Finally, religious and moral ideas becoming completely confounded with one another in his mind, M. Bergeret felt nothing but a sense of misery24, while disgust, like a vast wave of dirty water, poured across the flame of his wrath25. Three full seconds passed; he was plunged26 in the depths of irresolution27 and did nothing. By an obscure, confused instinct which was characteristic of his temperament28, from the first moment he had turned his eyes away from the sofa and fixed29 them on the round table near the door. This was covered with a table-cloth of olive-green cotton on which were printed coloured figures of medi?val knights30 in imitation of ancient tapestry31. During these three interminable seconds M. Bergeret clearly made out a little page-boy who held the helmet of one of the tapestry knights. Suddenly he noticed on the table, among the gilt-edged, red-bound books that Madame Bergeret had placed there as handsome ornaments32, the yellow cover of the University Bulletin which he had left there the night before. The sight of this magazine instantly suggested to him the act most characteristic of his turn of90 mind: putting out his hand, he took up the Bulletin and left the drawing-room, which a most unlucky instinct had led him to enter.
Once alone in the dining-room a flood of misery overwhelmed him. He longed for the relief of tears, and was obliged to hold on by the chairs in order to prevent himself from falling. Yet with his pain was mingled34 a certain bitterness that acted like a caustic35 and burnt up the tears in his eyes. Only a few seconds ago he had crossed this little dining-room, yet now it seemed that, if ever he had set eyes on it before, it must have been in another life. It must surely have been in some far-off stage of existence, in some earlier incarnation, that he had lived in intimate relations with the small sideboard of carved oak, the mahogany shelves loaded with painted cups, the china plates on the wall, that he had sat at this round table between his wife and daughters. It was not his happiness that was dead, for he had never been happy; it was his poor little home life, his domestic relations that were gone. These had always been chilly36 and unpleasant, but now they were degraded and destroyed; they no longer even existed.
When Euphémie came in to lay the cloth he trembled at the sight of her; she seemed one of the ghosts of the vanished world in which he had once lived.
91 Shutting himself up in his study, he sat down at his table, and opening the University Bulletin quite at random37, leant his head deliberately38 between his hands and, through sheer force of habit, began to read.
He read:
“Notes on the purity of language.—Languages are like nothing so much as ancient forests in which words have pushed a way for themselves, as chance or opportunity has willed. Among them we find some weird39 and even monstrous40 forms, yet, when linked together in speech, they compose into splendid harmonies, and it would be a barbarous act to prune41 them as one trims the lime-trees on the public roads. One must tread with reverence42 on what, in the grand style, is termed the boundless43 peaks....”
“And my daughters!” thought M. Bergeret. “She ought to have thought of them. She ought to have thought of our daughters....”
He went on reading without comprehending a word:
“Of course, such a word as this is a mere abortion44. We say le lendemain, that is to say, le le en demain, when, evidently, what we ought to say is l’en demain; we say le lierre for l’ierre, which alone is correct. The foundations of language were laid by the people. Everywhere in it we find ignorance,92 error, whim45; in its simplicity46 lies its greatest beauty. It is the work of ignorant minds, to whom everything save nature is a sealed book. It comes to us from afar, and those who have handed it down to us were by no means grammarians after the style of No?l and Chapsal.”
Then he thought:
“At her age, in her humble47, struggling position.... I can understand that a beautiful, idle, much idolised woman ... but she!”
Yet, as he was a reader by instinct, he still went on reading:
“Let us treat it as a precious inheritance, but, at the same time, let us never look too closely into it. In speaking, and even in writing, it is a mistake to trouble too much about etymology49....”
“And he, my favourite pupil, whom I have invited to my house ... ought he not?...”
“Etymology teaches us that God is He Who shines, and that the soul is a breath, but into these old words men have read meanings which they did not at first possess.”
“Adultery!”
This word came to his lips with such force that he seemed to feel it in his mouth like a coin, like a thin medal. Adultery!...
Suddenly he saw a picture of all that this word implied, its associations—commonplace, domestic,93 absurd, clumsily tragic50, sordidly51 comic, ridiculous, uncouth52; even in his misery he chuckled53.
Being well read in Rabelais, La Fontaine, and Molière, he called himself by the downright, outspoken54 name that he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt was fitted to his case. But that stopped his laugh, if it could be truthfully said that he had laughed.
“Of course,” said he to himself, “it is a petty, commonplace incident in reality. But I am myself suitably proportioned to it, being but an unimportant item in the social structure. It seems, therefore, an important thing to me, and I ought to feel no shame at the misery it brings me.”
Following up this thought, he drew his grief round him like a cloak, and wrapped himself in it. Like a sick man full of pity for himself, he pursued the painful visions and the haunting ideas which swarmed56 endlessly in his burning head. What he had seen caused him physical pain; noticing this fact, he instantly set himself to find the cause of it, for he was always ruled by the philosophical57 bent58 of his temperament.
“The objects,” thought he, “which are associated with the most powerful desires of the flesh cannot be regarded with indifference59, for when they do not give delight, they cause disgust. It is not in herself that Madame Bergeret possesses the94 power of putting me between these two alternatives; it is as a symbol of that Venus who is the joy of gods and men. For to me, although she may indeed be one of the least lovable and least mysterious of these symbols of Venus, yet at the same time she must needs be one of the most characteristic and vivid. And the sight of her linked in community of act and feeling with my pupil, M. Roux, reduced her instantly to that elementary type-form which, as I said, must either inspire attraction or repulsion. Thus we may see that every sexual symbol either satisfies or disappoints desire, and for that reason attracts or repels60 our gaze with equal force, according to the physiological61 condition of the spectators, and sometimes even according to the successive moods of the same witness.
“This observation brings one to the true reason for the fact that, in all nations and at all periods, sexual rites62 have been performed in secret, in order that they might not produce violent and conflicting emotions in the spectators. At length it became customary to conceal63 everything that might suggest these rites. Thus was born Modesty64, which governs all men, but particularly the more lascivious65 nations.”
Then M. Bergeret reflected:
“Accident has enabled me to discover the origin of this virtue66 which varies most of all, merely95 because it is the most universal, this Modesty, which the Greeks call Shame. Very absurd prejudices have become connected with this habit which arises from an attitude of mind peculiar67 to man and common to all men, and these prejudices have obscured its true character. But I am now in a position to formulate68 the true theory of Modesty. It was at a smaller cost to himself that Newton discovered the laws of gravitation under a tree.”
Thus meditated69 M. Bergeret from the depths of his arm-chair. But his thoughts were still so little under control that he rolled his bloodshot eyes, gnashed his teeth and clenched70 his fists, until he drove his nails into his palms. Painted with merciless accuracy on his inner eye was the picture of his pupil, M. Roux, in a condition which ought never to be seen by a spectator, for reasons which the professor had first accurately71 deduced. M. Bergeret possessed72 a measure of that faculty73 which we call visual memory. Without possessing the rich power of vision of the painter, who stores numberless vast pictures in a single fold of his brain, he could yet recall, accurately and easily enough, sights seen long ago which had caught his attention. Thus there lived in the album of his memory the outline of a beautiful tree, of a graceful74 woman, when once these had been impressed on the retina of his eye. But never had any mental96 impression appeared to him as clear, as exact, as vividly75, accurately and powerfully coloured, as full, compact, solid and masterful, as there appeared to him at this moment the daring picture of his pupil, M. Roux, in the act of embracing Madame Bergeret. This accurate reproduction of reality was hateful; it was also false, inasmuch as it indefinitely prolonged an action which must necessarily be a fleeting76 one. The perfect illusion which it produced showed up the two characters with obstinate77 cynicism and unbearable78 permanence. Again M. Bergeret longed to kill his pupil, M. Roux. He made a movement as if to kill; the idea of murder that his brain formulated79 had the force of a deed and left him overwhelmed.
Then came a moment of reflection and slowly, quietly he strayed away into a labyrinth80 of irresolution and contradiction. His ideas flowed together and intermingled, losing their distinctive81 tints82 like specks84 of paint in a glass of water. Soon he even failed to grasp the actual event that had happened.
He cast miserable85 looks around him, examined the flowers on the wall-paper and noticed that there were badly-joined bunches, so that the halves of the red carnations86 never met. He looked at the books stacked on the deal shelves. He looked at the little silk and crochet87 pin-cushion that Madame Bergeret had made and given him some years97 before on his birthday. Then he softened88 at the thought of the destruction of their home life. He had never been deeply in love with this woman, whom he had married on the advice of friends, for he had always found a difficulty in settling his own affairs. Although he no longer loved her at all, she still made up a large part of his life. He thought of his daughters, now staying with their aunt at Arcachon, especially of his favourite Pauline, the eldest89, who resembled him. At this he shed tears.
Suddenly through his tears he caught sight of the wicker-work woman on which Madame Bergeret draped her dresses and which she always kept in her husband’s study in front of the book-case, disregarding the professor’s resentment90 when he complained that every time he wanted to put his books on the shelves, he had to embrace the wicker-work woman and carry her off. At the best of times M. Bergeret’s teeth were set on edge by this contrivance which reminded him of the hen-coops of the cottagers, or of the idol48 of woven cane91 which he had seen as a child in one of the prints of his ancient history, and in which, it was said, the Ph?nicians burnt their slaves. Above all, the thing reminded him of Madame Bergeret, and although it was headless, he always expected to hear it burst out screaming, moaning, or scolding.98 This time the headless thing seemed to be none other than Madame Bergeret herself, Madame Bergeret, the hateful, the grotesque92. Flinging himself upon it, he clasped the thing in his arms and made its wicker breast crack under his fingers, as though it were the gristles of ribs93 that broke. Overturning it, he stamped on it with his feet and carrying it off, threw it creaking and mutilated, out of window into the yard belonging to Lenfant, the cooper, where it fell among buckets and tubs. In doing this, he felt as though he were performing an act that symbolised a true fact, yet was at the same time ridiculous and absurd. On the whole, however, he felt somewhat relieved, and when Euphémie came to tell him that déjeuner was getting cold, he shrugged94 his shoulders, and walking resolutely95 across the still deserted96 dining-room, took up his hat in the hall and went downstairs.
In the gateway97 he remembered that he knew neither where to go nor what to do and that he had come to no decision at all. Once outside, he noticed that it was raining and that he had no umbrella. He was rather annoyed at the fact, though the sense of annoyance98 came quite as a relief. As he stood hesitating as to whether he should go out into the shower or not, he caught sight of a pencil drawing on the plaster of the wall, just below the bell and just at the height which a child’s arm99 would reach. It represented an old man; two dots and two lines within a circle made the face, and the body was depicted99 by an oval; the arms and legs were shown by single lines which radiated outwards100 like wheel-spokes and imparted a certain air of jollity to this scrawl101, which was executed in the classic style of mural ribaldry. It must have been drawn102 some time ago, for it showed signs of friction103 and in places was already half rubbed out. But this was the first time that M. Bergeret had noticed it, doubtless because his powers of observation were just now in a peculiarly wide-awake condition.
“A graffito,” said the professor to himself.
He noticed next that two horns stuck out from the old man’s head and that the word Bergeret was written by the side, so that no mistake might be made.
“It is a matter of common talk, then,” said he, when he saw this name. “Little rascals104 on their way to school proclaim it on the walls and I am the talk of the town. This woman has probably been deceiving me for a long time, and with all sorts of men. This mere scrawl tells me more of the truth than I could have gained by a prolonged and searching investigation105.”
And standing106 in the rain, with his feet in the mud, he made a closer examination of the100 graffito; he noticed that the letters of the inscription107 were badly written and that the lines of the drawing corresponded with the slope of the writing.
As he went away in the falling rain, he remembered the graffiti once traced by clumsy hands on the walls of Pompeii and now uncovered, collected and expounded108 by philologists109. He recalled the clumsy furtive110 character of the Palatine graffito scratched by an idle soldier on the wall of the guard-house.
“It is now eighteen hundred years since that Roman soldier drew a caricature of his comrade Alexandros in the act of worshipping an ass’s head stuck on a cross. No monument of antiquity111 has been more carefully studied than this Palatine graffito: it is reproduced in numberless collections. Now, following the example of Alexandros, I, too, have a graffito of my own. If to-morrow an earthquake were to swallow up this dismal112, accursed town, and preserve it intact for the scientists of the thirtieth century, and if in that far distant future my graffito were to be discovered, I wonder what these learned men would say about it. Would they understand its vulgar symbolism? Or would they even be able to spell out my name written in the letters of a lost alphabet?”
With a fine rain falling through the dreary113 dimness, M. Bergeret finally reached the Place Saint-Exupère.101 Between the two buttresses114 of the church he could see the stall which bore a red boot as a sign. At the sight, he suddenly remembered that his shoes, being worn out by long service, were soaked with water; now, too, he remembered that henceforth he must look after his own clothes, although hitherto he had always left them to Madame Bergeret. With this thought in his mind, he went straight into the cobbler’s booth. He found the man hammering nails into the sole of a shoe.
“Good-day, Piedagnel!”
“Good-day, Monsieur Bergeret! What can I do for you, Monsieur Bergeret?”
So saying, the fellow, turning his angular face towards his customer, showed his toothless gums in a smile. His thin face, which ended in a projecting chin and was furrowed115 by the dark chasm116 of his eyes, shared the stern, poverty-stricken air, the yellow tint83, the wretched aspect of the stone figures carved over the door of the ancient church under whose shadow he had been born, had lived, and would die.
“All right, Monsieur Bergeret, I have your size and I know that you like your shoes an easy fit. You are quite in the right, Monsieur Bergeret, not to try to pinch your feet.”
“But I have a rather high instep and the sole of102 my foot is arched,” protested M. Bergeret. “Be sure you remember that.”
M. Bergeret was by no means vain of his foot, but it had so happened one day that in his reading he came upon a passage describing how M. de Lamartine once showed his bare foot with pride, that its high curve, which rested on the ground like the arch of a bridge, might be admired. This story made M. Bergeret feel that he was quite justified117 in deriving118 pleasure from the fact that he was not flat-footed. Now, sinking into a wicker chair decorated with an old square of Aubusson carpet, he looked at the cobbler and his booth. On the wall, which was whitewashed119 and covered with deep cracks, a sprig of box had been placed behind the arms of a black, wooden cross. A little copper120 figure of Christ nailed to this cross inclined its head over the cobbler, who sat glued to his stool behind the counter, which was heaped with pieces of cut leather and with the wooden models which all bore leather shields to mark the places where the feet that the models represented were afflicted121 with painful excrescences. A small cast-iron stove was heated white-hot and a strong smell of leather and cookery combined was perceptible.
“I am glad,” said M. Bergeret, “to see that you have as much work as you can wish for.”
103 In answer to this remark, the man began to give vent33 to a string of vague, rambling122 complaints which yet had an element of truth in them. Things were not as they used to be in days gone by. Nowadays, nobody could stand out against factory competition. Customers just bought ready-made shoes, in stores exactly like the Paris ones.
“My customers die, too,” added he. “I have just lost the curé, M. Rieu. There is nothing left but the re-soling business and there isn’t much profit in that.”
The sight of this ancient cobbler groaning123 under his own little crucifix filled M. Bergeret with sadness. He asked, rather hesitatingly:
“Your son must be quite twenty by now. What has become of him?”
“Firmin? I expect you know,” said the man, “that he left the seminary because he had no vocation124. But the gentlemen there were kind enough to interest themselves in him, after they had expelled him. Abbé Lantaigne found a place for him as tutor at a Marquis’s house in Poitou. But Firmin refused it just out of spite. He is in Paris now, teaching at an institution in the Rue2 Saint-Jacques, but he doesn’t earn much.” And the cobbler added sadly:
“What I want....”
104 He stopped and then began again.
“I have been a widower125 for twelve years. What I want is a wife, because it needs a woman to manage a house.”
Relapsing into silence, he drove three nails into the leather of the sole and added:
“Only I must have a steady woman.”
He returned to his task. Then suddenly raising his worn and sorrowful face towards the foggy sky, he muttered:
“And besides, it is so sad to be alone!”
M. Bergeret felt pleased, for he had just caught sight of Paillot standing on the threshold of his shop. He got up to leave:
“Good-day, Piedagnel!” said he. “Mind and keep the instep high enough!”
But the cobbler would not let him go, asking with an imploring126 glance whether he did not know of any woman who would suit him. She must be middle-aged127, a good worker, and a widow who would be willing to marry a widower with a small business.
M. Bergeret stood looking in astonishment128 at this man who actually wanted to get married; Piedagnel went on meditating129 aloud:
“Of course,” said he, “there’s the woman who delivers bread on the Tintelleries. But she likes a drop. Then there’s the late curé of Sainte-Agnès’s105 servant, but she is too haughty130, because she has saved a little.”
“Piedagnel,” said M. Bergeret, “go on re-soling the townsfolks’ shoes, remain as you are, alone and contented131 in the seclusion132 of your shop. Don’t marry again, for that would be a mistake.”
Closing the glazed133 door behind him, he crossed the Place Saint-Exupère and entered Paillot’s shop.
The shop was deserted, save for the bookseller himself. Paillot’s mind was a barren and illiterate134 one; he spoke55 but little and thought of nothing but his business and his country-house on Duroc Hill. Notwithstanding these facts, M. Bergeret had an inexplicable135 fondness both for the bookseller and for his shop. At Paillot’s he felt quite at ease and there ideas came on him in a flood.
Paillot was rich, and never had any complaints to make. Yet he invariably told M. Bergeret that one no longer made the profit on educational books that was once customary, for the practice of allowing discount left but little margin136. Besides, the supplying of schools had become a veritable puzzle on account of the changes that were always being made in the curricula.
“Once,” said he, “they were much more conservative.”
“I don’t believe it,” replied M. Bergeret. “The fabric137 of our classical instruction is constantly in106 course of repair. It is an old monument which embodies138 in its structure the characteristics of every period. One sees in it a pediment in the Empire style on a Jesuit portico139; it has rusticated140 galleries, colonnades141 like those of the Louvre, Renaissance142 staircases, Gothic halls, and a Roman crypt. If one were to expose the foundations, one would come upon opus spicatum[7] and Roman cement. On each of these parts one might place an inscription commemorating143 its origin: ‘The Imperial University of 1808—Rollin—The Oratorians—Port-Royal—The Jesuits—The Humanists of the Renaissance—The Schoolmen—The Latin Rhetoricians of Autun and Bordeaux.’ Every generation has made some change in this palace of wisdom, or has added something to it.”
[7] Brickwork laid in the shape of ears of corn.
M. Paillot rubbed the red beard that hung from his huge chin and looked stupidly at M. Bergeret. Finally he fled panic-stricken and took refuge behind his counter. But M. Bergeret followed up his argument to its logical conclusion:
“It is thanks to these successive additions that the house is still standing. It would soon crumble144 to pieces if nothing were ever changed in it. It is only right to repair the parts that threaten to fall in ruin and to add some halls in the new style. But I can hear some ominous145 cracking in the structure.”
107 As honest Paillot carefully refrained from making any answer to this occult and terrifying talk, M. Bergeret plunged silently into the corner where the old books stood.
To-day, as always, he took up the thirty-eighth volume of l’Histoire Générale des Voyages. To-day, as always, the book opened of its own accord at page 212. Now on this page he saw the picture of M. Roux and Madame Bergeret embracing.... Now he re-read the passage he knew so well, without paying any heed146 to what he read, but merely continuing to think the thoughts that were suggested by the present state of his affairs:
“‘a passage to the North. It is to this check,’ said he (I know that this affair is by no means an unprecedented147 one, and that it ought not to astonish the mind of a philosopher), ‘that we owe the opportunity of being able to visit the Sandwich Islands again’ (It is a domestic event that turns my house upside down. I have no longer a home), ‘and to enrich our voyage with a discovery (I have no home, no home any more) which, although the last (I am morally free though, and that is a great point), seems in many respects to be the most important that Europeans have yet made in the whole expanse of the Pacific Ocean....’”
M. Bergeret closed the book. He had caught a glimpse of liberty, deliverance, and a new life. It108 was only a glimmer148 in the darkness, but bright and steady before him. How was he to escape from this dark tunnel? That he could not tell, but at any rate he perceived at the end of it a tiny white point of light. And if he still carried about with him a vision of Madame Bergeret embraced by M. Roux, it was to him but an indecorous sight which aroused in him neither anger nor disgust—just a vignette, the Belgian frontispiece of some lewd149 book. He drew out his watch and saw that it was now two o’clock. It had taken him exactly ninety minutes to arrive at this wise conclusion.
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1
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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canine
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| adj.犬的，犬科的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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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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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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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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lavished
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civilisation
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discreetly
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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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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irresolution
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| n.不决断，优柔寡断，犹豫不定 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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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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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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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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35
caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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36
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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37
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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38
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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39
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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40
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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41
prune
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| n.酶干；vt.修剪，砍掉，削减；vi.删除 | |
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42
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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43
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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44
abortion
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| n.流产，堕胎 | |
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45
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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46
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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47
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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48
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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49
etymology
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| n.语源；字源学 | |
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50
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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51
sordidly
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| adv.肮脏地；污秽地；不洁地 | |
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52
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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53
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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55
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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56
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 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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57
philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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58
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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59
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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60
repels
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| v.击退( repel的第三人称单数 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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61
physiological
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| adj.生理学的，生理学上的 | |
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62
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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63
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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64
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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65
lascivious
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| adj.淫荡的，好色的 | |
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66
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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67
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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68
formulate
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| v.用公式表示；规划；设计；系统地阐述 | |
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69
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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70
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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71
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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72
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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73
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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74
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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75
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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76
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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77
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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78
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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79
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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80
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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81
distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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82
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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83
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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84
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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85
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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86
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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87
crochet
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| n.钩针织物；v.用钩针编制 | |
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88
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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89
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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90
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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91
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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92
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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93
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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94
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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95
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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96
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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97
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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98
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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99
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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100
outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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101
scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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102
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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103
friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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104
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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105
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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106
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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107
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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108
expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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109
philologists
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| n.语文学( philology的名词复数 ) | |
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110
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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111
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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112
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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113
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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114
buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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117
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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118
deriving
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| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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119
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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121
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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123
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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124
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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125
widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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126
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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127
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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128
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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129
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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130
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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131
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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132
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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133
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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134
illiterate
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| adj.文盲的；无知的；n.文盲 | |
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135
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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136
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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137
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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138
embodies
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| v.表现( embody的第三人称单数 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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139
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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140
rusticated
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| v.罚（大学生）暂时停学离校( rusticate的过去式和过去分词 )；在农村定居 | |
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141
colonnades
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| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
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142
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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143
commemorating
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
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144
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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145
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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146
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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147
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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148
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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149
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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