It was eleven o’clock by my watch when I left the Kilmarnock Arms and took my way across the sandhills, heading for the Hawklaw which stood out boldly in the brilliant moonlight. I followed the devious1 sheep track amongst the dunes2 covered with wet bent3-grass, every now and again stumbling amongst the rabbit burrows4 which in those days honeycombed the sandhills of Cruden Bay. At last I came to the Hawklaw, and, climbing the steep terraced edge near the sea, sat on the top to breathe myself after the climb.
The scene was one of exquisite5 beauty. Its natural loveliness was enhanced by the softness of the full yellow moonlight which seemed to flood the heavens and the earth alike. To the south-east the bleak6 promontory7 of Whinnyfold stood out stark8 and black as velvet9 and the rocks of the Skares were like black dots in the quivering sea of gold. I arose and went on my way. The tide was far out and as I stumbled along the rude path above the waste of boulders10 I had a feeling that I should be late. I hurried on, crossed the little rill which usually only trickled11 down beside the fishers’ zigzag12 path at the back of Whinnyfold but which was now a rushing stream—again the noise of falling water, the voice of the Lammas[33] floods—and took the cart track which ran hard by the cliff down to the point which looked direct upon the Skares.
When I reached the very edge of the cliff, where the long sea-grass and the deep clover felt underfoot like a luxurious13 carpet, I was not surprised to see Gormala seated, looking out seawards. The broad track of the moon lay right across the outmost rock of the Skares and falling across some of the jagged rocks, which seemed like fangs14 rising from the deep water as the heave of the waveless sea fell back and the white water streamed down, came up to where we stood and seemed to bathe both the Seer-woman and myself in light. There was no current anywhere, but only the silent rise and fall of the water in the everlasting15 movement of the sea. When she heard me behind her Gormala turned round, and the patient calmness of her face disappeared. She rose quickly, and as she did so pointed16 to a small boat which sailing up from the south was now drawing opposite to us and appeared to be making a course as close to shore as possible, just clearing the outer bulwark17 of the Skares.
“Look!” she said, “Lauchlane Macleod comes by his lanes. The rocks are around him, and his doom18 is at hand!”
There did not appear any danger in such a course; the wind was gentle, the tide was at the still moment between ebb19 and flow, and the smoothness of the water beyond the rock seemed to mark its great depth.
All at once the boat seemed to stand still,—we were too far off to hear a sound even on such a still night. The mast bent forward and broke short off, the sails hung limp in the water with the peak of the lug20 sail sticking up in a great triangle, like the fin21 of a mammoth22 shark. A few seconds after, a dark speck23 moved on the water which became agitated24 around it; it was evident that a[34] swimmer was making for the land. I would have gone to help him had it been of use; but it was not, the outer rock was half a mile away. Indeed, though I knew it was no use, I was yet about to swim to meet him when Gormala’s voice behind me arrested me:
“Do ye no see that gin ye meet him amid yon rocks, ye can, when the tide begins to race, be no help to any. If he can win through, ye may help him if ye bide25 here.” The advice was good and I stayed my feet. The swimmer evidently knew the danger, for he hurried frantically26 to win some point of safety before the tide should turn. But the rocks of the Skares are deadly steep; they rise from the water sheer everywhere, and to climb them from the sea is a hopeless task. Once and again the swimmer tried to find a chink or cranny where he could climb; but each time he tried to raise himself he fell back into the water. Moreover I could see that he was wounded, for his left hand hung idle. He seemed to realise the hopelessness of the task, and turning, made desperately27 for the part where we stood. He was now within the most dangerous spot in the whole region of the Skares. The water is of great depth everywhere and the needlepoints of rocks rise almost to the very surface. It is only when the waves are rough at low water that they can be seen at all, when the dip of the waves leaves them bare; but from the surface in calm weather they cannot be seen as the swirl28 of the tide around them is invisible. Here, too, the tide, rounding the point and having the current broken by the masses of the great rock, rolls with inconceivable rapidity. I had too often watched from the headland where my home was to be the set of the tide not to know the danger. I shouted as loudly as I could, but for some reason he did not hear me. The moments ere the tide should turn seemed like ages; and yet it was with a sudden shock that I heard the gurgle of moving[35] water followed by the lap, lap, lap, getting quicker each second. Somewhere inland a clock struck twelve.
The tide had turned and was beginning to flow.
In a few seconds the swimmer felt its effects, though he did not seem to notice them. Then he was swept towards the north. All at once there was a muffled29 cry which seemed to reach slowly to where we stood, and the swimmer rolled over for an instant. It was only too apparent what had happened; he had struck his arm against one of the sunken rocks and injured it. Then he commenced a mad struggle for life, swimming without either arm in that deadly current which grew faster and faster every moment. He was breathless, and now and again his head dipped; but he kept on valiantly30. At last in one of these dips, borne by the momentum31 of his own strength and the force of the current, he struck his head against another of the sunken rocks. For an instant he raised it, and I could see it run red in the glare of the moonlight.
Then he sank; from the height where I stood I could see the body roll over and over in the fierce current which made for the outmost point to the north-east of the promontory. I ran over as fast as I could, Gormala following. When I came to the rock, which here shelved, I plunged32 in and after a few strokes met by chance the body as it rolled upward. With a desperate effort I brought it to land.
The struggle to lift the body from the water and to bear it up the rock exhausted33 me, so that when I reached the top of the cliff I had to pause for a few seconds to breathe hard. Since the poor fellow’s struggle for life had begun I had never for an instant given the prophecy a thought. But now, all at once, as I looked past the figure, lying limp before me with the poor arms twisted unnaturally34 and the head turned—away past the moonlit sea and the great, golden orb35 whose track was wrinkled over the[36] racing36 tide, the full force of it burst upon me, and I felt a sort of spiritual transformation37. The air seemed full of fluttering wings; sea and land alike teemed38 with life that I had not hitherto dreamed of. I fell in a sort of spiritual trance. But the open eyes were upon me; I feared the man was dead, but Briton-like I would not accept the conviction without effort. So I raised the body to my shoulders, determined39 to make with what speed I could for Whinnyfold where fire and willing hands could aid in restoration. As I laid the limp body across my shoulders, holding the two hands in my right hand to steady the burden whilst with the left I drew some of the clothing tight, I caught Gormala’s eye. She had not helped me in any possible way, though more than once in distress40 I had called to her. So now I said angrily:
“Get away woman! You should be ashamed of yourself never to help at such a time,” and I took my way unaided. I did not heed41 at the time her answer, spoken with a certain measure of deprecation, though it afterwards came back to me:
“Am I to wark against the Fates when They have spoken! The Dead are dead indeed when the Voice has whispered in their ears!”
Now, as I passed along with the hands of the dead man in mine—the true shell of a man whose spirit could be but little space away whilst the still blood in the veins42 was yet warm—a strange thing began to happen. The spirits of earth and sea and air seemed to take shape to me, and all the myriad43 sounds of the night to have a sentient44 cause of utterance45. As I panted and struggled on, my physical effort warring equally with the new spiritual experience so that nothing remained except sentience46 and memory, I could see Gormala walking abreast47 me with even steps. Her eyes glared balefully with a fierce disappointment; never once did she remit48 the vigilant,[37] keen look which seemed to pierce into my very soul.
For a short space of time there was something of antagonism49 to her; but this died away imperceptibly, and I neither cared nor thought about her, except when my attention would be called to her. I was becoming wrapped in the realisation of the mightier50 forces around me.
Just where the laneway from the cliff joins Whinnyfold there is a steep zigzag path running down to the stony51 beach far below where the fishers keep their boats and which is protected from almost the wildest seas by the great black rock—the Caudman,—which fills the middle of the little bay, leaving deep channels on either hand. When I was come to this spot, suddenly all the sounds of the night seemed to cease. The very air grew still so that the grasses did not move or rustle52, and the waters of the swirling53 tide ceased to run in grim silence on their course. Even to that inner sense, which was so new to me that the change in everything to which it was susceptible54 became at once noticeable, all things stood still. It was as though the spirits of earth and air and water were holding their breath for some rare portent55. Indeed I noticed as my eye ranged the surface of the sea, that the moon track was for the time no longer rippled56, but lay in a broad glistening57 band.
The only living thing in all the wide world was, it seemed to me, the figure of Gormala as, with lowering eyes and suspended breath, she stood watching me with uncompromising, persistent58 sternness.
Then my own heart seemed to stand still, to be a part of the grim silence of the waiting forces of the world. I was not frightened; I was not even amazed. All seemed so thoroughly59 in keeping with the prevailing60 influence of the time that I did not feel even a moment of surprise.
Up the steep path came a silent procession of ghostly[38] figures, so misty61 of outline that through the grey green of their phantom62 being the rocks and moonlit sea were apparent, and even the velvet blackness of the shadows of the rocks did not lose their gloom. And yet each figure was defined so accurately63 that every feature, every particle of dress or accoutrement could be discerned. Even the sparkle of their eyes in that grim waste of ghostly grey was like the lambent flashes of phosphoric light in the foam64 of moving water cleft65 by a swift prow66. There was no need for me to judge by the historical sequence of their attire67, or by any inference of hearing; I knew in my heart that these were the ghosts of the dead who had been drowned in the waters of the Cruden Skares.
Indeed the moments of their passing—and they were many for the line was of sickening length—became to me a lesson of the long flight of time. At the first were skin-clad savages68 with long, wild hair matted; then others with rude, primitive69 clothing. And so on in historic order men, aye, and here and there a woman, too, of many lands, whose garments were of varied70 cut and substance. Red-haired Vikings and black-haired Celts and Phoenicians, fair-haired Saxons and swarthy Moors71 in flowing robes. At first the figures, chiefly of the barbarians72, were not many; but as the sad procession passed along I could see how each later year had brought its ever-growing tale of loss and disaster, and added more and faster to the grim harvest of the sea. A vast number of the phantoms73 had passed when there came along a great group which at once attracted my attention. They were all swarthy, and bore themselves proudly under their cuirasses and coats of mail, or their garb74 as fighting men of the sea. Spaniards they were, I knew from their dress, and of three centuries back. For an instant my heart leapt; these were men of the great Armada, come up from the wreck75 of some lost galleon76 or patache to visit once[39] again the glimpses of the Moon. They were of lordly mien77, with large aquiline78 features and haughty79 eyes. As they passed, one of them turned and looked at me. As his eyes lit on me, I saw spring into them, as though he were quick, dread80, and hate, and fear.
Hitherto I had been impressed, awed81, by the indifference82 of the passing ghosts. They had looked nowhere, but with steady, silent, even tread had passed on their way. But when this one looked at me it was a glance from the spirit world which chilled me to the very soul.
But he too passed on. I stood at the head of the winding83 path, having the dead man still on my shoulders and looking with sinking heart at the sad array of the victims of the Cruden Skares. I noticed that most who came now were seamen84, with here and there a group of shoresmen and a few women amongst them. The fishermen were many, and without exception wore great sea boots. And so with what patience I could I waited for the end.
At length it came in the shape of a dim figure of great stature85, and both of whose arms hung limp. The blood from a gash86 on his forehead had streamed on to his golden beard, and the golden eyes looked far away. With a shudder87 I saw that this was the ghost of the man whose body, now less warm, lay upon my shoulders; and so I knew that Lauchlane Macleod was dead. I was relieved when I saw that he did not even look at me; though as I moved on, following the procession, he walked beside me with equal steps, stopping and moving as I stopped and moved.
The silence of death was upon the little hamlet of Whinnyfold. There was not a sign of life; not a dog barked as the grim procession had moved up the steep path or now filed across the running stream and moved along the footpath88 toward Cruden. Gormala with eager eyes kept watching me; and as the minutes wore on I[40] began to resume my double action of thought, for I could see in her face that she was trying to reason out from my own expression something of what I was looking at. As we moved along she now began to make suggestions to me in a fierce whisper, evidently hoping that she might learn something from my acquiescence89 in, or negation90 of, her thought. Through that ghostly silence her living voice cut with the harshness of a corncrake.
Perhaps it was for the best; looking back now on that awful experience, I know that no man can say what his mind may suffer in the aftertime who walks alone with the Dead. That I was strung to some amazing pitch was manifested by the fact that I did not seem to feel the great weight which lay upon my shoulders. I have naturally vast strength and the athletic92 training of my youth had developed it highly. But the weight of an ordinary man is much to hold or carry for even a short time, and the body which I bore was almost that of a giant.
The path across the neck of land which makes the Skares a promontory is flat, with here and there a deep cleft like a miniature ravine where the water from the upland rushes in flood time down to the sea. All these rills were now running strong, but I could hear no sound of murmuring water, no splash as the streams leapt over the edge of the cliff on the rocks below in whitening spray. The ghostly procession did not pause at any of these streams, but moved on impassively to the farther side where the path trends down to the sands of Cruden Bay. Gormala stood a moment watching my eyes as they swept the long line passing the angle so that I could see them all at once. That she guessed something was evident from her speech:
“They are many; his eyes range wide!” I started,[41] and she knew that she had guessed aright. This one guess seemed to supply her with illimitable data; she evidently knew something of the spirit world, though she could not see into its mysteries. Her next words brought enlightenment to me:
“They are human spirits; they follow the path that the feet o’ men hae made!”
It was so. The procession did not float over the surface of field or sand, but took its painful way down the zigzag of the cliff and over the rocky path through the great boulders of the foreshore. When the head of it reached the sand, it passed along the summit of the ridge94, just as every Sunday night the fishermen of Whinnyfold and Collieston did in returning to their herring boats at Peterhead.
The tramp across the sands was long and dreary95. Often as I had taken that walk in rain or storm, with the wind almost sweeping96 me off my feet whilst the sand drift from the bent-covered hills almost cut my cheeks and ears, I had never felt the way to be so long or so hard to travel. Though I did not realise it at the time, the dead man’s weight was beginning to tell sorely upon me. Across the Bay I could see the few lights in the village of Port Erroll that were to be seen at such a time of night; and far over the water came the cold grey light which is the sign of the waning97 of the night rather than of the coming of the morning.
When we came to the Hawklaw, the head of the procession turned inward through the sandhills. Gormala, watching my eyes, saw it and an extraordinary change came over her. For an instant she was as if stricken, and stood stock still. Then she raised her hands in wonder, and said in an awed whisper:
“The Holy Well! They gang to St. Olaf’s well! The Lammas floods will aye serve them weel.”
[42]
With an instinct of curiosity strong upon me I hurried on so as to head the procession. As I moved along the rough path amongst the sandhills I felt the weight of the burden on my shoulders grow heavier and heavier, so that my feet dragged as do the feet of one in a night-mare. As I moved on, I looked round instinctively98 and saw that the shade of Lauchlane Macleod no longer kept pace with me, but retained its place in the procession. Gormala’s evil eye was once more upon me, but with her diabolical99 cunning she guessed the secret of my looking round. She moved along, not with me but at the rate she had been going as though she liked or expected to remain in juxtaposition100 to the shade of the dead man; some purpose of her own was to be fulfilled.
As I pressed on, the shades around me seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer still; till at the last I could see little more than a film or haze101. When I came to St. Olaf’s well—then merely a rough pool at the base of the high land that stretches back from the Hawklaw—the ghostly mist was beginning to fade into the water. I stood hard by, and the weight upon my shoulders became dreadful. I could hardly stand; I determined, however, to hold on as long as I could and see what would happen. The dead man, too, was becoming colder! I did not know whether the dimming of the shadows was from this cause, or because the spirit of the man was farther away. It was possibly both, for as the silent, sad procession came on I could see more distinctly. When the wraith102 of the Spaniard turned and looked at me, he seemed once more to look with living eyes from a living soul. Then there was a dreary wait whilst the rest came along and passed in awesome103 stillness down into the well and disappeared. The weight upon my shoulders now became momentarily more intolerable. At last I could bear it no longer, and half bending I allowed the body[43] to slip to the ground, I only holding the hands to steady the descent. Gormala was now opposite to me, and seeing what I had done leaped towards me with a loud cry. For one dim moment the wraith of the dead man stood above its earthly shell; and then I saw the ghostly vision no more.
At that instant, just as Gormala was about to touch the dead body, there was a loud hiss104 and murmur93 of waters. The whole pool burst up in a great fountain, scattering105 sand and water around for a wide space. I rushed back; Gormala did the same.
Then the waters receded106 again, and when I looked, the corpse107 of Lauchlane Macleod was gone. It was swallowed up in the Holy Well.
Overcome with physical weariness and strange horror of the scene I sank down on the wet sand. The scene whirled round me.... I remember no more.
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1
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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2
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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3
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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4
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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5
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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6
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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7
promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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8
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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9
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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10
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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11
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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12
zigzag
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| n.曲折，之字形；adj.曲折的，锯齿形的；adv.曲折地，成锯齿形地；vt.使曲折；vi.曲折前行 | |
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13
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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14
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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15
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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16
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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17
bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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18
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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20
lug
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| n.柄，突出部，螺帽；(英）耳朵；（俚）笨蛋；vt.拖，拉，用力拖动 | |
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fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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mammoth
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| n.长毛象；adj.长毛象似的，巨大的 | |
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23
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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24
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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25
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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26
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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28
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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29
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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31
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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32
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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33
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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34
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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35
orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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37
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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38
teemed
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| v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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39
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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40
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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41
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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42
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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43
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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44
sentient
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| adj.有知觉的，知悉的；adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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45
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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46
sentience
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| n.感觉性；感觉能力；知觉 | |
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47
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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48
remit
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| v.汇款，汇寄；豁免（债务），免除（处罚等） | |
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49
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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53
swirling
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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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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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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75
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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galleon
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| n.大帆船 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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80
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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84
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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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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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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95
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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97
waning
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| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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98
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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99
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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100
juxtaposition
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| n.毗邻，并置，并列 | |
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101
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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102
wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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103
awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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104
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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105
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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106
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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107
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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