It was the night of the Governor’s annual ball. By now she should have been dressed. But the wonderful Paris creation that Geradine had insisted on ordering specially7 for the occasion still lay in shimmering8 folds on the chaise longue and Marny had not changed from the simple teagown in which she had dined.
She was not going to the ball. She was not going to submit again to the open shame and humiliation9 that had been her portion throughout her married life but which during the last few weeks had reached a culminating point of horror. Her husband’s gross intemperance10, his notorious infidelities, his callous11 disregard for anything beyond his own pleasure, had driven her at last to rebellion. She had reached the end of her endurance. She knew that at home she must continue to suffer the brutal12 treatment he meted13 out to her but she had resolved never to appear in public with him again. How would he receive her decision? How would she brave his anger? Why did she think only of his strength, of the hectoring bullying14 voice she dreaded16, of the merciless hands that made her shrink in physical fear that was an agony? Intolerant of the least opposition17 to his lightest wish what would he do to her! A shudder18 of pure terror ran through her. If he would only come—as she knew he would come to demand the reason of her lateness. Waiting was torture.
And yet when the door burst open and banged violently to again and she heard his heavy step behind her the dread15 she had felt before was as nothing to the paralysing fear that now rushed over her robbing her of all power of movement.
She could have shrieked19 when his hands closed with crushing force on her shoulders and he swung her round to face him. But she managed to control herself and meet his furious stare courageously20. He was in the quarrelsome stage of semi-intoxication that of late had been his usual state, drunk enough to be cruel and vindictive21, sober enough to be dangerous.
“Not dressed yet! What the hell have you been doing all this time? You’re damnably late!”
She was used to being sworn at, she had come to feel that nothing he could say could hurt her any more, and tonight it did not seem to matter very much what he said.
She forced herself to answer him.
“I’m not going to the ball, Clyde.”
He glared at her in speechless anger, his hands slipping from her shoulders, his dark red face flushing deeper, the veins23 on his forehead standing out like whipcord.
“The devil you’re not! And why, might I ask?” he bellowed24 furiously. Panic driven, the temptation to evade25 the issue she had raised, the cowardly impulse to plead illness to allay26 his wrath27 was almost more than she could suppress. But she fought back the words that rushed to her lips and turned away with a little hopeless gesture.
“You know why,” she said in a low voice.
“I’m damned if I do!”
She turned to him swiftly.
“You know, Clyde,” she said steadily28, “you know perfectly29 well why I dread going out with you. You’ve known ever since we were married.”
“I know you’re a little fool,” he retorted angrily. “Look here, Marny, I’ve had enough of this nonsense. You’ll go to this dam’ ball whether you like it or not, just as you will go anywhere and everywhere I choose you shall go. I’ll give you ten minutes to be ready—not a second more. And you can keep your infernal objections to yourself in future. I’m not going to be preached at by anybody, much less by you. Look sharp and don’t keep me waiting any longer. Ten minutes—that’s your limit,” he shouted and moved as if to leave the room. She shivered, her pale face whiter than before, but her determination was stronger than her fear.
“It’s no use, Clyde. I’m not going,” she said slowly. And for the first time he heard a ring of obstinacy30 in her voice. He swung back towards her, staring at her for a moment incredulously, rocking slightly on his feet, his big hands clenching32 as he worked himself up to a pitch of passionate33 rage.
“You mean that?” he said thickly. Her dry lips almost refused their office.
“Yes,” she whispered faintly.
“You deliberately34 disobey me?” She wrung35 her hands in sudden agony. “I’ve always obeyed you, always done what you wished—but this—oh, I can’t. I can’t!”
He towered over her, his bloodshot eyes menacing. “You can’t?” he sneered36. “I rather think you both can and will. There’s only one person in this house who says ‘can’t’—and that’s me. You’ll do what you’re told, now and always. Put on that dress—and God help you if you keep me waiting!”
She lifted a quivering face of desperate appeal.
“Clyde—I—Clyde!” Her voice broke in a cry of terrible anguish37 as he struck her, the whole weight of his powerful body behind the smashing blow that sent her reeling across the room to fall with a sickening crash on the parquet38 floor.
He looked down at her callously39, his crimson40 face twitching41, his big frame shaking with passion. Then he walked slowly across the room and sat down heavily on the bed, his smouldering eyes still fixed42 with a look of cruel satisfaction on the prostrate43 little figure that lay so still. He had no compunction for what he had done. She had come to the wrong shop if she thought she was going to roughride him with any of her silly notions. He would jolly well make it clear to her tonight that he would brook44 no disobedience, no questioning of his habits, no thwarting45 of his wishes. Damned little puritan—who shrank from his embraces as if she were a ravished nun46 instead of a normal athletic47 young woman with healthy red blood in her veins. He wanted a mate in his arms not a beautiful piece of statuary whose reserve and coldness infuriated him. She was his wife—and dam’ lucky to be so. She might have been on the streets if it hadn’t been for him. If she wasn’t satisfied—well, he’d a grievance48 himself if it came to that. They’d been married five years, why the devil hadn’t she given him the heir he wanted? And lashing49 himself to greater fury he waited, making no effort to aid her until she regained50 consciousness. She stirred at last, moaning with pain, her slender body convulsed with terrible shuddering52. Dragging herself to her feet she stood swaying giddily, her hands pressed on her throbbing53 temple, her heavy eyes looking listlessly about her till they rested at length on Geradine’s massive figure and into them there flashed suddenly the horror of dawning remembrance. With a little choking sound she turned and staggering a few steps fell into a chair before the dressing54 table, burying her head in her arms amongst the costly55 appointments that littered its shining surface, her shoulders shaking with hard tearless sobs56.
And as Geradine had watched her insensible so did he watch her now, pitiless and unmoved. He had no use for half measures. If she had to be taught a lesson it should be at least a thorough one. He lurched to his feet and strode across the room, halting beside her with his arms folded across his broad chest, his foot beating with angry impatience57 against the floor. “How much longer are you going to keep me waiting?”
The harsh words jarred like a stab of actual pain and sick and faint she raised her eyes to his. One look convinced her of his determination. He meant it, oh, very well she knew he meant it! Too dazed, too broken to oppose him further she knew that she would have to obey; that, cost her what it might, she would have to dress and go with him. With a stifled58 gasp59 of pain she struggled to her feet, her head reeling, and caught at the table for support, pushing the heavy hair off her forehead and wincing60 as her fingers touched her injured temple.
“If you will please go I will ring for my maid,” she muttered indistinctly, choking back the hysterical61 sobs that rose in her throat. “I’ll go when it suits me, and you’ll ring for no maid,” he said sharply. “You’ll dress a dam’ sight quicker with me in the room. It won’t be the first time I’ve valeted you, and it won’t be the last I’m willing to bet. And I’m hanged if I’ll have that grim faced old harridan62 you call your maid poking63 her nose in where she isn’t wanted. I’m about fed up with her as it is. She’s not the kind of woman I want about you, anyhow. She’ll have to go, and the sooner the better. You can pay her her wages tomorrow and tell her to clear out by the first available boat.”
“Clyde!” The sharp cry was wrung from her. And forgetting her pain, her fear, everything but the heartless ultimatum64 he had launched at her she sprang towards him, clutching at him with trembling hands, her face working convulsively, pleading as she would not have stooped to plead for herself.
“Clyde, Clyde, you don’t mean it, you can’t mean it! You can’t send her away, you couldn’t be so cruel. She’s old, I’m all she’s got, it would kill her to leave me. And you promised—you promised me faithfully I might keep her. It will break her heart. Oh, Clyde, be generous. Do what I ask, just this once. If you let me keep her I’ll never oppose you again. I’ll do anything you wish—I’ll be anything you wish—”
A sneering66 look of triumph crossed his face as he flung her from him. “You’ll do as I wish without any bargains, my lady,” he said significantly. “You’ve had your orders and there’s an end of the matter. The thing’s finished. And might I remind you that the horses have already been waiting an hour?”
That was apparently67 all that mattered to him. Of less value at the moment than the pedigreed animals he prided, distress68 of mind, the pain and weariness of her bruised69 and aching body was beyond his consideration. A feeling of numbness70 came over her, a kind of frozen apathy71 that seemed to turn her into a mere72 automaton73, and without a word she turned slowly to do his bidding. She had a curious impression that the white-faced weary-looking woman reflected in her mirror was some other than herself, that, divorced from her own body, she was watching the suffering of a total stranger. And as she dressed with mechanical haste only one thing was clear and instant with her—the consciousness of menacing eyes that followed her every movement until their burning stare became a veritable torment74. But, throughout the process of her toilet he spoke76 only once, a characteristic remark: “Put a bit o’ colour on your face. You’re as white as a ghost.”
“Haven’t—any? Good God!” he ejaculated and relapsed into silence. But when she was dressed he came to her, and as his critical gaze travelled slowly over her slim figure the heavy scowl79 smoothed from his face and the old look of proprietory admiration80 crept back into his eyes. With the quick change of mood that was so marked in him he caught her in his arms with sudden passion. “Damn it all, Marny, what the devil do you want to make me lose my temper for?” he grumbled81 petulantly83. “Give me a kiss, and don’t be such a little fool again.”
Sick with loathing84 but helpless against his strength perforce she lifted her face to his. But unsatisfied he laughed with angry contempt. “Do you call that a kiss? Gad85, you’ve a lot to learn!” he said scornfully, and crushed his mouth once more against her trembling lips. Then he let her go and, swelling86 with the sense of his own magnanimity, hurried her with heavy jocularity to the waiting carriage, there to soothe87 his ruffled88 feelings with a cigar which he smoked in silence during the short drive into Algiers.
And huddled89 in her own corner of the roomy victoria Marny leaned back and rested her aching head against the cushions, staring before her with fixed unseeing eyes.
During the five years that had been a physical as well as mental martyrdom she had suffered much at her husband’s hands. In the furious rages to which he was liable he had often hurt her cruelly but until tonight he had never deliberately struck her. But it was not of his brutality90 towards herself that Geradine’s wife was thinking now as the carriage rolled swiftly along the deserted91 road. Her mind was filled with only one thought. Ann! How to tell her. How to break to the faithful old woman the fact that her lifelong service must end so abruptly92, so callously? Where would she go, what would she do? To face the world again at seventy! Marny’s hands clenched93 in sudden anguish. Would she even be allowed to help her if necessity arose? Herself she was penniless, Castle Fergus had passed to Geradine and she was dependent on him even for the very sous she flung to the Arab beggars who clustered round her carriage. How, after tonight, could she ever appeal to him again. And yet, for Ann’s sake, she knew that she would have to make that appeal and court not only his almost certain refusal but the consequent anger that would assuredly be directed against herself. Why was she such a craven, why did the thought of her own miserable94 suffering obtrude95 when it was Ann, and only Ann, who mattered!
Her husband’s impatient voice roused her to the fact that the carriage was at a standstill. Tonight, the gala night of the year, the Governor’s palace was filled to overflowing96, a scene of vivid animation97, gorgeous with oriental splendour, rioting with colour and echoing with a confusion of voices laughing and chattering98 in a score of different languages. The spacious99 rooms, flaming with lights and decorated with a wealth of scented100 flowers, were crowded—a motley gathering101 of nearly every race and creed102 moving in a never ceasing stream to the strains of the crashing military band.
The gaudy103 costumes of the desert sheiks, the crimson burnouses of the grave-faced Caids, the striking and picturesque104 uniforms of Spahis and Zouaves made distinctive105 notes in the brilliant assembly that eclipsed even the radiant hues106 of the marvellous toilettes of the French and English ladies.
To Marny, dazzled by the light and deafened107 by the uproar108, it seemed as if she had stepped suddenly into pandemonium109. For once she was even glad of the nearness of her husband whose burly figure was an effectual barrier against the press that thronged110 them as they moved slowly towards the low dais where the Governor, heated and weary with handshaking but beaming with happiness and hospitality, stood amongst a group of highly placed officials and European consuls111. Near him General Sanois, less obviously enjoying himself, was deep in conversation with a tall and venerable-looking Caid. And at the foot of the dais was clustered a little group of sheiks from the far south, gazing about them with calm aloofness112 but keenly alive to every detail and circumstance of the evening’s entertainment.
There were many curious glances that followed and many eager tongues that discussed the tardy113 appearance of the two important English guests as they made their slow passage across the room, and the Governor whose twinkling eyes were roving constantly in quest of new faces was quick to notice their arrival. Punctilious114 to a nicety he stepped forward to greet them with a deference115 that was due to Geradine’s rank and to the beauty of his wife. But as she responded to his gallant116 and happy little speech of welcome Marny’s voice faltered slightly and her pale face flushed with a wave of beautiful colour, for near her in the little group of desert men beside the dais she saw Carew standing clad like them in native robes but distinguished117 by the dark blue burnous he affected118. And Geradine, whose French was as limited as was the Governor’s English, while replying somewhat laboriously119 to his host’s courtesies had also noticed the tall Arab-clad figure and grasped eagerly at the chance of cutting short a conversation that bored him infinitely120.
“I’m hanged if that isn’t my friend of the sandstorm,” he exclaimed, and waved pointedly121 at Carew who, unwilling122 to add to the public attention already aroused, came forward reluctantly and submitted to a boisterous123 greeting. With a loud laugh Geradine turned again to the visibly astonished Governor. “Seems a decent sort of chap,” he said condescendingly. “Pulled me out of no end of a hole in the desert a week or two ago. Introduce him to my wife, will you? She’s interested in the natives. And, Marny,” he added, his own slight interest already evaporating, “you speak the lingo124 better than I do, say something civil to the fellow—only for heaven’s sake remember he’s a Mohammedan and don’t put your foot into it and enquire125 for his wife and family. And when you’re tired of him His Excellency will find you partners if you want to dance. I’m off to get a drink.” And with a careless nod he swung on his heel in search of the nearest buffet126.
His graceless incivility was no more than much that Marny had been called upon frequently to endure but tonight his boorishness127 was almost more than she could bear. His mistake with regard to Carew though regrettable was a perfectly natural one, but his cavalier treatment of the courteous128 little Frenchman was unpardonable. Scarlet129 with shame and confusion she could find no words to break the awkward silence that ensued. But the Governor, whose saving sense of humour was fortunately greater than his feeling of mortification130, plunged131 nobly into the breach132 and made the best of the embarrassing situation in which he found himself. “Madame,” he stammered133, with twitching lips, “I—I have the honour to present to you Monsieur Carew—a compatriot of your own,” and fled to hide his secret enjoyment134 of a contretemps he found exquisitely135 amusing. Carew the woman hater—and he had just introduced him to the most beautiful woman in Algiers. Bon Dieu, quelle comédie! But to Marny it was no comedy. Miserable and tongue-tied, giddy with pain, she tried vainly to collect herself, to formulate137 some adequate excuse that should cover her husband’s blunder and lessen138 the resentment139 she was sure the man beside her must feel at being publicly forced into an action that was totally against his universally known principles. Would he blame her for being the cause, though the unwitting cause, of his present predicament? Would he too leave her in this crowded room, the cynosure140 of curious eyes, to find her way alone to the group of English dowagers with whom she had the slightest acquaintance? Super-sensitive and innately141 shy the very thought of it made her shrink. The few seconds that had passed since the Governor’s hurried departure seemed magnified into hours. Angry at her own gaucherie she had nerved herself to make some halting apology when the opening bars of a waltz rising above the din2 of conversation occasioned a general rush for partners and in the comparative quiet that followed she heard the deep soft voice that had become so dear to her speaking with the slow hesitancy she had noticed before.
“You are looking very tired, Lady Geradine. Shall I take you out of this babel?”
And almost before she realised it she found herself walking beside him down the length of the long room, piloted skilfully142 between the dancing couples who already filled the floor. Once or twice he paused to exchange a nod and a passing word with a uniformed officer or an isolated143 group of Arabs, but she hardly noticed these slight interruptions and at length they reached the rapidly emptying entrance hall. Crossing it he turned down a short corridor that opened into a little winter garden where chairs were placed amongst palms and banks of tropical plants. At the moment the place was deserted. And quiet and dimly lit to Marny it seemed a haven of refuge after the glare and noise of the crowded reception rooms. With a feeling of relief she followed him to a fern-screened couch at the further end of the conservatory144 and sank into the low seat, stripping the long gloves from her hands and closing her eyes wearily. And looking down at her Carew saw her face convulsed with a sudden spasm145 of pain.
He was still inwardly raging at the incident of a few minutes ago, still seething146 with the strange hatred147 that had laid so strong a hold upon him—hatred that, aggravated148 by Geradine’s discourteous149 and overbearing manner, seemed tonight to have reached its culminant pitch. It was with difficulty that he had controlled himself just now in the ballroom150. But something had restrained him, something—more impellent even than his desire to avoid a collision that could only have ended in a public fracas—that had risen up within him at the sight of the girl’s strained face. And as he looked at her now with his black brows drawn151 together in a heavy scowl he was still wondering at the impulse that had come to him to shield her, still trying vainly to understand his own motive152 in bringing her here. What had prompted him?
Was it anger or pleasure or only pity he felt as he stared again at the little drooping153 figure? A curious expression crept into his sombre eyes. What a child she looked—what a weary white-faced child!
“You ought to be at home and in bed,” he said, almost roughly. “Can I get you anything—champagne or a cup of coffee?”
She glanced up with a start.
“No, please, it’s nothing. Only a headache,” she stammered. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me tonight,” she added with a shaky laugh. “I’m not given to headaches. I’m as strong as a horse, really.” But as she uttered her valiant154 little boast her voice broke and she looked away, twisting her gloves nervously155 between her hands. He could see that she was struggling with herself but he made no attempt to forestall156 the explanation he guessed was coming and waited, still standing, for her to speak. She turned to him at last, her troubled gaze not reaching his face but lingering on the picturesque details of his Arab dress.
“Sir Gervas—I’m sorry—that stupid blunder—” she faltered. Then suddenly her eyes met his and words came tumbling out in breathless haste. “—but you were with him that night in the desert, you let him think you were an Arab. He couldn’t possibly know you were English, that you could understand—”
“Do you think I mind being taken for an Arab?” he interrupted, pulling his heavy cloak closer round him and sitting down beside her. “It was a perfectly natural mistake and not worth a moment’s consideration, certainly not worth the value of a pair of gloves,” he added with a faint smile. And reaching out he drew them deliberately from between her twitching fingers. His voice was extraordinarily157 gentle but there was in it an underlying158 note of finality that made further apology impossible, and with a little sigh she relapsed into silence.
For a time she watched him smoothing the creases159 from the crumpled160 gloves, wondering at his unexpected presence.
“I didn’t think you would be here tonight,” she said at length. “You don’t really like—this sort of thing, do you?” she added, with a vague movement of her hand towards the distant ballroom.
“Loathe it,” he answered promptly161, moving slightly to face her and settling his long limbs more comfortably into the corner of the sofa. “But I make a point of coming to this particular function if I happen to be in Algiers. I meet old friends.”
“Desert friends?”
“Is that why you wear Arab dress?”
“Partly,” he shrugged164, “they would hardly know me in European clothes. But principally because I prefer it.”
“As you prefer to speak Arabic or French, rather than English?” she hazarded.
“How do you know?”
She flushed under his stare and looked away with an odd little smile.
“When you talk you stop sometimes as if you were searching for a word,” she said, rather hesitatingly, “and the other day, in the Bouzaréa woods, half the time you were speaking in French.”
“I have scarcely spoken English for twelve years,” he said shortly. Then as if to cover the slight piece of personal information he had let slip he added:
“There is no longer any need for you to restrict your rides, Lady Geradine. The woods are safe enough now.”
She turned to him swiftly. “What do you mean?” she said with sudden breathlessness. And as she listened to his bald unvarnished account of the end of Abdul el Dhib the colour that had risen to her face died out of it leaving her white to the lips. She was shivering when he finished, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. “And it was because of me—because of what you did for me that night,” she burst out passionately165. “Oh, I never thought, I never guessed the risk you were taking! And you knew all the time! It was he you meant when you warned me not to ride alone. It was he you thought was coming that morning in the woods when Tanner brought the horses, and that very night—oh, if he had killed you, it would have been my fault! And I—I—” She pulled herself up sharply, aghast at the sound of her own voice, at the confession166 that had been almost wrung from her. A wave of burning colour suffused167 her face and tingling168 with shame she averted169 it hastily, veiling her eyes with the thick dark lashes170 that swept downward to her cheek—but not before he had seen the look that flashed into them, a look that sent the blood racing171 madly through his veins and made his heart leap with sudden violence. For a moment he sat rigid172, stunned173 with self-realisation, the hands that were clasped around his knee tightening174 slowly until the knuckles175 shone white through the tanned skin. Then with a tremendous effort he mastered himself.
“Nobody’s fault but my own, I’m afraid,” he said with forced lightness. “I knew the man I was dealing176 with. I have good friends in Algiers who gave me warnings in plenty and because I chose to ignore them what happened was due to my carelessness.”
“It still doesn’t lessen my obligation,” she said in a stifled voice. But his quiet tone, his imperturbable177 manner was fast restoring her own self-possession. Indifferent himself, why should he guess the true cause of her agitation178? Perhaps what had seemed so blatant179 to her had escaped him, and he had seen in her outburst only a natural womanly distress for the danger of a man who had risked his life on her behalf. And the formal courtesy of his next words further reassured180 her. “There was never any obligation,” he said quietly. “I merely did what anybody else would have done under the circumstances.” And abruptly he changed the conversation to the recent race meeting at Biskra. Convinced that he had not divined her secret, her feeling of self-consciousness and restraint wore gradually away and only the joy of his companionship remained. She would get from it what she could, she would live for the moment and its transient happiness and leave to the future the misery181 and loneliness that was going to be so much harder to bear than it had ever been. Enough that she was with him and that she loved him, loved him as she had never thought it possible to love. A love that should be her secret strength in the bitter years to come.
Silence fell between them again. And content to wait until he should choose to speak she sat very still beside him, watching him covertly182 as he leant back with his hands clasped behind his head, his half-shut eyes staring straight before him as if he saw more than the ferns and fairy lights at which he was looking. Tonight his face seemed graver, sterner than she had ever seen it. A tragic183 face it appeared to her, a face that bore the deep-cut marks of sorrow and disappointment. And she wondered, with a dull pain in her heart, what had been the tragedy that had driven him to the solitary184 wilds of the desert. She knew nothing of his history, his name and the nature of his work amongst the Arabs were all that Mrs. Chalmers had confided185, and she had no means of ever knowing. A being apart, a type that had been a revelation, he would pass out of her life, abruptly as he had come into it, to forget her in the greater interest of his chosen vocation186. It was strange to think of him as a doctor, living a life of arduous187 toil75 and terrible risk. Into what savage188 and lonely places must he go to wrestle189 with the pain and suffering he sought to alleviate190. El Hakim—the desert healer! And she, who loved him, would have no knowledge of his achievements, would never know the final happening that would terminate that life of noble and self-sacrificing endeavour. In the pitiless years that stretched so barrenly ahead she would have only a memory to cling to, a memory that would be at once her consolation191 and her pain. Into the tender, brooding eyes fixed on him there came a look of mingled192 pride and anguish. He would never know, thank God he would never know! But if he had cared, if she had brought sorrow to him—she caught her trembling lip fiercely between her teeth and began with fumbling193 haste to draw on the long gloves he had laid on the sofa between them.
“Oughtn’t we to be going back to the other room?”
He turned his head slowly.
“There’s plenty of time,” he said lazily, “they are still dancing.”
“But your desert friends—”
“—can wait,” he said succinctly194. And dreading195 the noisy ballroom, too tired and too utterly196 indifferent at the moment to care if she was outraging197 the proprieties198 Marny did not press the matter. The quiet conservatory, the restfulness and courage she seemed to derive199 from the mere presence of the man beside her were giving her strength to meet the ordeal200 that still lay before her, the ugly scene that invariably terminated Geradine’s so-called nights of amusement. It would happen tonight, as it always happened, and she would have to go through with it. For how many more years? She thrust the thought from her and turned again to Carew. But before she could speak the peaceful little winter garden was invaded. Not a dancing couple seeking for a solitary spot in which to continue a flirtation201 begun in the ballroom but two men who, deeming the place empty, did not trouble to modulate202 their voices as they took possession of a wicker seat a few feet away from the fern-hidden sofa.
“And this soi-disant countess—this copper-haired goddess you are raving203 about—” the words were uttered in fluent French but with a rough Slavonic accent.
“Soi-disant! I have it from her own lips,” interrupted an indignant voice that Carew recognised as belonging to Patrice Lemaire.
“Possibly,” was the caustic205 rejoinder, “but not necessarily correct for all that. An Austrian, you say, from Vienna? The wife of a Count Sach who held a court appointment, and who abused her infamously—and now, since his death, a lady of independent means who travels through Europe trying to forget her unhappy past?”
“That is what I said. Do you doubt it?”
“Your word, no. But the lady’s—yes.”
“Why?”
“You forget, my friend, that I am also of Vienna. I have no recollection of a Count Sach who held a court appointment, or of the lady who styles herself Countess Sach. And she is no more Austrian than you are, Lemaire. From her accent I should judge her to be English.”
“English? Bah! She doesn’t speak a word of the language.”
“She was speaking it very fluently half-an-hour ago with the grand Anglais who is drinking himself tipsy in the buffet.”
“With Geradine—that beast! Bon Dieu, she said the very sight of him revolted her!”
“She will probably find the contents of his pocketbook less revolting, my credulous31 young friend. Une femme de moeurs légères, or I’m very much mistaken.”
And listening to the cynical206 laugh that followed, Marny wondered bitterly what more of shame and humiliation was yet in store for her. At the first mention of her husband she had been startled into a quick involuntary movement but a strong arm had held her back in her seat and cool, steady fingers had closed warningly over her ice-cold hands. Wrestling with her own misery, she was scarcely conscious of Lemaire’s furious protest or of the stormy altercation207 that ensued, and when at last the sound of the men’s angry voices died away as they took their dispute elsewhere it was some time before she realised that her hands still lay in Carew’s firm grasp. She disengaged them silently. There was nothing to say, nothing that either of them could say. They had overheard what was not intended for them to hear. And the Austrian’s insinuations were very likely true. Geradine had spoken more than once of the beautiful Viennese who had recently dawned on Algiers society with no introductions but with an audacity208 of manner that had served her amply instead. That his acquaintance had probably developed into a more intimate relationship was no matter for surprise to the wife who was fully65 aware of his flagrant infidelities. It was only one more insult added to the many indignities209 he had put upon her, one more humiliation to bear—and ignore.
But if she was to retain any kind of hold over herself she must end at once the brief companionship that had given her so much happiness. The proximity210 of the man beside her, the sense of his unspoken sympathy, the sudden realisation of the sensuous211 appeal of her surroundings with its dim obscurity and intoxicating212 odour of languorous213-scented flowers was filling her with an overwhelming fear of herself. She dared not stay with him, dared not give way to the emotion which, growing momentarily greater, seemed to be robbing her of all strength. The exalted214 feeling that before had made her glad that only she should suffer was weakening in the natural, human longing204 for the love that would never be hers. If she could but tell him, could feel if only for once the clasp of his arms around her, the touch of his lips on hers! She shivered. What was she thinking—what shameless thing had she become? And trembling with the very madness of her own wild thoughts she rose quickly to her feet, her face coldly set, her voice tuned215 to level indifference216.
“I am quite rested now, Sir Gervas. Shall we go back to the ballroom?” Moving away as she spoke she gave him no option but to follow her, and an incoming stream of people put a period to anything but trivial speech between them.
In the central hall, crowded so as to make progress almost an impossibility, an artillery217 colonel caught at Carew’s arm in passing. “When you have time, mon cher,” he said hurriedly. “His Excellency is asking for you. He is in the White Salon218 with Sanois and the chief of the Ben Ezra.”
Marny glanced contritely219 at her escort. How long since he had taken her out of the crowded ballroom, how long had she trespassed220 on his time?
“I am afraid I have monopolised you very selfishly,” she murmured shyly, “You must have so many friends.”
But her faltering221 words seemed to be lost in the din of voices, for he made no answer and his attention appeared to be wholly engaged in fending222 from her the jostling press which surged around them. And five minutes later he had left her with the British Consul’s wife and was retracing223 his steps to join the informal conference that was taking place in the White Salon.
He did not go back to the public rooms and the end of the evening found him still sitting in the Governor’s study with Sanois and a few of the more Gallicized chiefs. And for some time after the sheiks had retired224 he lingered chatting with the general, delaying as long as possible the moment when he must face alone the shattering self-understanding that had come to him.
The chiming of a deep-toned clock warned him at length of the lateness of the hour and he had risen reluctantly to his feet when Patrice Lemaire burst into the room. The boy’s usually smiling face was flushed with anger and he flung himself into a chair with an explosion of wrath that did not tend to make more comprehensible the rambling225 sentences he let fall. That somebody had gone home early and defrauded226 him of the dances she had promised; that somebody else, name witheld, was a vile227 calumniator228; and that there had been a “beastly scene,” which he did not particularise, was all he would vouchsafe229. And unable to get anything more definite from him the elder man soon left him to nurse his grievances230 in solitude231.
There were still a few guests wandering about the hall waiting for carriages that were delayed, and a harassed232 attache seized upon Carew to beg a lift for an elderly Frenchman who was forlornly contemplating233 a weary walk back to his hotel at Mustapha.
Only when he had dropped his talkative companion was Carew able to give full sway to his own thoughts, and when he reached the villa he walked up the flagged path too absorbed to notice the shafts234 of light filtering through the closed jalousies of the big front room which, though kept in scrupulous235 orderliness, had never been used since his mother’s death.
He passed into the Mauresque hall and was moving slowly in the direction of his own rooms when Hosein, emerging from a shadowy corner, glided236 forward to intercept237 him.
“The lalla,” he murmured hesitatingly, his hands sweeping238 upward to his forehead in a quick salaam239.
His master faced him swiftly.
“The lalla—?” he repeated sharply.
The big Arab nodded.
“The lalla who awaits my lord,” he said softly.
For a moment Carew’s heart seemed to stand still and under the deep tan his face went suddenly white. She had come to him—God in heaven, she had come to him! Hosein’s tall figure was wavering curiously240 before him as he forced a question in a voice he did not recognise for his own.
“Where?”
“In the salon, lord,” replied Hosein and gave way with another deep salaam. And the whispering swish-swish of his robes had died away before Carew moved.
“In the salon—” He started violently. She had come to him—and he—. His face was rigid as he went towards the painted door.
It yielded to his touch and swung to noiselessly behind him, too noiselessly to be heard by her who, at the further end of the room, was standing before the portrait from which she had stripped the curtains that had veiled it for so many years. She was humming a little song, a frankly241 indecent song of the boulevards, her copper-crowned head thrown back, her gleaming shoulders twitching from time to time with a petulant82 movement of impatience.
And behind her, leaning against the portiere in which his hands were clenched, Carew stood as if turned to stone staring—staring—not at the slender, girlish form he had hoped and yet dreaded to see, but at the tall sinuously242 graceful243 figure of the woman who had been his wife. His wife—that brazen244 thing of shame, half naked in a dress whose audacity revolted him! Fool, fool to have thought his own mad longing possible!—to have thought that she—He wrenched245 his thoughts from her. And the other? Why had he not guessed, why had nothing warned him when he sat listening in the little winter garden to the angry protests of Patrice Lemaire and the caustic comments of the Austrian who “was also of Vienna!” And yet, how could he have known, how imagine that she could ever come into his life again. And why had she come? To dupe him once more, to try and make of him again the same besotted fool who had loved her with the blind ardour of a man’s first passion? That love was dead, killed by her own duplicity. Between them was an unbridgeable gulf—and the memory of a tiny fragile child abandoned with callous indifference. A rush of cold rage filled him and with blazing eyes he swept across the room.
His soft-booted feet made no sound on the thick rugs and still unconscious of his presence the woman broke off her song with a yawn and a flippant remark addressed to the portrait, and turned to find him at her elbow. For what seemed an eternity246 they stared at each other, her eyes but little below the level of his, then she turned away with an odd little strangled sound that might have been either a sob22 or a laugh.
“Why are you here?” His deep voice was hard as steel and she raised her head slowly and looked at him, a look in which there was latent admiration, wonder, and an underlying suggestion of cunning curiously blended. “I saw you at the ball. They told me you were going back to the desert. I had to come,” she faltered.
“Why?” His face was devoid247 of all expression as he flung the single word at her. With a lithe248, almost feline249 movement of her graceful body that was undisguisedly alluring250 she swayed nearer, her eyes all languorous appeal, her hands outstretched towards him. “I came because I could not stay away,” she whispered, her voice a subtle caress251, “because—because—oh, Gervas, can’t you understand? I had to come—because—I—love you, because I have always loved you—in spite of what I did. And I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t think, I didn’t realise, he swept me off my feet. And then when it was too late—too late”—her arms were round his neck, her palpitating limbs pressed close to his—“can you guess what I suffered, can you guess what my life has been! Gervas, you loved me once, for the sake of that love forgive me now, forgive—”
Throughout her amazing declaration he had stood like a rock, his face averted. But as her voice died away in a trembling whisper he turned his head quickly, too quickly for the comfort of the woman who clung to him with passionate fervidness for in the eyes that dropped almost instantly under his searching gaze he read, not the love and contrition252 her words implied, but a look of hard, eager cupidity253. The look of a gambler who watches a last and desperate throw. It was not a tardy desire for his forgiveness but some other motive which as yet he did not understand that had driven her to seek a reconciliation254 with the man who had once been clay in her hands. Though his heart was dead to her, almost he had pitied her, almost he had believed her. The sobbing255 pleading voice, the absolute abandon with which she had flung herself upon him had been a wonderful piece of acting256. She played her part with a skill and eloquence257 that, but for that last fatal slip, had almost convinced him. But self-convicted she stood for what she was, a consummate258 mistress of deceit—a liar259 as she had always been. To how many others had she made that same glib260 appeal? To how many others had she tendered the charms she so lavishly261 displayed? The hateful thought leaped unbidden to his mind as he looked at her with a kind of horror, fastidiously conscious of the deterioration262 that was so visibly apparent in her. The beautiful face so close to his was exquisite136 as he remembered it, but he seemed to see it suddenly with new eyes—the face of a woman lost to every sense of morality. To what had she sunk during the years since she had left him? What had she become—she who had been his wife, who had been the mother of his son! “Une femme de moeurs légères.” The Austrian’s sneering voice seemed to echo hideously263 through the silent room and with a shudder he unclasped her fingers and put her from him.
“I could have forgiven you—anything,” he said slowly, “but the child—” his voice broke despite him and a look of bitter pain convulsed his face—“the child you left to die alone—and you knew he was dying—”
He raised his hand with a gesture that silenced her.
“It is the truth,” he said with accusing sternness. “Do you think there was nobody to tell me? The doctor, the nurses, everybody but you, his mother, knew that he couldn’t live. And you left him. My God, you left him!”
She flung him a glance of furious anger, “You always cared for him more than me,” she sneered, and for a moment she braved him audaciously with heaving bosom and quivering lips. Then she flinched265 under his steady eyes and shrinking from him flung herself face downwards266 on a sofa and broke into a storm of tears. Tears of rage and mortification. With a feeling of suffocation267 he turned away, not troubling to refute the taunt268 she knew as well as he to be untrue. The room that was redolent with memories of the noble woman who had lived in it seemed suddenly fouled269 and contaminated. And heartsick and shaken by the scene he had gone through he crossed to a window and flinging back the jalousies, leant against the framework, staring unseeingly out into the night, struggling to regain51 the self-control that had almost left him. He was all at sea, striving to solve the problem of the woman who lay sobbing on the sofa behind him. That the life she had chosen had ended in disaster was beyond all question. What she had become was too obvious to be mistaken. It was written plainly on her face for all to see. But what had brought her to such a pass, what had induced the moral débacle that was so apparent? What desperate strait had driven her to the course she had adopted tonight? It was not for love of him she had taken such a step nor did she want his love. What then did she want that she had come to him like any common courtesan seeking by purely270 physical enticement271 to regain the old ascendancy272 she had had over him? There seemed only one possible solution. And yet, remembering the liberal settlement he had made on her, he wondered how even that was possible. With a deep sigh he pulled himself together and went slowly back to her.
“Why did you come to me tonight, Elinor?”
She was still lying prone273 among the silken cushions, but at the sound of his voice she sat up, shivering as though the room were cold, her hands clutching at the soft pillows of the sofa.
He made a gesture of impatience.
“Oh, for God’s sake don’t tell me any lies,” he said wearily. “You never cared for me, you don’t care for me now. Tell me the truth. For only the truth will help either of us tonight. Why did you come?”
For a second her eyes met his then she looked away and a wave of burning colour swamped the delicate pink and white of her painted cheeks. “Because I’m at the end of my tether—because I’m broke,” she said with a reckless laugh that made him wince275.
“And the money I settled on you?” he said slowly, hating the necessity that forced him to speak of it.
“Gone—long since. Did you think I could live on that?” she flashed contemptuously.
With an effort he restrained himself. What use to point out to her that what she regarded as a pittance276 would have kept an ordinary family in luxury.
“Then what you want is money—just money?” he said, his voice as contemptuous as her own.
“I must live,” she retorted.
“And how have you lived?” he said heavily. The colour rose again to her face. “What is that to you?” she muttered.
“Nothing—in one sense. If I am to finance you again—everything,” he said curtly277. “But I must have details. Without them I will do nothing.” He paused for a minute, fighting his abhorrence278 of the whole situation.
“You call yourself the Countess Sach. It is not the name of the man for whom you left me. Is he dead?”
“I don’t know—I left him,” she answered, very low.
“Why?”
“We quarrelled. I left him,” she repeated monotonously280.
“Did he marry you?”
“Did he want to marry you? Was the rupture282 your fault or his?” For a long time there was no answer then a whispered “Mine” came to him almost inaudibly.
“And the Count Sach?”
“There is no Count Sach.”
He turned away with a shrug163 of hopeless perplexity. He had learned all he cared to know. To force from her the whole story of those sordid283 years was beyond him. It would do no good to either. She had followed of her own free will the broad path that leads to destruction and she had proved to him again tonight her utter unworthiness. Heartless and without shame, she wanted nothing from him but the means of continuing the life she had deliberately chosen. He had provided for her once, by no argument or reasoning was she entitled to his further bounty284. In no sense was he responsible for her. In no sense? With his black brows drawn together in the heavy scowl that was so characteristic, he paced from end to end of the long room, wrestling with himself. And on the sofa where she sat immovable the woman watched the passing and repassing of the tall, stately figure, with glittering eyes that were hard with doubt and fear. What would he do? And gradually the thought came to her that if she could ever have loved any one, she might have loved this man. Not as he was in those old days at Royal Carew, but as he was now. How he had changed! And as she looked at the stern set face that was so different from what she remembered, a sudden feeling of fear ran through her. If he would only speak, only stop that monotonous279 pacing, only do something to end this horrible waiting.
He came to her at last and she stumbled to her feet to meet him. He spoke swiftly, in a voice that was hoarse285 and strained. He would settle nothing on her, but because she had been his wife, because of the child she had borne him, he would make her an allowance to be paid quarterly through his solicitors286. He made no conditions but he warned her that under no circumstances would the allowance ever be increased.
With averted head and tightly compressed lips she listened to him in silence and when he finished speaking she made no comment and gave him no thanks. And no further word was spoken between them until she left the villa in his carriage, driven by Hosein whose silent tongue could be depended upon. And as the sound of the wheels died away, Carew went back into the house. His face was drawn and gray and his usually elastic287 step dragged as he passed slowly through the empty halls and across the moonlit courtyard to his own rooms at the back of the house and from there out on to the verandah. For an instant he stood, his haggard eyes upraised to the starry288 brilliance289 of the sky, then with a groan290 that seemed to almost burst his heart, he dropped into a chair and buried his face in his hands.
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1
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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8
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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intemperance
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| n.放纵 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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13
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bullying
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| v.恐吓，威逼( bully的现在分词 )；豪；跋扈 | |
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15
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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16
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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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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19
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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23
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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24
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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evade
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| vt.逃避，回避；避开，躲避 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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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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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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32
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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parquet
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| n.镶木地板 | |
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callously
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40
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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42
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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44
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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45
thwarting
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| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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46
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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49
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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50
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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51
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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52
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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53
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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54
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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55
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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56
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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57
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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58
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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59
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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60
wincing
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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61
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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62
harridan
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| n.恶妇；丑老大婆 | |
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63
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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64
ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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65
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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66
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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67
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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68
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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69
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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70
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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71
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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72
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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73
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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74
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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75
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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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
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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78
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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79
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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80
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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81
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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82
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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83
petulantly
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84
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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85
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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86
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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87
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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88
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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89
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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90
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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91
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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92
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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93
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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94
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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95
obtrude
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| v.闯入；侵入；打扰 | |
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96
overflowing
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| 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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97
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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98
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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99
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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100
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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101
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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102
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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103
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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104
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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105
distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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106
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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107
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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108
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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109
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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110
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
consuls
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| 领事( consul的名词复数 )； （古罗马共和国时期）执政官 （古罗马共和国及其军队的最高首长，同时共有两位，每年选举一次） | |
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112
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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113
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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114
punctilious
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| adj.谨慎的，谨小慎微的 | |
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115
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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116
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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117
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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118
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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119
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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120
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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121
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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122
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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123
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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124
lingo
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| n.语言不知所云，外国话，隐语 | |
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125
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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126
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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127
boorishness
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128
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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129
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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130
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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131
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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132
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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133
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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135
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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136
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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137
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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138
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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139
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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140
cynosure
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| n.焦点 | |
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141
innately
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| adv.天赋地；内在地，固有地 | |
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142
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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143
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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144
conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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145
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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146
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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147
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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148
aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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149
discourteous
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| adj.不恭的，不敬的 | |
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150
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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151
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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152
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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153
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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154
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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155
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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156
forestall
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| vt.抢在…之前采取行动；预先阻止 | |
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157
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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158
underlying
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| adj.在下面的，含蓄的，潜在的 | |
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159
creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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160
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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161
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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162
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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163
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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164
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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165
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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166
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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167
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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168
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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169
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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170
lashes
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| 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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171
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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172
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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173
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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174
tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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175
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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176
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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177
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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178
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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179
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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180
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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181
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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182
covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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183
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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184
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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185
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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186
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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187
arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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188
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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189
wrestle
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| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
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190
alleviate
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| v.减轻，缓和，缓解(痛苦等) | |
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191
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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192
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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193
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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194
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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195
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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196
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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197
outraging
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的现在分词 ) | |
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198
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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199
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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200
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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201
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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202
modulate
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| v.调整，调节(音的强弱)；变调 | |
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203
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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204
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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205
caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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206
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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207
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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208
audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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209
indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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210
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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211
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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212
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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213
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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214
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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215
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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216
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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217
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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218
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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219
contritely
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220
trespassed
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| （trespass的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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221
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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222
fending
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| v.独立生活，照料自己( fend的现在分词 )；挡开，避开 | |
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223
retracing
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| v.折回( retrace的现在分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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224
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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225
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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226
defrauded
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| v.诈取，骗取( defraud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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227
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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228
calumniator
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| n.中伤者，诽谤者 | |
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229
vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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230
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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231
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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232
harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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233
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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234
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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235
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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236
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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237
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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238
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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239
salaam
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| n.额手之礼，问安，敬礼；v.行额手礼 | |
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240
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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241
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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242
sinuously
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| 弯曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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243
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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244
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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245
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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246
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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247
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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248
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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249
feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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250
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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251
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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252
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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253
cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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254
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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255
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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256
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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257
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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258
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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259
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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260
glib
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| adj.圆滑的，油嘴滑舌的 | |
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261
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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262
deterioration
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| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
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263
hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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264
shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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265
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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266
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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267
suffocation
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| n.窒息 | |
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268
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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269
fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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270
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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271
enticement
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| n.诱骗，诱人 | |
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272
ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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273
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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274
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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275
wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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276
pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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277
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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278
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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279
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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280
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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281
asperity
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| n.粗鲁，艰苦 | |
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282
rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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283
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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284
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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285
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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286
solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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287
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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288
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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289
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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290
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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