the level of the brutes50. Notwithstanding a prejudice which had haunted him from his childhood, he had, when the occasion offered, applied51 to Mr. Rigby for instruction, as one distinguished52 in the republic of letters, as well as the realm of politics; who assumed the guidance of the public mind, and, as the phrase runs, was looked up to. Mr. Rigby listened at first to the inquiries53 of Coningsby, urged, as they ever were, with a modesty54 and deference55 which do not always characterise juvenile investigations56, as if Coningsby were speaking to him of the unknown tongues. But Mr. Rigby was not a man who ever confessed himself at fault. He caught up something of the subject as our young friend proceeded, and was perfectly57 prepared, long before he had finished, to take the whole conversation into his own hands.
Mr. Rigby began by ascribing everything to the Reform Bill, and then referred to several of his own speeches on Schedule A. Then he told Coningsby that want of religious Faith was solely58 occasioned by want of churches; and want of Loyalty, by George IV. having shut himself up too much at the cottage in Windsor Park, entirely59 against the advice of Mr. Rigby. He assured Coningsby that the Church Commission was operating wonders, and that with private benevolence60, he had himself subscribed61 1,000l., for Lord Monmouth, we should soon have churches enough. The great question now was their architecture. Had George IV. lived all would have been right. They would have been built on the model of the Budhist pagoda62. As for Loyalty, if the present King went regularly to Ascot races, he had no doubt all would go right. Finally, Mr. Rigby impressed on Coningsby to read the Quarterly Review with great attention; and to make himself master of Mr. Wordy’s History of the late War, in twenty volumes, a capital work, which proves that Providence63 was on the side of the Tories.
Coningsby did not reply to Mr. Rigby again; but worked on with his own mind, coming often enough to sufficiently64 crude conclusions, and often much perplexed and harassed65. He tried occasionally his inferences on his companions, who were intelligent and full of fervour. Millbank was more than this. He was of a thoughtful mood; had also caught up from a new school some principles, which were materials for discussion. One way or other, however, before he quitted Eton there prevailed among this circle of friends, the initial idea doubtless emanating66 from Coningsby, an earnest, though a rather vague, conviction that the present state of feeling in matters both civil and religious was not healthy; that there must be substituted for this latitudinarianism something sound and deep, fervent67 and well defined, and that the priests of this new faith must be found among the New Generation; so that when the bright-minded rider of ‘the Daughter of the Star’ descanted on the influence of individual character, of great thoughts and heroic actions, and the divine power of youth and genius, he touched a string that was the very heart-chord of his companion, who listened with fascinated enthusiasm as he introduced him to his gallery of inspiring models.
Coningsby arrived at Beaumanoir at a season when men can neither hunt nor shoot. Great internal resources should be found in a country family under such circumstances. The Duke and Duchess had returned from London only a few days with their daughter, who had been presented this year. They were all glad to find themselves again in the country, which they loved and which loved them. One of their sons-in-law and his wife, and Henry Sydney, completed the party.
There are few conjunctures in life of a more startling interest, than to meet the pretty little girl that we have gambolled68 with in our boyhood, and to find her changed in the lapse69 of a very few years, which in some instances may not have brought a corresponding alteration70 in our own appearance, into a beautiful woman. Something of this flitted over Coningsby’s mind, as he bowed, a little agitated71 from his surprise, to Lady Theresa Sydney. All that he remembered had prepared him for beauty; but not for the degree or character of beauty that he met. It was a rich, sweet face, with blue eyes and dark lashes72, and a nose that we have no epithet73 in English to describe, but which charmed in Roxalana. Her brown hair fell over her white and well turned shoulders in long and luxuriant tresses. One has met something as brilliant and dainty in a medallion of old Sèvres, or amid the terraces and gardens of Watteau.
Perhaps Lady Theresa, too, might have welcomed him with more freedom had his appearance also more accorded with the image which he had left behind. Coningsby was a boy then, as we described him in our first chapter. Though only nineteen now, he had attained74 his full stature75, which was above the middle height, and time had fulfilled that promise of symmetry in his figure, and grace in his mien76, then so largely intimated. Time, too, which had not yet robbed his countenance77 of any of its physical beauty, had strongly developed the intellectual charm by which it had ever been distinguished. As he bowed lowly before the Duchess and her daughter, it would have been difficult to imagine a youth of a mien more prepossessing and a manner more finished.
A manner that was spontaneous; nature’s pure gift, the reflex of his feeling. No artifice78 prompted that profound and polished homage79. Not one of those influences, the aggregate80 of whose sway produces, as they tell us, the finished gentleman, had ever exercised its beneficent power on our orphan81, and not rarely forlorn, Coningsby. No clever and refined woman, with her quick perception, and nice criticism that never offends our self-love, had ever given him that education that is more precious than Universities. The mild suggestions of a sister, the gentle raillery of some laughing cousin, are also advantages not always appreciated at the time, but which boys, when they have become men, often think over with gratitude82, and a little remorse83 at the ungracious spirit in which they were received. Not even the dancing-master had afforded his mechanical aid to Coningsby, who, like all Eton boys of his generation, viewed that professor of accomplishments with frank repugnance84. But even in the boisterous85 life of school, Coningsby, though his style was free and flowing, was always well-bred. His spirit recoiled from that gross familiarity that is the characteristic of modern manners, and which would destroy all forms and ceremonies merely because they curb86 and control their own coarse convenience and ill-disguised selfishness. To women, however, Coningsby instinctively87 bowed, as to beings set apart for reverence and delicate treatment. Little as his experience was of them, his spirit had been fed with chivalrous88 fancies, and he entertained for them all the ideal devotion of a Surrey or a Sydney. Instructed, if not learned, as books and thought had already made him in men, he could not conceive that there were any other women in the world than fair Geraldines and Countesses of Pembroke.
There was not a country-house in England that had so completely the air of habitual89 residence as Beaumanoir. It is a charming trait, and very rare. In many great mansions90 everything is as stiff, formal, and tedious, as if your host were a Spanish grandee91 in the days of the Inquisition. No ease, no resources; the passing life seems a solemn spectacle in which you play a part. How delightful92 was the morning room at Beaumanoir; from which gentlemen were not excluded with that assumed suspicion that they can never enter it but for felonious purposes. Such a profusion93 of flowers! Such a multitude of books! Such a various prodigality94 of writing materials! So many easy chairs too, of so many shapes; each in itself a comfortable home; yet nothing crowded. Woman alone can organise95 a drawing-room; man succeeds sometimes in a library. And the ladies’ work! How graceful96 they look bending over their embroidery97 frames, consulting over the arrangement of a group, or the colour of a flower. The panniers and fanciful baskets, overflowing98 with variegated99 worsted, are gay and full of pleasure to the eye, and give an air of elegant business that is vivifying. Even the sight of employment interests.
Then the morning costume of English women is itself a beautiful work of art. At this period of the day they can find no rivals in other climes. The brilliant complexions100 of the daughters of the north dazzle in daylight; the illumined saloon levels all distinctions. One should see them in their well-fashioned muslin dresses. What matrons, and what maidens101! Full of graceful dignity, fresher than the morn! And the married beauty in her little lace cap. Ah, she is a coquette! A charming character at all times; in a country-house an invaluable102 one.
A coquette is a being who wishes to please. Amiable103 being! If you do not like her, you will have no difficulty in finding a female companion of a different mood. Alas104! coquettes are but too rare. ‘Tis a career that requires great abilities, infinite pains, a gay and airy spirit. ‘Tis the coquette that provides all amusement; suggests the riding party, plans the picnic, gives and guesses charades105, acts them. She is the stirring element amid the heavy congeries of social atoms; the soul of the house, the salt of the banquet. Let any one pass a very agreeable week, or it may be ten days, under any roof, and analyse the cause of his satisfaction, and one might safely make a gentle wager106 that his solution would present him with the frolic phantom107 of a coquette.
‘It is impossible that Mr. Coningsby can remember me!’ said a clear voice; and he looked round, and was greeted by a pair of sparkling eyes and the gayest smile in the world.
It was Lady Everingham, the Duke’s married daughter.
点击收听单词发音
1 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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2 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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3 verging | |
接近,逼近(verge的现在分词形式) | |
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4 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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5 omnipotent | |
adj.全能的,万能的 | |
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6 nurture | |
n.养育,照顾,教育;滋养,营养品;vt.养育,给与营养物,教养,扶持 | |
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7 destined | |
adj.命中注定的;(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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8 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
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9 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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10 flexibility | |
n.柔韧性,弹性,(光的)折射性,灵活性 | |
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11 vigour | |
(=vigor)n.智力,体力,精力 | |
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12 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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13 expounded | |
论述,详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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15 oracles | |
神示所( oracle的名词复数 ); 神谕; 圣贤; 哲人 | |
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16 blurt | |
vt.突然说出,脱口说出 | |
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17 aphorism | |
n.格言,警语 | |
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18 illustrates | |
给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 ); 说明; 表明; (用示例、图画等)说明 | |
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19 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
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20 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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21 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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22 agitating | |
搅动( agitate的现在分词 ); 激怒; 使焦虑不安; (尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而)激烈争论 | |
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23 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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24 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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25 impels | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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27 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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28 aspirants | |
n.有志向或渴望获得…的人( aspirant的名词复数 )v.渴望的,有抱负的,追求名誉或地位的( aspirant的第三人称单数 );有志向或渴望获得…的人 | |
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29 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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30 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
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31 juvenile | |
n.青少年,少年读物;adj.青少年的,幼稚的 | |
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32 celebrity | |
n.名人,名流;著名,名声,名望 | |
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33 vein | |
n.血管,静脉;叶脉,纹理;情绪;vt.使成脉络 | |
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34 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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35 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36 maudlin | |
adj.感情脆弱的,爱哭的 | |
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37 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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38 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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39 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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40 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
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41 veneration | |
n.尊敬,崇拜 | |
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42 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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43 sage | |
n.圣人,哲人;adj.贤明的,明智的 | |
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44 groves | |
树丛,小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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45 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
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46 callous | |
adj.无情的,冷淡的,硬结的,起老茧的 | |
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47 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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48 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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49 maxims | |
n.格言,座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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50 brutes | |
兽( brute的名词复数 ); 畜生; 残酷无情的人; 兽性 | |
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51 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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52 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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53 inquiries | |
n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 );疑问;探究;打听 | |
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54 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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55 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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56 investigations | |
(正式的)调查( investigation的名词复数 ); 侦查; 科学研究; 学术研究 | |
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57 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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58 solely | |
adv.仅仅,唯一地 | |
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59 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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60 benevolence | |
n.慈悲,捐助 | |
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61 subscribed | |
v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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62 pagoda | |
n.宝塔(尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔),(印度教或佛教的)塔式庙宇 | |
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63 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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64 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
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65 harassed | |
adj. 疲倦的,厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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66 emanating | |
v.从…处传出,传出( emanate的现在分词 );产生,表现,显示 | |
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67 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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68 gambolled | |
v.蹦跳,跳跃,嬉戏( gambol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69 lapse | |
n.过失,流逝,失效,抛弃信仰,间隔;vi.堕落,停止,失效,流逝;vt.使失效 | |
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70 alteration | |
n.变更,改变;蚀变 | |
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71 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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72 lashes | |
n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 );鞭子;突然猛烈的一击;急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 );煽动;紧系;怒斥 | |
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73 epithet | |
n.(用于褒贬人物等的)表述形容词,修饰语 | |
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74 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
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75 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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76 mien | |
n.风采;态度 | |
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77 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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78 artifice | |
n.妙计,高明的手段;狡诈,诡计 | |
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79 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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80 aggregate | |
adj.总计的,集合的;n.总数;v.合计;集合 | |
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81 orphan | |
n.孤儿;adj.无父母的 | |
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82 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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83 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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84 repugnance | |
n.嫌恶 | |
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85 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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86 curb | |
n.场外证券市场,场外交易;vt.制止,抑制 | |
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87 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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88 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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89 habitual | |
adj.习惯性的;通常的,惯常的 | |
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90 mansions | |
n.宅第,公馆,大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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91 grandee | |
n.贵族;大公 | |
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92 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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93 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
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94 prodigality | |
n.浪费,挥霍 | |
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95 organise | |
vt.组织,安排,筹办 | |
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96 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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97 embroidery | |
n.绣花,刺绣;绣制品 | |
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98 overflowing | |
n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的,充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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99 variegated | |
adj.斑驳的,杂色的 | |
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100 complexions | |
肤色( complexion的名词复数 ); 面色; 局面; 性质 | |
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101 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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102 invaluable | |
adj.无价的,非常宝贵的,极为贵重的 | |
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103 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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104 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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105 charades | |
n.伪装( charade的名词复数 );猜字游戏 | |
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106 wager | |
n.赌注;vt.押注,打赌 | |
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107 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
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