Donatello had not very easily been stirred out of the peculiar10 sluggishness11, which enthralls12 and bewitches melancholy people. He had offered merely a passive resistance, however, not an active one, to his friend’s schemes; and when the appointed hour came, he yielded to the impulse which Kenyon failed not to apply; and was started upon the journey before he had made up his mind to undertake it. They wandered forth13 at large, like two knights-errant, among the valleys, and the mountains, and the old mountain towns of that picturesque14 and lovely region. Save to keep the appointment with Miriam, a fortnight thereafter, in the great square of Perugia, there was nothing more definite in the sculptor’s plan than that they should let themselves be blown hither and thither15 like Winged seeds, that mount upon each wandering breeze. Yet there was an idea of fatality16 implied in the simile17 of the winged seeds which did not altogether suit Kenyon’s fancy; for, if you look closely into the matter, it will be seen that whatever appears most vagrant18, and utterly19 purposeless, turns out, in the end, to have been impelled20 the most surely on a preordained and unswerving track. Chance and change love to deal with men’s settled plans, not with their idle vagaries21. If we desire unexpected and unimaginable events, we should contrive22 an iron framework, such as we fancy may compel the future to take one inevitable23 shape; then comes in the unexpected, and shatters our design in fragments.
The travellers set forth on horseback, and purposed to perform much of their aimless journeyings under the moon, and in the cool of the morning or evening twilight24; the midday sun, while summer had hardly begun to trail its departing skirts over Tuscany, being still too fervid25 to allow of noontide exposure.
For a while, they wandered in that same broad valley which Kenyon had viewed with such delight from the Monte Beni tower. The sculptor soon began to enjoy the idle activity of their new life, which the lapse26 of a day or two sufficed to establish as a kind of system; it is so natural for mankind to be nomadic27, that a very little taste of that primitive28 mode of existence subverts29 the settled habits of many preceding years. Kenyon’s cares, and whatever gloomy ideas before possessed30 him, seemed to be left at Monte Beni, and were scarcely remembered by the time that its gray tower grew undistinguishable on the brown hillside. His perceptive31 faculties32, which had found little exercise of late, amid so thoughtful a way of life, became keen, and kept his eyes busy with a hundred agreeable scenes.
He delighted in the picturesque bits of rustic33 character and manners, so little of which ever comes upon the surface of our life at home. There, for example, were the old women, tending pigs or sheep by the wayside. As they followed the vagrant steps of their charge, these venerable ladies kept spinning yarn34 with that elsewhere forgotten contrivance, the distaff; and so wrinkled and stern looking were they, that you might have taken them for the Parcae, spinning the threads of human destiny. In contrast with their great-grandmothers were the children, leading goats of shaggy beard, tied by the horns, and letting them browse35 on branch and shrub36. It is the fashion of Italy to add the petty industry of age and childhood to the hum of human toil37. To the eyes of an observer from the Western world, it was a strange spectacle to see sturdy, sunburnt creatures, in petticoats, but otherwise manlike, toiling38 side by side with male laborers39, in the rudest work of the fields. These sturdy women (if as such we must recognize them) wore the high-crowned, broad brimmed hat of Tuscan straw, the customary female head-apparel; and, as every breeze blew back its breadth of brim, the sunshine constantly added depth to the brown glow of their cheeks. The elder sisterhood, however, set off their witch-like ugliness to the worst advantage with black felt hats, bequeathed them, one would fancy, by their long-buried husbands.
Another ordinary sight, as sylvan40 as the above and more agreeable, was a girl, bearing on her back a huge bundle of green twigs41 and shrubs42, or grass, intermixed with scarlet43 poppies and blue flowers; the verdant44 burden being sometimes of such size as to hide the bearer’s figure, and seem a self-moving mass of fragrant45 bloom and verdure. Oftener, however, the bundle reached only halfway46 down the back of the rustic nymph, leaving in sight her well-developed lower limbs, and the crooked47 knife, hanging behind her, with which she had been reaping this strange harvest sheaf. A pre-Raphaelite artist (he, for instance, who painted so marvellously a wind-swept heap of autumnal leaves) might find an admirable subject in one of these Tuscan girls, stepping with a free, erect48, and graceful49 carriage. The miscellaneous herbage and tangled50 twigs and blossoms of her bundle, crowning her head (while her ruddy, comely51 face looks out between the hanging side festoons like a larger flower), would give the painter boundless52 scope for the minute delineation53 which he loves.
Though mixed up with what was rude and earthlike, there was still a remote, dreamlike, Arcadian charm, which is scarcely to be found in the daily toil of other lands. Among the pleasant features of the wayside were always the vines, clambering on fig-trees, or other sturdy trunks; they wreathed themselves in huge and rich festoons from one tree to another, suspending clusters of ripening54 grapes in the interval55 between. Under such careless mode of culture, the luxuriant vine is a lovelier spectacle than where it produces a more precious liquor, and is therefore more artificially restrained and trimmed. Nothing can be more picturesque than an old grapevine, with almost a trunk of its own, clinging fast around its supporting tree. Nor does the picture lack its moral. You might twist it to more than one grave purpose, as you saw how the knotted, serpentine56 growth imprisoned57 within its strong embrace the friend that had supported its tender infancy58; and how (as seemingly flexible natures are prone59 to do) it converted the sturdier tree entirely60 to its own selfish ends, extending its innumerable arms on every bough61, and permitting hardly a leaf to sprout62 except its own. It occurred to Kenyon, that the enemies of the vine, in his native land, might here have seen an emblem63 of the remorseless gripe, which the habit of vinous enjoyment64 lays upon its victim, possessing him wholly, and letting him live no life but such as it bestows65.
The scene was not less characteristic when their path led the two wanderers through some small, ancient town. There, besides the peculiarities66 of present life, they saw tokens of the life that had long ago been lived and flung aside. The little town, such as we see in our mind’s eye, would have its gate and its surrounding walls, so ancient and massive that ages had not sufficed to crumble67 them away; but in the lofty upper portion of the gateway68, still standing69 over the empty arch, where there was no longer a gate to shut, there would be a dove-cote, and peaceful doves for the only warders. Pumpkins70 lay ripening in the open chambers71 of the structure. Then, as for the town wall, on the outside an orchard72 extends peacefully along its base, full, not of apple-trees, but of those old humorists with gnarled trunks and twisted boughs73, the olives. Houses have been built upon the ramparts, or burrowed74 out of their ponderous75 foundation. Even the gray, martial76 towers, crowned with ruined turrets77, have been converted into rustic habitations, from the windows of which hang ears of Indian corn. At a door, that has been broken through the massive stonework where it was meant to be strongest, some contadini are winnowing78 grain. Small windows, too, are pierced through the whole line of ancient wall, so that it seems a row of dwellings79 with one continuous front, built in a strange style of needless strength; but remnants of the old battlements and machicolations are interspersed80 with the homely81 chambers and earthen-tiled housetops; and all along its extent both grapevines and running flower-shrubs are encouraged to clamber and sport over the roughness of its decay.
Finally the long grass, intermixed with weeds and wild flowers, waves on the uppermost height of the shattered rampart; and it is exceedingly pleasant in the golden sunshine of the afternoon to behold82 the warlike precinct so friendly in its old days, and so overgrown with rural peace. In its guard rooms, its prison chambers, and scooped83 out of its ponderous breadth, there are dwellings nowadays where happy human lives are spent. Human parents and broods of children nestle in them, even as the swallows nestle in the little crevices84 along the broken summit of the wall.
Passing through the gateway of this same little town, challenged only by those watchful85 sentinels, the pigeons, we find ourselves in a long, narrow street, paved from side to side with flagstones, in the old Roman fashion. Nothing can exceed the grim ugliness of the houses, most of which are three or four stories high, stone built, gray, dilapidated, or half-covered with plaster in patches, and contiguous all along from end to end of the town. Nature, in the shape of tree, shrub, or grassy86 sidewalk, is as much shut out from the one street of the rustic village as from the heart of any swarming87 city. The dark and half ruinous habitations, with their small windows, many of which are drearily88 closed with wooden shutters89, are but magnified hovels, piled story upon story, and squalid with the grime that successive ages have left behind them. It would be a hideous90 scene to contemplate91 in a rainy day, or when no human life pervaded92 it. In the summer noon, however, it possesses vivacity93 enough to keep itself cheerful; for all the within-doors of the village then bubbles over upon the flagstones, or looks out from the small windows, and from here and there a balcony. Some of the populace are at the butcher’s shop; others are at the fountain, which gushes94 into a marble basin that resembles an antique sarcophagus. A tailor is sewing before his door with a young priest seated sociably95 beside him; a burly friar goes by with an empty wine-barrel on his head; children are at play; women, at their own doorsteps, mend clothes, embroider96, weave hats of Tuscan straw, or twirl the distaff. Many idlers, meanwhile, strolling from one group to another, let the warm day slide by in the sweet, interminable task of doing nothing.
From all these people there comes a babblement97 that seems quite disproportioned to the number of tongues that make it. So many words are not uttered in a New England village throughout the year—except it be at a political canvass98 or town-meeting—as are spoken here, with no especial purpose, in a single day. Neither so many words, nor so much laughter; for people talk about nothing as if they were terribly in earnest, and make merry at nothing as if it were the best of all possible jokes. In so long a time as they have existed, and within such narrow precincts, these little walled towns are brought into a closeness of society that makes them but a larger household. All the inhabitants are akin99 to each, and each to all; they assemble in the street as their common saloon, and thus live and die in a familiarity of intercourse100, such as never can be known where a village is open at either end, and all roundabout, and has ample room within itself.
Stuck up beside the door of one house, in this village street, is a withered101 bough; and on a stone seat, just under the shadow of the bough, sits a party of jolly drinkers, making proof of the new wine, or quaffing102 the old, as their often-tried and comfortable friend. Kenyon draws bridle103 here (for the bough, or bush, is a symbol of the wine-shop at this day in Italy, as it was three hundred years ago in England), and calls for a goblet104 of the deep, mild, purple juice, well diluted105 with water from the fountain. The Sunshine of Monte Beni would be welcome now. Meanwhile, Donatello has ridden onward106, but alights where a shrine107, with a burning lamp before it, is built into the wall of an inn stable. He kneels and crosses himself, and mutters a brief prayer, without attracting notice from the passers-by, many of whom are parenthetically devout108 in a similar fashion. By this time the sculptor has drunk off his wine-and-water, and our two travellers resume their way, emerging from the opposite gate of the village.
Before them, again, lies the broad valley, with a mist so thinly scattered109 over it as to be perceptible only in the distance, and most so in the nooks of the hills. Now that we have called it mist, it seems a mistake not rather to have called it sunshine; the glory of so much light being mingled110 with so little gloom, in the airy material of that vapor111. Be it mist or sunshine, it adds a touch of ideal beauty to the scene, almost persuading the spectator that this valley and those hills are visionary, because their visible atmosphere is so like the substance of a dream.
Immediately about them, however, there were abundant tokens that the country was not really the paradise it looked to be, at a casual glance. Neither the wretched cottages nor the dreary114 farmhouses115 seemed to partake of the prosperity, with which so kindly117 a climate, and so fertile a portion of Mother Earth’s bosom118, should have filled them, one and all. But possibly the peasant inhabitants do not exist in so grimy a poverty, and in homes so comfortless, as a stranger, with his native ideas of those matters, would be likely to imagine. The Italians appear to possess none of that emulative119 pride which we see in our New England villages, where every householder, according to his taste and means, endeavors to make his homestead an ornament120 to the grassy and elm-shadowed wayside. In Italy there are no neat doorsteps and thresholds; no pleasant, vine-sheltered porches; none of those grass-plots or smoothly121 shorn lawns, which hospitably122 invite the imagination into the sweet domestic interiors of English life. Everything, however sunny and luxuriant may be the scene around, is especially disheartening in the immediate112 neighborhood of an Italian home.
An artist, it is true, might often thank his stars for those old houses, so picturesquely123 time-stained, and with the plaster falling in blotches124 from the ancient brick-work. The prison-like, iron-barred windows, and the wide arched, dismal125 entrance, admitting on one hand to the stable, on the other to the kitchen, might impress him as far better worth his pencil than the newly painted pine boxes, in which—if he be an American—his countrymen live and thrive. But there is reason to suspect that a people are waning126 to decay and ruin the moment that their life becomes fascinating either in the poet’s imagination or the painter’s eye.
As usual on Italian waysides, the wanderers passed great, black crosses, hung with all the instruments of the sacred agony and passion: there were the crown of thorns, the hammer and nails, the pincers, the spear, the sponge; and perched over the whole, the cock that crowed to St. Peter’s remorseful127 conscience. Thus, while the fertile scene showed the never-failing beneficence of the Creator towards man in his transitory state, these symbols reminded each wayfarer128 of the Saviour’s infinitely129 greater love for him as an immortal130 spirit. Beholding131 these consecrated132 stations, the idea seemed to strike Donatello of converting the otherwise aimless journey into a penitential pilgrimage. At each of them he alighted to kneel and kiss the cross, and humbly134 press his forehead against its foot; and this so invariably, that the sculptor soon learned to draw bridle of his own accord. It may be, too, heretic as he was, that Kenyon likewise put up a prayer, rendered more fervent135 by the symbols before his eyes, for the peace of his friend’s conscience and the pardon of the sin that so oppressed him.
Not only at the crosses did Donatello kneel, but at each of the many shrines136, where the Blessed Virgin137 in fresco—faded with sunshine and half washed out with showers—looked benignly138 at her worshipper; or where she was represented in a wooden image, or a bas-relief of plaster or marble, as accorded with the means of the devout person who built, or restored from a mediaeval antiquity139, these places of wayside worship. They were everywhere: under arched niches140, or in little penthouses with a brick tiled roof just large enough to shelter them; or perhaps in some bit of old Roman masonry141, the founders142 of which had died before the Advent143; or in the wall of a country inn or farmhouse116; or at the midway point of a bridge; or in the shallow cavity of a natural rock; or high upward in the deep cuts of the road. It appeared to the sculptor that Donatello prayed the more earnestly and the more hopefully at these shrines, because the mild face of the Madonna promised him to intercede144 as a tender mother betwixt the poor culprit and the awfulness of judgment145.
It was beautiful to observe, indeed, how tender was the soul of man and woman towards the Virgin mother, in recognition of the tenderness which, as their faith taught them, she immortally146 cherishes towards all human souls. In the wire-work screen ‘before each shrine hung offerings of roses, or whatever flower was sweetest and most seasonable; some already wilted147 and withered, some fresh with that very morning’s dewdrops. Flowers there were, too, that, being artificial, never bloomed on earth, nor would ever fade. The thought occurred to Kenyon, that flower-pots with living plants might be set within the niches, or even that rose-trees, and all kinds of flowering shrubs, might be reared under the shrines, and taught to twine148 and wreathe themselves around; so that the Virgin should dwell within a bower149 of verdure, bloom, and fragrant freshness, symbolizing150 a homage151 perpetually new. There are many things in the religious customs of these people that seem good; many things, at least, that might be both good and beautiful, if the soul of goodness and the sense of beauty were as much alive in the Italians now as they must have been when those customs were first imagined and adopted. But, instead of blossoms on the shrub, or freshly gathered, with the dewdrops on their leaves, their worship, nowadays, is best symbolized152 by the artificial flower.
The sculptor fancied, moreover (but perhaps it was his heresy153 that suggested the idea), that it would be of happy influence to place a comfortable and shady seat beneath every wayside shrine. Then the weary and sun-scorched traveller, while resting himself under her protecting shadow, might thank the Virgin for her hospitality. Nor, perchance, were he to regale154 himself, even in such a consecrated spot, with the fragrance155 of a pipe, would it rise to heaven more offensively than the smoke of priestly incense156. We do ourselves wrong, and too meanly estimate the Holiness above us, when we deem that any act or enjoyment, good in itself, is not good to do religiously.
Whatever may be the iniquities157 of the papal system, it was a wise and lovely sentiment that set up the frequent shrine and cross along the roadside. No wayfarer, bent158 on whatever worldly errand, can fail to be reminded, at every mile or two, that this is not the business which most concerns him. The pleasure-seeker is silently admonished159 to look heavenward for a joy infinitely greater than he now possesses. The wretch113 in temptation beholds160 the cross, and is warned that, if he yield, the Saviour’s agony for his sake will have been endured in vain. The stubborn criminal, whose heart has long been like a stone, feels it throb161 anew with dread162 and hope; and our poor Donatello, as he went kneeling from shrine to cross, and from cross to shrine, doubtless found an efficacy in these symbols that helped him towards a higher penitence163.
Whether the young Count of Monte Beni noticed the fact, or no, there was more than one incident of their journey that led Kenyon to believe that they were attended, or closely followed, or preceded, near at hand, by some one who took an interest in their motions. As it were, the step, the sweeping164 garment, the faintly heard breath, of an invisible companion, was beside them, as they went on their way. It was like a dream that had strayed out of their slumber165, and was haunting them in the daytime, when its shadowy substance could have neither density166 nor outline, in the too obtrusive167 light. After sunset, it grew a little more distinct.
“On the left of that last shrine,” asked the sculptor, as they rode, under the moon, “did you observe the figure of a woman kneeling, with her, face hidden in her hands?”
“I never looked that way,” replied Donatello. “I was saying my own prayer. It was some penitent133, perchance. May the Blessed Virgin be the more gracious to the poor soul, because she is a woman.”
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1
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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reposeful
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| adj.平稳的，沉着的 | |
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sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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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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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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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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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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sluggishness
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| 不振，萧条，呆滞；惰性；滞性；惯性 | |
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enthralls
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| 迷住，吸引住( enthrall的第三人称单数 )； 使感到非常愉快 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vagaries
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| n.奇想( vagary的名词复数 )；异想天开；异常行为；难以预测的情况 | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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nomadic
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| adj.流浪的；游牧的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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subverts
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| v.颠覆，破坏（政治制度、宗教信仰等）( subvert的第三人称单数 )；使（某人）道德败坏或不忠 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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browse
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| vi.随意翻阅，浏览；(牛、羊等)吃草 | |
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shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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verdant
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| adj.翠绿的，青翠的，生疏的，不老练的 | |
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45
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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47
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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48
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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49
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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52
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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53
delineation
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| n.记述；描写 | |
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54
ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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55
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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56
serpentine
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| adj.蜿蜒的，弯曲的 | |
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57
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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59
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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60
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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61
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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62
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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63
emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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64
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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65
bestows
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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67
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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68
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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69
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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70
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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71
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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72
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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73
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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74
burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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75
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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76
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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77
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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78
winnowing
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| v.扬( winnow的现在分词 )；辨别；选择；除去 | |
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79
dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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80
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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81
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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82
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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83
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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84
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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85
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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86
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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87
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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88
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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89
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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90
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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91
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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92
pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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94
gushes
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| n.涌出，迸发( gush的名词复数 )v.喷，涌( gush的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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95
sociably
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| adv.成群地 | |
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96
embroider
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| v.刺绣于(布)上；给…添枝加叶，润饰 | |
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97
babblement
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| 模糊不清的言语，胡说，潺潺声 | |
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98
canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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99
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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100
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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101
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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102
quaffing
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| v.痛饮( quaff的现在分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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103
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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104
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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105
diluted
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| 无力的，冲淡的 | |
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106
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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107
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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108
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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109
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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110
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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111
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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112
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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113
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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114
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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115
farmhouses
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| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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116
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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117
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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118
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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119
emulative
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| adj.好胜 | |
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120
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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121
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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122
hospitably
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| 亲切地，招待周到地，善于款待地 | |
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123
picturesquely
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124
blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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125
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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126
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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127
remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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128
wayfarer
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| n.旅人 | |
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129
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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130
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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131
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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132
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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133
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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134
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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135
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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136
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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137
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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138
benignly
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| adv.仁慈地，亲切地 | |
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139
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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140
niches
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| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
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141
masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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142
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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143
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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144
intercede
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| vi.仲裁，说情 | |
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145
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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146
immortally
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| 不朽地，永世地，无限地 | |
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147
wilted
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| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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148
twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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149
bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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150
symbolizing
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的现在分词 ) | |
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151
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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152
symbolized
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| v.象征，作为…的象征( symbolize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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154
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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155
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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156
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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157
iniquities
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| n.邪恶( iniquity的名词复数 )；极不公正 | |
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158
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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159
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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160
beholds
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| v.看，注视( behold的第三人称单数 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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161
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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162
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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163
penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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164
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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165
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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166
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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167
obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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