Monsalvat was living in a sanatorium at Almagro, to which his friends had taken him. Tranquil1 and silent, he spent nearly the entire day in the small park, with its lofty eucalyptus2 groves3, thinking of nothing, trying not to think. He was new-born. What did the past matter? He was going to look ahead! Life lay before, not behind, him! Even Nacha no longer existed; or rather, had ceased to exist for him! With her, a whole universe—all that he knew and loved, all that his feelings and thought had created in him—had vanished from his heart and mind. Not that he denied the reality of the past year; but, the storm weathered, he found himself looking at a new world, and he could not live in its presence with the same opinions and feelings as before.
Peace had come to him; but he lacked something that he loved even more than peace: freedom; and now that he felt sane4 and sound, he wanted to escape from his present surroundings. Moreover, two inoffensive maniacs6 had recently come to the sanatorium. Their presence annoyed Monsalvat, for he could not see that they differed very much from himself. At times he wondered if his attempts to reform the world might not become a mania5 also, and bring him down to the level of these harmless lunatics.
His friends came but rarely to see him, for the sanatorium was a little distance out of town. Their consciences were clear since they were paying Monsalvat's expenses.
One afternoon, however, after Monsalvat's complete recovery, Ruiz de Castro and Torres called on him. They sat in the garden, talking and for the first time since his illness, touched on the forbidden subject. Monsalvat had perhaps led them on, by confiding7 to them his curious sensation of having just come to life, as fresh and new as a new-born baby. With a view to determining his friend's actual state of mind, Torres observed:
"So you see how useless all those efforts of yours really are...."
"Not at all," Monsalvat declared. "It is never useless to try to help people."
"Granted that you help others," de Castro broke in, "just the same, you did yourself a lot of harm!"
"You are quite mistaken. I have done myself a great deal of good—so much good that today I am not the discontented, dejected man I was a year ago. I don't know what I shall do tomorrow; but I know that if I am really a different man, I shall owe the transformation8 to my idealistic view of life."
"So you're going right on with that fool business!" Torres exclaimed. "I fail to see the new man in you. On the contrary, I should say your trouble is that life doesn't teach you anything. After a year of failure—failure in every sense of the word—you are still planning to reform the world, and all by yourself!"
Monsalvat was silent a moment. Then he answered calmly:
"It is life—not my failures, because I didn't fail—that has taught me how powerless individual effort is. I believe now that not only would I fail to reform the world, but also that a million men setting about it each on his own hook, as I did, would fail too."
"Well, at last!" exclaimed Ruiz de Castro. "It's about time you became convinced that the world can't be changed."
"I didn't say that. On the contrary I consider it more capable of reform now than ever it was. But I also know that a program is necessary, and a method, and training! I know now that the idealism of one individual, the action of one man, does not help much to bring about ultimate success. But I do not go back on individual ideals, individual accomplishment9; because it is the individual who provides the impulse, the forward push, the motive10 power, if you like, without which nothing can move. The only trouble is that all these energies are isolated11, uncoordinated.... However, you see my point: before you can have action to accomplish a purpose, you must have a vision of what the purpose is. The ideal precedes and accompanies the accomplishment of reform—that you understand! The world must be reformed, must be built up again rather, from its foundations. We must go about such a matter slowly—but not too slowly—and so, little by little...! But every so often the idealist, the dreamer, the madman and the fool, all those who fight the great battle with their hearts, must give a vigorous thrust forward!"
His two friends looked at one another.... A hopeless case!
"But why so many reforms in the world? Just so that you can marry a prostitute?" Torres brutally12 rejoined.
Monsalvat did not reply; and the doctor, ashamed of his outbreak, tried to make up for it by a show of affection. Monsalvat sat beside him on a bench; and as Torres went on to trivial matters, he patted his patient on the shoulder now and then.
After a while they went away, none too well pleased. Monsalvat saw plainly that everything about him—his opinions, his recent life, his feelings—were compromising these friends of his. They were kindly13 and relatively14 generous fellows, but he knew that they were weak in the presence of social pressure. However much they might care for him, if they should have to choose between him and society, they would without question side with the latter.
The moment this became clear to him, he thought of nothing but of making his escape. He did not want his friends to know where he was going. If he was compromising them he would spare them the trouble and the annoyance15 of having to desert him. He would desert them. He would rather appear ungrateful than accept the unpleasant situation which is bound to arise when people want to cut a friendship short, and have not the courage to do it. Monsalvat wished to be free also; free, not economically,—for he could earn a living somehow—but free from those friends who constituted the only bond still tying him to society.
One day he fled from the sanatorium. As he possessed16 only the clothes he was wearing and his pockets were empty, he walked from Almagro to the capital. It was dawn when he started out. The limpid17 sky deepened into a blue which still showed a few stars. In the streets the shadows were slowly drawing back into such retreats as the trees offered, hanging veil-like about their trunks and branches, and in the distance, out towards the harbor, a delicate rose light had risen to view. What an extraordinary sensation, this first contact with living things, after months of isolation18! How innocent life seemed, and young! Oh, surely, the world was new, it had been born again!
Passing along the solitary19 streets, he lived in his dream, feeling neither cold nor fatigue20. Everything had been made over. The sky was clearer than before, objects had an unknown beauty, men were living in harmony.
Then it occurred to him that so it must always seem to one who wanders alone under a sky, and amid colors that offer love to a world awakening21 to the day; and then he remembered that of all men, only the humble22 of the earth see this dawn-light, and carry something of its tenderness in their hearts. Was it this, perhaps, which kept them from noticing the approach of another dawn, already sending its heralds23 across the sky?
He had left the tree-bordered avenues now. The city was awakening. Poor folk, laborers24 for the most part, passed him now at every step. House doors were opening. The deep blue of the sky had given place to a luminous25 clarity, and the world was rosy26 for a moment, enveloped27 in a shining softness. Then the sun rose, and morning filled with sounds and lights, joys and sorrows. Life! Monsalvat took a deep breath; for it seemed that with this air he breathed in freedom too. He felt that he was sound and good.
But suddenly fatigue overtook him. He tried to distance it, but in vain. It hung on his legs, weighting down his body, making it hard for him to walk. When he reached the Plaza28 del Once he sat down on a bench, and rested there for an hour, dozing29 a little. Then he began to consider his situation. Where should he go? First of all he must find lodgings30. In a miserable31 hotel on the Plaza, they refused to give him a room because he had no luggage; and be met with the same refusal in other cheap inns. So the morning passed. Finally he bethought him of a Spaniard whose wife kept a boarding house on the Plaza Lavalle, and for whom he had once done a favor; so he set out for this address.
It was already past noon and he began to feel the pangs32 of hunger. He tried to pass quickly by the Court buildings in the Plaza Lavalle, anxious to escape the notice of his former colleagues. But suddenly, as he was crossing the street, he saw in front of him a shabbily dressed individual who was bowing to him with exaggerated servility. It was none other than Moreno, still haunting the courts in quest of copying to do, or errands to run. Monsalvat inquired after his wife and Irene.
"Oh, Doctor, misfortune has taken possession of my hearth33 and home! Irene—but why speak of past troubles? Some other time, Doctor, I'll tell you this melancholy34 story. Now we are struggling, with a little success, I may say, against the cruel persecutions of the Fates. My wife has a position as janitress in a tenement35 house. It's a little distance out, over Barracas way, near the bridge. But we manage to keep alive."
As he went on talking it occurred to Monsalvat that he had found a solution for his problem. He asked Moreno if there were any unoccupied rooms in the house he spoke36 of.
"Yes, Doctor, there are. But why this question?"
"Because I wish to take one of them at once."
Moreno stood open-mouthed with astonishment37. Then he protested in a welter of words. He could never permit Doctor Monsalvat, that light of the Law, to live in the wretched hovel which he inhabited. Monsalvat, however, insisted that that was his affair. Moreno concluded that Monsalvat had chosen that section of the city to carry out some kind of philanthropical scheme, and consented to take him home. Besides, he was sure to profit eventually by Monsalvat's presence in the same house! A peso here and there, for a quiet little session in a saloon now and then, to say nothing of the pretexts38 he could find for borrowing—urgent creditors39, need of clothing, food, and so on!
Moreno was giving his address when some words of Monsalvat's thrust him into unfathomable depths of bewilderment. The doctor was actually asking him for carfare! Moreno stood transfixed, his arms outspread, a look of terror on his sallow face.
"You're surely joking, Doctor!" he exclaimed, incredulous. "Can it be that Moreno, poor pariah40 that he is, Moreno, stepson of Providence41, should be asked to lend a—a nickel—to the learned and illustrious Doctor Fernando Monsalvat?"
He looked at his admired protector and saw that now, at least, the man was not to be envied. He was on the point of taking back what he had said about a room to let in his tenement house. Finally, in a burst of generosity42, he took a dime43 from his pocket and gave it to Monsalvat. As the latter walked away, Moreno stood a full quarter of an hour, his arms crossed on his chest, meditating44 and philosophizing on the vicissitudes45 of human destiny.
Monsalvat took up his abode46 in the tenement. He wrote to his father's wife, suggesting a cash compromise for the rights to his father's property that he might claim from the surmised47 existence of an early will, rights that Ruiz de Castro had always urged him to assert. As long as he had enough to live on, he had seen no reason why he should claim any of the Monsalvat property. His letter was modest in its tone, intimating that only a distressing48 financial situation could have persuaded him to bring up the question of his father's testamentary provisions. Moreno delivered the letter.
His father's wife had never been kindly disposed toward him, had in fact injured him in every way she could. Determined49 that her daughters should know nothing of their father's illegitimate family, she had never permitted him even to meet his half-sisters. They had been led to believe that Fernando Monsalvat was a distant relative. The letter itself remained unanswered; but its recipient50 sent back a fifty peso bill. Money meant nothing to Monsalvat and, always slow to perceive bad intentions in others, he did not catch the offensive tone of the reply. On the contrary, he acknowledged the remittance51 in cordial fashion, and felt quite happy about having received it. He purchased a few articles of clothing, paid his rent, and rewarded Moreno for his services. During the next month he lived on the good will of Moreno's wife, who let him stay on without paying, telling the landlord that the room occupied by her protégé was without a tenant52. She also saw to it that he had something to eat, giving him whatever was left over from her own table; and that was little enough.
Meanwhile he wrote articles and sent them out to newspapers and periodicals. He was convinced that he now had something to say, and decided53 henceforth to give his energies to writing. One review accepted an article, sending him thirty pesos, which he at once handed over to his protectress.
Two months passed, two strange months during which he lived indoors, entirely54 shut up within himself, far from everyone and everything. Often he spent the day in bed, talking only to Moreno, who frequently came to provide him with conversation. More than once the man recalled Irene's tragic55 story; but Monsalvat listened to it with interest every time, stirred by the curious spectacle of this father, who in telling of his daughter's sufferings, lost something of his absurdity56; and not unmindful of the part he himself had played in the girl's unhappy life.
According to Moreno, Irene had fallen in love with someone who could not share her passion; as a result she had for several weeks been crazed with grief. At the slightest provocation57 she would fly into a rage, threaten her mother, insult Moreno, attack the children. Then a suitor presented himself, a young man who worked in a barber-shop near by. He was an ugly, dark-skinned, almost grotesque58 fellow; but Irene accepted him, no one knew why, for plainly she cared nothing for him. However, someone in the neighborhood told her that her betrothed59 had a mistress. As a matter of fact he had put an end to these relations; but Irene, humiliated60, hurt and angered by the deception61, went out of her head, called a man in from the street, told him what had happened, and offered herself to him. Her suitor heard gossip of the incident, rushed to Irene's room, and tried to shoot her. He missed his aim, was arrested, tried, and imprisoned62. Then Irene ran away. All that Moreno could discover about her after that was that every week she visited the fellow at the prison. How she made a living, he did not know.
"She's lost, doctor, lost!" Moreno would sob63. "The flower of the family! So good, and such a worker—as pretty as they make them! And to think that I am the guilty one, I, most contemptible64 of drunkards! There you see the consequences of vice—for my poor little girl is the child of alcohol! That's why she turned out as she did—my fault!"
And he covered his unwashed face with his two hands, and occupied Monsalvat's only chair while the latter dressed.
One day Monsalvat decided to go out. He had just put on a summer overcoat—directly over his shirt, for his jacket and waistcoat he had pawned—when Moreno's wife came in to announce some ladies who were asking to see him. He looked sternly at the woman. He was sure she had reported the sad case of "the poor fellow starving on the top floor" to some charitable society! He went out to the patio65 resolved to pay no attention to the ladies.
Noisy outcries were coming from one of the rooms—a woman's voice cursing these charity visitors who had refused her any help, because she had a child and wasn't married, and screaming denunciations of charity organizations in general and of the poor wretches66 who toadied67 to these fine ladies so as to get money out of them. The visitors seemed neither angered nor intimidated68. Evidently they were accustomed to such scenes.
"Is what that woman says true?" asked Monsalvat.
"Why I know you!" exclaimed the other—the plump lady who, at a dinner at Ruiz de Castro's, had been so oratorical69 in her defense70 of the established order.
Monsalvat shook hands coldly with both ladies. They tried to conceal71 the surprise and pain his obviously distressful72 circumstances caused them.
"Is what that woman says true?" Monsalvat inquired again.
"Yes, Monsalvat, but—"
He paid no attention to Isabel's excuses.
"Then this woman is quite right. You have no charity in you. You are doing this kind of thing for selfish motives73, and nothing else—just to occupy your time, fill conspicuous74 positions in charity organizations!"
Launched on this theme, he drove harshly, savagely75 ahead, as though executing judgment76. Wrapped in his overcoat which was too loose for him, now and then moving his shoulders in a gesture of scorn, his eyes wide open, and seemingly larger so emaciated77 was his face, he presented an extraordinary spectacle as he denounced these stylish78, distinguished79, perfumed ladies, so out of place in that dreary80 courtyard of the slums. They listened to him without a word. Isabel, indeed, unnoticed by Monsalvat, softly stole from the group and went up to the woman whose outcries had started the scene, giving her all the money she had in her purse. Nor did Monsalvat observe that when she returned she removed a glove and took a ring from her finger. Suddenly, and quite humbly81 she said:
"Here, Monsalvat, take this, please sell it; and give the money to this woman."
Monsalvat took the ring.
"And if you—"
She looked at him fearful of offending: he was shaking his head. Drawing him aside, she began to talk with him more in confidence.
"You need to, Monsalvat! Please accept part of the ring's value! We all have to live. Don't think us so bad—When I spoke as I did that night, you remember, it was because I knew nothing about life—I too have suffered since then, and now I understand many things...."
Though Monsalvat was unyielding on this point, he shook hands with his callers in far more friendly fashion, and left the building accompanied by Moreno, who could not get over his amazement82 at what was going on before his eyes. He did not lose much time before offering, unsuccessfully, to sell the ring himself. Monsalvat saw that as a matter of fact these two women like many others of their class were not thoroughly83 bad as he had believed. If they appeared to disadvantage it was because of the atmosphere of gross selfishness in which they had been brought up, in which they had lived all their lives. The bad in them was not an individual thing inherent in their characters, but the result of prevailing84 ideas, the collective product of a self-satisfied and unintelligent, rather than unfeeling, society.
They took a street-car going towards the business section of the city. Monsalvat was glad of Moreno's company; for a sudden fit of weakness had come over him. He had scarcely been able to walk the three blocks to the car line, so unsteady were his legs under him. In the tram he felt quite nauseated85. Houses and sidewalks were being pushed by some mysterious force out of their true plane, and were rising, sinking, retreating. The car was crowded. Moreno moved forward to find a seat, leaving Monsalvat sitting in the rear of the tram.
They were passing through Piedras Street. At the corner of Méjico, the man beside him rose to give his place to a woman. Monsalvat did not look at her, merely noticing that she was in mourning. In a few moments, however, he felt that she was looking at him. An acquaintance perhaps who had recognized him! And he grew uneasily conscious of his bedraggled appearance. Then he reflected that with his week's growth of beard and his thread-bare coat, his startling emaciation86, his whole air of weakness and sickness, he must be quite secure. No one would know him. The thought consoled him, but he turned carelessly towards the window, so as to hide his face.
Suddenly he heard a soft voice murmuring his name. He turned pale, and his hands began to tremble. A whole row of houses plunged87 several yards into the ground, changing color as they sank. The car seemed to lurch88 to one side threatening to fall over on itself.
"It's so long since we have seen one another," the voice was saying. "My mother died, and I am living in Tacuarí Street, in our boarding house. I have been there some time. My sister runs the house—and I—"
Monsalvat had regained89 a more normal state of consciousness, but he said nothing. He could not speak. Nacha's voice was like a music infinitely90 sweet, echoing in his ears as in a delicious dream, something vague and hazy91 like a memory from a past beyond any but the vaguest sort of remembering....
Finally he looked into her eyes.
In his stained clothing, in his pitiful weakness Nacha read his tragic story at a glance. Here was a sick man! His eyes had lost the keenness they once possessed. They were faded and glazed92, apparently93 incapable94 of concentrating on any object.
As the car crossed the Avenida de Mayo a fellow of very ordinary appearance, apparently a rustic95, came up to Nacha and touched her on the shoulder. She introduced him to Monsalvat.
"We are to be married soon," she said. "I met him in the boarding house where I live. We are going to the country, to his ranch—"
Nacha's fiancé was looking at Monsalvat with evident mistrust, and showed his impatience96 to get off the car.
"Where do you live?" asked Nacha, as they were leaving.
Then he grew pale again; and again his hands began to tremble.
"I want you to be a witness at our marriage," she pleaded as she pressed his hand with a tenderness he could not remember ever to have felt before.
"Come, come, we must be going!" the fiancé protested with ill-concealed annoyance.
"You can't refuse, Monsalvat. Please! Be good to me for this last time—Tell me where you live!"
Monsalvat heard a voice giving his address.
"He lives in my house, Madame. I am Moreno, the attorney, at your service. I consider myself a faithful friend of this illustrious gentleman. I belong to the ancient family of the Morenos of Chivilcoy; and though the unkind Fates...."
Monsalvat no longer felt the pressure of that warm hand.
Nacha, on the arm of her future husband, had stepped down from the car.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
eucalyptus
|
|
| n.桉树，桉属植物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
groves
|
|
| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
mania
|
|
| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
maniacs
|
|
| n.疯子（maniac的复数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
confiding
|
|
| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
brutally
|
|
| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
relatively
|
|
| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
limpid
|
|
| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
isolation
|
|
| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
awakening
|
|
| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
humble
|
|
| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
heralds
|
|
| n.使者( herald的名词复数 )；预报者；预兆；传令官v.预示( herald的第三人称单数 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
laborers
|
|
| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
plaza
|
|
| n.广场，市场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
dozing
|
|
| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lodgings
|
|
| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
pangs
|
|
| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tenement
|
|
| n.公寓；房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
pretexts
|
|
| n.借口，托辞( pretext的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
creditors
|
|
| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
pariah
|
|
| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
dime
|
|
| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
vicissitudes
|
|
| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
surmised
|
|
| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
distressing
|
|
| a.使人痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
recipient
|
|
| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
remittance
|
|
| n.汇款，寄款，汇兑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
tragic
|
|
| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
absurdity
|
|
| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
provocation
|
|
| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
grotesque
|
|
| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
betrothed
|
|
| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
humiliated
|
|
| 感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
deception
|
|
| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
contemptible
|
|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
patio
|
|
| n.庭院，平台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
wretches
|
|
| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
toadied
|
|
| v.拍马，谄媚( toady的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
68
intimidated
|
|
| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
oratorical
|
|
| adj.演说的，雄辩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
defense
|
|
| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
distressful
|
|
| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
conspicuous
|
|
| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
emaciated
|
|
| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
stylish
|
|
| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
prevailing
|
|
| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
nauseated
|
|
| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
emaciation
|
|
| n.消瘦，憔悴，衰弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
lurch
|
|
| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
hazy
|
|
| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
glazed
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
incapable
|
|
| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |