Situated1 in the busiest quarter of Paris, the Place had long lost the fine stateliness it had worn a hundred years ago; the mansions2 forming its three sides, built in the days of Henri IV in one uniform style, of red brick with white stone dressings3, to lodge4 splendour-loving magistrates5, had had their imposing6 roofs of slate7 removed to make way for two or three wretched storeys of lath and plaster or had even been demolished8 altogether and replaced by shabby whitewashed9 houses, and now displayed only a series of irregular, poverty-stricken, squalid fronts, pierced with countless10 narrow, unevenly11 spaced windows enlivened with flowers in pots, birdcages, and rags hanging out to dry. These were occupied by a swarm12 of artisans, jewellers, metal-workers, clockmakers, opticians, printers, laundresses, sempstresses, milliners, and a few grey-beard lawyers who had not been swept away in the storm of revolution along with the King's courts.
It was morning and springtime. Golden sunbeams, intoxicating13 as new wine, played on the walls and flashed gaily14 in at garret casements15. Every sash of every window was thrown open, showing the housewives' frowsy heads peeping out. The Clerk of the Revolutionary Tribunal, who had just left his house on his way to Court, distributed amicable16 taps on the cheeks of the children playing under the trees. From the Pont-Neuf came the crier's voice denouncing the treason of the infamous17 Dumouriez.
évariste Gamelin lived in a house on the side towards the Quai de l'Horloge, a house that dated from Henri IV and would still have preserved a not unhandsome appearance but for a mean tiled attic18 that had been added on to heighten the building under the last but one of the tyrants19. To adapt the lodging21 of some erstwhile dignitary of the Parlement to the exigencies22 of the bourgeois23 and artisan households that formed its present denizens24, endless partitions and false floors had been run up. This was why the citoyen Remacle, concierge25 and jobbing tailor, perched in a sort of 'tween-decks, as low ceilinged as it was confined in area. Here he could be seen through the glass door sitting cross-legged on his work-bench, his bowed back within an inch of the floor above, stitching away at a National Guard's uniform, while the citoyenne Remacle, whose cooking stove boasted no chimney but the well of the staircase, poisoned the other tenants26 with the fumes27 of her stew-pots and frying-pans, and their little girl Joséphine, her face smudged with treacle28 and looking as pretty as an angel, played on the threshold with Mouton, the joiner's dog. The citoyenne, whose heart was as capacious as her ample bosom29 and broad back, was reputed to bestow30 her favours on her neighbour the citoyen Dupont senior, who was one of the twelve constituting the Committee of Surveillance. At any rate her husband had his strong suspicions, and from morning to night the house resounded31 with the racket of the alternate squabbles and reconciliations32 of the pair. The upper floors were occupied by the citoyen Chaperon, gold and silver-smith, who had his shop on the Quai de l'Horloge, by a health officer, an attorney, a goldbeater, and several employés at the Palais de Justice.
évariste Gamelin climbed the old-fashioned staircase as far as the fourth and last storey, where he had his studio together with a bedroom for his mother. At this point ended the wooden stairs laid with tiles that took the place of the grand stairway of the more important floors. A ladder clamped to the wall led to a cock-loft, from which at that moment emerged a stout33 man with a handsome, florid, rosy-cheeked face, climbing painfully down with an enormous package clasped in his arms, yet humming gaily to himself: J'ai perdu mon serviteur.
Breaking off his song, he wished a polite good-day to Gamelin, who returned him a fraternal greeting and helped him down with his parcel, for which the old man thanked him.
"There," said he, shouldering his burden again, "you have a batch34 of dancing-dolls which I am going to deliver straight away to a toy-merchant in the Rue35 de la Loi. There is a whole tribe of them inside; I am their creator; they have received of me a perishable36 body, exempt37 from joys and sufferings. I have not given them the gift of thought, for I am a benevolent38 God."
It was the citoyen Brotteaux, once farmer of taxes and ci-devant noble; his father, having made a fortune in these transactions, had bought himself an office conferring a title on the possessor. In the good old times Maurice Brotteaux had called himself Monsieur des Ilettes and used to give elegant suppers which the fair Madame de Rochemaure, wife of a King's procureur, enlivened with her bright glances,—a finished gentlewoman whose loyal fidelity40 was never impugned41 so long as the Revolution left Maurice Brotteaux in possession of his offices and emoluments42, his h?tel, his estates and his noble name. The Revolution swept them all away. He made his living by painting portraits under the archways of doors, making pancakes and fritters on the Quai de la Mégisserie, composing speeches for the representatives of the people and giving dancing lessons to the young citoyennes. At the present time, in his garret into which you climbed by a ladder and where a man could not stand upright, Maurice Brotteaux, the proud owner of a glue-pot, a ball of twine43, a box of water-colours and sundry44 clippings of paper, manufactured dancing-dolls which he sold to wholesale45 toy-dealers, who resold them to the pedlars who hawked46 them up and down the Champs-élysées at the end of a pole,—glittering magnets to draw the little ones' eyes. Amidst the calamities47 of the State and the disaster that overwhelmed himself, he preserved an unruffled spirit, reading for the refreshment48 of his mind in his Lucretius, which he carried with him wherever he went in the gaping49 pocket of his plum-coloured surtout.
évariste Gamelin pushed open the door of his lodging. It offered no resistance, for his poverty spared him any trouble about lock and key; when his mother from force of habit shot the bolt, he would tell her: "Why, what's the good? Folks don't steal spiders'-webs,—nor my pictures, neither." In his workroom were piled, under a thick layer of dust or with faces turned to the wall, the canvases of his student years,—when, as the fashion of the day was, he limned50 scenes of gallantry, depicting52 with a sleek53, timorous54 brush emptied quivers and birds put to flight, risky55 pastimes and reveries of bliss56, high-kilted goose-girls and shepherdesses with rose-wreathed bosoms57.
But it was not a genre58 that suited his temperament59. His cold treatment of such like scenes proved the painter's incurable60 purity of heart. Amateurs were right: Gamelin had no gifts as an erotic artist. Nowadays, though he was still short of thirty, these subjects struck him as dating from an immemorial antiquity61. He saw in them the degradation62 wrought63 by Monarchy64, the shameful65 effects of the corruption66 of Courts. He blamed himself for having practised so contemptible67 a style and prostituted his genius to the vile68 arts of slavery. Now, citizen of a free people, he occupied his hand with bold charcoal69 sketches71 of Liberties, Rights of Man, French Constitutions, Republican Virtues72, the People as Hercules felling the Hydra73 of Tyranny, throwing into each and all his compositions all the fire of his patriotism75. Alas76! he could not make a living by it. The times were hard for artists. No doubt the fault did not lie with the Convention, which was hurling77 its armies against the kings gathered on every frontier, which, proud, unmoved, determined78 in the face of the coalesced79 powers of Europe, false and ruthless to itself, was rending80 its own bosom with its own hands, which was setting up terror as the order of the day, establishing for the punishment of plotters a pitiless tribunal to whose devouring81 maw it was soon to deliver up its own members; but which through it all, with calm and thoughtful brow, the patroness of science and friend of all things beautiful, was reforming the calendar, instituting technical schools, decreeing competitions in painting and sculpture, founding prizes to encourage artists, organizing annual exhibitions, opening the Museum of the Louvre, and, on the model of Athens and Rome, endowing with a stately sublimity82 the celebration of National festivals and public obsequies. But French Art, once so widely appreciated in England, and Germany, in Russia, in Poland, now found every outlet83 to foreign lands closed. Amateurs of painting, dilettanti of the fine arts, great noblemen and financiers, were ruined, had emigrated or were in hiding. The men the Revolution had enriched, peasants who had bought up National properties, speculators, army-contractors, gamesters of the Palais-Royal, durst not at present show their wealth, and did not care a fig84 for pictures, either. It needed Regnault's fame or the youthful Gérard's cleverness to sell a canvas. Greuze, Fragonard, Houin were reduced to indigence85. Prud'hon could barely earn bread for his wife and children by drawing subjects which Copia reproduced in stippled86 engravings. The patriot74 painters Hennequin, Wicar, Topino-Lebrun were starving. Gamelin, without means to meet the expenses of a picture, to hire a model or buy colours, abandoned his vast canvas of The Tyrant20 pursued in the Infernal Regions by the Furies, after barely sketching87 in the main outlines. It blocked up half the studio with its half-finished, threatening shapes, greater than life-size, and its vast brood of green snakes, each darting88 forth89 two sharp, forked tongues. In the foreground, to the left, could be discerned Charon in his boat, a haggard, wild-looking figure,—a powerful and well conceived design, but of the schools, schooly. There was far more of genius and less of artificiality in a canvas of smaller dimensions, also unfinished, that hung in the best lighted corner of the studio. It was an Orestes whom his sister Electra was raising in her arms on his bed of pain. The maiden90 was putting back with a moving tenderness the matted hair that hung over her brother's eyes. The head of the hero was tragic91 and fine, and you could see a likeness92 in it to the painter's own countenance93.
Gamelin cast many a mournful look at this composition; sometimes his fingers itched94 with the craving95 to be at work on it, and his arms would be stretched longingly96 towards the boldly sketched97 figure of Electra, to fall back again helpless to his sides. The artist was burning with enthusiasm, his soul aspired98 to great achievements. But he had to exhaust his energy on pot-boilers which he executed indifferently, because he was bound to please the taste of the vulgar and also because he had no skill to impress trivial things with the seal of genius. He drew little allegorical compositions which his comrade Desmahis engraved99 cleverly enough in black or in colours and which were bought at a low figure by a print-dealer in the Rue Honoré, the citoyen Blaise. But the trade was going from bad to worse, declared Blaise, who for some time now had declined to purchase anything.
This time, however, made inventive by necessity, Gamelin had conceived a new and happy thought, as he at any rate believed,—an idea that was to make the print-seller's fortune, and the engraver's and his own to boot. This was a "patriotic100" pack of cards, where for the kings and queens and knaves102 of the old style he meant to substitute figures of Genius, of Liberty, of Equality and the like. He had already sketched out all his designs, had finished several and was eager to pass on to Desmahis such as were in a state to be engraved. The one he deemed the most successful represented a soldier dressed in the three-cornered hat, blue coat with red facings, yellow breeches and black gaiters of the Volunteer, seated on a big drum, his feet on a pile of cannon-balls and his musket103 between his knees. It was the citizen of hearts replacing the ci-devant knave101 of hearts. For six months and more Gamelin had been drawing soldiers with never-failing gusto. He had sold some of these while the fit of martial104 enthusiasm lasted, while others hung on the walls of the room, and five or six, water-colours, colour-washes and chalks in two tints105, lay about on the table and chairs. In the days of July, '92, when in every open space rose platforms for enrolling106 recruits, when all the taverns107 were gay with green leaves and resounded to the shouts of "Vive la Nation! freedom or death!" Gamelin could not cross the Pont-Neuf or pass the H?tel de Ville without his heart beating high at sight of the beflagged marquee in which magistrates in tricolour scarves were inscribing108 the names of volunteers to the sound of the Marseillaise. But for him to join the Republic's armies would have meant leaving his mother to starve.
Heralded109 by a grievous sound of puffing110 and panting the old citoyenne, Gamelin's widowed mother, entered the studio, hot, red and out of breath, the National cockade hanging half unpinned in her cap and on the point of falling out. She deposited her basket on a chair and still standing111, the better to get her breath, began to groan112 over the high price of victuals113.
A shopkeeper's wife till the death of her husband, a cutler in the Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Germain, at the sign of the Ville de Chatellerault, now reduced to poverty, the citoyenne Gamelin lived in seclusion114, keeping house for her son the painter. He was the elder of her two children. As for her daughter Julie, at one time employed at a fashionable milliner's in the Rue Honoré, the best thing was not to know what had become of her, for it was ill saying the truth, that she had emigrated with an aristocrat115.
"Lord God!" sighed the citoyenne, showing her son a loaf baked of heavy dun-coloured dough116, "bread is too dear for anything; the more reason it should be made of pure wheat! At market neither eggs nor green-stuff nor cheese to be had. By dint117 of eating chestnuts118, we're like to grow into chestnuts."
After a long pause, she began again:
"Why, I've seen women in the streets who had nothing to feed their little ones with. The distress119 is sore among poor folks. And it will go on the same till things are put back on a proper footing."
"Mother," broke in Gamelin with a frown, "the scarcity120 we suffer from is due to the unprincipled buyers and speculators who starve the people and connive121 with our foes122 over the border to render the Republic odious123 to the citizens and to destroy liberty. This comes of the Brissotins' plots and the traitorous124 dealings of your Pétions and Rolands. It is well if the federalists in arms do not march on Paris and massacre125 the patriot remnant whom famine is too slow in killing126! There is no time to lose; we must tax the price of flour and guillotine every man who speculates in the food of the people, foments127 insurrection or palters with the foreigner. The Convention has set up an extraordinary tribunal to try conspirators128. Patriots129 form the court; but will its members have energy enough to defend the fatherland against our foes? There is hope in Robespierre; he is virtuous130. There is hope above all in Marat. He loves the people, discerns its true interests and promotes them. He was ever the first to unmask traitors131, to baffle plots. He is incorruptible and fearless. He, and he alone, can save the imperilled Republic."
The citoyenne Gamelin shook her head, paying no heed132 to the cockade that fell out of her cap at the gesture.
"Have done, évariste; your Marat is a man like another and no better than the rest. You are young and your head is full of fancies. What you say to-day of Marat, you said before of Mirabeau, of La Fayette, of Pétion, of Brissot."
After clearing one end of the deal table of the papers and books, brushes and chalks that littered it, the citoyenne laid out on it the earthenware134 soup-bowl, two tin porringers, two iron forks, the loaf of brown bread and a jug135 of thin wine.
Mother and son ate the soup in silence and finished their meal with a small scrap136 of bacon. The citoyenne, putting her titbit on her bread, used the point of her pocket knife to convey the pieces one by one slowly and solemnly to her toothless jaws137 and masticated138 with a proper reverence139 the victuals that had cost so dear.
She had left the best part on the dish for her son, who sat lost in a brown study.
"Eat, évariste," she repeated at regular intervals140, "eat,"—and on her lips the word had all the solemnity of a religious commandment.
She began again with her lamentations on the dearness of provisions, and again Gamelin demanded taxation141 as the only remedy for these evils.
"There is no money left in the country. The émigrés have carried it all off with them. There is no confidence left either. Everything is desperate."
"Hush143, mother, hush!" protested Gamelin. "What matter our privations, our hardships of a moment? The Revolution will win for all time the happiness of the human race."
The good dame39 sopped144 her bread in her wine; her mood grew more cheerful and she smiled as her thoughts returned to her young days, when she used to dance on the green in honour of the King's birthday. She well remembered too the day when Joseph Gamelin, cutler by trade, had asked her hand in marriage. And she told over, detail by detail, how things had gone,—how her mother had bidden her: "Go dress. We are going to the Place de Grève, to Monsieur Bienassis' shop, to see Damiens drawn145 and quartered," and what difficulty they had to force their way through the press of eager spectators. Presently, in Monsieur Bienassis' shop, she had seen Joseph Gamelin, wearing his fine rose-pink coat and had known in an instant what he would be at. All the time she sat at the window to see the regicide torn with red-hot pincers, drenched146 with molten lead, dragged at the tail of four horses and thrown into the flames, Joseph Gamelin had stood behind her chair and had never once left off complimenting her on her complexion147, her hair and her figure.
She drained the last drop in her cup and continued her reminiscences of other days:
"I brought you into the world, évariste, sooner than I had expected, by reason of a fright I had when I was big. It was on the Pont-Neuf, where I came near being knocked down by a crowd of sightseers hurrying to Monsieur de Lally's execution. You were so little at your birth the surgeon thought you would not live. But I felt sure God would be gracious to me and preserve your life. I reared you to the best of my powers, grudging148 neither pains nor expense. It is fair to say, my évariste, that you showed me you were grateful and that, from childhood up, you tried your best to recompense me for what I had done. You were naturally affectionate and tender-hearted. Your sister was not bad at heart; but she was selfish and of unbridled temper. Your compassion149 was greater than ever was hers for the unfortunate. When the little ragamuffins of the neighbourhood robbed birds' nests in the trees, you always fought hard to rescue the nestlings from their hands and restore them to the mother, and many a time you did not give in till after you had been kicked and cuffed150 cruelly. At seven years of age, instead of wrangling151 with bad boys, you would pace soberly along the street saying over your catechism; and all the poor people you came across you insisted on bringing home with you to relieve their needs, till I was forced to whip you to break you of the habit. You could not see a living creature suffer without tears. When you had done growing, you turned out a very handsome lad. To my great surprise, you appeared not to know it,—how different from most pretty boys, who are full of conceit152 and vain of their good looks!"
His old mother spoke153 the truth. évariste at twenty had had a grave and charming cast of countenance, a beauty at once austere154 and feminine, the countenance of a Minerva. Now his sombre eyes and pale cheeks revealed a melancholy155 and passionate156 soul. But his gaze, when it fell on his mother, recovered for a brief moment its childish softness.
She went on:
"You might have profited by your advantages to run after the girls, but you preferred to stay with me in the shop, and I had sometimes to tell you not to hang on always to my apron-strings, but to go and amuse yourself with your young companions. To my dying day I shall always testify that you have been a good son, évariste. After your father's death, you bravely took me and provided for me; though your work barely pays you, you have never let me want for anything, and if we are at this moment destitute157 and miserable158, I cannot blame you for it. The fault lies with the Revolution."
"I am no aristocrat. I have seen the great in the full tide of their power, and I can bear witness that they abused their privileges. I have seen your father cudgelled by the Duc de Canaleilles' lackeys160 because he did not make way quick enough for their master. I could never abide161 the Austrian—she was too haughty162 and too extravagant163. As for the King, I thought him good-hearted, and it needed his trial and condemnation164 to alter my opinion. In fact, I do not regret the old régime,—though I have had some agreeable times under it. But never tell me the Revolution is going to establish equality, because men will never be equal; it is an impossibility, and, let them turn the country upside down to their heart's content, there will still be great and small, fat and lean in it."
As she talked, she was busy putting away the plates and dishes. The painter had left off listening. He was thinking out a design,—for a sansculotte, in red cap and carmagnole, who was to supersede165 the discredited166 knave of spades in his pack of cards.
There was a sound of scratching on the door, and a girl appeared,—a country wench, as broad as she was long, red-haired and bandy-legged, a wen hiding the left eye, the right so pale a blue it looked white, with monstrous167 thick lips and teeth protruding168 beyond them.
She asked Gamelin if he was Gamelin the painter and if he could do her a portrait of her betrothed169, Ferrand (Jules), a volunteer serving with the Army of the Ardennes.
But the girl insisted gently but firmly that it must be done at once.
The painter protested, smiling in spite of himself as he pointed170 out that he could do nothing without the original.
The poor creature was dumfounded; she had not foreseen the difficulty. Her head drooping171 over the left shoulder, her hands clasped in front of her, she stood still and silent as if overwhelmed by her disappointment. Touched and diverted by so much simplicity172, and by way of distracting the poor, lovesick creature's grief, the painter handed her one of the soldiers he had drawn in water-colours and asked her if he was like that, her sweetheart in the Ardennes.
She bent173 her doleful look on the sketch70, and little by little her eye brightened, sparkled, flashed, and her moon face beamed out in a radiant smile.
"It is his very likeness," she cried at last. "It is the very spit of Jules Ferrand, it is Jules Ferrand to the life."
Before it occurred to the artist to take the sheet of paper out of her hands, she folded it carefully with her coarse red fingers into a tiny square, slipped it over her heart between her stays and her shift, handed the painter an assignat for five livres, and wishing the company a very good day, hobbled light-heartedly to the door and so out of the room.
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1 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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2 mansions | |
n.宅第,公馆,大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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3 dressings | |
n.敷料剂;穿衣( dressing的名词复数 );穿戴;(拌制色拉的)调料;(保护伤口的)敷料 | |
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4 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
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5 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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6 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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7 slate | |
n.板岩,石板,石片,石板色,候选人名单;adj.暗蓝灰色的,含板岩的;vt.用石板覆盖,痛打,提名,预订 | |
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8 demolished | |
v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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9 whitewashed | |
粉饰,美化,掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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11 unevenly | |
adv.不均匀的 | |
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12 swarm | |
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13 intoxicating | |
a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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14 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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15 casements | |
n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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16 amicable | |
adj.和平的,友好的;友善的 | |
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17 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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18 attic | |
n.顶楼,屋顶室 | |
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19 tyrants | |
专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 ); 暴君似的人; (古希腊的)僭主; 严酷的事物 | |
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20 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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21 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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22 exigencies | |
n.急切需要 | |
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23 bourgeois | |
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25 concierge | |
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26 tenants | |
n.房客( tenant的名词复数 );佃户;占用者;占有者 | |
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27 fumes | |
n.(强烈而刺激的)气味,气体 | |
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28 treacle | |
n.糖蜜 | |
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29 bosom | |
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30 bestow | |
v.把…赠与,把…授予;花费 | |
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34 batch | |
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35 rue | |
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36 perishable | |
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39 dame | |
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43 twine | |
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n.恢复,精神爽快,提神之事物;(复数)refreshments:点心,茶点 | |
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49 gaping | |
adj.口的;张口的;敞口的;多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 );张开,张大 | |
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50 limned | |
v.画( limn的过去式和过去分词 );勾画;描写;描述 | |
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51 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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52 depicting | |
描绘,描画( depict的现在分词 ); 描述 | |
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53 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
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54 timorous | |
adj.胆怯的,胆小的 | |
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55 risky | |
adj.有风险的,冒险的 | |
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56 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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57 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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58 genre | |
n.(文学、艺术等的)类型,体裁,风格 | |
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59 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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60 incurable | |
adj.不能医治的,不能矫正的,无救的;n.不治的病人,无救的人 | |
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61 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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62 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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63 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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64 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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65 shameful | |
adj.可耻的,不道德的 | |
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66 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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67 contemptible | |
adj.可鄙的,可轻视的,卑劣的 | |
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68 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
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69 charcoal | |
n.炭,木炭,生物炭 | |
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70 sketch | |
n.草图;梗概;素描;v.素描;概述 | |
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71 sketches | |
n.草图( sketch的名词复数 );素描;速写;梗概 | |
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72 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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73 hydra | |
n.水螅;难于根除的祸患 | |
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74 patriot | |
n.爱国者,爱国主义者 | |
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75 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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76 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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77 hurling | |
n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投,用力掷( hurl的现在分词 );大声叫骂 | |
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78 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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79 coalesced | |
v.联合,合并( coalesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80 rending | |
v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 );分裂;(因愤怒、痛苦等而)揪扯(衣服或头发等);(声音等)刺破 | |
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81 devouring | |
吞没( devour的现在分词 ); 耗尽; 津津有味地看; 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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82 sublimity | |
崇高,庄严,气质高尚 | |
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83 outlet | |
n.出口/路;销路;批发商店;通风口;发泄 | |
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84 fig | |
n.无花果(树) | |
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85 indigence | |
n.贫穷 | |
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86 stippled | |
v.加点、绘斑,加粒( stipple的过去式和过去分词 );(把油漆、水泥等的表面)弄粗糙 | |
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87 sketching | |
n.草图 | |
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88 darting | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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89 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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90 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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91 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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92 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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93 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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94 itched | |
v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95 craving | |
n.渴望,热望 | |
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96 longingly | |
adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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97 sketched | |
v.草拟(sketch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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98 aspired | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99 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) | |
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100 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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101 knave | |
n.流氓;(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
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102 knaves | |
n.恶棍,无赖( knave的名词复数 );(纸牌中的)杰克 | |
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103 musket | |
n.滑膛枪 | |
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104 martial | |
adj.战争的,军事的,尚武的,威武的 | |
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105 tints | |
色彩( tint的名词复数 ); 带白的颜色; (淡色)染发剂; 痕迹 | |
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106 enrolling | |
v.招收( enrol的现在分词 );吸收;入学;加入;[亦作enrol]( enroll的现在分词 );登记,招收,使入伍(或入会、入学等),参加,成为成员;记入名册;卷起,包起 | |
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107 taverns | |
n.小旅馆,客栈,酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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108 inscribing | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的现在分词 ) | |
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109 heralded | |
v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 );宣布(好或重要) | |
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110 puffing | |
v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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111 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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112 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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113 victuals | |
n.食物;食品 | |
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114 seclusion | |
n.隐遁,隔离 | |
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115 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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116 dough | |
n.生面团;钱,现款 | |
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117 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
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118 chestnuts | |
n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 );栗色;栗树;栗色马 | |
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119 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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120 scarcity | |
n.缺乏,不足,萧条 | |
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121 connive | |
v.纵容;密谋 | |
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122 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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123 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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124 traitorous | |
adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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125 massacre | |
n.残杀,大屠杀;v.残杀,集体屠杀 | |
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126 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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127 foments | |
v.激起,煽动(麻烦等)( foment的第三人称单数 ) | |
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128 conspirators | |
n.共谋者,阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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129 patriots | |
爱国者,爱国主义者( patriot的名词复数 ) | |
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130 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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131 traitors | |
卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 ); 叛徒; 背叛者; 背信弃义的人 | |
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132 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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133 oblivious | |
adj.易忘的,遗忘的,忘却的,健忘的 | |
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134 earthenware | |
n.土器,陶器 | |
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135 jug | |
n.(有柄,小口,可盛水等的)大壶,罐,盂 | |
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136 scrap | |
n.碎片;废料;v.废弃,报废 | |
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137 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
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138 masticated | |
v.咀嚼( masticate的过去式和过去分词 );粉碎,磨烂 | |
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139 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
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140 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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141 taxation | |
n.征税,税收,税金 | |
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142 shrilled | |
(声音)尖锐的,刺耳的,高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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143 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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144 sopped | |
adj.湿透的,浸透的v.将(面包等)在液体中蘸或浸泡( sop的过去式和过去分词 );用海绵、布等吸起(液体等) | |
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145 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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146 drenched | |
adj.湿透的;充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 );在某人(某物)上大量使用(某液体) | |
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147 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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148 grudging | |
adj.勉强的,吝啬的 | |
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149 compassion | |
n.同情,怜悯 | |
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150 cuffed | |
v.掌打,拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151 wrangling | |
v.争吵,争论,口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
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152 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
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153 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 | |
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154 austere | |
adj.艰苦的;朴素的,朴实无华的;严峻的 | |
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155 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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156 passionate | |
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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157 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
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158 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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159 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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160 lackeys | |
n.听差( lackey的名词复数 );男仆(通常穿制服);卑躬屈膝的人;被待为奴仆的人 | |
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161 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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162 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
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163 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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164 condemnation | |
n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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165 supersede | |
v.替代;充任 | |
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166 discredited | |
不足信的,不名誉的 | |
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167 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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168 protruding | |
v.(使某物)伸出,(使某物)突出( protrude的现在分词 );凸 | |
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169 betrothed | |
n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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170 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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171 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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172 simplicity | |
n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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173 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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