Under the competent warders' eyes,
That day and night search out men's privacies.
God is too soft, but a warder knows
How to deal with the prisoners who kneel in rows.
Here shall you starve and shame and break,
Warming the cells and weighing the food,
Build in their souls with the rules you make;
Heap up the stones on the lives you break.
The Prison.
August, 1914, on the Semois.
How hot it was! The white walls of the farm, its squat4 white tower, its steep roofs of ink-blue slate5, all stood out, crude as the painted scenery of a diorama, against the solid azure6 of the sky. It had been a fort, this farm, in the days when Belgium was the cockpit of Europe; but now golden straws protruded7 from the loopholes, and sparrows were flying out and in. The garden had its roses, the lattices their geraniums, and on the sill a sandy cat was curled up in a ball with her head tucked under, exposing a white furry9 throat to the sun. The tower had its fringe of chicory and trailing pink convolvulus. From it the meadow fell away, spongy and mossy-green, to a brook10 which tinkled11 in silver cascades12 down a crease13 between the hills. Beyond the stream the ground rose steeply, a stubble field flaxen in the sunshine, with its line of boundary elms and its peaceful scattered14 sheaves; on the sky-line a ragged15 little fir wood raised its head, dark spires16 against the blue. To the right the brook sank away, twisting round a corner out of sight, and the hills closed in, steep and wooded, upon this little nest of peace.
[Pg 224]
And yet—was it so peaceful? Look to the left. As elsewhere it fell away, so here the harvest field swelled17 up in a lint-white line, firm and pure, the edge of the visible world. In the pale turquoise18 above that line hung a cloud, a discoloration, spreading like an ink-drop in clear water. Where that cloud now hung, yesterday the village of Rochehaut had stood. Contented19, squalid little place with its steaming middens, its perambulating pigs, its church squatting20 like a little white-and-gray cat beside its miry place! Or look across at the opposite hill. Above the firs another drift of smoke was diffusing21 in the radiant air. That was the direction of the Bellevue, the big new hotel which Madame Hasquin of the farm supplied with milk and eggs. Or look at the farm itself. The fowls22 were clucking and scratching in the yard, the cows were lowing at the gate, but Monsieur Hasquin did not come to drive them in to the milking, nor did little Denise bring her sieve23 full of golden peas for her pet fantails. The place was still and peaceful; but it was the stillness and the peace of death.
There are no daily papers in a prison, and no news from the outside world is supposed to reach the inmates. It filters in, nevertheless. Gardiner first heard of the falling of the great shadow from a laborer24 who had got six weeks at the Summer Assizes for beating his wife to a jelly. Out of his cups he was an amiable25 soul, ready to make friends with anybody; and Gardiner, who put on no airs, was ready to respond.
On leaving hospital, B14 had been put to work in the garden. His hand had still to be dressed every day, but by the doctor's orders he was sent into the open air to do such jobs as he could. One summer afternoon he was weeding the paths, and West, the wife-beater, was digging potatoes in the adjoining plot. Gardiner divined by his important looks that he had something to say, and contrived26 to linger long enough for West to catch him up.
"I say, matey," the wife-beater began, in that lip-whisper[Pg 225] by which prisoners communicate under the very noses of their guards, "'ave you heard there's a war on?"
"No! you don't say so! Who with? Mrs. Pankhurst?"
"It's Gawd's truth I'm telling—"
"Gammon! Somebody's been kiddin' you."
"Swelp me, they ain't then. I 'eard Old Ikey talkin' about it to Billy Blood."
Billy Blood was Warder Thomson, so named since Gardiner had knocked out his teeth; Old Ikey was Warder Barnes. His name happened to be Ian, but the initial was enough for the wit of the prison.
"Well, who are we fighting, anyway? Did you hear that?"
At this moment West discovered that Warder Thomson's eye was upon him, and he sheered off to the end of his row. It was some time before, cautiously regulating their progress, they managed to come together again. West discharged his whisper without preface.
"It's Rooshia," he announced. "Rooshia and France."
"Not so bad for a beginning. Who else?"
"Well, they did say somethin' about Injer—"
"Great uprising of the native races. End of the British Raj," said Gardiner with levity27. "Let 'em all come! We're in for a giddy time, I don't think. What price the British army now?"
"Oh, of course if you ain't goin' to believe me—"
West had incautiously raised his voice, and authority was down on him in a moment—or rather on his companion. "Now then, B14, none o' that! Idlin' and mutterin'! I suppose you think this is a rest cure. You get on with your job, and put some beef into it, or I'll report you." And for the next ten minutes, till the "cease work" bell, while West dug potatoes diligently28 under the apple-trees, Billy Blood stood over B14 and counted every weed that dropped into his basket. Gardiner could have laughed in his face. For such petty pin-pricks as Warder Thomson's he cared—not a pin-prick. As Lettice had said, where he was not abnormally sensitive he was wholesomely29 callous30.
[Pg 226]
He got no further chance of speaking to the amiable wife-beater, but that did not trouble him. Some cock-and-bull story the fellow had got hold of—he was crassly31 ignorant, and stupid as a hog32. That evening, however, he had a visit from the chaplain. The elderly gentleman who had fallen a victim to Mr. Gardiner, and whom Mr. Gardiner's son commonly alluded33 to as "the old foozle," had resigned, and been succeeded by a new man of very different kidney. The Rev34. and Hon. Noel Dalrymple-Roche was not more than thirty, very big, very massive, with ashen-fair hair, a regular profile, and a cold blue eye. He had been a Cambridge rowing Blue and sixth Wrangler35; and to these mixed accomplishments36 he added a third—he possessed37 enough driving force to command an army corps38. A misfit in his profession, thought Gardiner, summing him up with an amused eye the first time he read the service; and a double misfit as prison chaplain.
It was his first visit to Gardiner. He came in alone—the chaplain has that privilege. The prisoner was standing39 under the window, slanting40 his book to catch the feeble light.
"Reading?" asked Roche, stretching out his hand for the volume.
"Yes, sir. I'm very fond of a good book." Gardiner, ever imitative, had adapted his language to his surroundings. He could not, however, thus adapt his book, a small blue volume of the Colección Espa?ola Nelson. Roche raised his eyebrows41.
"Can you read this?"
"Pretty well. One gets to pick up something of a good many languages, knocking about the world."
"You come from Chatham, don't you? A sailor, I suppose?"
"Ship's cook."
"What a pity it is you sailors can't keep off the drink," said the chaplain, closing the book and laying it down. "Why don't you sign the pledge? An intelligent young fellow like you—you ought not to be here."
Gardiner stared; then he laughed. "I think you've got[Pg 227] hold of the wrong pig this time, sir. I'm not a drunk and dis."
"You're in for beating your wife, aren't you? I hope you're not going to tell me you did that when you were sober."
"'Have you left off beating your wife?'" murmured Gardiner with irrepressible levity. "Neither drunk nor sober, sir. Couldn't, not possessing one. That's my next-door neighbor—West, B15. I'm B14—Gardiner."
Mr. Roche was not at all disconcerted. "Gardiner?" he repeated, consulting his notebook. "Oh ah; I must have mistaken the number. Gardiner. Yes, I remember about you." He looked him over with his cool eye. There was a shade of difference in his manner. B14 did not stand on a par8 with B15. Mr. Roche was very decidedly not a democrat43. "And how much longer have you to serve?"
"Four months."
Roche's eyes continued to dwell on him with an expression that the prisoner could not read; it was speculative44 and appraising45, and seemed to refer back to private thoughts which had nothing to do with the present. "You've never been a Territorial46?" he asked unexpectedly.
"No," said Gardiner, a little surprised.
"Ah! Well, I'll see you again some other day, Gardiner. At present I must go and pay my call next door."
"Thank you, sir," said Gardiner dutifully. He bethought himself to add, as Roche got up: "It's not true, sir, is it, that there's a war scare on?"
"Who told you anything about it?"
"I heard something—of course, sir, we do talk among ourselves to a certain extent, can't help it. I know you're not supposed to tell us news, but I thought in a case like this perhaps you might stretch a point. Is there a row in Ireland or what?"
"There is no scare, and no row in Ireland," said Roche. His manner had often a touch of rhetoric47. "There is Armageddon. Germany and Austria are attacking Russia, France, and ourselves."
[Pg 228]
"My hat!" said Gardiner. He straightened up; his face lighted, his eye sparkled. "Oh, my hat! What wouldn't I give to be in the army!"
"You won't be the first to say that to-day," said Roche; "but if you were in the army you might not be alive to congratulate yourself on the fact to-morrow. The Germans have occupied Luxemburg, they are sweeping48 across Belgium; soon, I expect, they will be in Paris, and then it will be our turn. And God knows—Steady, man! What are you doing?"
Gardiner sat down on his stool and took his head in his hands. Roche had heard a part of his story; not enough to explain his emotion. He laid his hand on the prisoner's shoulder. "You wish you were free to go and help?" he said, his deep musical voice vibrating. "Poor fellow, so do I—so do I."
One queer by-product51 of the war was the general eagerness to bear one another's burdens, the Christmas Carol atmosphere of good temper and good-will. In prison this feeling worked a miracle; it drew together prisoners and warders. The day's news was whispered without rebuke52 under the very noses of the guardians53 of silence; sometimes they even whispered it themselves. Roche went boldly to the governor (he did not lack courage, that young man; he had already half-a-dozen quarrels on his hands, including one with Leonard Scott about vestments), and by special permission started his Sunday service each week with a summary of news. There was not much to tell in that first month. On the 6th The Times gravely stated that mobilization could not be completed till the 16th; on the 18th came the announcement that the whole Expeditionary Force was already across the water. Liège was making its [Pg 229]gallant defense54; the Russians were pouring into East Prussia; there was a battle near Dinant in which the French were victorious55. Next, the evening papers of the 24th baldly announced the fall of Namur. Heart-shaking news. It shook England; it was then that the recruits began to pour in, thirty thousand a day, so that the height limit had to be raised to check the flow. All these things Roche reported to a congregation which hung upon his lips.
He did not at first report, because he did not believe, the rumors56 of atrocities57 at Visé and elsewhere which were current in those early days. Few responsible men did take account of such fantastic nightmares. They were whispered in the prison nevertheless. But there came a Sunday in September when Roche, making a little pause after his summary, began again, gravely: "It is stated, and I believe it to be true, that the German army in Belgium is committing, by order and in cold blood, the foulest58 abominations. The old university town of Louvain and its splendid library have been burned to the ground and the inhabitants massacred. The same sort of thing is reported from other towns and villages. The men—peaceable working men—are driven out in batches59 and shot. The women are given to the soldiery and then bayoneted. Children have been shot, stabbed, mutilated, crucified. In the little town of Dinant—"
There was a slight disturbance60. A prisoner in one of the back rows struggled to his feet and called out something; a couple of warders popped instantly out of their sentry-boxes and hustled61 him away. The chapel door closed upon them; Mr. Roche continued his address. The only person who recognized the brawler62, and saw the significance of the incident, was Dr. Scott; and even he, though he had heard of the Bellevue, had never heard of Lettice Smith.
"Is the doctor within, mistress?"
"What d'ye want him for?"
"I would like a word with him."
[Pg 230]
"Well, you'll have to go without it, then. Think I'm goin' to rout63 him out from his breakfast for the likes of you? No fear!"
"I'm thinkin', mistress, he'll maybe no' be pleased if ye refuse. The thing is pressing—"
"And so's his breakfast pressing, ain't it? I've no patience with the lot of you—comin' trapesin' round here at all hours, never letting him get a bite in peace—"
"What's the matter, Katie?" asked Dr. Scott himself, coming out into the passage with his napkin in his hand. "Who wants me? Oh, it's you, Mackenzie, is it? What's brought you round here at this time of day?"
Chief Warder Mackenzie, a large and fatherly Scot, smiled his acknowledgments; he was one of those who liked the little doctor. "Well, sir, I'd no' have disturrbed ye at yrr breakfast, but I thought ye should know. There is one of the men took sick. Warder Barnes tellt me when I came on duty this mornin', and I'm no' sure what to think o' the matter maself. He'll make no reply to any words o' mine; I doubt he didna hear what I said. I thought maybe if ye'd take a look at him—"
"Take a look at him? Of course I'll take a look at him! Who is it?"
"B14, sir."
"B14!"
Casting down his napkin on the nearest chair, Scott came as he was, bare-headed, across the prison grounds in the early sunshine. Gardiner was still in the old wing of the prison; as his visitors came into the gloomy corridor, after the brightness outside, they had to look to their feet to avoid tumbling over the orderly's broom. When the cell was opened, Scott at first could see nothing. He made a step forward at random64. "Take care, sir, Barnes tellt me he was violent the morn!" said Mackenzie, brushing hastily past; and then, in gruff but not unkindly tones: "Now then, B14, wake up! Here's the doctor for ye!"
There was no answer; but Scott could see now. B14 lay on the ground, pressed, flattened65, wedged into the angle[Pg 231] between the floor and the wall, his head burrowing66 blindly into the corner; and there he continued to lie, a mere67 line against the wall of his cell. He was in shirt and breeches, but his bed, which should have been folded up and put away hours ago, was still standing with the blankets tossed about it. Mackenzie stooped to shake him up, but he was put aside. "Leave this to me, officer," said the doctor with authority, and knelt down himself beside the prisoner.
"Gardiner, my poor fellow!" he said with exquisite68 gentleness. "Come, come! What are you doing here on the ground?" He laid a hand on his shoulder. "Gardiner! don't you hear me?"
With a shudder69 which seemed literally70 to tear him away from the wall, Gardiner rolled over and clutched that friendly hand in both his own.
"Scott, Scott! for God's sake get me out of this!"
His forehead sank down till it rested, burning, on Scott's wrist. Moved beyond all knowledge of himself, the doctor laid his free hand on the cropped head. It was streaming with sweat; a continuous tremor71 shook the whole frame.
"Gardiner, my poor, poor fellow! what is it? what's wrong?"
"I can't stand it, I can't stand it." The words came in a rushing murmur42, barely intelligible72 in their ebb73 and flow. "Get me out, Scott! oh, get me out! Say it's killing74 me. Say it's driving me mad—it is. Say anything, only get me out. You will, won't you? Oh, God bless you! I knew you would." He raised for a moment his haggard and exhausted75 face, and crawled a little closer. "Not to be let off altogether. I don't ask that. Just long enough to get across and back again—I'd give my parole, and serve double time afterwards, to make up. A month would do it. It's as easy as winking76. I pass anywhere as a Spaniard, and with a forged passport—Ribeira would lend me his, I know—why, I could do it in a fortnight, less! Oh, get me out, Scott; you can't keep me here, you can't, you can't! For the love of Christ, get me out somehow!"
He lay panting in heavy gasps77, like a dying animal.[Pg 232] Scott's heart sank down, down; how could he tell this frantic78 creature that what he asked was impossible? Get him out!—he had already strained his influence to the uttermost for B14; he could hear Captain Harding's sarcastic79 little laugh: "Your pet patient again, doctor?" Laws are not to be bent80 because prisoners suffer. He could not quite make out what it was all about, or why Gardiner should be so desperately81 anxious to get over to Belgium; something to do with his property, he supposed; yet this did not seem like a question of property. Meanwhile the prisoner was off again on a fresh stream of supplications, this time in a murmur so low, so wild and incoherent, that Scott had to bend right down to his lips. What in heaven's name was he raving82 about now?
"If it had been anything but this, anything else on earth but this; you can't keep a man here looking on at this; eyes weren't given you for this. Because it's not nightmare, you know, it's fact; they do do it; there were those stories Denis used to tell of 1870 ... and you heard Roche yourself ... all night long, all night long ... given to the soldiery and bayoneted ... perhaps its happening now, this instant, and I here, oh, my God, my God, my God, my God!—and if you'd only let me free, I know I could have saved her!"
He broke down suddenly into the most frightful83 sobbing84. "Gardiner! Stop it!" the doctor's voice rang out. The prisoner quivered and cowered85 under the word of command; his voice went up in a sort of hysterical86 crow, and stopped, dead. He lay like a log. Scott tried to speak again, and found his throat dry. So that was it! There were things in this war which had tried even his faith. Neither wounds, nor death—secure of eternity87, he could afford to disregard the sufferings of this span-long life—but the fate of the women. It did not seem right, he could not reconcile it with his idea of the divine justice, that evil men should be allowed to stain the soul. What was he to say now to Gardiner? Platitudes88? He had nothing else to offer. He was helpless—and at that word faith sprang up to claim the aid of omnipotence89. He had known the love of God all those years;[Pg 233] could he not trust Him to do what He would with His own?
He turned to the prisoner.
"I can't let you out, Gardiner," he said sadly, giving him the truth because he had no choice. "I'll do what I can, but I know it won't be any good. Here you are and here you'll have to stay for the next four months, and if what you are afraid of happens it will have to happen, and you will have to bear it. God is the judge. Only it's up to you to choose how you'll bear it: whether you'll give in, as you're doing now, or whether you'll stand up like a man and fight it out. If you can't save your friends, you may be able to avenge90 them—"
As he spoke91 his eye fell on Gardiner's hand, and the words died on his lips. Those contracted fingers would never hold a rifle. Scott felt sick. He got up from his knees.
"Will I light the gas, sir?" asked Mackenzie's business-like tones.
Scott assented92 mechanically, feeling for his clinical; but when the light sprang out he had to take himself in hand and fairly force himself to work, against the most intense reluctance93 he had ever felt in his life. Gardiner stirred not; he had to prize open his teeth before he could insert the thermometer. A gleam of white showed under the eyelids94. When Scott felt his pulse, the hand fell back inert95.
"Puir fellow, he looks bad," said Mackenzie dispassionately.
"Yes, it's a case for the hospital. You did quite right to fetch me, Mackenzie. I'll send a couple of orderlies with a stretcher. When's your best time? I should like you to be here to superintend."
"I'll no' be on duty the morn, but I'll be back again after dinner, sir."
"Very well, I'll have them here at one o'clock. Leave the bed as it is, and tell Barnes to keep an eye on him in the meanwhile."
"Verra good, sir."
Scott was going out, without another glance at the prisoner, when Mackenzie touched his arm. "He's lookin'[Pg 234] at you, sir," he whispered. Scott turned. The line of white under the eyelids had widened slightly; the gleam of the pupil was visible. While he watched, the lips unclosed, and the dead (indeed it had that effect) spoke:
"I—won't—go to hospital."
"You'll be better off there, Gardiner," said Scott very gently. "I'll give you something to send you to sleep."
The eyes opened a little further. After a moment the prone96 figure heaved itself up and struggled into a sitting position against the wall.
Impossible to convey the low ferocity, the bestial98 drawling insolence99 of voice and manner. Scott flushed like a schoolgirl and involuntarily recoiled100 a step. "Hold your mouth, ye foul-tongued, ungratefu' devil; the doctor's the best friend ye have, and better than ye deserve!" cried Mackenzie angrily.
"Hold your own mouth, Sandy Mackenzie, or I'll knock every bloody one of those gold-stopped teeth you're so proud of down your bloody throat—by God, I will!"
Mackenzie turned purple; but before he could get into action Scott intervened.
"Let be, officer," he commanded with authority. "This has gone beyond you and me. The man's not responsible; he doesn't know what he is saying."
"I won't go to your bloody hospital—I won't—I won't," cried Gardiner, his voice rising to a shriek101. Scott turned in the doorway102: Mackenzie, staunch U.P., was less shocked than he would have believed possible to watch him make the sign of the cross and to catch the muttered Latin of his commendation. If ever he had seen a man possessed with a devil and in need of exorcism, he saw him then.
When they had gone out, Gardiner lay for some moments passive; then with infinite toil103, steadying himself with his shaking hand against the wall, he got to his feet. What was he going to do next? He knew that perfectly104. He was not[Pg 235] going to hospital; not he! He was going to escape. For in the terminology105 of the jail suicide is only a form of prison-breaking, and the letter "E" is inscribed106 impartially107 over the door of the convict who makes a dash for liberty through the fogs of Dartmoor, and of the wretched youth who tries to hang himself by his neckerchief from the ventilator of his cell.
Why should he go on living? Lettice was dead, or would be by the time they let him free to save her; and he absolutely declined to lie here and watch her die. One night of that was enough. Not that at this moment Gardiner cared a straw for Lettice or any one else; he was lower than the lowest criminal in the jail; he was in the mood to join the Germans in their hellish work. Broken with that night of agony, he had clutched like a drowning man at Scott's hand, he had crawled in abject108 abasement109 to his feet, imploring110 mercy, and had been refused. "Hissing111 hot with burning tears," he had been plunged112 into the waters of despair. The shock was too great. A flaw started out, running right across his nature, separating him from his former self. Gardiner had gone over to the devil.
Well, if he meant to do it he must do it at once, before he was transferred to hospital, where his bed would be one among a dozen in a ward2. The best time would be between dinner at twelve and the resumption of work at one, the interval113 when the warders went off by relays to their own meal. He had heard through his torpor114 enough to know that he was safe until then. This settled, he lay down on his bed and took up his book, presenting a disarming115 picture of tranquillity116 when the orderlies came round with the tins of food. The flap of his spy-hole was raised just as he finished his meal, and he was glad to see it; now, in all probability, he would have a good twenty minutes to himself before he was disturbed again.
Suicide is common in prisons, and prisoners have their own ways of compassing it. You may hang yourself—a disagreeably slow death where no drop is available. You may, if you are strong and active, throw yourself over the[Pg 236] wire-netting that guards the staircase, and be dashed to pieces on the flags below. You may even, if you are very resolute117, hack118 your throat open with the blunt piece of corrugated119 tin which serves as a dinner knife. Gardiner had his own plan. Some time since his gas globe had got broken, and he had managed to secrete120 a splinter of glass. Difficult to hide it, since every prisoner is searched twice a day; but, again, they have their own ways of hiding things. It is on record that a sovereign has been found on a man who had been in jail for a year. Gardiner hid his bit of glass under his tongue. It was small enough for that, but it was large enough to sever121 the artery122 in his thigh123.
He turned his back to the door and drew the bed-clothes round him to hide the flow of blood. Then he leant out to find the splinter in the crack where it lay hid. At that moment he heard the tread of a warder outside. They wear list slippers124, and to a free man would be inaudible; but prisoners have cat's ears. Gardiner drew in his hand to let the man go by. Lucky he did so. With the usual tremendous rattle125 and crash his door was unlocked and flung wide.
"Ye're to dress yoursel', B14, and come along with me."
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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tinkled
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| （使）发出丁当声，（使）发铃铃声( tinkle的过去式和过去分词 )； 叮当响着发出，铃铃响着报出 | |
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cascades
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| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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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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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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diffusing
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| （使光）模糊，漫射，漫散( diffuse的现在分词 )； （使）扩散； （使）弥漫； （使）传播 | |
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22
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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23
sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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24
laborer
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| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
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25
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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27
levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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29
wholesomely
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| 卫生地，有益健康地 | |
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30
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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31
crassly
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| adv.粗鲁地，愚钝地 | |
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32
hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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33
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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35
wrangler
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| n.口角者，争论者；牧马者 | |
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36
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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37
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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38
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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39
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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40
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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41
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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42
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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43
democrat
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
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44
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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45
appraising
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| v.估价( appraise的现在分词 )；估计；估量；评价 | |
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46
territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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47
rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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48
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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49
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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50
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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51
by-product
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| n.副产品，附带产生的结果 | |
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52
rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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53
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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54
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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55
victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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56
rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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57
atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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foulest
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| adj.恶劣的( foul的最高级 )；邪恶的；难闻的；下流的 | |
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batches
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| 一批( batch的名词复数 )； 一炉； （食物、药物等的）一批生产的量； 成批作业 | |
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60
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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61
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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62
brawler
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| 争吵者，打架者 | |
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63
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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64
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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65
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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66
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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67
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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68
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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69
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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70
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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71
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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72
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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73
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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74
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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75
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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76
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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77
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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78
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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79
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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80
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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81
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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82
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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83
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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84
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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85
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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86
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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87
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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88
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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89
omnipotence
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| n.全能，万能，无限威力 | |
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90
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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91
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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92
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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93
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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94
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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95
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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96
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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97
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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98
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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99
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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100
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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101
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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102
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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103
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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104
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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105
terminology
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| n.术语；专有名词 | |
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106
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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107
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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108
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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109
abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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110
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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111
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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112
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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113
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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114
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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115
disarming
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| adj.消除敌意的，使人消气的v.裁军( disarm的现在分词 )；使息怒 | |
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116
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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117
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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118
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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119
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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120
secrete
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| vt.分泌；隐匿，使隐秘 | |
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121
sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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122
artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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123
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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124
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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125
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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