In the Opera-house were gathered Comrade Mabel Smith and Comrade Meissner and Comrade Goldstein, the secretary of the Ypsels, and the three members of the Reception Committee—Comrade Norwood, the rising young lawyer, Comrade Dr. Service, and Comrade Schultze of the Carpet-weavers' union. To them rushed the breathless Jimmie. “Have you heard the news?”
“What is it?”.
“Herr Gott!” cried Comrade Schultze, in horror; and everyone turned instinctively2, for they knew how this came home to him—he had a brother who was a Socialist editor in Leipzig, and who was liable for the mobilization.
“Where did you see it?” cried Schultze; and Jimmie told what he knew. And then the clamour broke forth3! Others were called from the back part of the hall, and came running, and there were questions and cries of dismay. Here, too, it was as if the crime had been committed against Local Leesville—so completely did they feel themselves one with the victims. In a town where there was a brewery4, needless to say there were German workers a-plenty; but even had this not been so, the feeling would have been the same, for the Socialists5 of the world were one, the soul of the movement was its internationalism. The Candidate discovering that Jimmie was a Socialist had asked and received no further introduction, but had been instantly his friend; and so it would have been with a comrade from Germany, Japan, or the heart of Africa—he might not have known another word of English, the word “Socialist” would have sufficed.
It was a long time before they thought of any other matter; but finally someone referred to the trouble which had fallen upon the local—the Candidate had not showed up. And Jimmie exclaimed, “Why, he's here!” And instantly all turned upon him. Where? When? How?
“He came this morning.”
“And why didn't you let us know?” It was Comrade Dr. Service of the Reception Committee who spoke6, and with a decided7 sharpness in his tone.
“He didn't want anybody to know,” said Jimmie.
“Did he want us to go to the train and think he had failed us?”
Sure enough, it was after train-time! Jimmie had entirely8 forgotten both the train and the committee, and now he had not the grace to hide his offence. All he could do was to tell his story—how he had spent the afternoon walking in the country with the Candidate, and how they had gone swimming, and how they had got the news from the bulletin board, and how the Candidate had acted and what he had said. Poor Jimmie never doubted but that his own thrill was shared by all the others; and at the next regular meeting of the local, when Comrade Dr. Service sat down on some proposition which Jimmie had ventured to make, the little machinist had not the faintest idea what he had done to deserve the snub. He was lacking in worldly sense, he did not understand that a prosperous physician, who comes into the movement out of pure humanitarianism9, contributing his prestige and his wealth to the certain detriment10 of his social and business interests, is entitled to a certain deference11 from the Jimmie Higginses, and even from a Candidate.
II.
You might have thought that Jimmie would be tired; but this was a day on which the flesh had no claims. First he helped Comrade Mabel in depositing upon every seat a leaflet containing a letter from the local candidate for Congress; then he rushed away to catch a street-car, and spent his last nickel to get to his home and keep his engagement with Lizzie. He would not make with her the mistake he had made with the Committee, you bet!
He found that Lizzie had faithfully carried out her part of the bargain. The three babies were done up in bright-coloured calico dresses; she had spent the morning in washing and ironing these garments—also her own dress, which was half-red and half-green, and of generous, almost crinoline proportions. Lizzie herself was built on that scale, with broad hips12 and bosom13, big brown eyes and heavy dark hair. She was a fine strong woman when she had shed her bedraggled house gown, and Jimmie was proud of his capability14 as a chooser of wives. It was no small feat15 to find a good woman, and to recognize her, where Jimmie had found Lizzie. She was five years older than he, a Bohemian, having been brought to America when she was a baby. Her former name—you could hardly call it her “maiden” name, considering the circumstances—was Elizabeth Huszar, which she pronounced so that for a long time Jimmie had understood it to be Eleeza Betooser.
Jimmie snatched a bite of bread and drank a cup of metallic16 tasting tea, and packed the family into the baby-carriage, and trudged17 the mile and half to the centre of the city. When they arrived, Lizzie took the biggest child, and Jimmie the other two, and so they trudged into the Opera-house. On this hot night it was like holding three stoves in your arms, and if the babies woke up and began to cry, the parents would have the painful choice of missing something, or else facing the disgusted looks of everyone about them. In Belgium, at the “People's House”, the Socialists maintained a creche, but the American movement had not yet discovered that useful institution.
Already the hall was half-full, and a stream of people pouring in. Jimmie got himself and family seated, and then turned his eager eyes proudly to survey the scene. The would-be-congressman's circulars which he had placed in the seats were now being read by the sitters; the banners he had so laboriously18 hung were resplendent on the walls; there was a pitcher19 of ice water on the speaker's table, and a bouquet20 of flowers and a gavel for the chairman; the seats in the rear of the platform for the Liederkranz were neatly21 ranged, most of them already occupied by solid German figures topped by rosy22 German faces: to each detail of which achievements Jimmie had lent a hand. He had a pride of possession in this great buzzing throng23, and in the debt they owed to him. They had no idea of it, of course; the fools, they thought that a meeting like this just grew out of nothing! They paid their ten cents—twenty-five cents for reserved seats—and imagined that covered everything, with perhaps even a rake-off for somebody! They would grumble24, wondering why the Socialists persisted in charging admission for their meetings—why they could not let people in free as the Democrats25 and Republicans did. They would go to Democratic and Republican meetings, and enjoy the brass26 band and the fireworks, pyrotechnical and oratorical28—never dreaming it was all a snare29 paid for by their exploiters!
Well, they would learn about it to-night! Jimmie thought of the Candidate, and how he would impress this man and that. For Jimmie knew scores who had got tickets, and he peered about after this one and that, and gave them a happy nod from behind his barricade30 of babies. Then, craning his neck to look behind him, suddenly Jimmie gave a start. Coming down the aisle31 was Ashton Chalmers, president of the First National Bank of Leesville; and with him-could it be possible?—old man Granitch, owner of the huge Empire Machine Shops where Jimmie worked! The little machinist found himself shaking with excitement as these two tall forms strode past him down the aisle. He gave Lizzie a nudge with his elbow and whispered into her ear; and all around was a buzz of whispers—for, of course, everybody knew these two mighty32 men, the heads of the “invisible government” of Leesville. They had come to find out what their subjects were thinking! Well, they would get it straight!
III.
The big hall was full, and the aisles33 began to jam, and then the police closed the doors—something which Jimmie took as part of the universal capitalist conspiracy34. The audience began to chafe35; until at last the chairman walked out upon the stage, followed by several important persons who took front seats. The singers stood up, and the leader waved his wand, and forth came the Marseillaise: a French revolutionary hymn36, sung in English by a German organization—there was Internationalism for you! With full realization37 of the solemnity of this world-crisis, they sang as if they hoped to be heard in Europe.
And then rose the Chairman—Comrade Dr. Service. He was a fine, big figure of a man, with grey moustache and beard trimmed to a point; his swelling38 chest was covered by clean white linen39 and tight-fitting broad-cloth, and he made a most imposing40 chairman, reflecting credit on the movement. He cleared his throat, and told them that they had come that evening to listen to one of America's greatest orators41, and that therefore he, the Chairman, would not make a speech; after which he proceeded to make a speech. He told them what a grave hour this was, and how the orator27 would tell them its meaning, after which he proceeded to tell most of the things which the orator would tell. This was a weakness of Comrade Dr. Service—but one hesitated to point it out to him, because of his black broad-cloth suit and his imposing appearance, and the money he had put up to pay for the hall.
At last, however, he called on the Liederkranz again, and a quartet sang a German song and then an encore. And then came Comrade Gerrity, the hustling42 young insurance-agent who was organizer for the local, and whose task it was to make a “collection speech.” He had humorous ways of extracting money—“Here I am again!” he began, and everybody smiled, knowing his bag of tricks. While he was telling his newest funny story, Jimmie was unloading the littlest infant into Lizzie's spare arm, and laying the other on the seat with its head against her knee, and getting himself out into the aisle, hat in hand and ready for business; and as soon as the organizer ceased and the Liederkranz resumed, Jimmie set to work gathering43 the coin. His territory was the reserved-seat section up in front, where sat the two mighty magnates. Jimmie's knees went weak, but he did his duty, and was tickled44 to see each of the pair drop a coin into the hat, to be used in overthrowing45 their power in Leesville!
IV.
The hats were taken to the box-office and emptied, and the collection-takers and the Liederkranz singers resumed their seats. An expectant hush46 fell—and then at last there strode out on the stage the Candidate. What a storm broke out! Men cheered and clapped and shouted. He took his seat modestly; but as the noise continued, he was justified47 in assuming that it was meant for him, and he rose and bowed; as it still continued, he bowed again, and then again. It had been the expectation of Comrade Dr. Service to come forward and say that, of course, it was not necessary for anyone to introduce the speaker of the evening; but the audience, as if it had read the worthy48 doctor's intention, kept on applauding, until the Candidate himself advanced, and raised his hand, and began his speech.
He did not stop for any oratorical preliminaries. This, he said—and his voice trembled with emotion—was the solemnest hour that men had ever faced on earth. That day on the bulletin-board of their local newspaper he had read tidings which had moved him as he had never been moved in his life, which had almost deprived him of the power to walk upon a stage and address an audience. Perhaps they had not heard the news; he told it to them, and there sprang from the audience a cry of indignation.
Yes, they might well protest, said the speaker; nowhere on all the bloody49 pages of history could you find a crime more revolting than this! The masters of Europe had gone mad in their lust50 for power; they had called down the vengeance51 of mankind upon their crowned and coronetted heads. Here to-night he would tell them—and the speaker's hoarse52 and raucous53 voice mounted to a shout of rage—he would tell them that in signing the death-warrant of those heroic martyrs54, they had sealed the doom55 of their own order, they had torn out the foundation-stones from the structure of capitalist society! The speaker's voice seemed to lift the audience from its seats, and the last words of the sentence were drowned in a tumult56 of applause.
Silence fell again, and the man went on. He had peculiar57 mannerisms on the platform. His lanky58 form was never still for an instant. He hurried from one end of the stage to the other; he would crouch59 and bend as if he were going to spring upon the audience, a long, skinny finger would be shaken before their faces, or pointed60 as if to drive his words into their hearts. His speech was a torrent61 of epigram, sarcasm62, invective63. He was bitter; if you knew nothing about the man or his cause, you would find this repellent and shocking. You had to know what his life had been—an unceasing conflict with oppression; he had got his Socialist education in jail, where he had been sent for trying to organize the wage-slaves of a gigantic corporation. His rage was the rage of a tender-hearted poet, a lover of children and of Nature, driven mad by the sight of torment64 wantonly inflicted65. And if ever he had seemed to you an extremist, too angry to be excused, here to-night he had his vindication66, here to-night you saw him as a prophet. For now the master-class had torn the mask from its face, and revealed to the whole world what were its moral standards! At last men saw their rulers face to face!
They have plunged67 mankind into a pit of lunacy. “They call it war,” cried the speaker; “but I call it murder.” And he went on to picture to them what was happening in Europe at that hour—he brought the awful nightmare before their eyes, he showed them homes blown to pieces, cities given to the flames, the bodies of men pierced by bullets or torn to fragments by shells. He pictured a bayonet plunged into the abdomen68 of a man; he made you see the ghastly deed, and feel its shuddering69 wickedness. Men and women and children sat spellbound; and for once no man could say aloud or feel in his heart that the pictures of a Socialist agitator70 were overdrawn—no, not even Ashton Chalmers, president of the First National Bank of Leesville, or old Abel Granitch, proprietor71 of the Empire Machine Shops!
V.
And what was the cause of this blackest of calamities72? The speaker went on to show that the determining motive73 was not racial jealousy74, but commercial greed. The fountain-head of the war was world-capitalism75, clamouring for markets, seeking to get rid of its surplus products, to keep busy its hordes76 of wage-slaves at home. He analysed the various factors; and now, with the shadow of the European storm over their heads—now at last men and women would listen, they would realize that the matter concerned them. He warned them—let them not think that they were safe from the hoofs77 of this war-monster, just because they were three thousand miles away! Capitalism was a world phenomenon, and all the forces of parasitism78 and exploitation which had swept Europe into this tragedy were active here in America. The money-masters, the profit-seekers, would leap to take advantage of the collapse79 over the seas; there would be jealousies80, disputes—let the audience understand, once for all, that if world-capitalism did not make this a world-war, it would be only because the workers of America took warning, and made their preparations to frustrate81 the conspiracy.
This was what he had come for, this was the heart of his message. Many of those who listened were refugees from the old world, having fled its oppressions and enslavements. He pleaded with them now, as a man whose heart was torn by more suffering than he could bear—let there be one part of the fair garden of earth into which the demons82 of destruction might not break their way! Let them take warning in time, let them organize and establish their own machinery83 of information and propaganda—so that when the crisis came, when the money-masters of America sounded the war-drums, there might be—not the destruction and desolation which these masters willed, but the joy and freedom of the Co-operative Commonwealth84!
“How many years we Socialists have warned you!” he cried. “But you have doubted us, you have believed what your exploiters have told you! And now, in this hour of crisis, you look at Europe and discover who are the real friends of humanity, of civilization. What voice comes over the seas, protesting against war? The Socialist voice, and the Socialist voice alone! And to-night, once more, you hear it in this hall! You men and women of America, and you exiles from all corners of the world, make this pledge with me—make it now, before it is too late, and stand by it when the hour of crisis comes! Swear it by the blood of our martyred heroes, those slaughtered85 German Socialists—swear that, come what will, and when and how it will, that no power on earth or in hell beneath the earth shall draw you into this fratricidal war! Make this resolution, send this message to all the nations of the earth—that the men of all nations and all races are your brothers, and that never will you consent to shed their blood. If the money-masters and the exploiters want war, let them have it, but let it be among themselves! Let them take the bombs and shells they have made and go out against one another! Let them blow their own class to pieces—but let them not seek to lure86 the working-people into their quarrels!”
Again and again, in answer to such exhortations87, the audience broke out into shouts of applause. Men raised their hands in solemn pledge; and the Socialists among them went home from the meeting with a new gravity in their faces, a new consecration88 in their hearts. They had made a vow89, and they would keep it—yes, even though it meant sharing the fate of their heroic German comrades!
—And then in the morning they opened their papers, looking eagerly for more details about the fate of the heroic German comrades, and they found none. Day after day, morning and afternoon, they looked for more details, and found none. On the contrary, to their unutterable bewilderment, they learned that the leaders of the German Social-Democracy had voted for the war-budgets, and that the rank and file of the movement were hammering out the goose-step on the roads of Belgium and France! They could not bring themselves to believe it; even yet they have not brought themselves to realize that the story which thrilled them so on that fatal Sunday afternoon was only a cunning lie sent out by the German war-lords, in the hope of causing the Socialists of Belgium and France and England to revolt, and so give the victory to Germany!
点击收听单词发音
1 socialist | |
n.社会主义者;adj.社会主义的 | |
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2 instinctively | |
adv.本能地 | |
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3 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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4 brewery | |
n.啤酒厂 | |
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5 socialists | |
社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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6 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 | |
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7 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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8 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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9 humanitarianism | |
n.博爱主义;人道主义;基督凡人论 | |
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10 detriment | |
n.损害;损害物,造成损害的根源 | |
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11 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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12 hips | |
abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯,耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 );[建筑学]屋脊;臀围(尺寸);臀部…的 | |
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13 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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14 capability | |
n.能力;才能;(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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15 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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16 metallic | |
adj.金属的;金属制的;含金属的;产金属的;像金属的 | |
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17 trudged | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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18 laboriously | |
adv.艰苦地;费力地;辛勤地;(文体等)佶屈聱牙地 | |
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19 pitcher | |
n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐;(棒球)投手 | |
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20 bouquet | |
n.花束,酒香 | |
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21 neatly | |
adv.整洁地,干净地,灵巧地,熟练地 | |
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22 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
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23 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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24 grumble | |
vi.抱怨;咕哝;n.抱怨,牢骚;咕哝,隆隆声 | |
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25 democrats | |
n.民主主义者,民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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26 brass | |
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器 | |
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27 orator | |
n.演说者,演讲者,雄辩家 | |
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28 oratorical | |
adj.演说的,雄辩的 | |
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29 snare | |
n.陷阱,诱惑,圈套;(去除息肉或者肿瘤的)勒除器;响弦,小军鼓;vt.以陷阱捕获,诱惑 | |
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30 barricade | |
n.路障,栅栏,障碍;vt.设路障挡住 | |
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31 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
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32 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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33 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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34 conspiracy | |
n.阴谋,密谋,共谋 | |
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35 chafe | |
v.擦伤;冲洗;惹怒 | |
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36 hymn | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌 | |
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37 realization | |
n.实现;认识到,深刻了解 | |
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38 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
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39 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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40 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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41 orators | |
n.演说者,演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
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42 hustling | |
催促(hustle的现在分词形式) | |
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43 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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44 tickled | |
(使)发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)愉快,逗乐 | |
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45 overthrowing | |
v.打倒,推翻( overthrow的现在分词 );使终止 | |
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46 hush | |
int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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47 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
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48 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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49 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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50 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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51 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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52 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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53 raucous | |
adj.(声音)沙哑的,粗糙的 | |
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54 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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55 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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56 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
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57 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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58 lanky | |
adj.瘦长的 | |
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59 crouch | |
v.蹲伏,蜷缩,低头弯腰;n.蹲伏 | |
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60 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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61 torrent | |
n.激流,洪流;爆发,(话语等的)连发 | |
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62 sarcasm | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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63 invective | |
n.痛骂,恶意抨击 | |
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64 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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65 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66 vindication | |
n.洗冤,证实 | |
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67 plunged | |
v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 );暴跌;骤降;突降 | |
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68 abdomen | |
n.腹,下腹(胸部到腿部的部分) | |
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69 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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70 agitator | |
n.鼓动者;搅拌器 | |
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71 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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72 calamities | |
n.灾祸,灾难( calamity的名词复数 );不幸之事 | |
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73 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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74 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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75 capitalism | |
n.资本主义 | |
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76 hordes | |
n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 );部落 | |
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77 hoofs | |
n.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.(兽的)蹄,马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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78 parasitism | |
n.寄生状态,寄生病;寄生性 | |
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79 collapse | |
vi.累倒;昏倒;倒塌;塌陷 | |
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80 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
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81 frustrate | |
v.使失望;使沮丧;使厌烦 | |
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82 demons | |
n.恶人( demon的名词复数 );恶魔;精力过人的人;邪念 | |
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83 machinery | |
n.(总称)机械,机器;机构 | |
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84 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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85 slaughtered | |
v.屠杀,杀戮,屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86 lure | |
n.吸引人的东西,诱惑物;vt.引诱,吸引 | |
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87 exhortations | |
n.敦促( exhortation的名词复数 );极力推荐;(正式的)演讲;(宗教仪式中的)劝诫 | |
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88 consecration | |
n.供献,奉献,献祭仪式 | |
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89 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
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