As for the exhaustive studies which I subsequently devoted to one of the bronze weights found in 1851 in the excavations3 at the Serapeium, it would be ungracious for me not to think well of them, as they opened for me the doors of the Institute.
Encouraged by the flattering reception with which my researches of this nature were received by many of my new colleagues, I was tempted4 for a moment to treat in one comprehensive work of the weights and measures in use at Alexandria in the reign5 of Ptolemy Auletes (80-52). I soon recognised, however, that a subject so general could not be dealt with by the really profound student, and that positive science could not approach it without running a risk of incurring6 all sorts of mischances. I felt that in investigating several subjects at once I was forsaking7 the fundamental principles of archaeology. If to-day I confess my mistake, if I acknowledge the incredible enthusiasm with which I was inspired by a far too ambitious scheme, I do so for the sake of the young, who will thus learn by my example to conquer their imagination. It is our most cruel foe9. The student who has not succeeded in stifling10 it is lost for ever to erudition. I still tremble to think in what depths I was nearly plunged11 by my adventurous12 spirit. I was within an ace13 of what one calls history. What a downfall! I should have sunk into art. For history is only art, or, at best, a false science. Who to-day does not know that the historians preceded the archaeologists, as astrologers preceded the astronomers14, as the alchemists preceded the chemists, and as the monkeys preceded men? Thank Heaven! I escaped with a mere15 fright.
My third work, I hasten to say, was wisely planned. It was a monograph16 entitled, On the toilet of an Egyptian lady of the Middle Empire from an unpublished picture. I treated the subject so as to avoid all side issues, and I did not permit any generalising to intrude17 itself. I guarded myself against those considerations, comparisons and views with which certain of my colleagues have marred18 the exposition of their most valuable discoveries. But why should a work planned so sanely19 have met with so fantastic a fate? By what freak of destiny should it have proved the cause of the monstrous20 aberration21 of my mind? But let me not anticipate events nor confuse dates. My dissertation22 was intended to be read at a public sitting of the five academies, a distinction all the more precious, as it rarely falls to the lot of works of this character. These academic gatherings23 have for some years past been largely attended by people of fashion.
The day I delivered my lecture the hall was crowded by a distinguished24 audience. Women were there in great numbers. Lovely faces and brilliant toilettes graced the galleries. My discourse25 was listened to with respect. It was not interrupted by those thoughtless and noisy demonstrations26 which naturally follow mere literary productions. No, the public preserved an attitude more in harmony with the nature of the work presented to them. They were serious and grave.
As I paused between the phrases the better to disentangle the different trains of thought, I had leisure to examine behind my spectacles the entire hall. I can truly say that not the faintest smile could be seen on any lips. On the contrary, even the freshest faces wore an expression of austerity. I seemed to have ripened28 all their intellects as if by magic. Here and there while I read some young people whispered to their neighbours. They were probably debating some special point treated of in my discourse.
More than that, a beautiful young creature of twenty-two or twenty-four, seated in the left corner of the north balcony, was listening with great attention and taking notes. Her face had a delicacy29 of features and a mobility30 of expression truly remarkable31. The attention with which she listened to my words gave an added charm to her singular face. She was not alone. A big, robust32 man, who, like the Assyrian kings, wore a long curled beard and long black hair, stood beside her and occasionally spoke33 to her in a low voice. My attention, which at first was divided amongst my entire audience, concentrated itself little by little on the young woman. She inspired me, I confess, with an interest which certain of my colleagues might consider unworthy of a scientific mind such as mine, though I feel sure that none of them under similar circumstances would have been more indifferent than I. As I proceeded she scribbled34 in a little note-book; and as she listened to my discourse one could see that she was visibly swayed by the most contradictory35 emotions; she seemed to pass from satisfaction and joy to surprise and even anxiety. I examined her with increasing curiosity. Would to God I had set eyes on her and her only that day under the cupola!
I had nearly finished; there hardly remained more than twenty-five or thirty pages at most to read when suddenly my eyes encountered those of the man with the Assyrian beard. How can I explain to you what happened then, seeing that I cannot explain it to myself? All I can say is that the glance of this personage put me at once into a state of indescribable agitation36. The eye-balls fixed37 on me were of a greenish colour. I could not turn my own away. I stood there dumb and open-mouthed. As I had stopped speaking the audience began to applaud. Silence being restored, I tried to continue my discourse. But in spite of the most violent efforts, I could not tear my eyes from those two living lights to which they were so mysteriously riveted38. That was not all. By a more amazing phenomenon still, and contrary to all the principles of my whole life, I began to improvise39. God alone knows if this was the result of my own freewill!
Under the influence of a strange, unknown and irresistible40 force I delivered with grace and burning eloquence41 certain philosophical42 reflections on the toilet of women in the course of the ages; I generalised, I rhapsodised, I grew eloquent43-God forgive me-about the eternal feminine, and the passion which glides44 like a breath about those perfumed veils with which women know how to adorn45 their beauty.
The man with the Assyrian beard never ceased staring steadily46 at me. And I still continued to speak. At last he lowered his eyes, and then I stopped. It is humiliating to add that this portion of my address, which was quite as foreign to my own natural impulse as it was contrary to the scientific mind, was rewarded with tumultuous applause. The young woman in the north balcony clapped her hands and smiled.
I was followed at the reading-desk by a member of the Academy who seemed visibly annoyed at having to be heard after me. Perhaps his fears were exaggerated. At any rate he was listened to without too much impatience47. I am under the impression that it was verse that he read.
The meeting being over, I left the hall in company with several of my colleagues, who renewed their congratulations with a sincerity48 in which I try to believe.
Having paused a moment on the quay49 near the lions of Creuzot to exchange a few greetings, I observed the man with the Assyrian beard and his beautiful companion enter a coupé. I happened accidentally to be standing50 next to an eloquent philosopher, of whom it is said that he is equally at home in worldly elegance51 and in cosmic theories. The young lady, putting her delicate head and her little hand out of the carriage door, called him by name and said with a slight English accent:
“My dear friend, you’ve forgotten me. That’s too bad!”
After the carriage had gone I asked my illustrious colleague who this charming person and her companion were.
“What!” he replied, “you do not know Miss Morgan and her physician Daoud, who cures all diseases by means of magnetism52, hypnotism, and suggestion? Annie Morgan is the daughter of the richest merchant in Chicago. Two years ago she came to Paris with her mother, and she has had a wonderful house built on the Avenue du Bois-de-Boulogne trice. She is highly educated and remarkably53 clever.”
“You do not surprise me,” I replied, “for I have reason to think that this American lady is of a very serious turn of mind.”
My brilliant colleague smiled as he shook my hand.
I walked home to the Rue8 Saint Jacques, where I have lived these last thirty years in a modest lodging54 from which I can just see the tops of the trees in the garden of the Luxembourg, and I sat down at my writing-table.
For three days I sat there assiduously at work, before me a little statuette representing the goddess Pasht with her cat’s head. This little monument bears an inscription55 imperfectly deciphered by Monsieur Grébault I was at work on an adequate interpretation56 with comments. The incident at the institute had left a less vivid impression on my mind than might have been feared. I was not unduly57 disturbed. To tell the truth, I had even forgotten it a little, and it required new occurrences to revive its remembrance.
I had, therefore, leisure during these three days to bring my version of the inscription and my notes to a satisfactory conclusion. I only interrupted my archaeological work to read the newspapers, which were loud in my praise.
Newspapers, absolutely ignorant of all learning, spoke in praise of that “charming passage” which had concluded my discourse. “It was a revelation,” they said, “and M. Pigeonneau had prepared a most agreeable surprise for us.” I do not know why I refer to such trifles, because, usually I am quite indifferent as to what they say about me in the newspapers.
I had been already closeted in my study for three days when a ring at the door-bell startled me. There was something imperious, fantastic, and strange in the motion communicated to the bell-rope which disturbed me, and it was with real anxiety that I went myself to open the door. And whom did I find on the landing? The young American recently so absorbed at the reading of my treatise59. It was Miss Morgan in person.
“Monsieur Pigeonneau?”
“Yes.”
“I recognised you at once, though you are not wearing your beautiful coat with the embroidery60 of green palm-leaves. But, please don’t put it on for my sake. I like you much better in your dressing-gown.”
I led her into my study. She looked curiously61 at the papyri, the prints, and odds62 and ends of all kinds which covered the walls to the ceiling, and then she looked silently for some time at the goddess Pasht who stood on my writing-table. Finally she said:
“She is charming.”
“Do you refer to this little monument, Madam? As a matter of fact, it is distinguished by an exceptional inscription of a sufficiently63 curious nature. But may I ask what has procured64 for me the honour of your visit?”
“O,” she cried, “I don’t care a fig65 for its remarkable inscriptions66. There never was a more exquisitely67 delicate cat-face. Of course you believe that she is a real goddess, don’t you, Monsieur Pigeonneau?”
I protested against so unworthy a suspicion.
“To believe that would be fetichism.”
Her great green eyes looked at me with surprise.
“Ah, then, you don’t believe in fetichism? I did not think one could be an archaeologist and yet not believe in fetichism. How can Pasht interest you if you do not believe that she is a goddess? But never mind! I came to see you on a matter of great importance, Monsieur Pigeonneau.”
“Great importance?”
“Yes, about a costume. Look at me.”
“With pleasure.”
“Don’t you find traces of the Cushite race in my profile?”
I was at loss what to say. An interview of this nature was so foreign to me.
“Oh, there’s nothing surprising about it,” she continued. “I remember when I was an Egyptian. And were you also an Egyptian, Monsieur Pigeonneau? Don’t you remember? How very curious. At least, you don’t doubt that we pass through a series of successive incarnations?”
“I do not know.”
“You surprise me, Monsieur Pigeonneau.”
“Will you tell me, Madam, to what I am indebted for this honour?”
“To be sure. I haven’t yet told you that I have come to beg you to help me to design an Egyptian costume for the fancy ball at Countess N———‘s. I want a costume that shall be absolutely accurate and bewilderingly beautiful. I have been hard at work at it already, M. Pigeonneau. I have gone over my recollections, for I remember very well when I lived in Thebes six thousand years ago. I have had designs sent me from London, Boulak and New York.”
“Those would, of course, be more reliable.” “No, nothing is so reliable as one’s intuition. I have also studied in the Egyptian Museum of the Louvre. It is full of enchanting68 things. Figures so slender and pure, profiles so delicate and clear cut, women who look like flowers, but, at the same time, with something at once rigid69 and supple70. And a god, Bes, who looks like Sarcey! My goodness, how beautiful it all is!”
“Pardon me, but I do not yet quite understand——”
“I haven’t finished. I went to your lecture on the toilet of a woman of the Middle Empire, and I took notes. It was rather dry, your lecture, but I grubbed away at it. By aid of all these notes I have designed a costume. But it is not quite right yet. So I have come to beg you to correct it. Do come to me to-morrow! Will you? Do me that honour for the love of Egypt! You will, won’t you? Till to-morrow, I must hurry off. Mama is in the carriage waiting for me.”
She disappeared as she said these last words, and I followed. When I reached the vestibule she was already at the foot of the stairs and from here I heard her clear voice call up:
“I shall not go to see this mad creature,” I said to myself.
The next afternoon at four o’clock I rang the door-bell. A footman led me into an immense, well-lighted hall crowded with pictures and statues in marble and bronze; sedan chairs in Vernis Martin set with porcelain72 plaques73; Peruvian mummies; a dozen dummy74 figures of men and horses in full armour75, over which, by reason of their great height, towered a Polish cavalier with white wings on his shoulders and a French knight76 equipped for the tournament, his helmet bearing a crest77 of a woman’s head with pointed78 coif and flowing veil.
An entire grove79 of palm-trees in tubs reared their foliage80 in this hall, and in their midst was seated a gigantic Buddha81 in gold. At the foot of the god sat a shabbily dressed old woman reading the Bible.
I was still dazzled by these many marvels82 when the purple hangings were raised and Miss Morgan appeared in a white peignoir trimmed with swans-down. She was followed by two great, long-muzzled boarhounds.
“I was sure you would come, Monsieur Pigeonneau.”
“How could one possibly refuse anything to so charming a lady?”
“O, it is not because I am pretty that I am never refused anything. I have secrets by which I make myself obeyed.”
Then, pointing to the old lady who was reading the Bible, she said to me:
“Pay no attention to her, that is mama. I shall not introduce you. Should you speak she could not reply; she belongs to a religious sect84 which forbids unnecessary conversation. It is the very latest thing in sects85. Its adherents86 wear sackcloth and eat out of wooden basins. Mama greatly enjoys these little observances. But you can imagine that I did not ask you here to talk to you about mama. I will put on my Egyptian costume. I shan’t be long. In the meantime you might look at these little things.”
And she made me sit down before a cabinet containing a mummy-case, several statuettes of the Middle Empire, a number of scarabs, and some beautiful fragments of a ritual for the burial of the dead.
Left alone, I examined the papyrus87 with the more interest, inasmuch as it was inscribed88 with a name I had already discovered on a seal. It was the name of a scribe of King Seti I. I immediately applied89 myself to noting the various interesting peculiarities90 the document exhibited.
I was plunged in this occupation for a longer time than I could accurately91 measure, when I was warned by a kind of instinct that some one was behind me. I turned and saw a marvellous being, her head surmounted92 by a gold hawk93 and the pure and adorable lines of her young body revealed by a clinging white sheath. Over this a transparent94 rose-coloured tunic95, bound at the waist by a girdle of precious stones, fell and separated into symmetrical folds. Arms and feet were bare and loaded with rings.
She stood before me, her head turned towards her right shoulder in a hieratic attitude which gave to her delicious beauty something indescribably divine.
“What! Is that you, Miss Morgan?”
“Unless it is Neferu-Ra in person. You remember the Neferu-Ra of Leconte de Lisle, the Beauty of the Sun?”
Swathed in fine lawns from dainty foot to head.‘{*}
* “Voici qu’elle languit sur son lit virginal,
Très pale, enveloppée avec des fines toiles.”
“But of course you don’t know. You know nothing of verse. And yet verses are so pretty. Come! Let’s go to work.”
Having mastered my emotion, I made some remarks to this charming young person about her enchanting costume. I ventured to criticise97 certain details as departing from archaeological accuracy. I proposed to replace certain gems98 in the setting of the rings by others more universally in use in the Middle Empire. Finally I decidedly opposed the wearing of a clasp of cloisonné enamel99. In fact, this jewel was a most odious100 anachronism. We at last agreed to replace this by a boss of precious stones deep set in fine gold. She listened with great docility101, and seemed so pleased with me that she even asked me to stay to dinner. I excused myself because of my regular habits and the simplicity102 of my diet and took my leave. I was already in the vestibule when she called after me:
“Well, now, is my costume sufficiently smart? How mad I shall make all the other women at the Countess’s ball!”
I was shocked at the remark. But having turned towards her I saw her again, and again I fell under her spell.
She called me back.
“Monsieur Pigeonneau,” she said, “you are such a dear man! Write me a little story and I will love you ever and ever and ever so much!”
“I don’t know how,” I replied.
“What is the use of science if it can’t help you to write a story! You must write me a story, Monsieur Pigeonnneau.”
Thinking it useless to repeat my absolute refusal I took my leave without replying.
At the door I passed the man with the Assyrian beard, Dr. Daoud, whose glance had so strangely affected104 me under the cupola of the Institute.
He struck me as being of the commonest class, and I found it very disagreeable to meet him again.
The Countess N———‘s ball took place about fifteen days after my visit. I was not surprised to read in the newspaper that the beautiful Miss Morgan had created a sensation in the costume of Neferu-Ra.
During the rest of the year 1886 I did not hear her mentioned again. But on the first day of the New Year, as I was writing in my study, a manservant brought me a letter and a basket.
“From Miss Morgan,” he explained, and went away. I heard a mewing in the basket which had been placed on my writing table, and when I opened it out sprang a little grey cat.
It was not an Angora. It was a cat of some Oriental breed, much more slender than ours, and with a striking resemblance, so far as I could judge, to those of his race found in great numbers in the subterranean105 tombs of Thebes, their mummies swathed in coarse mummy-wrappings. He shook himself, gazed about, arched his back, yawned, and then rubbed himself, purring, against the goddess Pasht, who stood on my table in all her purity of form and her delicate, pointed face. Though his colour was dark and his fur short, he was graceful106, and he seemed intelligent and quite tame. I could not imagine the reason for such a curious present, nor did Miss Morgan’s letter greatly enlighten me. It was as follows:
“Dear Sir,
“I am sending you a little cat which Dr. Daoud brought back from Egypt, and of which I am very fond. Treat him well for my sake, Baudelaire, the greatest French poet after Stéphane Mallarmé, has said:
Alike companion in their ripe old age,
* “Les amoureux fervents et les savants austères
Aiment également, dans leur m?re saison,
Les chats puissants et doux, orgueil de la maison,
Qui comme eux sont frileux et comme eux sédentaires.”
“I need hardly remind you that you must write me a story. Bring it on Twelfth Night. We will dine together.
“Annie Morgan.
“P.S.—Your little cat’s name is Porou.”
Having read this letter, I looked at Porou who, standing on his hind27 legs, was licking the black face of Pasht, his divine sister. He looked at me, and I must confess that of the two of us he was the less astonished. I asked myself, “What does this mean?” But I soon gave up trying to understand.
“It is expecting too much of myself to try and discover reason in the follies111 of this madcap,” I thought. “I must get to work again. As for this little animal, Madam Magloire my housekeeper112 can provide for his needs.”
Whereupon I resumed my work on a chronology, all the more interesting as it gave me the opportunity to abuse somewhat my distinguished colleague, Monsieur Maspéro. Porou did not leave my table. Seated on his haunches, his ears pricked113, he watched me write, and strange to say I accomplished114 no good work that day. My ideas were all in confusion; there came to my mind scraps115 of songs and odds and ends of fairy-tales, and I went to bed very dissatisfied with myself. The next morning I again found Porou, seated on my writing-table, licking his paws. That day again I worked very badly; Porou and I spent the greater part of the day watching each other. The next morning it was the same, and also the morning after; in short, the whole week. I ought to have been distressed116, but I must confess that little by little I began to resign myself to my ill-luck, not only with patience, but even with some amusement. The rapidity with which a virtuous117 man becomes depraved is something terrible. The morning preceding Twelfth Night, which fell on a Sunday, I rose in high spirits and hurried to my writing-table, where, according to his custom, Porou, had already preceded me. I took a handsome copy-book of white paper and dipped my pen into the ink and wrote in big letters, under the watchful118 observation of my new friend:
“The Misadventures of a one-eyed Porter?.”
Thereupon, without ceasing to look at Porou, I wrote all day long in the most prodigious119 haste a story of such astonishing adventures, so charming and so varied120 that I was myself vastly entertained. My one-eyed porter mixed up all his parcels and committed the most absurd mistakes. Lovers in critical situations received from him, and quite without his knowledge, the most unexpected aid. He transported wardrobes in which men were concealed121, and he placed them in other houses, frightening old ladies almost to death. But how describe so merry a story! While writing I burst out laughing at least twenty times. If Porou did not laugh, his solemn silence was quite as amusing as the most uproarious hilarity122. It was already seven o’clock in the evening when I wrote the final line of this delightful123 story. During the last hour the room had only been lighted by Porou’s phosphorescent eyes. And yet I had written with as much ease in the darkness as by the light of a good lamp. My story finished, I proceeded to dress. I put on my evening clothes and my white tie, and, taking leave of Porou, I hurried downstairs into the street. I had hardly gone twenty steps when I felt some one pull at my sleeve.
“Where are you running to, uncle, just like a somnambulist?”
It was my nephew Marcel who hailed me in this fashion. He is an honest, intelligent young man, and a house-surgeon at the Salpêtrière. People say that he has a successful medical career before him. And indeed he would be clever enough if he would only be more on his guard against his whimsical imagination.
“Why, I am on my way to Miss Morgan, to take her a story I have just written.”
“What, uncle! You write stories, and you know Miss Morgan? She is very pretty. And do you also know Dr. Daoud who follows her about everywhere?”
“Possibly, uncle, and yet, unquestionably a most extraordinary experimentalist. Neither Bernheim nor Liégeois, not even Charcot himself, has obtained the phenomena126 he produces at will. He induces the hypnotic condition and control by suggestion without contact, and without any direct agency, through the intervention127 of an animal. He commonly makes use of little short-haired cats for his experiments.
“This is how he goes to work: he suggests an action of some kind to a cat, then he sends the animal in a basket to the subject he wishes to influence. The animal transmits the suggestion he has received, and the patient under the influence of the beast does exactly what the operator desires.”
“Is this true?”
“Yes, quite true, uncle.”
“And what is Miss Morgan’s share in these interesting experiments?”
“Miss Morgan employs Dr. Daoud to work for her, and she makes use of hypnotism and suggestion to induce people to make fools of themselves, as it her beauty was not quite enough.”
I did not stop to listen any longer. An irresistible force hurried me on towards Miss Morgan.
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1
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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archaeology
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| n.考古学 | |
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excavations
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| n.挖掘( excavation的名词复数 )；开凿；开凿的洞穴（或山路等）；（发掘出来的）古迹 | |
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4
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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incurring
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的现在分词 ) | |
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7
forsaking
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| 放弃( forsake的现在分词 )； 弃绝； 抛弃； 摒弃 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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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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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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monograph
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| n.专题文章，专题著作 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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sanely
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| ad.神志清楚地 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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aberration
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| n.离开正路，脱离常规，色差 | |
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dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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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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34
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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35
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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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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38
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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39
improvise
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| v.即兴创作；临时准备，临时凑成 | |
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40
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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41
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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42
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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43
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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44
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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45
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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46
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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47
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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48
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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49
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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50
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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51
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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52
magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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53
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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54
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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55
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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57
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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58
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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59
treatise
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| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
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60
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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61
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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64
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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65
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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66
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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69
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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70
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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71
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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72
porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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73
plaques
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| （纪念性的）匾牌( plaque的名词复数 )； 纪念匾； 牙斑； 空斑 | |
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dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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75
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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77
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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78
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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79
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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80
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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81
Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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82
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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83
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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84
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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85
sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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86
adherents
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| n.支持者，拥护者( adherent的名词复数 )；党羽；徒子徒孙 | |
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87
papyrus
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| n.古以纸草制成之纸 | |
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88
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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89
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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90
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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91
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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92
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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93
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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94
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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95
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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96
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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97
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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98
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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99
enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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100
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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101
docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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102
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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103
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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104
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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105
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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106
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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107
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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108
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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109
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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110
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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111
follies
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| 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 ) | |
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112
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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113
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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114
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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115
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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116
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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117
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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118
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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119
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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120
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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121
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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122
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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123
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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124
quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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125
charlatan
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| n.骗子；江湖医生；假内行 | |
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126
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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127
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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