I had no near neighbours, except two or three topers, whose conversation consisted for the most part of hiccups8 and sighs. Solitude was preferable to their society. At last I decided9 to go to bed as early as possible, and to dine as late as possible; in this way I shortened the evening and lengthened10 out the day, and I found that the plan answered very well.
Four versts from my house was a rich estate belonging to the Countess B——; but nobody lived there except the steward11. The Countess had only visited her estate once, in the first year of her married life, and then she had remained there no longer than a month. But in the second spring of my hermitical life, a report was circulated that the Countess, with her husband, was coming to spend the summer on her estate. The report turned out to be true, for they arrived at the beginning of June.
The arrival of a rich neighbour is an important event in the lives of country people. The landed proprietors12 and the people of their household talk about it for two months beforehand, and for three years afterwards. As for me, I must confess that the news of the arrival of a young and beautiful neighbour affected14 me strongly. I burned with impatience15 to see her, and the first Sunday after her arrival I set out after dinner for the village of A——, to pay my respects to the Countess and her husband, as their nearest neighbour and most humble16 servant.
A lackey17 conducted me into the Count's study, and then went to announce me. The spacious18 apartment was furnished with every' possible luxury. Around the walls were cases filled with books and surmounted19 by bronze busts20; over the marble mantelpiece was a large mirror; on the floor was a green cloth covered with carpets. Unaccustomed to luxury in my own poor corner, and not having seen the wealth of other people for a long time, I awaited the appearance of the Count with some little trepidation21, as a suppliant22 from the provinces awaits the arrival of the minister. The door opened, and a handsome-looking man, of about thirty-two years of age, entered the room. The Count approached me with a frank and friendly air: I endeavoured to be self-possessed23 and began to introduce myself, but he anticipated me. We sat down. His conversation, which was easy and agreeable, soon dissipated my awkward bashfulness; and I was already beginning to recover my usual composure, when the Countess suddenly entered, and I became more confused than ever. She was indeed beautiful. The Count presented me. I wished to appear at ease, but the more I tried to assume an air of unconstraint, the more awkward I felt. They, in order to give me time to recover myself and to become accustomed to my new acquaintances, began to talk to each other, treating me as a good neighbour, and without ceremony. Meanwhile, I walked about the room, examining the books and pictures. I am no judge of pictures, but one of them attracted my attention. It represented some view in Switzerland, but it was not the painting that struck me, but the circumstance that the canvas was shot through by two bullets, one planted just above the other.
"A good shot, that!" said I, turning to the Count.
"Yes," replied he, "a very remarkable24 shot.... Do you shoot well?" he continued.
"Tolerably," replied I, rejoicing that the conversation had turned at last upon a subject that was familiar to me. "At thirty paces I can manage to hit a card without fail,—I mean, of course, with a pistol that I am used to."
"Really?" said the Countess, with a look of the greatest interest. "And you, my dear, could you hit a card at thirty paces?"
"Some day," replied the Count, "we will try. In my time I did not shoot badly, but it is now four years since I touched a pistol."
"Oh!" I observed, "in that case, I don't mind laying a wager25 that Your Excellency will not hit the card at twenty paces: the pistol demands practice every day. I know that from experience. In our regiment26 I was reckoned one of the best shots. It once happened that I did not touch a pistol for a whole month, as I had sent mine to be mended; and would you believe it, Your Excellency, the first time I began to shoot again, I missed a bottle four times in succession at twenty paces! Our captain, a witty27 and amusing fellow, happened to be standing28 by, and he said to me: 'It is evident, my friend, that your hand will not lift itself against the bottle,' No, Your Excellency, you must not neglect to practise, or your hand will soon lose its cunning. The best shot that I ever met used to shoot at least three times every day before dinner. It was as much his custom to do this, as it was to drink his daily glass of brandy."
The Count and Countess seemed pleased that I had begun to talk.
"And what sort of a shot was he?" asked the Count.
"Well, it was this way with him, Your Excellency: if he saw a fly settle on the wall—you smile, Countess, but, before Heaven, it is the truth. If he saw a fly, he would call out: 'Kouzka, my pistol!' Kouzka would bring him a loaded pistol—bang! and the fly would be crushed against the wall."
"Wonderful!" said the Count. "And what was his name?"
"Silvio, Your Excellency."
"Silvio!" exclaimed the Count, starting up. "Did you know Silvio?"
"How could I help knowing him, Your Excellency: we were intimate friends; he was received in our regiment like a brother officer, but it is now five years since I had any tidings of him. Then Your Excellency also knew him?"
"Oh, yes, I knew him very well. Did he ever tell you of one very strange incident in his life?"
"Does Your Excellency refer to the slap in the face that he received from some blackguard at a ball?"
"Did he tell you the name of this blackguard?"
"No, Your Excellency, he never mentioned his name.... Ah! Your Excellency!" I continued, guessing the truth: "pardon me ... I did not know ... could it really have been you?"
"Yes, I myself," replied the Count, with a look of extraordinary agitation29; "and that bullet-pierced picture is a memento30 of our last meeting."
"Ah, my dear," said the Countess, "for Heaven's sake, do not speak about that; it would be too terrible for me to listen to."
"No," replied the Count: "I will relate everything. He knows how I insulted his friend, and it is only right that he should know how Silvio revenged himself."
The Count pushed a chair towards me, and with the liveliest interest I listened to the following story:
"Five years ago I got married. The first month—the honeymoon—I spent here, in this village. To this house I am indebted for the happiest moments of my life, as well as for one of its most painful recollections.
"One evening we went out together for a ride on horseback. My wife's horse became restive32; she grew frightened, gave the reins33 to me, and returned home on foot. I rode on before. In the courtyard I saw a travelling carriage, and I was told that in my study sat waiting for me a man, who would not give his name, but who merely said that he had business with me. I entered the room and saw in the darkness a man, covered with dust and wearing a beard of several days' growth. He was standing there, near the fireplace. I approached him, trying to remember his features.
"'You do not recognize me, Count?' said he, in a quivering voice.
"'Silvio!' I cried, and I confess that I felt as if my hair had suddenly stood on end.
"'Exactly,' continued he. 'There is a shot due to me, and I have come to discharge my pistol. Are you ready?'
"His pistol protruded34 from a side pocket. I measured twelve paces and took my stand there in that corner, begging him to fire quickly, before my wife arrived. He hesitated, and asked for a light. Candles were brought in. I closed the doors, gave orders that nobody was to enter, and again begged him to fire. He drew out his pistol and took aim.... I counted the seconds ... I thought of her.... A terrible minute passed! Silvio lowered his hand.
"'I regret,' said he, 'that the pistol is not loaded with cherry-stones ... the bullet is heavy. It seems to me that this is not a duel35, but a murder. I am not accustomed to taking aim at unarmed men. Let us begin all over again; we will cast lots as to who shall fire first.'
"My head went round ... I think I raised some objection.... At last we loaded another pistol, and rolled up two pieces of paper. He placed these latter in his cap—the same through which I had once sent a bullet—and again I drew the first number.
"'You are devilish lucky, Count,' said he, with a smile that I shall never forget.
"I don't know what was the matter with me, or how it was that he managed to make me do it ... but I fired and hit that picture."
The Count pointed36 with his finger to the perforated picture; his face glowed like fire; the Countess was whiter than her own handkerchief; and I could not restrain an exclamation37.
"I fired," continued the Count, "and, thank Heaven, missed my aim. Then Silvio ... at that moment he was really terrible.... Silvio raised his hand to take aim at me. Suddenly the door opens, Masha rushes into the room, and with a loud shriek38 throws herself upon my neck. Her presence restored to me all my courage.
"'My dear,' said I to her, 'don't you see that we are joking? How frightened you are! Go and drink a glass of water and then come back to us; I will introduce you to an old friend and comrade.'
"Masha still doubted.
"'Tell me, is my husband speaking the truth?' said she, turning to the terrible Silvio: 'is it true that you are only joking?'
"'He is always joking, Countess,' replied Silvio: 'once he gave me a slap in the face in a joke; on another occasion he sent a bullet through my cap in a joke; and just now, when he fired at me and missed me, it was all in a joke. And, now I feel inclined for a joke.'
"With these words he raised his pistol to take aim at me—right before her! Masha threw herself at his feet.
"'Rise, Masha; are you not ashamed!' I cried in a rage: 'and you, sir, will you cease to make fun of a poor woman? Will you fire or not?'
"'I will not,' replied Silvio: 'I am satisfied. I have seen your confusion, your alarm. I forced you to fire at me. That is sufficient. You will remember me. I leave you to your conscience.'
"Then he turned to go, but pausing in the doorway39, and looking at the picture that my shot had passed through, he fired at it almost without taking aim, and disappeared. My wife had fainted away; the servants did not venture to stop him, the mere look of him filled them with terror. He went out upon the steps, called his coachman, and drove off before I could recover myself."
The Count was silent. In this way I learned the end of the story, whose beginning had once made such a deep impression upon me. The hero of it I never saw again. It is said that Silvio commanded a detachment of Hetairists during the revolt under Alexander Ipsilanti, and that he was killed in the battle of Skoulana.
THE SNOWSTORM.
Towards the end of the year 1811, a memorable40 period for us, the good Gavril Gavrilovitch R—— was living on his domain41 of Nenaradova. He was celebrated42 throughout the district for his hospitality and kind-heartedness. The neighbours were constantly visiting him: some to eat and drink; some to play at five copeck "Boston" with his wife, Praskovia Petrovna; and some to look at their daughter, Maria Gavrilovna, a pale, slender girl of seventeen. She was considered a wealthy match, and many desired her for themselves or for their sons.
Maria Gavrilovna had been brought up on French novels, and consequently was in love. The object of her choice was a poor sub-lieutenant in the army, who was then on leave of absence in his village. It need scarcely be mentioned that the young man returned her passion with equal ardour, and that the parents of his beloved one, observing their mutual43 inclination44, forbade their daughter to think of him, and received him worse than a discharged assessor.
Our lovers corresponded with one another and daily saw each other alone in the little pine wood or near the old chapel45. There they exchanged vows46 of eternal love, lamented47 their cruel fate, and formed various plans. Corresponding and conversing48 in this way, they arrived quite naturally at the following conclusion:
If we cannot exist without each other, and the will of hard-hearted parents stands in the way of our happiness, why cannot we do without them?
Needless to mention that this happy idea originated in the mind of the young man, and that it was very congenial to the romantic imagination of Maria Gavrilovna.
The winter came and put a stop to their meetings, but their correspondence became all the more active. Vladimir Nikolaievitch in every letter implored49 her to give herself up to him, to get married secretly, to hide for some time, and then throw themselves at the feet of their parents, who would, without any doubt, be touched at last by the heroic constancy and unhappiness of the lovers, and would infallibly say to them: "Children, come to our arms!"
Maria Gavrilovna hesitated for a long time, and several plans for a flight were rejected. At last she consented: on the appointed day she was not to take supper, but was to retire to her room under the pretext50 of a headache. Her maid was in the plot; they were both to go into the garden by the back stairs, and behind the garden they would find ready a sledge51, into which they were to get, and then drive straight to the church of Jadrino, a village about five versts from Nenaradova, where Vladimir would be waiting for them.
On the eve of the decisive day, Maria Gavrilovna did not sleep the whole night; she packed and tied up her linen52 and other articles of apparel, wrote a long letter to a sentimental53 young lady, a friend of hers, and another to her parents. She took leave of them in the most touching54 terms, urged the invincible55 strength of passion as an excuse for the step she was taking, and wound up with the assurance that she should consider it the happiest moment of her life, when she should be allowed to throw herself at the feet of her dear parents.
After having sealed both letters with a Toula seal, upon which were engraved56 two flaming hearts with a suitable inscription57, she threw herself upon her bed just before daybreak, and dozed58 off: but even then she was constantly being awakened59 by terrible dreams. First it seemed to her that at the very moment when she seated herself in the sledge, in order to go and get married, her father stopped her, dragged her over the snow with fearful rapidity, and threw her into a dark bottomless abyss, down which she fell headlong with an indescribable sinking of the heart. Then she saw Vladimir lying on the grass, pale and bloodstained. With his dying breath he implored her in a piercing voice to make haste and marry him.... Other fantastic and senseless visions floated before her one after another. At last she arose, paler than usual, and with an unfeigned headache. Her father and mother observed her uneasiness; their tender solicitude60 and incessant61 inquiries62: "What is the matter with you, Masha? Are you ill, Masha?" cut her to the heart. She tried to reassure63 them and to appear cheerful, but in vain.
The evening came. The thought, that this was the last day she would pass in the bosom64 of her family, weighed upon her heart. She was more dead than alive. In secret she took leave of everybody, of all the objects that surrounded her.
Supper was served; her heart began to beat violently. In a trembling voice she declared that she did not want any supper, and then took leave of her father and mother. They kissed her and blessed her as usual, and she could hardly restrain herself from weeping.
On reaching her own room, she threw herself into a chair and burst into tears. Her maid urged her to be calm and to take courage. Everything was ready. In half an hour Masha would leave for ever her parents' house, her room, and her peaceful girlish life....
Out in the courtyard the snow was falling heavily; the wind howled, the shutters65 shook and rattled67, and everything seemed to her to portend68 misfortune.
Soon all was quiet in the house: everyone was asleep. Masha wrapped herself in a shawl, put on a warm cloak, took her small box in her hand, and went down the back staircase. Her maid followed her with two bundles.' They descended69 into the garden. The snowstorm had not subsided71; the wind blew in their faces, as if trying to stop the young criminal. With difficulty they reached the end of the garden. In the road a sledge awaited them. The horses, half-frozen with the cold, would not keep still; Vladimir's coachman was walking up and down in front of them, trying to restrain their impatience. He helped the young lady and her maid into the sledge, placed the box and the bundles in the vehicle, seized the reins, and the horses dashed off.
Having intrusted the young lady to the care of fate and to the skill of Tereshka the coachman, we will return to our young lover.
Vladimir had spent the whole of the day in driving about. In the morning he paid a visit to the priest of Jadrino, and having come to an agreement with him after a great deal of difficulty, he then set out to seek for witnesses among the neighbouring landowners. The first to whom he presented himself, a retired72 cornet of about forty years of age, and whose name was Dravin, consented with pleasure. The adventure, he declared, reminded him of his young days and his pranks74 in the Hussars. He persuaded Vladimir to stay to dinner with him, and assured him that he would have no difficulty in finding the other two witnesses. And, indeed, immediately after dinner, appeared the surveyor Schmidt, with moustache and spurs, and the son of the captain of police, a lad of sixteen years of age, who had recently entered the Uhlans. They not only accepted Vladimir's proposal, but even vowed75 that they were ready to sacrifice their lives for him. Vladimir embraced them with rapture76, and returned home to get everything ready.
It had been dark for some time. He dispatched his faithful Tereshka to Nenaradova with his sledge and with detailed77 instructions, and ordered for himself the small sledge with one horse, and set out alone, without any coachman, for Jadrino, where Maria Gavrilovna ought to arrive in about a couple of hours. He knew the road well, and the journey would only occupy about twenty minutes altogether.
But scarcely had Vladimir issued from the paddock into the open field, when the wind rose and such a snowstorm came on that he could see nothing. In one minute the road was completely hidden; all surrounding objects disappeared in a thick yellow fog, through which fell the white flakes78 of snow; earth and sky became confounded. Vladimir found himself in the middle of the field, and tried in vain to find the road again. His horse went on at random79, and at every moment; kept either stepping into a snowdrift or stumbling into a hole, so that the sledge was constantly being overturned.. Vladimir endeavoured not to lose the right direction. But it seemed to him that more than half an hour had already passed, and he had not yet reached the Jadrino wood. Another ten minutes elapsed—still no wood was to be seen. Vladimir drove across a field intersected by deep ditches. The snowstorm did not abate80, the sky did not become any clearer. The horse began to grow tired, and the perspiration81 rolled from him in great drops, in spite of the fact that he was constantly being half-buried in the snow.
At last Vladimir perceived that he was going in the wrong direction. He stopped, began to think, to recollect31, and compare, and he felt convinced that he ought to have turned to the right. He turned to the right now. His horse could scarcely move forward. He had now been on the road for more than an hour. Jadrino could not be far off. But on and on he went, and still no end to the field—nothing but snowdrifts and ditches. The sledge was constantly being overturned, and as constantly being set right again. The time was passing: Vladimir began to grow seriously uneasy.
At last something dark appeared in the distance. Vladimir directed his course towards it. On drawing near, he perceived that it was a wood.
"Thank Heaven!" he thought, "I am not far off now."
He drove along by the edge of the wood, hoping by-and-by to fall upon the well-known road or to pass round the wood: Jadrino was situated82 just behind it. He soon found the road, and plunged83 into the darkness of the wood, now denuded84 of leaves by the winter. The wind could not rage here; the road was smooth; the horse recovered courage, and Vladimir felt reassured85.
But he drove on and on, and Jadrino was not to be seen; there was no end to the wood. Vladimir discovered with horror that he had entered an unknown forest. Despair took possession of him. He whipped the horse; the poor animal broke into a trot86, but it soon slackened its pace, and in about a quarter of an hour it was scarcely able to drag one leg after the other, in spite of all the exertions87 of the unfortunate Vladimir.
Gradually the trees began to get sparser88, and Vladimir emerged from the forest; but Jadrino was not to be seen. It must now have been about midnight. Tears gushed89 from his eyes; he drove on at random. Meanwhile the storm had subsided, the clouds dispersed90, and before him lay a level plain covered with a white undulating carpet The night was tolerably clear. He saw, not far off, a little village, consisting of four or five houses. Vladimir drove towards it. At the first cottage he jumped out of the sledge, ran to the window and began to knock. After a few minutes, the wooden shutter66 was raised, and an old man thrust out his grey beard.
"What do you want?"
"Is Jadrino far from here?"
"Is Jadrino far from here?"
"Yes, yes! Is it far?"
"Not far; about ten versts."
"Where do you come from?" continued the old man. Vladimir had not the courage to answer the question.
"How should we have such things as horses?" replied the peasant.
"Can I obtain a guide? I will pay him whatever he pleases."
"Wait," said the old man, closing the shutter; "I will send my son out to you; he will guide you."
Vladimir waited. But a minute had scarcely elapsed when he began knocking again. The shutter was raised, and the beard again appeared.
"What do you want?"
"What about your son?"
"He'll be out presently; he is putting on his boots. Are you cold? Come in and warm yourself."
"Thank you; send your son out quickly."
The door creaked: a lad came out with a cudgel and went on in front, at one time pointing out the road, at another searching for it among the drifted snow.
"What is the time?" Vladimir asked him.
The cocks were crowing, and it was already light when they reached Jadrino. The church was closed. Vladimir paid the guide and drove into the priest's courtyard. His sledge was not there. What news awaited him! But let us return to the worthy94 proprietors of Nenaradova, and see what is happening there.
Nothing.
The old people awoke and went into the parlour, Gavril Gavrilovitch in a night-cap and flannel95 doublet, Praskovia; Petrovna in a wadded dressing-gown. The tea-urn was brought in, and Gavril Gavrilovitch sent a servant to ask Maria Gavrilovna how she was and how she had passed the night. The servant returned, saying that the young lady had not slept very well, but that she felt better now, and that she would come down presently into the parlour. And indeed, the door opened and Maria Gavrilovna entered the room and wished her father and mother good morning.
"How is your head, Masha?" asked Gavril Gavrilovitch.
"Better, papa," replied Masha.
"Very likely, mamma," replied Masha.
The day passed happily enough, but in the night Masha was taken ill. A doctor was sent for from the town. He arrived in the evening and found the sick girl delirious99. A violent fever ensued, and for two weeks the poor patient hovered100 on the brink101 of the grave.
Nobody in the house knew anything about her flight. The letters, written by her the evening before, had been burnt; and her maid, dreading102 the wrath103 of her master, had not whispered a word about it to anybody. The priest, the retired cornet, the moustached surveyor, and the little Uhlan were discreet104, and not without reason. Tereshka, the coachman, never uttered one word too much about it, even when he was drunk. Thus the secret was kept by more than half-a-dozen conspirators105.
But Maria Gavrilovna herself divulged106 her secret during her delirious ravings. But her words were so disconnected, that her mother, who never left her bedside, could only understand from them that her daughter was deeply in love with Vladimir Nikolaievitch, and that probably love was the cause of her illness. She consulted her husband and some of her neighbours, and at last it was unanimously decided that such was evidently Maria Gavrilovna's fate, that a woman cannot ride away from the man who is destined107 to be her husband, that poverty is not a crime, that one does not marry wealth, but a man, etc., etc. Moral proverbs are wonderfully useful in those cases where we can invent little in our own justification108.
In the meantime the young lady began to recover. Vladimir had not been seen for a long time in the house of Gavril Gavrilovitch. He was afraid of the usual reception. It was resolved to send and announce to him an unexpected piece of good news: the consent of Maria's parents to his marriage with their daughter. But what was the astonishment109 of the proprietor13 of Nenaradova, when, in reply to their invitation, they received from him a half-insane letter. He informed them that he would never set foot in their house again, and begged-them to forget an unhappy creature whose only hope was in death. A few days afterwards they heard that Vladimir had joined the army again. This was in the year 1812.
For a long time they did not dare to announce this to Masha, who was now convalescent. She never mentioned the name of Vladimir. Some months afterwards, finding his name in the list of those who had distinguished110 themselves and been severely111 wounded at Borodino,[1] she fainted away, and it was feared that she would have another attack of fever. But, Heaven be thanked! the fainting fit had no serious consequences.
Another misfortune fell upon her: Gavril Gavrilovitch died, leaving her the heiress to all his property. But the inheritance did not console her; she shared sincerely the grief of poor Praskovia Petrovna, vowing112 that she would never leave her. They both quitted Nenaradova, the scene of so many sad recollections, and went to live on another estate.
Suitors crowded round the young and wealthy heiress, but she gave not the slightest hope to any of them. Her mother sometimes exhorted113 her to make a choice; but Maria Gavrilovna shook her head and became pensive114. Vladimir no longer existed: he had died in Moscow on the eve of the entry of the French. His memory seemed to be held sacred by Masha; at least she treasured up everything that could remind her of him: books that he had once read, his drawings, his notes, and verses of poetry that he had copied out for her. The neighbours, hearing of all this, were astonished at her constancy, and awaited with curiosity the hero who should at last triumph over the melancholy115 fidelity116 of this virgin117 Artemisia.
Meanwhile the war had ended gloriously. Our regiments118 returned from abroad, and the people went out to meet them. The bands played the conquering songs: "Vive Henri-Quatre," Tyrolese waltzes and airs from "Joconde." Officers, who had set out for the war almost mere lads, returned grown men, with martial119 air, and their breasts decorated with crosses. The soldiers chatted gaily120 among themselves, constantly mingling121 French and German words in their speech. Time never to be forgotten! Time of glory and enthusiasm! How throbbed122 the Russian heart at the word "Fatherland!" How sweet were the tears of meeting! With what unanimity123 did we unite feelings of national pride with love for the Czar! And for him—what a moment!
The women, the Russian women, were then incomparable. Their usual coldness disappeared. Their enthusiasm was truly intoxicating124, when welcoming the conquerors125 they cried "Hurrah126!"
"And threw their caps high in the air!"[2]
What officer of that time does not confess that to the Russian women he was indebted for his best and most precious reward?
At this brilliant period Maria Gavrilovna was living with her mother in the province of ——, and did not see how both capitals celebrated the return of the troops. But in the districts and villages the general enthusiasm was, if possible, even still greater. The appearance of an officer in those places was for him a veritable triumph, and the lover in a plain coat felt very ill at ease in his vicinity.
We have already said that, in spite of her coldness, Maria Gavrilovna was, as before, surrounded by suitors. But all had to retire into the background when the wounded Colonel Bourmin of the Hussars, with the Order of St. George in his button-hole, and with an "interesting pallor," as the young ladies of the neighbourhood observed, appeared at the castle. He was about twenty-six years of age. He had obtained leave of absence to visit his estate, which was contiguous to that of Maria Gavrilovna. Maria bestowed127 special attention upon him. In his presence her habitual128 pensiveness129 disappeared. It cannot be said that she coquetted with him, but a poet, observing her behaviour, would have said:
"Se amor non è che dunque?"
Bourmin was indeed a very charming young man. He possessed that spirit which is eminently130 pleasing to women: a spirit of decorum and observation, without any pretensions131, and yet not without a slight tendency towards careless satire132. His behaviour towards Maria Gavrilovna was simple and frank, but whatever she said or did, his soul and eyes followed her. He seemed to be of a quiet and modest disposition133, though report said that he had once been a terrible rake; but this did not injure him in the opinion of Maria Gavrilovna, who—like all young ladies in general—excused with pleasure follies134 that gave indication of boldness and ardour of temperament135.
But more than everything else—more than his tenderness, more than his agreeable conversation, more than his interesting pallor, more than his arm in a sling,—the silence of the young Hussar excited her curiosity and imagination. She could, not but confess that he pleased her very much; probably he, too, with his perception and experience, had already observed that she made a distinction between him and others; how was it then that she had not yet seen him at her feet or heard his declaration? What restrained him? Was it timidity, inseparable from true love, or pride, or the coquetry of a crafty136 wooer? It was an enigma137 to her. After long reflection, she came to the conclusion that timidity alone was the cause of it, and she resolved to encourage him by greater attention and, if circumstances should render it necessary, even by an exhibition of tenderness. She prepared a most unexpected dénouement, and waited with impatience for the moment of the romantic explanation. A secret, of whatever nature it may be, always presses heavily upon the female heart. Her stratagem138 had the desired success; at least Bourmin fell into such a reverie, and his black eyes rested with such fire upon her, that the decisive moment seemed close at hand. The neighbours spoke about the marriage as if it were a matter already decided upon, and good Praskovia Petrovna rejoiced that her daughter had at last found a lover worthy of her.
On one occasion the old lady was sitting alone in the parlour, amusing herself with a pack of cards, when Bourmin entered the room and immediately inquired for Maria Gavrilovna.
"She is in the garden," replied the old lady: "go out to her, and I will wait here for you."
Bourmin went, and the old lady made the sign of the cross and thought: "Perhaps the business will be settled to-day!"
Bourmin found Maria Gavrilovna near the pond, under a willow-tree with a book in her hands, and in a white dress: a veritable heroine of romance. After the first few questions and observations, Maria Gavrilovna purposely allowed the conversation to drop, thereby139 increasing their mutual embarrassment140, from which there was no possible way of escape except only by a sudden and decisive declaration.
And this is what happened: Bourmin, feeling the difficulty of his position, declared that he had long sought for an opportunity to open his heart to her, and requested a moment's attention. Maria Gavrilovna closed her book and cast down her eyes, as a sign of compliance141 with his request.
"I love you," said Bourmin: "I love you passionately142...."
Maria Gavrilovna blushed and lowered her head still more. "I have acted imprudently in accustoming143 myself to the sweet pleasure of seeing and hearing you daily...." Maria Gavrilovna recalled to mind the first letter of St. Preux.[3] "But it is now too late to resist my fate; the remembrance of you, your dear incomparable image, will henceforth be the torment144 and the consolation145 of my life, but there still remains146 a grave duty for me to perform—to reveal to you a terrible secret which will place between us an insurmountable barrier...."
"That barrier has always existed," interrupted Maria Gavrilovna hastily: "I could never be your wife."
"I know," replied he calmly: "I know that you once loved, but death and three years of mourning.... Dear, kind Maria Gavrilovna, do not try to deprive me of my last consolation: the thought that you would have consented to make me happy, if——"
"Don't speak, for Heaven's sake, don't speak. You torture me."
"Yes, I know, I feel that you would have been mine, but—I am the most miserable147 creature under the sun—I am already married!"
Maria Gavrilovna looked at him in astonishment.
"I am already married," continued Bourmin: "I have been married four years, and I do not know who is my wife, or where she is, or whether I shall ever see her again!"
"What do you say?" exclaimed Maria Gavrilovna. "How very strange! Continue: I will relate to you afterwards.... But continue, I beg of you."
"At the beginning of the year 1812," said Bourmin, "I was hastening to Vilna, where my regiment was stationed. Arriving late one evening at one of the post-stations, I ordered the horses to be got ready as quickly as possible, when suddenly a terrible snowstorm came on, and the postmaster and drivers advised me to wait till it had passed over. I followed their advice, but an unaccountable uneasiness took possession of me: it seemed as if someone were pushing me forward. Meanwhile the snowstorm did not subside70; I could endure it no longer, and again ordering out the horses, I started off in the midst of the storm. The driver conceived the idea of following the course of the river, which would shorten our journey by three versts. The banks were covered with snow: the driver drove past the place where we should have come out upon the road, and so we found ourselves in an unknown part of the country.... The storm did not cease; I saw a light in the distance, and I ordered the driver to proceed towards it. We reached a village; in the wooden church there was a light. The church was open. Outside the railings stood several sledges148, and people were passing in and out through the porch.
"'This way! this way!' cried several voices.
"I ordered the driver to proceed.
"'In the name of Heaven, where have you been loitering' said somebody to me. 'The bride has fainted away; the pope does not know what to do, and we were just getting ready to go back. Get out as quickly as you can.'
"I got out of the sledge without saying a word, and went into the church, which was feebly lit up by two or three tapers149. A young girl was sitting on a bench in a dark corner of the church; another girl was rubbing her temples.
"'Thank God!' said the latter, 'you have come at last. You have almost killed the young lady.'
"The old priest advanced towards me, and said:
"'Do you wish me to begin?'
"'Begin, begin, father,' replied I, absently.
"The young girl was raised up. She seemed to me not at all bad-looking.... Impelled150 by an incomprehensible, unpardonable levity151, I placed myself by her side in front of the pulpit; the priest hurried on; three men and a chambermaid supported the bride and only occupied themselves with her. We were married.
"'Kiss each other!' said the witnesses to us.
"My wife turned her pale face towards me. I was about to kiss her, when she exclaimed: 'Oh! it is not he! it is not he!' and fell senseless.
"The witnesses gazed at me in alarm. I turned round and left the church without the least hindrance152, flung myself into the kibitka and cried: 'Drive off!'
"My God!" exclaimed Maria Gavrilovna. "And you do not know what became of your poor wife?"
"I do not know," replied Bourmin; "neither do I know the name of the village where I was married, nor the poststation where I set out from. At that time I attached so little importance to my wicked prank73, that on leaving the church, I fell asleep, and did not awake till the next morning after reaching the third station. The servant, who was then with me, died during the campaign, so that I have no hope of ever discovering the woman upon whom I played such a cruel joke, and who is now so cruelly avenged153."
"My God! my God!" cried Maria Gavrilovna, seizing him by the hand: "then it was you! And you do not recognize me?"
Bourmin turned pale—and threw himself at her feet.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
accustom
|
|
| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
housekeeper
|
|
| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
chagrin
|
|
| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
hiccups
|
|
| n.嗝( hiccup的名词复数 )；连续地打嗝；暂时性的小问题；短暂的停顿v.嗝( hiccup的第三人称单数 )；连续地打嗝；暂时性的小问题；短暂的停顿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
lengthened
|
|
| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
steward
|
|
| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
proprietors
|
|
| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
proprietor
|
|
| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
lackey
|
|
| n.侍从；跟班 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
busts
|
|
| 半身雕塑像( bust的名词复数 )； 妇女的胸部； 胸围； 突击搜捕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
trepidation
|
|
| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
suppliant
|
|
| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
wager
|
|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
memento
|
|
| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
restive
|
|
| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
reins
|
|
| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
protruded
|
|
| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
duel
|
|
| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
exclamation
|
|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
shriek
|
|
| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
domain
|
|
| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
vows
|
|
| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
lamented
|
|
| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
conversing
|
|
| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
pretext
|
|
| n.借口，托词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
sledge
|
|
| n.雪橇，大锤；v.用雪橇搬运，坐雪橇往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
invincible
|
|
| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
engraved
|
|
| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
dozed
|
|
| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
solicitude
|
|
| n.焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
reassure
|
|
| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
shutter
|
|
| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
portend
|
|
| v.预兆，预示；给…以警告 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
descended
|
|
| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
subside
|
|
| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
subsided
|
|
| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
prank
|
|
| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
pranks
|
|
| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
vowed
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
rapture
|
|
| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
detailed
|
|
| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
flakes
|
|
| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
abate
|
|
| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
perspiration
|
|
| n.汗水；出汗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
denuded
|
|
| adj.[医]变光的，裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
reassured
|
|
| 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) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
exertions
|
|
| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
sparser
|
|
| adj.稀疏的，稀少的( sparse的比较级 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
89
gushed
|
|
| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
dispersed
|
|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
flannel
|
|
| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
inhaled
|
|
| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
fumes
|
|
| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
charcoal
|
|
| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
delirious
|
|
| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
hovered
|
|
| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
brink
|
|
| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
dreading
|
|
| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
wrath
|
|
| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
discreet
|
|
| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
conspirators
|
|
| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
divulged
|
|
| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
justification
|
|
| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
severely
|
|
| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
vowing
|
|
| 起誓，发誓（vow的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
exhorted
|
|
| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
pensive
|
|
| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
regiments
|
|
| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
martial
|
|
| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
gaily
|
|
| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
mingling
|
|
| adj.混合的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
throbbed
|
|
| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
unanimity
|
|
| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
intoxicating
|
|
| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
conquerors
|
|
| 征服者，占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
hurrah
|
|
| int.好哇，万岁，乌拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
pensiveness
|
|
| n.pensive（沉思的）的变形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
eminently
|
|
| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
pretensions
|
|
| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
satire
|
|
| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
follies
|
|
| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
crafty
|
|
| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
stratagem
|
|
| n.诡计，计谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
embarrassment
|
|
| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
compliance
|
|
| n.顺从；服从；附和；屈从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
accustoming
|
|
| v.（使）习惯于( accustom的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
144
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
sledges
|
|
| n.雪橇，雪车( sledge的名词复数 )v.乘雪橇( sledge的第三人称单数 )；用雪橇运载 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
tapers
|
|
| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
impelled
|
|
| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
levity
|
|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
hindrance
|
|
| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
avenged
|
|
| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |