The Centennial festivities had been going on since May. Thousands of people had flocked in from every corner of the country, from neighboring states and even from Europe. During these great days of a nation's coming of age, the crowd, in one enormous, slowly moving procession, thronged4 the asphalt pavements of the principle avenues. The very streets and houses appeared to be in motion. When, toward evening, the multitude increased, the congestion5 caused a swelling6 which, it seemed, must at a given moment burst the bounds on either side. At night some forty theatres, and innumerable movie-houses and concert halls, crammed7 overflowing8 masses into their hungry maws, while in the cabarets boisterous9 licence rubbed elbows with curiosity.
The cabaret, of "the Port"—as Argentina calls its chief city—is a public dance hall: it provides a room, tables for drinking, and an orchestra. The patrons are young men of the upper classes with their mistresses; tourists and rustic10 sight-seers; and girls "of the town," who come alone. The tango, almost the only dance seen there, and the orchestra, composed usually of white gangsters11 and mulattos are—with the champagne13 bottle and the tuxedo14—the normal expressions of the Argentine suburban15 "soul"!
The musicians sing, shout, strike on the wooden pans of their instruments, gesticulate. The silhouettes16 of the dancers twist and intertwine, weave in and out across the floor, blend, and neutralize17 each other; and the mandola, with its dark low tones, underlines the tangos with long shadows of pain.
But there are other things in the cabaret besides dancing. On some nights a sudden outburst of noise, from end to end of the hall, cuts the tango in two, as it were, with an enormous, quivering gash18. A man's persistent19 ogling20 of another fellow's girl, a violent collision of dancers, the suspicion of ridicule21 or insult, bring threats from mouths contorted with anger, while revolvers are flourished in the air. The patota, the inevitable22 leading actor in such scenes, is a group of wealthy roisterers whose greatest pleasure is to annoy, insult, attack with fist or weapon, in short, transform peaceable pleasure seeking into a tavern23 brawl24. To show resentment25 toward a patota, to resist its aggressions, is to invite a drubbing from a pack trained to fight as a gang, or an unfailing bullet fired treacherously26 from behind.
On that August night, in one of these crowded cabarets, frenzied27 dancing was going on. Some gigantic invisible hand seemed to be reaching down from the top of the hall, and incessantly28 stirring the couples round and round. All the tables were full. Champagne bottles raised their aristocratic necks from the icy prisons which held them. Under the glow of the lights evening gowns blazed dazzlingly, and the women's flesh shone gleaming, vibrant29, golden, from the low cut dresses. Tangos, tangos, more tangos! With the speed of a movie film, and in chance groupings, graceful30 poses and involuntary caricatures were sketched31. The musicians, caught up in the madness of the throng3, shouted phrases of double meanings caught up for the purpose from the latest song hits. A couple of "professionals" suddenly emerged, amidst wild applause, from the common herd32 of the dance, which opened from the centre to make way; and there, surrounded by a ring of faces, incited33 by exclamations34, admiring and picturesque35, the two embraced, separated, and came together again, interminably, with minutely patterned steps and attitudes, to the music of an uneasy, sensuous36, odorous tango, which the mandola tried to sentimentalize with the wails37 of its deeper notes.
When the exhibition was over, many eyes turned toward a man sitting alone at a little table, conspicuous40 because he was so gloomy and preoccupied41, so completely indifferent to everything that was going on around him. He was well dressed in a black suit that suggested both elegance42 and severity. His face attracted; magnetic, it might have been called; here, one felt, was a personality, a man who had fought his way up in life through suffering. His features wore an expression of mental and moral disquietude.
Unaccompanied save by his own thoughts, he was, nevertheless, furtively43 watching a young girl who, with several other people, sat at a table near by. This man was not in nor of the cabaret. When his gaze was not fixed44 on his pretty neighbor it seemed to be seeking distant worlds, wandering, perhaps, in search of something to fill his solitude45 or to offer to this girl in one single passionate46 glance.
The youths with whom she was sitting formed a patota of five. She was dividing their attentions with three other women at the table. The men did not belong to aristocratic society, though they were of "good family" as the porte?os—the people of Buenos Aires—say; the names of their fathers', that is, were well-known in politics and business, and appeared frequently in the society columns of the newspapers. As individuals they had no distinction. They talked in loud, obtrusive47 voices, using terms of gross familiarity in addressing one another. When they laughed it was in a bellowing48 hilarity49 calculated to attract attention; just as, when they danced, it was with tremendous waggles of hips50 and shoulders. Of their champagne they were noisily ostentatious. It was now mid-winter in Buenos Aires; but they were wearing light suits and flashy neckties. Typical Argentine "sports" in short!
The girl, who had so impressed the solitary51 stranger, was taking no part in the animation52 around her. Her quiet melancholy53 shadowed a rather long face, a pair of burning dark eyes, a mouth that might have been called too large. Everything about her contributed to the tragic54 attractiveness of her person: the wide hat, which accentuated55 a child-like quality in her; the elegance, somewhat affectedly56 careless, of her dress; the relaxed indifference57 with which she moved her long arms—thin but shapely, and covered, to above the elbow, by white gloves. The low cut of her dress drew one's eye to the faint golden tints58 of her skin. Her hair, of a dull golden shade, fell in loops over her ears to form a frame for her features.
He observed that she was vainly trying to be merry, and to laugh with her companions; but depression had obstinately59 seized on her, and she lacked the will to master it. A moment came when her gloom increased to the point of tears, and her companions remarked it. One of them, in whom drink was already at work, cried out:
"What's the matter with you? Have you got the pip?"
He was a graceless individual, ugly, flat-nosed, restless, loud-voiced, constantly gesticulating, whom the others called "the Duck."
His friends greeted this witticism60 with bursts of laughter. The girl herself forced a smile in which the man at the neighboring table caught something of her suffering. His facial muscles contracted slightly.
"Give her another swig of booze—it's good for what ails39 her!" bawled61 the "Duck," inspired by the success of his previous venture.
"Don't mind him, Nacha!" said one of the women coldly, not as much from real sympathy as from a sense of feminine loyalty62.
Again there were outbursts of laughter in the group, and even from people at other tables who had begun to listen. The girl, embarrassed, mortified63, looked timidly about in every direction. When her eyes met those of the man who was sitting alone her self-consciousness increased.
The orchestra came to the end of a tango and, in the quiet which followed, the members of the patota set out to "rag" Nacha. One of them, who seemed to be her "man," egged the others on. The women playfully sided against her. Soon almost all the cabaret was taking part in the game. At last Nacha, unable to endure the banter64 longer, laid her face in her hands. The "Duck" moaned in burlesque65: "Oh, Oh, Oh!" while some of the spectators near by almost unhinged their jaws67 in a roar of laughter, or chorused with the mourner in ridicule: "Oh, Oh, Oh!"
"See here, you are making a fool of me in public!" exclaimed Nacha's lover—and he added an oath.
Again the orchestra struck up a tango. The languid notes, the limping rhythms, the thick, bee-like murmur68 of the mandola, came to drown both curses and laughter alike. Again the couples were out on the floor, here swinging together in tight embrace, there stilting along with bodies stiffly erect69 and faces grave.
Nacha's "man" got up to dance with her. When, however, the girl resisted, he lifted her violently in his arms and set her down in the middle of the hall.
"Let me alone! I can't dance...."
"You are going to dance, I tell you.... You are only putting on!"
"But don't you see? I can't ... oh, please!"
The fellow grasped her around the waist and plunged70 with her into the rhythmic71 whirl on the floor. The man who sat alone had started at the brutality72 he was witnessing, as though a question had suddenly been settled in his mind. Something dramatic seemed about to happen, and many eyes watched him uneasily.
Nacha, with no heart for the dance, was not long in freeing herself and returning to the table; now it was quite unoccupied, since all her companions were on the floor. Her escort followed smiling with rage, and sitting down beside her, began apparently73 to insult and threaten her. His lower jaw66 was thrown far forward as he spoke74; his teeth came tight together, and his lips twisted themselves into all the grimaces75 expressing anger and contempt.
"You'll pay for this ... as soon as we get out of here!" he said; and meanwhile he clutched her arm in a grip that hurt.
The stranger was now looking closely at the man. The latter was a tall strapping76 fellow, stockily built. His wide, close-shaven face showed a scar across the chin. He had broad shoulders, a dark skin; and his small hard eyes glittered with something of an Indian's haughtiness77 and sinister78 ferocity. A large pearl adorned79 his made-up necktie. He wore white spats81 over his patent leather shoes, and large rings on his fingers.
There are plenty of men like this among the porte?os! As vulgar as they are rich, they are always showing off their dollars and their women. They each set up a ménage with some pretty girl—for otherwise they would lose "standing82." They spend their evenings in the theatres and their nights in the cabarets or, for adventure, ragging with their pals83 and their sweethearts some convenient victim; drinking champagne, making an uproar84, annoying everyone, bellowing at one another. Noisy, aggressive, intrusive85, they allow no one to look too pryingly86, too persistently87, at them! Their right forefingers88 itch89 for the feel of a revolver—an appendage90 that Nature should, to please them, have grown on their right hands. Women, in their eyes, are mechanical toys, objects without human feelings, to be bought and sold as such. And yet women become attached to them; perhaps because they like the manliness91 that such violence attests92; or because these fellows show their women off, give them distinction—of a certain kind. Passion also inclines them to a certain fidelity93 at times. Some of them moreover are university men, or belong to prominent families. However, they are all office-seekers, all gamblers. They "go across" to Europe occasionally, insulting well-bred people by their arrogance94 and their grossness as nouveaux riches. In Paris they are always accompanied by cocottes, and make disturbances95 in dance halls and cabarets to advertise their South-American spirit and self-sufficiency. A repulsive96 type, in short: a mixture of the barbarian97 and of the civilized98 human being, of the gangster12 and the respectable citizen. The urban descendent99 of the Argentine cow-puncher is an individual without scruples100, morals or discipline, with no law but caprice, and no ideal but pleasure.
Meanwhile Nacha, her face in her hands, was weeping. Her tormentor101 grew angrier, raised his voice to a higher, more resonant102 pitch, threatened her still more violently, called her hysterical103, ridiculous, said she was surely "kidding." Anything would succeed better with him, he shouted, than cry-babying, and putting on.... At the single table near by, the stranger was looking on intently, his features tense with silent determination. How much longer could a self-respecting man hold out against the challenge of that brutality?
The rapier-thrust of a violin bow gave the death stab to a dying tango. The patoteros and their women returned to their table. The fellow who had wept vociferously104 before broke out again into mock lamentations at sight of Nacha's tears. He stood up, rubbing his fists into his eyes, and bawling105 grotesquely106, like the dunce in school. His mirth caught the mood of the entire cabaret. Every atom of it quivered in titters of laughter. The butt107 of all this humor, hardened by this time, was shedding her tears inwardly now. She even feigned108 indifference, shrugging her shoulders and forcing her lips into an expression of disdain109. But the man who was watching saw confessed suffering in her still reddened eyes.
When the next tango crushed this wretched farce110 under its innumerable feet, another of the patota's members, a tall thin youth, with a girlishly slender waist, asked Nacha to dance with him.
"I said I didn't want to dance!"
"What?" Her lover sprang toward her and seized her by the arms, determined111 to force her to her feet.
"Oh, please! I can't! ... I can't!"
"What do you mean—'can't'!"
The contest lasted only a second. The man won, inevitably112. Pulling the girl out of her chair he dragged her along to the centre of the room, so that his friend could have a dance with her. But in his anger he gave one push so violent that she fell to the floor.
And then something unheard of happened. The man who was alone had risen suddenly at the beginning of the struggle. Now, to the stupefaction of everyone, he stepped coolly forward. The crowd quivered with excitement. A ring of uneasy faces formed around the chief actors in the scene. The tango was broken off; the sombre moan of the mandola was all that remained of it.
"What do you mean?" the girl's lover spat80 at him, while a leer of primitive113 hatred114 flashed in his Indian eyes, now smaller and harder than ever.
The coolness of the intruder amazed the crowd. He faced the fellow calmly and addressed him with apparent indifference. Nothing but a jerking of his lip muscles and a slight trembling of his hands betrayed the indignation in him. He looked steadily115 at the man in front of him and said slowly:
"You will please stop ill-treating this girl!"
No one could tell whether such coolness were due to foolhardiness or to real courage. The man was of average, if not less than average build, easy picking, obviously, for that semi-Indian and his pals, who could finish him off in a jiffy, with fists or revolvers, as patota preferences and custom might decide. The other members of the party meanwhile stood about in paralyzed amazement116 that any one should presume to call one of their fellows to account.
"What's that?" the fellow asked, as though he had not heard distinctly.
"Stop ill-treating this...."
A sudden attack from the four other members of the patota cut off the end of his sentence. At the same moment the onlookers117 discreetly118 drew back. A chair was knocked over. There was a rush to get out through the narrow doorway119.
"Hold on there! Leave this fellow to me!" roared Nacha's owner. The air was dotted for a moment with clenched120, up-raised fists. Seeing his friends still hedging the intruder about, their eagerness to attack unappeased, the fellow pushed them back one by one toward their table. Then he wheeled around on the spectators.
"This is nothing to stop dancing for, gentlemen!" To the musicians he shouted: "Go on with the music! Give us a tango!"
The orchestra, which had disintegrated121 during the scene, assembled around the music-stands again. After a few moments of aimless strumming it began a dance in quick time. The crowd, partly out of respect for the bully122, and partly out of anxiety to dance down an incident which, if repeated, could only end in a shooting, began another tango. No one cared to return to a danger once safely passed.
Meanwhile the two men stood facing one another.
"You don't know me!" said the girl's lover at last, pulling at the rings on his fingers as though to busy his hands, so eager to be at the throat of the man opposite him. "You don't know me—but I know you! You are Dr. Fernando Monsalvat. Well sir, let me give you a suggestion. Leave us alone, and get out of here at once. You are older than I—forty at least. I am only thirty, very fit, and used to these affairs; and my friends are with me, their sleeves rolled up already, you might say. Just go along home! Don't be throwing your life away! And if I give you so much good advice gratis123, it's because I have my reasons for doing so!"
The fellow's friends looked at one another inquiringly.
Who could that man be? What reasons did their comrade have to prevent them from breaking the presumptuous124 fool's head? The girl, seated at the table, kept her eyes on her champion. The orchestra was playing a wailing125 dance, limping with pauses, and mournful with the sighs of the mandola. There were many couples dancing, the women clinging to their partners' necks.
Monsalvat heard the man out in silence. He replied coolly:
"You can keep your advice to yourself! Meantime I want you to stop ill-treating that poor girl!"
"That poor girl!"
The fellow took a step backward as though about to "rush" his opponent. Rapidly his eyes took in everything around him. One hand felt for his revolver. But Monsalvat's self-possession held the rowdy in check. Perplexed126, and already beaten, he began to feel ridiculous. This man was not trying to provoke him; neither did he fear him. He saw that the crowd and his companions had not noticed his compromising move; and he decided127 he could calm down without loss of prestige. Two or three minutes passed. Monsalvat waited as though entrenched128 in silence and calm. Something emanated129 from him which quite disconcerted his enemy. The latter lay aside his swaggering and said with a forced sarcastic130 laugh:
"You know, I am afraid of you! That is why I don't touch you. You are a regular man-eater, you see,—and that makes me spare my friends! I don't want to see them beaten up!..."
He stopped short, for his sarcasm131 quite obviously fell flat, even in his own estimation. He approached Monsalvat, and putting a hand on his shoulder said:
"See here, Monsalvat, it's lucky for you that it was I you ran across here ... however ... well ... never mind all that.... I'm going to make you see you're wrong. I'm going to let you talk with her. You can ask her any questions you see fit."
He went up to the girl and brought her back to introduce her. Ashen-pale, embarrassed, she smiled an absurd little smile, probably to hide her fear of some fatal outcome to the scene. Her eyes tremulously nestled for a moment in Monsalvat's steady gaze; but the voice of her master drove them from that refuge.
"This gentleman," he guffawed132, "thinks I'm a blackguard more or less! Well, I want you to tell him whether you are satisfied with what I do for you or not. Tell him the truth, don't be afraid!"
Monsalvat, charmed and saddened, was still looking at Nacha, though he scarcely saw her. His eyes, softened133 with a pity intense enough to be pain, were remodelling134 a truer image of this girl of the underworld. She did not dare look at him. Her eyes were raised to her "man." Her mute question did not, apparently, interest Monsalvat, perhaps because he knew what the answer would be.
"Answer! Are you satisfied?"
"Yes!"
Her voice was scarcely audible.
"And you have an easy time of it! You have a home, haven't you?"
Nacha saw what she must do. She must speak, declare herself satisfied with her lot. To do anything else would be to draw down on herself this man's anger at her champion. So suddenly she began to talk in a torrent135 of rambling136, half-coherent words.
"Yes. I am satisfied. Why not? I have a home. I'm lucky all right. I don't have to chase around here and there the way I did before. And my home is fine. I have all the money I want to spend, and two servants. What more could I ask? And after all I went through before, it's quiet, and safe! You don't know what I went through!"
And, once started, she went on endlessly. She seemed to be talking into space, not addressing anyone in particular, and as if for herself alone, as if to distract her own attention with her own words. All that was not for Monsalvat's ears! She would have preferred that Monsalvat should not hear her at all! The words came out, poured out, beyond the control of will, much like a somnambulist's chatter137. Monsalvat was not listening. It was enough for him to look at her and be conscious of her presence. Her gentleness, the tremulousness of her words, the sadness of her eyes, were what absorbed his whole interest. What she was saying did not matter. The tango throbbing138 through the air made him the more aware of the despairing monotone of her voice. The mandola with its bitter wail38 made her tragic melancholy only the more poignant139.
Even Nacha's owner seemed for a moment to yield to the strange spell of these combining sounds. Then he interrupted:
"Well! You see? Are you convinced? Didn't I say she was putting on?"
Throwing back his shoulders, he burst into a laugh that rang with contempt. The tango was over, so was its spell.
The bully became the bully again. He approached his sweetheart, pushed her toward his comrades, who were sitting at their table waiting to see how it would all end.
"Now get out of here!" he said, turning to Monsalvat; "but before you go, I'll tell you who I am. It's to your interest, friend—just a moment—we might meet again—take a look at me!"
He was serious now. His right hand slipped through the opening of his tuxedo and rested on his belt. Then he announced solemnly:
"I am Dalmacio Arnedo, 'Pampa Arnedo,' as they call me."
Monsalvat started. Instinctively140 he raised a hand, but immediately let it fall. The five of the patota made a rush for him. At the same moment someone shouted: "The police!"
The cabaret seethed141 in confusion. Then suddenly an anxious calm fell on the room, a forced appearance of peaceableness, prearranged for the dull eyes of authority.
From the first there had been among the onlookers a certain number who took sides with Monsalvat. His manner toward the patota won him sympathizers. Some of them felt that the man had the strength to support his assurance. The girl herself aroused pity even though no one had had the courage to speak up in her defence. Two or three of these most sympathetic, or most prudent142, individuals had called for the police, to have help on hand in case of an outbreak from the rowdies.
As the alarm was given the members of the patota hurried back to their places. Monsalvat, facing Arnedo, exclaimed:
"You rotter!"
Pampa Arnedo, safely seated at his table, answered with a sinister smile, while his friends beside him made noises with their lips, grimaced143, and began offering toasts, simulating exaggerated merriment. Nacha looked pityingly at her protector. Who was this man? What did he want of her?
The police after a rapid glance around the room decided that "law and order" were still quite intact, and with solemn prudence144 went out again. Monsalvat returned to his table and paid his reckoning. The Duck began to sing the well-known tune145 from a popular variety show: "He's going now, he's going now!..."
The other members of the patota, and even some neutrals, joined in the chorus, "Now, now, he's going now!" Monsalvat, as he got up, saw that the girl, too, was singing and laughing. He paused a moment, reproachfully it seemed, his eyes dimmed with tears. Then quietly, without haste, he left the cabaret, while the fellow who had burlesqued146 Nacha's weeping broke out again with his "Oh, oh, oh!"
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1
adolescence
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| n.青春期，青少年 | |
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2
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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3
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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8
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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9
boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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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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gangsters
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| 匪徒，歹徒( gangster的名词复数 ) | |
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gangster
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| n.匪徒，歹徒，暴徒 | |
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13
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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tuxedo
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| n.礼服，无尾礼服 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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silhouettes
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| 轮廓( silhouette的名词复数 )； （人的）体形； （事物的）形状； 剪影 | |
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neutralize
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| v.使失效、抵消，使中和 | |
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gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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ogling
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的现在分词 ) | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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incited
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| 刺激，激励，煽动( incite的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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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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sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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wails
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| 痛哭，哭声( wail的名词复数 ) | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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42
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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45
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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passionate
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| 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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47
obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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48
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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49
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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50
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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51
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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52
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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53
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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54
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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55
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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56
affectedly
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57
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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58
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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59
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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60
witticism
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| n.谐语，妙语 | |
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61
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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62
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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63
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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64
banter
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| n.嘲弄，戏谑；v.取笑，逗弄，开玩笑 | |
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65
burlesque
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| v.嘲弄，戏仿；n.嘲弄，取笑，滑稽模仿 | |
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66
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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67
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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68
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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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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70
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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71
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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72
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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73
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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74
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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75
grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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76
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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77
haughtiness
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| n.傲慢；傲气 | |
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78
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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79
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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80
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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81
spats
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| n.口角( spat的名词复数 )；小争吵；鞋罩；鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 )；口角；小争吵；鞋罩 | |
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82
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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83
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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84
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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85
intrusive
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| adj.打搅的；侵扰的 | |
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86
pryingly
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87
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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88
forefingers
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| n.食指( forefinger的名词复数 ) | |
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89
itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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90
appendage
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| n.附加物 | |
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91
manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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92
attests
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| v.证明( attest的第三人称单数 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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93
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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94
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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95
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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96
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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97
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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98
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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99
descendent
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| adj. 下降的, 降落的, 世袭的 n. 后代，子孙 =descendant | |
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100
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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101
tormentor
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| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
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102
resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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103
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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104
vociferously
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| adv.喊叫地，吵闹地 | |
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105
bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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106
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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107
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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108
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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109
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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110
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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111
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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112
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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113
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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114
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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115
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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116
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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117
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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118
discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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119
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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120
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
disintegrated
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| v.（使）破裂[分裂，粉碎]，（使）崩溃( disintegrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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123
gratis
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| adj.免费的 | |
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124
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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125
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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126
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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127
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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128
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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129
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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130
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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131
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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132
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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134
remodelling
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| v.改变…的结构[形状]( remodel的现在分词 ) | |
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135
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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136
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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137
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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138
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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139
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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140
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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141
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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142
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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143
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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145
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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146
burlesqued
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| v.（嘲弄地）模仿，（通过模仿）取笑( burlesque的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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