July 22, 2018:—This morning owing to new utterances2 on the part of Sparrow Short and two others, more venomous than himself, brothers of “Beau Nash,” he and they are put into the International Prison for world treason, with all further bail3 and bond refused. Therefore tonight there is a great torch-parade and ritual by St. Friend and his followers5 in the cathedral. Debs, John Brown, Lovejoy, Liebknecht, are invoked6. Springfield’s fury, glory, and devotion are in every face and eye. St. Friend, with unaccustomed 288fire for these his days of feebler health, reviles7 the opinions of Short and his companions. But he demands their liberation in the name of the Constitution of the United States and Free Speech. St. Friend cries from the pulpit: “We preach not the low revolution, but the high revolution, not the massacre9 in the street, but the high unquenched torch of freedom and free speech in the unconsumed cathedral.”
The smoke of those torches comes between me and St. Friend. Everything on this day happens to me in such a fashion. There is much dust on the dustless streets, at least when I pass by. And many streets are unaccountably deserted10, morning and afternoon, though there is a World’s Fair crowd roaring somewhere near, I know. And the dust that sweeps up with the autumn leaves from these streets has the taste of old years in it, and the grave. It seems, some moments, as though I can keep my eyes open no longer. I am not to take one step further. Some fate has forbidden me to glimpse more of my City. But there is that in my will and my soul that commands me to go forward one step further, and open my eyes for one moment longer.
And so through this evening I realize that, dimly and dizzily, the torches are being uplifted 289at the beginning of the star chiming hour.
Now the great Joseph Bartholdi Michael, the Second, is himself speaking in the cathedral, and, if he testifies for old Sparrow Short, who shall say that Short is a danger to the World Flag?
Michael says that just as freedom resides in the Declaration of Independence, in trial by jury, and the like, which are immemorial, crystallized institutions of the radicalism12 of ancient times, so radicals13 with new thoughts should have every chance with their torch in the church and not be forced to wave it in the street, and that “he is indeed glad this meeting is being held in this place, etc., etc.”
July 23:—Sparrow Short is left locked up and forgotten, for today there is a great war-music in the streets.
All Singapore is running amuck14. The Horseshoe Brotherhood15 and the Amazons are drilling double hours. Joseph Bartholdi Michael, the Second, is firing his clan16 like an Arab Mahdi, preaching a new holy war. A new group of trumpeters are to the fore4, blowing slender trumpets17, all of them silver white, to frighten the Lord of Cocaine18, trumpets whose cry is that of birds that the Singaporians 290hold accursed; the eagle, the turkey and the wild swan.
And to that music, there at Camp Lincoln, the maelstrom20 of cavalry21 goes on, round and round their gigantic mechanical toy, their simple childlike image of the earth, and its glow is turning to a glare as of a smelter-furnace door, or the blaze of a little planet, newly whirled off from the sun.
July 24:—War talk dies down and the whole town is full of hatred22 of its leaders and feverish23 silly rumors25 against them. More and more openly the small fry politicians of all factions26 seem to be justifying28 with reminiscent emphasis the lynching of Surto Hurdenburg as an heroic act of defiance29 of both the City Hall and the Board of Education. The actual responsibility for the lynching is shifted from this one to that one, but, whoever it was that led (if we are to believe the tone of the coffee houses) is a hero.
The fairly well-meaning leaders of the town, comprising the majority of both the Board of Education and the City Hall, are in new tremendous offices, administering the growing responsibilities of the World’s Fair and the war preparations also, and a gulf30 has been made between them and the people with 291whom they have been on gossiping terms heretofore.
The old war between the town and the gown seems revived, with this difference, that the natives of Springfield act like the University students, and the finest World’s Fair visitors seem the real citizens of the place, insulted at the deeds of the freshmen31. The habit of turning every spare village green into a summer camp ground for passing tourists in automobiles32, that has prevailed through the United States for a long time, has established in all the counties adjoining Springfield an enormous circle of village grounds, and here the great part of the Fair visitors camp by their own machines and come in to the show by day, by local transportation of all sorts. Their resentment33 of the frivolity34 of the rank and file of the city grows, and nightly they are the more appalled35 at the rumor24 as they chatter36 in their camps, that the Springfield mob intends to lynch wholesale37 the only people who have treated the Fair visitors with any degree of courtesy, namely:—the City Council and the Board of Education.
Whole streets of the city are suddenly deserted and the business houses closed, for this or that lightly given reason, and the next 292hour that street, under obscure leaders may be filled with a howling mob, that seems to be howling about nothing.
The slander38 still persists, with infinite variations, that the man who poisoned Drug Store Smith and Coffee House Kusuko did it at the direct instigation of old Boone. Such an action is indeed far from Boone’s nature. And this, all discredited39 leaders, in a panic for their personal safety, steadily40 maintain.
July 25:—I am again the Malay servant at the house of the Man from Singapore.
The death of Drug Store Smith and Coffee House Kusuko was exacted of the Mayor’s son by Montague Rock. It was an earnest of the sincerity41 of his conversion42 to the Singaporian cult43. The Man from Singapore had nothing to do with it and, in fact, does not approve of the use of such a drastic initiation44, “But who can control these zealous45 proselytes, these foreigners?” he says. The slandering46 of Boone, it appears, by the talk of the Man from Singapore with his daughter, is also the work of this fanatical convert, Montague Rock. It is not exactly the Singaporian way. But again “who can control these foreigners?”
July 26:—About the beginning of July, four men come to town, who took part in 293the burning alive of a negro in Chicago. The burning was provoked by a yellow journal’s account, giving hear-say evidence against the negro. Disturbing their minds not at all over the subsequent vindication47 of the black man, his executioners come to Springfield, intoxicated48 with their recent leadership, the first taste of public power they have ever known, the smell of burning flesh delighting their cannibal nostrils49. They take odd jobs from Boone and profess50 to be his violent partizans. They are more violent than he desires or uses.
And so tonight, while I am chained in the body of the Malay body-servant, the news comes over the phone, particularly grieving the Man from Singapore, that Boone has been hanged from the same tree at the northwest corner of the State House ground, where Surto Hurdenburg was hanged on the twentieth of June. The four men from Chicago, who lead the mob, want to burn Boone to death, but the rest of the crowd insist on a hanging. The crowd is not composed of partizans of the City Hall. There are few people who were at the murder of Hurdenburg; according to the report over the phone, equally obscure members of all factions are represented.
294The Man from Singapore says he deeply regrets the death of Boone who was an honorable and open foe51 of Singapore. He almost weeps before the beautiful Mara and, as to what she thinks, I know not. He says that if he had had his way, Boone should have lived several years longer, but the fashions, even of proselytes in Springfield, are past finding out. “They are WHITE people, you know,” he says to Mara, “even if they are converted.”
Then he is gone to his writing room in the white tower of his house, and Mara sits waiting for Crawling Jim, who is due later this evening.
And here let it be recorded that, the Singaporian issue becoming more bitter, the towers of Springfield and all the principal cities of the United States have been painted white this last month, to drive out the more fanatical Singaporians. In complete harmony with this hysterical52 and fantastic and humorous procedure, Crawling Jim has been under the necessity of wearing a small white plume53 in his hat, or resigning his place as President of the Robin54 Redbreast Flying Club. Nothing is said among the members. Plumes55 begin to appear one at a time. Soon a majority have them. Jim put on his plume late yesterday. 295He values his supremacy56 in that flying club more than any victory in love or any dogma of religion.
But having had a part in the Judas tricks which have ended in the hanging of Boone, he knocks most confidently on the door tonight, when it is almost midnight, and I let him in. He carries in his hand the hat with the white plume.
He walks into the book-room most jauntily57. There the deep eyed Mara awaits him with love. She is nestled among her books, just below her mother’s languid picture. She lifts slow eyes that are heavy with love. But she sees that white plume. And Jim has little time left in life to have the Malay nature explained to him, the brief tale of how they may run “amuck” without reason.
Mara cannot wait. Her dagger58 is out, and she is indeed running “amuck.” They reach the hall together, and she stabs him before the eyes of the green Glass Buddha59. She stands stark60 and lonely above him, and screams for her father to come down from his writing room.
October 29:—The body of Crawling Jim was found in a shadow, near the tree where 296Boone was hanged, by the group of young Boones who came to take away the body of their kinsman61.
No one is in serious peril62 of being brought to justice for the death of Boone, though that was three months and three days ago. This has always been the case, in Springfield lynchings and murders. It is a thing still taken for granted, as people look drearily63 in the direction of the courts. The weekly magazines in Coe’s Book Store, from all over the country, roar about the two unavenged and unspeakable Springfield murders:—of the leading editor, and the son of the mayor on the same night. This has been in the papers, on similar occasions, for a century. And curiously64 enough, the town is blazing with international courage and all tense with efficiency on international issues. We are more in despair of bringing some sixty or one hundred masked murderers to justice than of annihilating65 the whole nation and religion of Singapore on the other side of the world. And there is, I admit, some justification66 for our hope. America, paralyzed one minute, is like a million bolts of lightning the next. There is something of the essence of majority rule in this, if one might think it out. But to our story.
297Singapore is about to proclaim an all-Asiatic alliance against the World Government, with the ostensible67 object of an ultimate Pacific Ocean Government, living in alleged68 reciprocity and amity69 with the World Government, but not under one jurisdiction70. Their newspaper editorials, sent by cable, sound marvelously like the fulminations of South Carolina in the days of Andrew Jackson, and further fulminations in the days just before the Civil War.
Indo China joins the Singaporian league, Burmah, and certain provinces of Southern China. But most of the Asiatic continent and all of Japan remains71 actively72 loyal to the Flag of Joseph’s Coat. On the other hand there are strange hesitancies in Europe and South America. There are rumors of World Treason, even among American officials of the World Government. Today the Singaporian declaration hangs.
I find myself again with the Japanese and his secretary on the reviewing stand by the wrought73 iron gates of Camp Lincoln, as the Amazons once more whirl by. They are valiant74 and potent75 as Britomart, and the Japanese Samurai says “it is inconceivable that such creatures could let a mob run away with their town, if such things had not happened 298hundreds of times in the history of noble cities.”
I find a wan19 new hope pouring into my dusty veins76 as they pass us many thousand strong, riding the best bred, the best shod horses in the whole wide world, and flashing the finest swords ever made. And along with the swords, the eyes of the horses flash as though they themselves were shouting the song of the warrior77 maidens78. It is the old song, sung now with terrible irony79 and sweetness: “Springfield Awake, Springfield Aflame.” And then there are strains of that World Government song, beginning: “Every ship of every land, every wheel and every wing.”
The cheeks of the girls are sun-browned, and rosy80 as the Amaranth-Apples in the orchards81 of Hunter Kelly.
The whole town is here; every faction27, religion, tribe and tongue. Besides all the Michaels, Boones and Darsies, Bonansingas, Romanoffs, Fagins, Kopenskys, Rocks, Rues82, Swartzes, McGinnisses, Ezekiels, Greys, there are even girls of the negro Timmons and Emis families. There are Hymans, Stanleys and Radleys, and all the rest. Each steed is like a pale horse of death. I am thinking that when human beings go forward like this, trained to 299the last inch, all whipcord and tempered steel, it is no wonder that, left far behind, to make mischief83, there are human embers. This must be paid for, by the discarded creatures among us who cannot stand this pace and who are not quite vile8 enough in ordinary hours to be hid in jails or sanitariums, but who when their little time suddenly arrives, go forth84 marauding according to their nature and their good luck.
I am beneath the reviewing platform and, as I am meditating85, the mayor’s little sister stands up in her stirrups and cuts me across the face with her whip, not checking her pace an instant. Some one behind and above me says: “Evidently you did not see the flags.” It is the Japanese, all courtesy and solicitude86. But he has been fortunate enough to see in time and to salute87 the meteors just ahead of this fiery88 little rider, the two battle flags of the Amazons, the Star Spangled Banner and the thousand-colored flag that will yet redeem89 mankind, made of all the flags in the world, sewed into one glorious banner, the Flag of Joseph’s Coat.
But I have my excuse for not seeing the flags of my world. My eyes have been dazzled by Avanel, who has been mourning and hidden three months and three days; she is riding 300in from a boulevard to the left, hurrying with her escort to the head of the cavalcade90.
The meaning of her accoutrement is plain. She is saying, by what she wears: “No Singapore intrigue91 can drive the child of Daniel Boone from her destiny.” Never was she such a commander as she is in this twilight92, with black horse, black gauntlets, black dress, black harness, black plume, all things black and the only flash of white, her mourning face. Her pride is laid low for a higher pride. For the first time her black hair is combed back over her shoulders, after the manner and regulation of the Boones, and she goes forward to resume her command, and the girls cry out in passionate93 welcome, and there is a terrible mourning and a terrible menace in their cry, when she takes her left hand from the gauntlet, and it is dyed crimson94, after the manner and regulation of the Boones.
October 30.—The Amazons of the city, and the Horseshoe Brotherhood have taken possession of the city, and until the day of their going, they will police the city and none shall hinder them, and they ride down the boulevards with little consideration or patience for the loitering of passers by. More and more the Avanel blades hiss95 in the air, and there is angry fear in the eyes of the women, that the 301mobs may again own these streets, while the city’s warriors96 are away in Asia. And this evening The Boone Ax, of which Avanel is now the nominal97 editor, comes out with an editorial, front page, with her signature:—“I have railed in my time at middle-class respectability. Yet The Boone Ax trusts it today as the one jewel case containing most of the gems98 of brotherhood. Whatever its policy in the past The Boone Ax now puts at the head of its regular inside editorial page a picture of Confucius, and under it this description:—‘The champion of old-fashioned, middle-class decency99 and respectability, and the lawgiver for this paper.’
“The picture goes there as our only vengeance100 for the death of the founder101 of this paper, and as our eternal reminder102 of that act.
“As a matter of getting down to the bed rock of civilization we turn to the world’s most ancient champion of propriety103 and civility and fight lynch law and all popular and ill-considered whirlwinds, until our paper has won its battle, or is wiped from the face of the earth.”
November 1, 2018:—But Confucius is not the patron saint of the lady Avanel.
It all comes as a clouded vision before me 302as though I were half in the vision, and through it beginning a new and more desperate destiny of my own. It is the snowy morning of All Saints’ Day. Representatives of the Michael Clan, young and old, Horseshoe Brotherhood, Amazons and many others are at the crossing of Fifth Street and Capital Avenue, by the ancestral Blacksmith Shop. The horse of the conquering Avanel Boone is to be shod by that good sport, Joseph Bartholdi Michael, the Second, as a sign of fealty104, and in final preparation for the going forth against Singapore. Scattered105 among the Michaels are the long-haired, black-haired Boones, with the locks of both the men and women streaming back over their shoulders, after the manner and regulation of the Boones, and their left hands dyed crimson, as a perpetual reminder to themselves and all the world of certain strains of Red Indian ancestry106.
While the snow is blowing into the shop, white-haired Joseph Bartholdi Michael, the Second, aided by his son, the Third, have taken the old shoes from the dainty feet of the white pony107, and just as the old warrior is lifting a new shoe from the fire, the flames leap up, there is a music incredibly sweet and, with a great whirring of wings 303and terrible thunder, the Golden Book flies out of the fire and circles above these two clans108 and their satellites of renown109.
And the swords of the Amazons are out in the air in involuntary salutation, and the face of Avanel has the consecration110 of a nun111, taking her final vows112. I wonder if all her girlish escort, so wonderstricken, see, as I see. For to me, as I feel my feet sinking into the dust of the ancient grave, this horse and rider move heavenward a little, it seems as though Avanel’s horse’s hoofs113 no longer quite touch the ground; she is a sort of celestial114 lady centaur115. She and her horse have one pair of wings that bind116 them together, and the wings are rays of light and the same color as the wings of the book and akin11. And even while I look, the very glory of this vision of a young girl, receiving her commission from the unseen world, burns me down like the last embers of a campfire blown upon by a terrible wind from the skies. I am neither man nor weed nor flame any more but something less than these and doomed117 by the years. There is a flower of flame above her forehead that consumes my eyes; there are flowers of flame above the foreheads of all her girl companions.
Avanel, with eyes fixed118 and strained, follows 304the flying book on her winged horse. The book settles into her arms and, though the snow and autumn leaves swirl119 down and blind me, I see her there above the company, like a fairy in a trance, while the assembled clans and all the citizens gather close to hear every word. The first pages of the volume give a new constitution for the World Government, based on the teachings of Abraham Lincoln. The song in the air praises Avanel and urges her and all she commands to valor120 for the Heavenly Star Spangled Banner and the Heavenly International Flag.
But as for myself, I am sinking to my knees into yesterday, and this is not Fifth and Capital Avenue, for me, for the wind says: “ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Then Avanel leans down. She gives her crimson hand to me one moment. She gives me life for this war. This is the day of going forth against Singapore.
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1
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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reviles
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| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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radicalism
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| n. 急进主义, 根本的改革主义 | |
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radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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amuck
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| ad.狂乱地 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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cocaine
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| n.可卡因，古柯碱（用作局部麻醉剂） | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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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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factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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freshmen
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| n.（中学或大学的）一年级学生( freshman的名词复数 ) | |
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automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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frivolity
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| n.轻松的乐事，兴高采烈；轻浮的举止 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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discredited
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| 不足信的，不名誉的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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slandering
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| [法]口头诽谤行为 | |
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vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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52
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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54
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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55
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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56
supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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58
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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59
Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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60
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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63
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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ostensible
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| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
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68
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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69
amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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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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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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rues
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| v.对…感到后悔( rue的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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100
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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101
Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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102
reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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103
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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104
fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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105
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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106
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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107
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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108
clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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112
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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113
hoofs
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| 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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114
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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115
centaur
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| n.人首马身的怪物 | |
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116
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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117
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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118
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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119
swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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120
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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