The ci-devant Monsieur des Ilettes was thrust into a dungeon8, where by the light of a lantern he could just make out two figures stretched on the ground, one savage-looking and hideously9 mutilated, the other graceful10 and pleasing. The two prisoners offered him a share of their straw, and this, rotten and swarming11 with vermin as it was, was better than having to lie on the earth, which was befouled with excrement12. Brotteaux sank down on a bench in the pestiferous darkness and sat there, his head against the wall, speechless and motionless. So intense was his agony of mind he would have dashed out his brains against the stones if he had had the strength. He could not breathe. His eyes swam, and a long-drawn murmur13, as soft as silence, filled his ears. He felt his whole being bathed in a delicious semi-consciousness. For one incomparable moment everything was harmony, serenity14, light, fragrance15, sweetness. Then he ceased to know or feel anything.
When he returned to himself, the first notion that entered his head was to regret his coma16 and, a philosopher even in the stupor17 of despair, he reflected how he had had to plunge18 to the depths of an underground dungeon, there to await execution, to enjoy the most exquisite19 of all voluptuous20 sensations he had ever tasted. He tried hard to lose consciousness again, but without success; on the contrary, little by little he felt the poisonous air of the dungeon fill his lungs and bring with it, along with the fever of life, a full consciousness of his intolerable wretchedness.
Meantime his two companions regarded his silence as a cruel personal insult. Brotteaux, who was of a sociable23 turn, endeavoured to satisfy their curiosity; but when they discovered he was only what they called "a political," one of the mild sort whose crime was only a matter of words and opinions, they lost all respect and sympathy for him. The offences charged against these two prisoners had more grit24; the older of the men was a murderer, the other had been manufacturing forged assignats. Both made the best of their situation and even found some alleviations in it. Brotteaux's thoughts suddenly turned to the world above him,—how over his head all was noise and bustle25, light and life, while the pretty shopwomen in the Palais de Justice behind their counters, loaded with perfumery and pretty knicknacks, smiled on their customers, happy people free to go where they pleased,—and the picture doubled his despair.
Night fell, unmarked in the darkness and silence of the dungeon, but yet gloomy and oppressive. One leg extended on his bench and his back propped26 against the wall, Brotteaux fell into a doze27. And lo! he saw himself seated at the foot of a leafy beech28, in which the birds were singing; the setting sun bathed the river in liquid fire and the clouds were edged with purple. The night wore through. A burning fever consumed him and he greedily drained his pitcher29 to the dregs, but the fetid water only increased his distress30.
Next day the gaoler who brought the food promised Brotteaux, if he could afford the cost, to give him the privileges of a prisoner who pays for his accommodation, so soon as there should be room, and it was not likely to be long first. And so it turned out; two days later he invited the old financier to leave his dungeon. At every step he took upwards31, Brotteaux felt life and vigour32 coming back to him, and when he saw a room with a red-tiled floor and in it a bed of sacking covered with a dingy33 woollen counterpane, he wept for joy. The gilded34 bed carved with doves billing and cooing that he had once had made for the prettiest of the dancers at the Opera had not seemed so desirable or promised him such delights.
This bed of sacking was in a large hall, very fairly clean, which held seventeen others like it, separated by high partitions of planks35. The company that occupied these quarters, composed of ex-nobles, tradesmen, bankers, working-men, hit the old publican's taste well enough, for he could accommodate himself to persons of all qualities. He noticed that these, cut off like himself from every opportunity of pleasure and foredoomed to perish at the hand of the executioner, were of a very merry humour and showed a marked taste for wit and raillery. His bent39 was to think lightly of mankind, so he attributed the high spirits of his companions to the frivolity40 of their minds, which prevented them from looking seriously at their situation. Moreover, he was strengthened in his opinion by observing how the more intelligent among them were profoundly sad. He remarked before long, that, for the most part, wine and brandy supplied the inspiration of a gaiety that betrayed its source by its violent and sometimes almost insane character. They did not all possess courage; but all made a display of it. This caused Brotteaux no surprise; he was well aware how men will readily enough avow41 cruelty, passion, even avarice42, but never cowardice43, because such an admission would bring them, among savages44 and even in civilized45 society, into mortal danger. That is the reason, he reflected, why all nations are nations of heroes and all armies are made up of brave men only.
More potent46, even, than wine and brandy were the rattle47 of weapons and keys, the clash of locks and bolts, the cry of sentries48, the stamping of feet at the door of the Tribunal, to intoxicate49 the prisoners and fill their minds with melancholy50, insanity51, or frenzy52. Some there were who cut their throat with a razor or threw themselves from a window.
Brotteaux had been living for three days in these privileged quarters when he learned through the turnkey that the Père Longuemare was languishing54 on the rotten verminous straw of the common prison with the thieves and murderers. He had him put on paying terms in the same room as himself, where a bed had fallen vacant. Having promised to pay for the monk55, the old publican, who had no large sum of money about him, struck out the idea of making portraits at a crown apiece. By the help of a gaoler, he procured56 a supply of small black frames in which to put pretty little designs in hair which he executed with considerable cleverness. These productions sold well, being highly appreciated among people whose thoughts were set on leaving souvenirs to their friends.
The Père Longuemare kept a good heart and a high spirit. While waiting his summons to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal, he was preparing his defence. Drawing no distinction between his own case and that of the Church, he promised himself to expose to his judges the disorders57 and scandals to which the Spouse58 of Christ was exposed by the Civil Constitution of the Clergy59; he proposed to depict60 the eldest61 daughter of the Church waging sacrilegious war upon the Pope, the French clergy robbed, outraged62, subjected to the odious63 domination of laics, the regulars, Christ's true army, despoiled64 and scattered65. He cited St. Gregory the Great and St. Iren?us, quoted numerous articles of the Canon Law and whole paragraphs from the Decretals.
All day long he sat scribbling66 on his knees, at the foot of his bed, dipping stumps67 of pens worn to the feathers in ink, soot68, coffee-grounds, covering with illegible69 writing candle-wrappers, packing-paper, newspapers, playing cards, even thinking of using his shirt for the same purpose after starching70 it. Leaf by leaf the pile grew; pointing to this mass of undecipherable scrawls71, he would say:
Another day, casting a look of satisfaction on his defence, which grew bulkier day by day, and thinking of these magistrates73 he was burning to confound, he cried:
"I wouldn't like to be in their shoes!"
The prisoners whom fate had brought together in this prison-room were Royalists or Federalists, there was even a Jacobin amongst the rest; they held widely different views as to the right way of conducting the business of the State, but not one of them all preserved the smallest vestige74 of Christian75 beliefs. Feuillants, Constitutionals, Girondists, all, like Brotteaux, considered the Christians76' God a very bad thing for themselves and an excellent one for the people; as for the Jacobins, they were for installing in the place of Jehovah a Jacobin god, anxious to refer the dispensation of Jacobinism on earth to a higher source. But as they could not conceive, either one or the other, of anybody being so absurd as to believe in any revealed religion, seeing that the Père Longuemare was no fool, they took him to be a knave77. By way, no doubt, of preparing for martyrdom, he made confession78 of faith at every opportunity, and the more sincerity79 he displayed, the more like an impostor he seemed.
In vain Brotteaux stood surety for the monk's good faith; Brotteaux himself was reputed to believe only a part of what he said. His ideas were too singular not to appear affected81 and satisfied nobody entirely82. He dubbed83 Jean-Jacques a dull, paltry84 rascal85. Voltaire, on the other hand, he accounted among the divinely-gifted men, though not on the same level as the amiable86 Helvétius, or Diderot, or the Baron87 d'Holbach. In his opinion the greatest genius of the century was Boulanger. He also thought highly of the astronomer88 Lalande and of Dupuis, author of a Memoir89 on the origin of the Constellations90.
The wits of the company made a thousand jokes at the poor Barnabite's expense, the point of which he never saw; his simplicity91 saved him from every pitfall92. To drown the suspense93 that racked them and escape the torments94 of idleness, the prisoners played at draughts95, cards and backgammon. No instrument of music was allowed. After supper they would sing, or recite verses. Voltaire's La Pucelle brought a little cheerfulness to these aching hearts, and the company never wearied of hearing the telling passages repeated. But, unable to distract their thoughts from the appalling96 vision that always loomed97 before their mind's eye, they strove sometimes to make a diversion of it, and in the chamber98 of the eighteen beds, before turning in for the night, they would play the game of the Revolutionary Tribunal. The parts were distributed according to tastes and aptitudes99. While some represented the judges and prosecutor100, others were the accused or the witnesses, others again the headsman and his men. The trials invariably wound up with the execution of the condemned, who were laid at full length on a bed, the neck underneath101 a plank36. The scene then shifted to the infernal regions. The most agile102 of the troop, wrapped in white sheets, played spectres. There was a young avocat from Bordeaux, a man named Dubosc, short, dark, one-eyed, humpbacked, bandy-legged, the very black deuce in person, who used to come all horned and hoofed103, to drag the Père Longuemare feet first out of his bed, announcing to the culprit that he was condemned to the everlasting105 flames of hell and doomed38 past redemption for having made of the Creator of the Universe a jealous being, a blockhead, and a bully106, an enemy of human happiness and love.
"Ah! ha! ha!" the devil would scream discordantly107, "so you taught, you old bonze, that God delights to see His creatures languish53 in contrition108 and deny themselves His dearest gifts. Impostor, hypocrite, sneak109, sit on nails and eat egg-shells for all eternity110!"
The Père Longuemare, for all reply, would observe that the speech showed the philosopher's cloven hoof104 behind the devil's and that the meanest imp80 of hell would never have talked such foolishness, having at least rubbed shoulders with Theology and for certain being less ignorant than an Encyclop?dist.
But when the Girondist avocat called him a Capuchin, he turned scarlet111 with anger and declared that a man incapable112 of distinguishing a Barnabite from a Franciscan was too blind to see a fly in milk.
The Revolutionary Tribunal was always draining the prisons, which the Committees were as unceasingly replenishing; in three months the chamber of the eighteen was half full of new faces. The Père Longuemare lost his tormentor113. The avocat Dubosc was haled before the Revolutionary Tribunal and condemned to death as a Federalist and for having conspired114 against the unity37 of the Republic. On leaving the court, he returned, as the prisoners always did, by a corridor that ran through the prison and opened on the room he had enlivened for three months with his gaiety. As he made his farewells to his companions, he maintained the same light tone and cheerful air that were habitual115 with him.
"Forgive me, sir," he said to the Père Longuemare, "for having hauled you feet foremost from your bed. I will never do it again."
Then, turning to old Brotteaux:
"Good-bye, I go before you into the land of nowhere. I gladly return to Nature the atoms of my composition, only hoping she will make a better use of them for the future, for it must be owned she did not make much of a job of me."
So he went on his way to the gaoler's room, leaving Brotteaux sorrowful and the Père Longuemare trembling and green as a leaf, more dead than alive to see the impious wretch21 laugh on the brink116 of the abyss.
When Germinal brought back the bright days, Brotteaux, who was of an ardent117 temperament118, tramped down several times every day to the courtyard giving on the women's quarters, near the fountain where the female prisoners used to come of a morning to wash their linen119. An iron railing separated the two barracks; but the bars were not so close together as to hinder hands joining and lips meeting. Under the kindly120 shade of night loving couples would press against the obstacle. At such times Brotteaux would retire discreetly121 to the staircase and, sitting on a step, would draw from the pocket of his plum-coloured surtout his little Lucretius and read, by the light of a lantern, some of the author's sternly consolatory122 maxims123: "Sic ubi non erimus.... When we shall have ceased to be, nothing will have power to move us, not even the heavens and earth and sea confounding their shattered fragments...." But, in the act of enjoying his exalted124 wisdom, Brotteaux would find himself envying the Barnabite this craze that veiled the universe from his eyes.
Month by month terror grew more intense. Every night the tipsy gaolers, their watch-dogs at their heels, would march from cell to cell, delivering acts of accusation125, howling out names they mutilated, waking the prisoners and for twenty victims marked on their list terrifying two hundred. Along these corridors, reeking126 with bloody127 memories, passed every day, without a murmur, twenty, thirty, fifty condemned prisoners, old men, women, young men and maidens128, so widely different in rank and character and opinion that the question rose involuntarily to the lips,—had they not been chosen by lot?
And the card playing went on, the Burgundy drinking, the making of plans, the assignations for after dark at the rails. The company, new almost to a man, now consisted in great part of "extremists" and "irreconcilables." But still the room of the eighteen beds remained the home of elegance129 and good breeding; barring two prisoners recently transferred from the Luxembourg to the Conciergerie and added to the company, by whom they were suspected of being spies, the citoyens Navette and Bellier by name, there were none but honest folk there who reposed130 a mutual131 trust in each other. Glass in hand, the victories of the Republic were celebrated132 by all. Amongst the rest were several poets, as there always are in any gathering133 of people with nothing to do. The most accomplished134 composed odes on the triumphs of the Army of the Rhine, which they recited with much mouthing. They were uproariously applauded. Brotteaux was the only lukewarm admirer of the victors and the bards135 who sang their victories.
"Since Homer began it," he observed one day, "it has always been a mania136 with poets, this extolling137 the powers of fighting-men. War is not an art, and luck alone decides the fate of battles. With two generals, both blockheads, face to face, one of them must inevitably138 be victorious139. Wait till some day one of these warriors140 you make gods of swallows you all up like the stork141 in the fable142 who gobbles up the frogs. Ah! then he would be really and truly a God! For you can always tell the gods by their appetite."
Brotteaux's head had never been turned by the glamour143 of arms. He felt no triumph at the victories of the Republic, which he had foreseen. He did not like the new régime, which military success confirmed. He was a malcontent144. Another would have been the same for less cause.
One morning it was announced that the Commissaries of the Committee of General Security were going to institute a search in the prisoners' quarters, that they would seize assignats, articles of gold and silver, knives, scissors; that similar proceedings145 had been taken at the Luxembourg, where letters, papers, and books had been taken possession of.
Thereupon everyone tried to think of some hiding place in which to secure whatever he held most precious. The Père Longuemare carried away his defence in armfuls to a rain-gutter, while Brotteaux slipped his Lucretius among the ashes on the hearth146.
When the Commissaries, wearing tricolour ribands at their necks, arrived to carry out their perquisition, they found scarcely anything but such trifles as it had been deemed judicious147 to let them discover. On their departure, the Père Longuemare ran to his rain-pipe and rescued as much of his defence as wind and water had spared. Brotteaux pulled out his Lucretius from the fireplace all black with soot.
"Let us make the best of the present," he thought, "for I augur148 from sundry149 tokens that our time is straitly measured from henceforth."
One soft night in Prairial, while over the prison yard the moon riding high in a pale sky showed her two silver horns, the ex-financier, who, as his way was, sat reading Lucretius on a step of the stone stairs, heard a voice call him, a woman's voice, a delightful150 voice, which he did not know. He went down into the court and saw behind the railing a form which he recognized as little as he did the voice, but which reminded him, in its half-seen fascinating outlines, of all the women he had loved. A flood of silvery blue moonlight fell on it. Next instant Brotteaux recognized the pretty actress of the Rue22 Feydeau, Rose Thévenin.
"You here, my child! It is a joy to see you, but it stabs my heart. Since when have you been here, and why?"
"Since yesterday,"—and she added very low:
"I have been denounced as a Royalist. They accuse me of conspiring151 to set free the Queen. Knowing you were here, I tried at once to see you. Listen to me, dear friend ... you will let me call you so?... I know people in power; I have sympathizers, I am sure of it, on the Committee of Public Safety itself. I will set my friends to work; they will deliver me, and I will deliver you."
But Brotteaux in a voice that took on an accent of urgency:
"By everything you hold dear, my child, do nothing of the sort! Do not write, do not petition; ask nothing of anybody, I conjure152 you, let yourself be forgotten."
As she appeared unconvinced by what he said, he went on more beseechingly153 still:
"Not a word, Rose, let them forget you; there lies safety. Anything your friends might attempt would only hasten your undoing154. Time is everything; only a short delay, a very short one, I hope, is needed to save you.... Above all, never try to melt the judges, the jurors, a Gamelin. They are not men, they are things; there is no arguing with things. Let them forget you; if you take my advice, sweetheart, I shall die happy, happy to have saved your life."
She answered:
"I will do as you say.... Never talk of dying...."
"My life is ended, my child. Do you live and be happy."
"Hear what I say, dear friend.... I have only seen you once for a day, and yet you are not indifferent to me. And if what I am going to tell you can renew your attachment157 to life, oh! believe my promise,—I will be for you ... whatever you shall wish me to be."
And they exchanged a kiss on the mouth through the bars.
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1
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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3
inscribing
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的现在分词 ) | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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7
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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10
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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excrement
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| n.排泄物，粪便 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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14
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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15
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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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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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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47
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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48
sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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52
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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53
languish
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| vi.变得衰弱无力，失去活力，（植物等）凋萎 | |
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54
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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55
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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56
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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57
disorders
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| n.混乱( disorder的名词复数 )；凌乱；骚乱；（身心、机能）失调 | |
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58
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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59
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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60
depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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61
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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62
outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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63
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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64
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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66
scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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67
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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68
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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69
illegible
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| adj.难以辨认的，字迹模糊的 | |
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70
starching
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| v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的现在分词 )；上浆 | |
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71
scrawls
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| 潦草的笔迹( scrawl的名词复数 ) | |
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72
inundate
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| vt.淹没，泛滥，压倒 | |
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73
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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74
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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75
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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76
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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77
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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78
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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79
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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80
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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81
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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82
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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83
dubbed
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| v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
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84
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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85
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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86
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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87
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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88
astronomer
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| n.天文学家 | |
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89
memoir
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| n.[pl.]回忆录，自传；记事录 | |
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90
constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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91
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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92
pitfall
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| n.隐患，易犯的错误；陷阱，圈套 | |
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93
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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94
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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95
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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96
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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97
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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98
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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99
aptitudes
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| （学习方面的）才能，资质，天资( aptitude的名词复数 ) | |
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100
prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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101
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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102
agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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103
hoofed
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| adj.有蹄的，蹄形状的，装蹄的v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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105
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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106
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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107
discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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108
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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109
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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110
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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111
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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112
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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113
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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114
conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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115
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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116
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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117
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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118
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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119
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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120
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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121
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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122
consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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123
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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124
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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125
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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126
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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127
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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128
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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129
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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130
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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131
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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132
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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133
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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134
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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135
bards
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| n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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136
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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137
extolling
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| v.赞美( extoll的现在分词 )；赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的现在分词 ) | |
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138
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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139
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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140
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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141
stork
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| n.鹳 | |
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142
fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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143
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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144
malcontent
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| n.不满者，不平者；adj.抱不平的，不满的 | |
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145
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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146
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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147
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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148
augur
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| n.占卦师；v.占卦 | |
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149
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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150
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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151
conspiring
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| 密谋( conspire的现在分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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152
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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153
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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154
undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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155
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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156
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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157
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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