Ten miles away to the westward9 lay Blidah, Europeanised and noisy, but here was the deep stillness and solitude10—though not the arid11 desolation—of the open desert. The silence was broken only by the monotonous12 cooing of pigeons and the low murmur13 of voices.
At a little distance from the picketed14 horses, out in the full sunshine, a man lay on his back on the soft ground apparently15 asleep, his hands clasped under his head, his face almost hidden by a sun helmet beneath the brim of which protruded16 grotesquely17 a disreputable age-black pipe which even in sleep his teeth held firmly. There were amongst William Chalmers’ patients and intimate acquaintances those who affirmed positively18 that that foul19 old meerschaum—treasured relic20 of his hospital days—ranked second in his affections only to the adored wife who was sitting now near his recumbent figure. Alert and youthful looking in spite of her grey hairs, she lounged comfortably against a sun warmed rock talking animatedly22 yet softly to the third member of the party, a well set up man of soldierly appearance who sprawled23 full length at her feet. There was a certain definite resemblance between the two, a similarity of speech and gesture, that proclaimed a near relationship.
Mrs. Chalmers broke off in the middle of a sentence to flap her gauntlet gloves at a swarm24 of persistent25 flies. “All the same, I think it’s perfectly26 disgraceful that you are still a bachelor, Micky,” she said, with emphatic27 cousinly candour, resuming an argument which had raged for the last half hour. Major Meredith grinned with perfect good humour.
“Haven28’t time for matrimony,” he answered lazily, “too busy watching our wily brothers over the Border. And besides,” with a provocative29 sidelong glance, “marriage is a lottery30. We can’t all expect to have Bill’s luck.”
Mrs. Chalmers wrinkled her nose at him disgustedly. “That’s a cliché,” she said with fine scorn, ignoring the implied compliment, “it merely means that you haven’t yet met the right woman. However—” she laughed mischievously—“there’s still hope for you. A year at home after nearly ten years of exile will probably make you change your mind. It’s a pity you didn’t take your leave sooner, there were some charming girls here last winter. Unfortunately this year’s sample is not recommendable, there is scarcely a really nice girl in the place—always excepting Marny Geradine, and she’s married already—poor child.”
“Why ‘poor child?’?” asked the soldier, his cousin’s sudden change of tone seeming to call for some comment. “Because—” Mrs. Chalmers paused frowningly, “oh, well, you haven’t seen Lord Geradine or you wouldn’t ask,” she went on soberly, “he’s been away on a shooting trip since you’ve been here—and the air of Algiers has been consequently cleaner,” she added with a little shiver.
Major Meredith hoisted32 his long limbs up into a sitting position. “A case of a misfit marriage?” he suggested.
“Marriage!” echoed Mrs. Chalmers scornfully, “it isn’t a marriage, it’s a crime. It makes my blood boil to think of it. And yet I hardly know them. He’s impossible, and she is the shyest, most reserved young woman I have ever met. I’d give a great deal to be able to help her, she seems so lonely and there is tragedy staring at you out of her eyes. But of course one can’t do anything. She isn’t the kind of person who makes confidants. I’ve blundered in pretty often during my life when it hasn’t been my business, but I simply shouldn’t dare to speak to Lady Geradine of her affairs—though I am old enough to be her mother. Ugh! let’s talk of something less revolting,” she said hastily, a trace of huskiness in her voice. And for a time she sat silent, staring absently in front of her with eyes that had become very wistful and tender. Then with a shrug33 and a half sigh she turned again eagerly to her companion. “There is a great deal that wants putting right in the world, Micky,” she said with ungrammatical decisiveness, “but I’m not going to spoil a perfect afternoon by moralising. It has been jolly, hasn’t it? I thought you would like this little valley. So few people seem to know of it, no special inducement to bring them here except peace and quietness which most of the folk wintering in Algiers don’t seem particularly to hanker after. We found it years ago and have camped here often, a haven of refuge when life was especially strenuous34 or perplexing. It is sad to think that it is our last visit and that in a few weeks we shall have shaken the dust of Algeria off our feet. Five years, Micky, five years that Bill has been marking time in this Back of Beyond because of my stupid lungs. But they are all right now, thank God, and we are off to America as soon as may be to investigate some new nerve treatment Bill is interested in. And when he has picked the brains of his transatlantic confrères we shall come home to end our days in Harley Street in an odour of sanctity and general stuffiness35. Won’t London be simply horrid36 after years of fresh air and open spaces? So, you see, you only just caught us in time. If your leave had been delayed you would have missed us, and I did want you to see our Algerian home. It’s been a hectic37 fortnight, but I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, and I think we’ve managed to show you all the sights of Algiers and its immediate38 surroundings. But I do regret one thing—I wish you could have seen our Mystery-man. He is quite a feature of the place. An Englishman who lives like an Arab—you needn’t pull a face, Micky, I don’t mean that he has ‘gone native’ or anything horrid of that kind, he is much too dignified39. But he lives in a sort of splendid isolation40 in the loveliest villa41 in Mustapha, with a retinue42 like a Chief’s. And though he is tremendously popular with the French officers and all the important Sheiks who come into Algiers he pointedly43 avoids his fellow countrymen. And he won’t speak to or even look at a woman! He wears Arab dress most of the time and would pass for a native anywhere. He lives for months together in the desert and descends44 on Algiers at irregular intervals45. One hears that he is in the town, and glimpses him occasionally stalking along with his head in the air rather like a supercilious46 camel, or riding like a hurricane through the streets in approved Arab style, but that is all that the English community ever see of him. And he has obviously heaps of money—and it’s a gorgeous villa. He might be such an acquisition to the place, but, as it is, he is merely an intriguing47 personality who is ‘wropt in mystery,’ as old Nannie used to say. Needless to add that in a place like this, where we all discuss our neighbours, he is the subject of endless speculation48. But nobody really knows anything about him.”
A faint chuckle49 came from behind Doctor Chalmers’ big helmet. “I’m sorry to contradict you, Mollie, but that is not strictly51 accurate,” he said sleepily. His wife sat up with a jerk. “Who knows?” she challenged.
“Well—I do, for one,” replied Doctor Chalmers coolly.
“You know, Bill—and you’ve never said. How like a man! Really, you are the most exasperating52 creatures on earth. Fancy having that pearl of information up your sleeve—I’m getting mixed up in my metaphors53, but never mind—and withholding54 it from the partner of your joys and sorrows. I shouldn’t have passed it on if it was a confidence, you know that very well. But since you have admitted so much you can soothe55 my outraged56 feelings by imparting a little more.”
Doctor Chalmers laughed and stretched lazily. “Can’t be done,” he replied succinctly57.
“Why not? I wouldn’t tell a soul, and Micky is only a bird of passage so it can’t possibly matter what he hears. Don’t be tiresome58, Bill, expound59.”
But the doctor shook his head. “My dear Mollie,” he expostulated, fingering the old pipe tenderly, “a confidence is a confidence and I can’t break it simply to satisfy your curiosity, natural though it may be. And hasn’t the poor devil been discussed enough? How he lives and what he chooses to do in the desert is, after all, entirely60 his own affair—nobody else’s business.”
“But, Bill, one hears such queer stories—”
“Queer stories be hanged, m’dear. A silly lot of idiotic61 gossip, this place is rotten with it. Some fool of a busybody starts a rumour62 without a tithe63 of foundation to it and it’s all over the town as gospel truth the next day. Carew’s mode of life, his antipathy64 to women, and his obvious sympathy with the Arabs make him a bit peculiar65. Just because the poor chap has the bad taste to ignore your charming sex all the women have got their knives into him. I bet the queer stories you speak of emanate66 from your blessed feminine tea parties. Trust a woman to invent a mystery—”
“But, Bill, he is mysterious.”
“Rubbish, Mollie. He prefers to make his friends amongst the French and he hates women—that’s the sum total of his crimes as far as I’m aware. Peculiar, if you like, but certainly not mysterious. And as to the last indictment—” the doctor laughed and winked67 unblushingly at Major Meredith, “—personally I call him a sensible chap to mix only with his own broader minded and more enlightened sex—ouch!” he grunted69, as his wife’s helmet landed with a thud on his chest.
“Bill, you’re horrid. Men gossip just as much as women.”
Doctor Chalmers returned her helmet with an ironical70 bow. “They may do, my dear,” he said with sudden gravity, “but in Algiers it is not the men who gossip about Carew. And for the short time we remain in this hot-bed of intrigue71 you will oblige me by contradicting, on my authority, any silly stories you may hear about him. He’s a friend of mine. I value his friendship, and I won’t have him adversely72 discussed in my house.”
Mrs. Chalmers bowed her head to the unexpected storm she had raised. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said contritely73, “I didn’t know he was really a friend. In all the years we’ve lived here you’ve hardly ever mentioned him. I do think men are the queerest things,” she added in a puzzled voice that made her companions laugh. Her husband rolled over and began to fill his pipe. “There are still a few little secrets I keep from the wife of my bosom,” he murmured teasingly, “but, seriously, Mollie, hands off Carew.”
“Very well, dear,” she replied with surprising meekness74. And for some time she sat silent with knitted brows, poking75 the sand absently with the handle of her whip. Then she spoke76 abruptly77—“But there’s no smoke without fire, Bill. There must be some foundation for the stories that are told about him. He was divorced or something unpleasant of the kind, wasn’t he?”
“He may have been,” replied the doctor indifferently, pressing the tobacco down into the bowl of his pipe with a blunt thumb, “I don’t know—and I’m afraid I don’t care. I take people as I find them, and Gervas Carew is one of the whitest, cleanest men I have ever met.”
Major Meredith looked up with a sudden start.
“Gervas Carew,” he said quickly, “Sir Gervas Carew?”
The doctor shrugged78. “I believe so,” he said guardedly, “though he doesn’t seem to have any use for the title. He drops it here in Algeria. And if you have anything detrimental80 to say about him I’d rather not hear it,” he added shortly, with a sudden flicker6 of anger in his sleepy blue eyes.
But Major Meredith was obviously not listening.
“Gervas Carew—after all these years!” he ejaculated, “so your Mystery-man, Mollie, turns out to be Gervas Carew. Gad81, what a small place the world is! Poor old Gervas—of all people!”
Mrs. Chalmers’ eyes danced with excitement. She laid an impatient hand on her cousin’s shoulder, and shook him vigorously. “If you don’t say something more explicit82 in a minute, Micky, I shall scream. It’s no good sitting there looking as if you had seen a ghost and murmuring tragically83 ‘poor old Gervas,’ you’ve simply got to explain. And if Bill doesn’t want to listen he can go and saddle the horses. It’s time we made a move anyhow.”
Meredith turned slowly and looked at her through narrowing eyelids84. “Give a dog a bad name, and hang him,” he said with a touch of contempt in his voice. “From what you say, Mollie, Algiers appears to have been hanging Gervas Carew pretty thoroughly85 and, as he was my best friend once, I think it is up to me to explain. You needn’t go, Bill,” he added hastily as the doctor heaved himself on to his feet with a smothered86 word of profanity. “You’re seldom wrong in a diagnosis87, old man, and you haven’t made a mistake this time. It’s not a long story, nor, unfortunately, an uncommon88 one. Carew and I were chums at Rugby, and until I got my commission and went to India. When he was about twenty-five, shortly after his father’s death and he had succeeded to the title, he married. The girl, who was a few years younger than himself, was the worst kind of Society production, artificial to her finger tips. I stayed with them on my first home leave and hated her at sight. But poor old Gervas was blindly in love. He worshipped the ground she walked on. She was beautiful, of course, one of those pale-complexioned, copper-haired women who are liable to sudden and tremendous passion—but Gervas hadn’t touched her. Mentally and morally he was miles above her. She was as incapable89 of appreciating the fineness of his character as he was of suspecting the falseness of hers. His love didn’t content her and, though she was clever enough to hide it from him, she flirted90 shamelessly with every man who came to the house. She craved91 for adulation. Anybody was fair game to her. She tried it on with me before I’d been there half a day—but I hadn’t served five years’ apprenticeship92 in India for nothing and she ended by hating me as thoroughly as I hated her. Then the South African war broke out and I did all I could to get to the front but they sent me back to the Frontier. And Gervas, who had always wanted to be a soldier and had had to content himself with the Yeomanry, was in the seventh heaven, poor devil, and took a troop out to the Cape93, largely composed of men off his own estate. He was invalided94 back to England after nine months to find that his wife had consoled herself in his absence with an Austrian Count, of sorts, and had cleared out with the blighter, leaving a delicate baby behind her. The child died the night Gervas reached home. I heard what happened from a mutual95 friend. For a few weeks he was to all intents and purposes out of his mind. He was in a very weak state from his wound, and the double shock of his wife’s faithlessness and the baby’s death—he was devoted96 to the little chap—was too much for him. Then he took up life again, but he was utterly97 changed. He divorced the woman that she might marry the man she had gone off with and six months afterwards he disappeared.
“That’s ten or twelve years ago and I’ve never been able to get into communication with him since. That’s Gervas Carew’s story, Mollie.
“I can’t give any explanation of his avoidance of English people except that he was always a sensitive sort of chap. But I think that his present attitude towards women, at any rate, is understandable. There was one woman in the world for him—and she let him down.”
There was a long silence after the soldier stopped speaking. Mrs. Chalmers sat very subdued98, blinking away the tears that had risen in her eyes.
“I wish I’d known before, Micky. I feel a beast,” she said at last with regretful fervour.
Major Meredith prepared to follow, but lingered for a moment beside his cousin who had also risen to her feet.
“I need hardly add that what I’ve told you is entirely between ourselves, Mollie. I only wanted to put Carew right with you and Bill. What the rest of Algiers chooses to think doesn’t matter a tinker’s curse. I wish I could have seen the poor old chap, but as I’m off tomorrow that is hardly probable. Still, I’ve located him, which is more than I ever expected to do.”
Mrs. Chalmers followed him thoughtfully to the clump of olive trees where the doctor with recovered good temper was busily saddling the horses.
They mounted and moved off leisurely100 down the steep side of the hill, picking a careful way between rocks and scrub and cactus101 bushes until they reached a narrow track winding102 in and out at the foot of the mountain a few feet above the bed of the tiny ravine that separated it from the adjoining range.
The track was wide enough only for two to ride abreast103 and the doctor forged ahead leaving his wife to follow with her cousin.
Mrs. Chalmers made no further reference to the story she had heard, guessing that Meredith would not care to speak of it again, but chatted instead of the neighbourhood through which they were passing.
“These hills are a maze,” she explained with a sweeping104 gesture of her whip that effectually upset the hitherto irreproachable105 behaviour of the horse she was riding. She reined106 him back with difficulty.
“I forgot I mustn’t do that. Captain André told me he couldn’t bear to have a whip whiffled about his ears,” she said laughingly. “Some of the gorges107 are wider than this, perfect camping grounds,” she continued, after she had soothed108 her mount’s ruffled109 sensibilities. “Very often a Sheik will camp here on his way to Algiers. Extraordinarily110 interesting they are, especially the ones who come from the far south—the wildest creatures, with hordes111 of fierce retainers who look as if they would think nothing of murdering one just for the sheer fun of it. But they are always very nice to us—they like the English. I am ashamed to say I have learned very little Arabic but when we meet them I smile and say ‘Anglaise’ and they get quite excited and salaam112 and grin and chatter113 like magpies114. Then, again, we come here and may ride for miles and never see a soul for days together.”
“That is what one thinks on the Frontier but the beggars are there all the time, right enough,” said Meredith with a quick smile. “You will be riding over a bit of country that you wouldn’t think could afford cover for a cat and ping goes a bullet past your head. If they weren’t such thundering bad shots I, for one, should have been a goner years ago.” He laughed light-heartedly, and Mrs. Chalmers glanced at him curiously115, marvelling116, as she had marvelled117 frequently in the last fortnight, at the hazardous118 life that is some men’s portion and the fatalistic indifference119 it usually engenders120. During his short visit she had listened with wonder and amazement121 to her cousin’s reluctant account of his work on the Border.
To Meredith it was the Great Game. Now, quite suddenly, she wondered what it would mean to the woman he might make his wife.
“I don’t believe, after all, Micky, that men like you ought to marry,” she said pensively122. Meredith laughed at the patently regretful tone of her voice, for her matchmaking proclivities123 were notorious.
“I’m quite sure of it,” he replied promptly124, and unwillingly125 Mrs. Chalmers was obliged to laugh with him.
But further conversation became for the time impossible. The rough track they were following grew narrower and less perceptible until it suddenly vanished altogether and the horses slithered and slipped down to the rocky bed of the dry watercourse at the bottom of the defile126. The pass was bearing steadily127 towards the south and Doctor Chalmers who was some little distance ahead of them had already disappeared from sight behind a jutting128 angle of rock where the hill curved abruptly. Following in single file they reached the sharp bend and rounding it close under the stark129 cliff face, emerged into a wider, less rugged79 valley that stretched on the one hand far up into the mountains and on the other led to open country. A quarter of a mile away, at the entrance of the valley, Doctor Chalmers was waiting for them. Scrambling130 out of the river bed they spurred their horses, racing131 to join him, and as they neared he turned in the saddle beckoning132 vigorously. “You’re in luck, Micky,” he shouted, “there’s your man.” And following his pointing finger they saw a small party of horsemen galloping133 towards the mountains. The leader, who was riding slightly in advance of his escort, was distinguished134 from his white-clad followers135 by an embroidered136 blue cloth burnous that billowed round him in swelling137 folds. With a little thrill of excitement Mrs. Chalmers glanced quickly at her cousin, and decided138 for the second time that day that men were queer creatures. They never did what one expected them to do. A little more than half-an-hour ago Micky had expressed a great wish to meet again the friend of his youth. The wish unexpectedly fulfilled, it was to be supposed that his inward gratification would take some outward and visible form. He sat instead motionless on his fretting139 horse, scowling140 at the approaching horsemen, his underlip sucked in beneath his trim brown moustache, in very obvious hesitation141.
It was Doctor Chalmers who rode forward and waved his hand with a welcoming shout. And for a moment it seemed as if his greeting was going to pass unrecognised. The horsemen were nearly abreast of them, riding at a tremendous pace, another moment they would have swept past. Then, with a powerful jerk that sent the bright bay straight up into the air spinning high on his hind50 legs, the leader checked his mount suddenly. It was a common trick among the Arabs which Mrs. Chalmers had often witnessed, but she never watched it without a quickening heartbeat, and she gave a little sigh of relief now as the horse came down without the ugly backward tremble she had seen once and dreaded142 to see again. She was conscious of a feeling of extreme embarrassment143 at the near presence of the man whose mysterious personality she had discussed freely with her circle of acquaintances during the last five years, but who now appeared to her in a new and totally different light. Her warm impulsive144 heart had been touched by Micky Meredith’s story and a hot wave of discomfort145 passed over her as she recollected146 the idle gossip she had both countenanced147 and participated in. She determined148 to delay the inevitable149 meeting with the much criticised Mystery-man until the first greeting and explanations between the two old friends were over. Leaving Meredith to go alone, she lingered behind under pretext150 of re-arranging her habit, and for some minutes she bent21 over her perfectly adjusted safety skirt pulling and patting it into further order while her fidgety horse wheeled and backed impatiently at the forced stand. Then she rode forward with unusual diffidence to join the three men who, dismounted, were deep in conversation. They drew apart at her coming and Meredith effected the necessary introduction.
In response to Mrs. Chalmers’ murmured greeting the tall picturesque-looking man who had turned almost reluctantly towards her replied briefly151 and bowed with grave, unsmiling aloofness152 that seemed consistent with the Arab robes he wore so naturally. She had a swift glimpse of a lean brown clean-shaven face, of a pair of dark blue sombre eyes that did not quite meet her own, and then her husband’s genial153 voice broke the threatening silence.
“Sir Gervas is camping in the neighborhood, Mollie. He wants Micky to wait over until the later train. We shall have to push on as I promised to be in Algiers early this evening,” he explained, preparing to remount. “Your train leaves Blidah at eleven, Micky,” he added. “And, Carew, the horse is André’s. See that he gets back all right to the cavalry154 barracks, will you? Ready, Mollie? Then take hold of that beast of yours. We shall have to run for it.”
As the Doctor and his wife cantered off, Meredith looked after their retreating figures with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Bill’s diplomacy155 had been worthy156 of a greater cause. Then he turned to his companion.
“That’s a dam’ good fellow,” he said emphatically, “one in a billion.”
But the silent man beside him did not at the moment seem inclined to discuss Doctor Chalmers’ merits.
Nodding briefly he signed to his servants to bring up the spirited bay that had been removed from the proximity157 of the other horses.
And as they rode along together Meredith tried in vain to trace in this grave, taciturn individual some resemblance to the gay, happy-go-lucky Gervas Carew of long ago. He wondered, if alone, he would have even known him. Carew had apparently recognised him at once, but the recognition was easy, for the passing years had made no great alteration158 in him; while to Meredith the face of his old friend had become the face of a stranger, hardened, remoulded almost, until even the contour seemed different. Other changes too became gradually evident. The restless impatience159 that Meredith remembered had given place to a calm imperturbability160 that was more oriental than occidental. There was a dignity and stateliness in his bearing that contrasted forcibly with his former boyish impulsiveness161. Of the old Gervas Carew there was clearly nothing left, and the new Gervas seemed reluctant to reveal himself. The threads, too, of the early acquaintance, broken for so long, were curiously difficult to pick up but Micky Meredith, trained to waiting, was content to let the matter take its course. Enough that a desire had been shown for his company, the rest would follow.
Once only during the half-hour ride did Carew open his mouth. He turned and looked critically at Meredith’s mount. “Shall we let them out?” he said slowly, with a certain hesitation in his voice as if his mother-tongue came unnaturally162. “André’s horses have a reputation.”
And as they raced neck and neck towards the north over the broken country that bordered the foothills they were skirting, Meredith found a certain measure of satisfaction in the fact that one interest, at least, had survived the general upheaval163. Carew had always been a horseman and a lover of horses. More than ever did he seem so now. And as the soldier looked at the magnificent creature his companion was riding, and, glancing behind him, found the escort thundering close at their heels, he decided that it was not only the courteous164 cavalry captain at Blidah whose stud must have a reputation in the country. It was one bond of sympathy remaining, he reflected, and sat down to ride as he had rarely ridden in his life.
His borrowed horse responded gallantly165 to the effort demanded of him, but the pace was punishing and the animal’s satiny neck grew dark and seamed with sweat as he strained to keep up with the bay that showed no sign of distress166 and seemed to be rather checked than urged by his rider. And with the perspiration167 pouring down his own face Meredith was not sorry when a sudden curve in the hillside revealed a deserted168 fruit farm with Carew’s camp scattered169 amongst the orange trees.
The big double tent of the owner was pitched at some distance from those of its followers, lying in an open clearing where once the farm buildings must have stood. And all about were horses and camels, tethered or wandering at will, and a small army of Arabs languidly fulfilling the various duties of the camp or squatting170 idly on their heels engaged in endless argument.
But the return of the master roused his retainers to sudden and spontaneous activity, and Meredith noted171 with a smile of approval the evident signs of discipline and authority. Waiting grooms172 who had been lounging near the big tent sprang to the horses’ heads and the soldier slid out of the saddle with a grunt68 of relief and mopped his forehead with a gaudy173 silk handkerchief. “Do you usually ride at that pace?” he enquired174, laughing.
Carew turned from fondling the big bay that was nozzling him affectionately. “Pretty usually,” he answered, “it’s a bad habit one catches in the desert. But I’ve always wanted to try Suliman against that grey of André’s. He had him beaten from the start,” he added with a faint smile, “come have a drink.” And he led the way under the lance-propped awning175 into the cool dimness of the tent.
Meredith glanced about with interest. The costly176 but sparse3 furnishings were almost entirely of the country; a small camp table and a solitary177 deck chair, the sole concessions178 to European taste, looked incongruous in conjunction with the low inlaid stools and gay brocaded silk mats that were purely179 Arab. A wide divan180, heaped with heavy cushions and covered with a couple of leopard181 skins, stood in the centre of the room. Looped back curtains of gold-embroidered silk hung before the entrance to the sleeping apartment.
At first sight Meredith thought the tent empty. But as his eyes grew accustomed to the soft light he saw, in a far corner, the slender figure of a child sitting on the ground swaying gently to and fro, his handsome little face upturned in rapt devotion as he crooned softly to himself while the beads182 of a long rosary slipped through his small brown fingers. The thick rugs on the floor deadened the sound of their footsteps and for a moment the entrance of the two men passed unnoticed. Then Carew moved and his foot struck sharply against a small brass183 bowl that had fallen from a nearby stool. At the sound the lad stopped swaying and sat rigid184 as if listening intently, his face turned eagerly towards them. Then with a glad cry he tossed the rosary away and scrambling to his feet came flying across the tent with outstretched hands. A thick cushion that in its bright-hued covering appeared perfectly obvious against the dark rug lay directly in his path but he blundered straight into it and fell headlong before Carew could catch him. And as Meredith watched the big man bending over the little white-clad figure and saw the stern lines of his face change into a wonderful tenderness, and heard the sudden gentleness of his voice as he murmured in soft quick Arabic, he recollected with a feeling of acute dismay the “queer stories” that Mollie Chalmers had referred to. Was this, then, the solution of Carew’s protracted185 sojourns186 in the desert? To the Anglo-Indian with his deep-rooted prejudices the supposition was repulsive187. It was to him little short of a crime. And yet was there not perhaps an excuse? Sudden pity contended with repulsion as he remembered Carew’s devotion to his tiny son, and the tragedy that had robbed him of his child. Had the ardent188 desire for parenthood that had formerly189 been so strong in him risen even against racial restrictions190 and the misogyny with which he was now accredited191?
Meredith was relieved when his disturbing thoughts were interrupted. The boy was on his feet again, talking excitedly, but Carew silenced him with a hand on his shoulder.
“There is a guest, Saba,” he said in French, “salute the English lord, and go bid Hosein hasten with the cooling drink.”
Suddenly shy the boy moved forward, bending his supple192 little figure in a deep salaam. Then drawing himself erect193, he lifted his face to Meredith’s with a curiously uncertain movement. And looking down into the beautiful dark eyes raised to his the soldier saw the reason for that hasty tumble and an involuntary exclamation194 escaped him. He looked enquiringly at his host.
Carew nodded. “Yes, he’s blind,” he said in English, “but you needn’t pity him. He has never known anything different and he is a thoroughly happy little imp31.” And drawing the boy to him with a quick caress195 he set him with his face towards the door and watched him grope his way from the tent.
Then, pulling forward the deck chair, he placed cigarettes beside his guest. From behind a cloud of smoke Meredith spoke with obvious constraint196. “I’m awfully197 sorry—” he began awkwardly, and something in his voice made Carew turn quickly to look at him. For a moment his sombre eyes rested on the soldier’s embarrassed face, then he shook his head with a grave smile that had in it a trace of bitterness.
“It’s not what you think,” he said evenly, “though I admit the thought is natural. He is not mine—sometimes I wish to God he were. He’s only a waif picked up in the desert, five or six hundred miles away in the south, there. I found him six years ago, when I was helping198 to clean up an Arab raid, lying across his dead mother’s body and whimpering like a hungry kitten. He wasn’t more than a year old. I’ve had him ever since. I don’t think I could get on without the little chap now. He’s an interest, and fills up my time when I’m not otherwise occupied—fills it pretty completely, too, for he is as sharp as a needle and, when the mood takes him, as keen on mischief199 as any boy with the full use of his eyes. But tell me about yourself. Are you still on the Frontier?”
And Meredith, keenly anxious to renew the old intimacy200, let himself be drawn201 and talked of his life on the Indian Border as he had never talked of it before. Baldly and jerkily at first and then with increasing ease he spoke of the years of arduous202 work that had claimed his whole time and thought; of perilous203 journeys and months passed in disguise amongst the savage204 northern tribes, of hairbreadth escapes and strange experiences, of periods of so-called leave which to the man intent on his job and absorbed in his occupation had only meant work in another form.
For an hour or more his quiet voice went on until the lengthening205 shadows deepened into blackness and the tent grew dark and obscure, until Carew, sitting Arab fashion on the divan, was almost invisible and only the glowing end of his cigarette revealed his presence. And Meredith—the first plunge206 made—found him curiously easy to talk to, curiously knowledgeable207 too. From one or two comments he let fall Meredith was inclined to believe that the Watching Game was no new one to him and the knowledge made his own tale less difficult to tell.
He stopped at last and groped for the matches on the stool beside him. “That about let’s me out,” he said, as he lit a cigarette. Carew rose and going to the tent door clapped his hands. “You’re doing a big work, Micky,” he said as he came slowly through the gloom. “You’ll end on the Indian Council if you don’t take care,” he added with almost the old bantering208 note in his voice.
“If I don’t end with a bullet through my head, which is much more probable,” replied Meredith with a quick laugh, blinking at the lighted lamps that were being brought into the tent.
During the dinner that followed the conversation was mainly of Algeria. But though Carew discussed the country and its conditions, its people and the sport it afforded, of his own life there he said nothing. Neither did he refer to the old days when their friendship had meant so much to each. The past was evidently a sealed book that he had no intention of reopening. A tentative remark hazarded by Meredith met with no response and it was not until later when they were sitting out in the darkness under the awning that the soldier put the question he had been trying to ask all evening. They had sat for some time in silence, smoking, looking across the moonlit plain, listening to the subdued noises of the camp behind them and to the faint rhythmical209 thump210 of a tom-tom far off amongst the orange trees. A tiny breeze drifting, perfume laden211, across their faces made Meredith think suddenly of the scented212 gardens of Kashmere. He twisted in his chair to get a better view of the starry213 heavens, and blurted214 out his question.
“Why didn’t you write, old man?”
For a long time there was no answer and he mentally kicked himself for a blundering fool. Then Carew’s deep voice, deeper even than usual, came out of the darkness. “I couldn’t. I tried once—but there seemed nothing to say. I hoped you would understand.”
Meredith moved uncomfortably. “I was—damned sorry,” he muttered gruffly. Carew lit a fresh cigarette slowly.
“You needn’t waste any sympathy on me, Micky,” he said with a sudden hard laugh. “I was a fool once—but I learnt my lesson—thoroughly.” There was another long silence. Then Meredith asked abruptly: “Why Algeria?”
Carew shrugged. “I had to go somewhere. The house—its associations were a hell I wasn’t strong enough to stand. So I played the coward’s part and ran away. My people used to winter in Algiers when I was a boy. I liked the country. It seemed the natural place to come to, somehow.” He paused. When he spoke again it was in a voice that was new to Meredith. “It’s a wonderful place, the desert, Micky,” he said dreamily, “it gets you in the end—if you go far enough, and stay long enough. It’s got me all right. I don’t suppose I shall ever leave it now. I come into Algiers sometimes, but never for very long. Always I go back to it. It holds me as nothing else has ever held me. The mystery of it, the charm of it—always new, never the same, changing from day to day. And its moods, my God, Micky, its moods! The peace of heaven one moment and the fury of hell let loose the next. Cruel but beautiful, pitiless but fascinating. And, somehow, one forgets the cruelty and only the beauty remains—the beauty of its wonderful solitudes215, its marvellous emptiness.”
“And being there—what do you do?” Meredith had no wish to appear inquisitive216 but for the last few minutes he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to fit his old friend into the new setting that seemed so incongruous. Gervas and solitude! To Meredith, remembering the perpetual house parties at Royal Carew, the crowds of pleasure-seeking, sport-loving men and women with whom the genial host of those old days had surrounded himself, it appeared a thing incredible. And again he asked with growing perplexity: “What do you do?” and wondered if Carew would consign217 him to the devil. But the retort he half expected did not ensue. “What do I do?” repeated Carew slowly. “That was the question I asked myself when I came to Algeria, when I seemed to have come to the end of everything—‘what shall I do.’ My first trip into the desert settled that quickly enough. I had always been interested in the Arabs—I spoke the language as early as I spoke English—but I only knew the Arabs of the towns. So I went down into the south to see the real life of the desert. I met some of the old Sheiks who used to come into Algiers when I was a boy and who still remembered my father. They made it easy for me and passed me on into districts where otherwise I could never have penetrated218, and I saw more than I had ever hoped to see. I started my wanderings with no higher motive219 than curiosity—and a desire to get away from my own thoughts. It had never occurred to me that up till then I had led an utterly purposeless life, that not a soul in the world was the better for my being in it. But out there in the desert the crying need I found forced me to think, for the reckless waste of life and the ghastly unnecessary suffering I saw appalled220 me. I knew that one man alone could not do much—but he could do something. It didn’t take me long to make up my mind. The old life was over. I wanted a new life that wouldn’t give me time to think, that would give me opportunity to help the people I had professed221 to be interested in. I went to Paris and studied medicine, specializing in surgery, and took my degree. Afterwards I put in six months with a man in Switzerland, a brute—but a wizard with the knife, and then came back to Algeria. That’s what I do, Micky.”
Meredith drew a deep breath. “And a dam’ fine thing, too,” he said heartily222. And reaching out a long arm he gripped the other’s shoulder for a moment with a pressure that was painful. “So that’s what you do in the desert when you vanish for months at a time, is it?” he said slowly, with a curious expression of relief in his voice and a feeling of self-disgust as he thought of the suspicions that had been forced upon him earlier in the evening.
“It isn’t all plain sailing, I suppose?” he suggested.
“Far from it,” replied Carew, “but it depends on the district, of course. Usually the beggars are grateful enough and I go pretty much where I please. But they are a naturally suspicious people and there are some places I can’t get into at any price. They think my work is a pretext and that I am a spy of the Government.”
“And are you?”
“Officially, no. But sometimes I see and hear things I think the Government should know—it’s a difficult country to administer—and at times the Government make use of my knowledge. I have acted as intermediary more than once in negotiations223 with some of the outlying tribes where it would be impossible to send a regularly accredited Agent without a regiment224 to back him up—and that usually ends in fighting which the Government try to avoid. There’s unrest enough in the south without stirring up any more trouble,” he added, turning to speak to a tall, saturnine-looking Arab who had suddenly approached with a soft murmur of apology.
The shrill225 sequel of a stallion and the trampling226 of hoofs227 made Meredith realise the reason for the interruption.
“Time up?” he said regretfully, following Carew into the tent. “By jove, it’s late!” he added, glancing at his watch, “can we get into Blidah by eleven?”
“Not by the way the Chalmers brought you,” replied Carew with a faint smile, buckling228 the clasp of the heavy burnous his servant folded about his shoulders. The same escort that had ridden with him earlier in the day was waiting but he dismissed them and alone the two men rode out into the moonlit night. For a time they did not speak. Carew had apparently reached the limit of his confidences and Meredith was in no mood to break the silence. It had been a curious meeting, a curious renewal229 of an old friendship, but the soldier was left with an uncomfortable feeling of doubt whether it would not have been kinder if no reminder230 of his early life had been brought to disturb the peace that, seemingly, his old friend had found in the desert. His presence must have vividly231 awakened232 in Carew memories of the past. For how much did the past still count with him? Did he never regret the fine old property in England where generations of Carews had lived since the days of the Virgin233 Queen whose visit during a royal progress had given the house its name? Meredith had many pleasant recollections of Royal Carew and the thought of the stately house he had known so full of life and happiness standing234 now empty and forlorn in the midst of its beautiful park gave him a feeling of sadness.
“Will you never go back, Gervas?” he asked involuntarily.
“Go back—where?”
“To Royal Carew.”
Carew shook his head. “I told you I had done with the old life,” he said rather wearily. “Royal Carew belongs to the past—and the past is dead. And I couldn’t very well go back now, if I wanted to. I let my cousin have the place. He is my heir, it would have come to him eventually. It was better he should go there while he was still young enough to enjoy it. It’s a damned poor game waiting for dead men’s shoes,” he added with a short laugh.
They were galloping now over undulating country where the crests235 of the gently swelling hillocks were almost as light as day and the tiny intervening valleys lay like pools of dark, still water. As they reached the summit of a rather larger hill than they had yet encountered, Carew slackened speed with a word of warning.
“There is a deserted village in the valley,” he said, pointing down into the darkness, “be careful how you go, it’s a confusing place at night. And if anything happens—sit tight and leave the talking to me,” he added significantly. And as he spurred the bay a half length in advance Meredith saw his hand go to the silk shawl that was swathed about his waist. A deserted village—but Carew was reaching for his revolver. With a grin Meredith took a firmer grip of Captain André’s grey. He had passed through similar deserted villages in India.
“Heave ahead,” he said cheerily, and followed his companion closely down the long slope.
The valley was shallower than others they had traversed and here and there a shaft236 of moonlight cut through the murky237 gloom. They were on the village before Meredith realised its nearness, and as they threaded the empty streets at a slow canter he looked keenly about him with a slight feeling of pleasurable excitement. But no sound broke the stillness and no furtive238 figures lurking239 among the ruined huts appeared to justify240 Carew’s warning. Then the grey stumbled badly on a heap of rubble241 lying across the road and until they were clear of the village he gave his whole attention to his borrowed horse. But when they were speeding across the plain once more with the lights of Blidah faint in the distance he turned to Carew with a look of enquiry. “What might have happened?” he asked curiously.
“Anything—murder, probably, if you had been alone.”
“It saves three miles,” replied Carew calmly.
And Meredith flung back his head and laughed like a boy.
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1
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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13
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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14
picketed
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| 用尖桩围住（picket的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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18
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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19
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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21
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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22
animatedly
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| adv.栩栩如生地，活跃地 | |
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23
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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24
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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25
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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27
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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28
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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29
provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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30
lottery
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| n.抽彩；碰运气的事，难于算计的事 | |
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31
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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32
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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34
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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35
stuffiness
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| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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40
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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41
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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42
retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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44
descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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45
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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46
supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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47
intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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48
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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49
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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50
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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51
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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52
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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53
metaphors
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| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
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54
withholding
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| 扣缴税款 | |
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55
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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56
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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57
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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58
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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59
expound
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| v.详述；解释；阐述 | |
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60
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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61
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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62
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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63
tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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64
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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66
emanate
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| v.发自，来自，出自 | |
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67
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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68
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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69
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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70
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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71
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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72
adversely
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| ad.有害地 | |
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73
contritely
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74
meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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75
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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76
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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77
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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78
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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79
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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80
detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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81
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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82
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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83
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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84
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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85
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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86
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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87
diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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88
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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89
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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90
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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92
apprenticeship
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| n.学徒身份；学徒期 | |
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93
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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94
invalided
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| 使伤残（invalid的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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95
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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96
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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97
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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98
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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99
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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100
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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101
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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102
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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103
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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104
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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105
irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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106
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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107
gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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108
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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109
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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110
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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111
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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112
salaam
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| n.额手之礼，问安，敬礼；v.行额手礼 | |
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113
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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114
magpies
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| 喜鹊（magpie的复数形式） | |
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115
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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116
marvelling
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的现在分词 ) | |
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117
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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119
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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120
engenders
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的第三人称单数 ) | |
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121
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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122
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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123
proclivities
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| n.倾向，癖性( proclivity的名词复数 ) | |
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124
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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125
unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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126
defile
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| v.弄污，弄脏；n.(山间)小道 | |
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127
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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128
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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129
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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130
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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131
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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132
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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133
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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134
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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135
followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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136
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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137
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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138
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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139
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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140
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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141
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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142
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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143
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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144
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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145
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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146
recollected
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|
| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
countenanced
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| v.支持，赞同，批准( countenance的过去式 ) | |
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148
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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149
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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150
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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151
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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152
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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153
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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154
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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155
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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156
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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157
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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158
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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159
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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160
imperturbability
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| n.冷静；沉着 | |
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161
impulsiveness
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| n.冲动 | |
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162
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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163
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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164
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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165
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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166
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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167
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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168
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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169
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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170
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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171
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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172
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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173
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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174
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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175
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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176
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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177
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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178
concessions
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| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
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179
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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180
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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181
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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182
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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183
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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184
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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185
protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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186
sojourns
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| n.逗留，旅居( sojourn的名词复数 ) | |
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187
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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188
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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189
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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190
restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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191
accredited
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| adj.可接受的；可信任的；公认的；质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 )；委托；委任；把…归结于 | |
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192
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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193
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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194
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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195
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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196
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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197
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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198
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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199
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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200
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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201
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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202
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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203
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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204
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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205
lengthening
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的现在分词 )； 加长 | |
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206
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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207
knowledgeable
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| adj.知识渊博的；有见识的 | |
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208
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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209
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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210
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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215
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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216
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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220
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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221
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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223
negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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224
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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225
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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226
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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227
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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228
buckling
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| 扣住 | |
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229
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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230
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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231
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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232
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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233
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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234
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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235
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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236
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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237
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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238
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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239
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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240
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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241
rubble
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| n.（一堆）碎石，瓦砾 | |
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242
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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