Here in South Seas, still young, I jog along,
O’er heathens singing by their huts—my friends!
We call them heathens, well, ’tis habit most.
King Mafeleto is my royal friend:
His ancestors, ’tis true, did eat on toast
Their mortal enemies, but Heaven defend
That I should judge men by their long-past crimes—
We White Men, too, have had some fine old times.
They’re chanting pagan songs by their hut-fires;
At each full breast clings one sweet tiny mouth,
Their busy babes, unsatisfied desires,
Eyes sparkling starlight of the sea-nursed South!
As down the forest track from hut to hut
Pass natives, clad in half a coco-nut!
I RECALL the memory of a Marquesan royal person who stands out in my recollection with unusual vividness.
Whilst wandering, during one of my troubadouring expeditions north-west of Tai-o-hae, I came across a small, semi-pagan, tribal8 citadel9 of huts on the lower mountain slopes. It was a romantic and picturesque10 255scene. The scattered11 bird-cage huts, made of twisted bamboo and nestling in the hollows, that were shaded by feathery palms, intensified12 the enchantment13 of the secluded14 forest empire. I know that the glad reception which I received from the whole population when I entered the high bamboo stockade15 gate, my two native boys ahead of me, was as impressive as it was pleasing to me. The two boys in question were Palao and Sango, neither of them more than ten years of age. But they were invaluable16 guides, considering the benefit their protection afforded my unarmed person, for they were able to converse17 in the difficult Marquesan tongue, and could explain my wishes and friendly attributes.
I was always careful in those days, and contrived18 that Palao and Sango should move ahead of me as my advance guard, thus leaving me in the immediate19 rear, ready for flight. The tribes about that part were supposed to be friendly, but my nerves were a bit unsettled through hearing that two sailors had been murdered in a tribal village ten miles to the eastward20. Indeed, more than once I had been welcomed by the sudden appearance of fierce warriors22 with raised war-clubs and other strange implements23 of combat, which gave due notice that intruders were not to call at that particular moment! Possibly a tribal battle had been on, and had ended in the demise24 of a young warrior21 or so, and consequently a happy cannibal festival was in progress. Hence, no admission to the tribal stronghold for white men unless they happened to call on the most secretive and intimate terms.
Seeing only the smiling faces of chiefesses and chiefs welcoming me from the ambush25 of multi-coloured flowers by the lagoon26 mangroves, I saw that I had arrived at an opportune27 moment. “Aloah! Alli, Papalagi!” came from the lips of the assembled natives as I placed my 256violin to my chin and commenced to perform an old Marquesan himine.
The effect was magical: out of the leafy shadows and the hut doorways29 rushed the whole population, so it seemed to me, their faces bright with delight. It was a sight worth travelling many miles to see: tawny30, oval, elongated31, scarred, serious, and handsome faces, with original-looking eyes of varied32 brilliance33, stared at me. A few tattooed34 warriors, clad in lava-lava and palm-leaf head-gear, leaned against the coco-palm stems regarding me with fixed35, cynical-looking eyes. I did not like the look of them at all, but they turned out to be harmless enough. They were simply the old conservatives of heathen times, who instinctively36 resented the intrusion of white men into their sylvan37 demesne38. Flocks of pretty boys and girls, of a pale walnut-polished hue39, clambered at the picturesque ramias (native skirts) of their deep-bosomed mothers, gazing with half-frightened stare as my violin bow swept forth40 the wailing41 strains. I must have looked like some Pied Piper as I marched across the wide rara (village green), with Palao and Sango singing lustily, one on each side of me. That pagan mountain village was part of a true wonderland of the wine-dark seas. I am unable to describe the bright-eyed glances of those pretty Nausicaas and Circés who crept from the Elysium-like shadows of heathenland and stared at me as I passed by. Two stalwart chiefs, who were nibbling42 my present of tobacco plug, led the way; they were taking me straight to the palace building wherein dwelt their tribal queen. This palatial43 stronghold was constructed of coral stone and was surrounded by a wide verandah that was again sheltered by the beautiful pauroa and tamunu trees. Entering the palace, I found myself in a low-roofed apartment. On the walls hung the polished skulls44 of fallen warriors who had been 257renowned for bravery in their day. Magnificently woven tappa-mats covered the polished floors and the barbarian45 furniture. I noticed two cases of gin and one empty rum barrel standing46 right in the centre of the apartment. They were given that conspicuous47 position, I believe, because rum and gin denoted all that was immense wealth in the eyes of the Marquesan race. But what struck me as the most interesting piece of barbarian antiquity49 was the strange woman who presided over that palatial residence. She looked as old as her palm-clad native hills, and I discovered that she was one of the surviving queens of the many who had once reigned50 over the small dynasties of the Marquesan group. I had never seen her like before; her physiognomy was unique and decidedly pleasing-looking. She might easily have been some happy personification of Death itself as she sat there and saluted51 me:
“Aloah! Papalagi, you wanter see me am?”
“Oui! Aloah Majesty52 Imperialess,” I responded, as I made an effort and bowed the knee to her. I had visited Queen Vaekehu, who still reigned supreme53 in her old age down on the lower slopes by Calaboose Hill, and so I knew how to gain the appreciation54 of those heathen ex-Queens. Vaekehu was a masterpiece in the tattoo line, but I can assure you that ex-Queen Loi Vakamoa, for the sheer hieroglyphic-tattooed beauty that adorned55 her limbs and shoulders, could stand unrivalled throughout the North and South Pacific.
After addressing me, she left her squatting56-mat just by her gin barrel, and majestically57 mounted what I imagine was her throne (a lot of old sea-chests and gin-cases covered with tappa-cloth). I did my level best to make myself pleasant, played the violin, drank some bitter stuff, and took a keen interest in all she said. Sitting up there on her old box throne, her profile reminded 258me of those old-fashioned engravings of Queen Elizabeth of England. The sensual curves, once so pronounced, had shrunk with her lips; but the beak-like nose—tattooed with tiny semi-circles from the bridge down to the cheeks—gave her a somewhat melancholy58 aspect. The only perceptible determinedness59 of the face was the sharp outline of the nose, which somehow suggested that its owner would meet the accumulating calamities60 of age with commendable61 aggressiveness. Yet her demeanour was affable in the extreme. Never before had I beheld62 a face that so sadly expressed the aftermath of all that had been and at the same time told of a bitter forlornness through senescence of frame and mind. The devious63 shruggings of her shoulders, the pathetic semi-amorous glances, and the many hints that she gave whilst striving to convince me of her once mighty64 Queenship and physical beauty, were positively65 painful to my mind. After giving me a goblet66 of whisky and lime-juice, which I must admit was refreshing67, we seemed to become more confidential68 with each other. She took Palao by the arm and got him to tell her where he had met me, and much that I, of course, could not make out. By many direct hints she let me know that she had enjoyed a vast plurality of husbands.
“I been wifer to many kinks!” she said.
Most of what she said was translated to me by Palao as I politely sipped69 the peculiar70 beverage71 that she herself handed me. I hardly knew which way to glance as she gabbled on and Palao translated and I listened. Suddenly she acquainted me with the fact that she had been wedded72 more than twice to white men of distinction! She saw the look of surprise on my face. Perhaps she thought I doubted her, for she lifted the lid of a small sandal-wood box and brought forth a yellowish, very faded sheet of foolscap paper.
259“Savvy, Papalagi?” she almost whimpered, as I read on. (And her eyes were shining with pride all the while.)
“This dokerment is to certify74 that Old Man Martin Smith of Woolloomooloo, New Sarth Wales, has from the dated day of this dokerment, 14th Feb. 1861, become the lawful75 husband of Queen Loi Vakamoa of this yere Isles76 and several more isles to the sarthwards. The foresaid Queen agrees to hand over all her monies and prufits she gits from her copra plantations77 and howsomeever monies she gits hold on whilst the aforesaid John Martin Smith remains78 King. And it is agreed that John Smith can have a safe passage in the old ship’s boat, free from any cursed interference by the late dethroned King Kai Le Tua Vakamoa and his b— heathen chiefs at any such time as he wants to quit this yere Isles and his dominions79 and go back to his lawful Missus, Maltida Sarah Martin Smith of Kansas City, Merica.
“Signed by Queen
————————— (Signature).
“Old Man Martin Smith, Bridegroom and King.
“Witness,—Jonathan Briggs, late Cook of S.S. ‘Albatross,’ who hereby claims 25 per cent. on all profits accruing80 from the aforesaid wedding.”
So ran the wording of all that may be published here of John Smith’s marriage lines. My accumulated experiences of such hearties81 as John Smith and Jonathan Briggs, Esq., gave me an idea as to the fine old times those two noble papalagis had in their sojourn82 on those isles to the southward during their brief kingship. But no hint of all I imagined was visible on my countenance83 260when I handed the tattered84 document back to the smiling ex-queen. At this moment a hideous85, aged Chinaman poked86 his face in the palace doorway28 and surveyed me with surprised, yellowish, vicious eyes. I wondered who he was, what relationship existed between him and the Queen, that he could so impertinently thrust his ugly physiognomy into the doorway like that. The next moment he had gone, and I saw him no more, though I heard him gabbling as he drove off the flocks of children who persistently87 crowded by the palace door, waiting till I should come out again. And still the Queen spoke88 on. Palao patiently translated her tales of departed lovers for my inquisitive89 ears. Seeing my curiosity, her eyes gleamed with delight, her two remaining frontal teeth, fitting fork-like into the gaps between the two teeth of the lower jaw90, gave a sardonic91 look to her face as she sat there. She wore a peculiar garb92 too: the remnant of some old European skirt swathed her frame, but was cut very short, ending just above the knees. On her head was an old hat that had once been a fashionable Parisian bonnet93. Possibly this hat had been presented to her by one of the French officials.
As I boldly surveyed her limbs she drew one tawny finger along the faded blue curves and stripes of tattoo. From all that she vigorously hinted, those tattoo marks were historic representations that denoted the insignia and coats-of-arms of the tribes wherein she had married. “What may that mean, Palao?” I said, as I glanced curiously94 at her anatomy95, and observed impressionistic figures of muscular men, some standing in a gladiatorial attitude, spear in hand and face uplifted. And then, listening carefully to all that Palao had to say, I made out that they were a few of the ex-queen’s old lovers—men who had won her love in years gone by and died in some great tribal battle that had been led by some 261mighty chief who also yearned96 for her impassioned embrace! As my faithful Palao and Sango translated these things to me (and more than once cast their eyes in shame to the palace floor), it seemed like a dream that I should be standing in that coral-built place listening to the memories that remained in that old woman’s brain. A great deal that she said sounded to my ears “not quite the thing.” But I am not one who is too squeamish or critical over the moral codes that exist outside the dominions of my own land. As she gazed up into my face, and her aged lips quivered in the emotion she felt over her wild reminiscences, I took the extended, shrivelled hand, and, with some emotional idea of all that she once had been, gallantly97 kissed it! After that, her conversation suddenly changed to a subtle delivery of phrases in pigeon English. I slowly gathered that she was telling me of wondrous98 presentations she had received from her past lovers, and how they had each in turn recognized the great honour conferred upon them by her acceptance of their manifold gifts. Before I had gathered the true import of what she was driving at, she was beseeching99 me to hand over my violin to her. I remained obdurate100. What on earth she wanted my instrument for, Heaven knows. Possibly she was childish, and so, like a child, would have it as a toy.
She invited me to go out into the palace grounds. She led the way. Her garden was cultivated. Pineapples, tomatoes, taro101, oranges, yams, and many tropical fruits grew in abundance around me. By the shade of the buttressed102 banyans, at the far end of the cleared space, stood a huge wooden idol103. It was a hideous thing: one large tooth protruded104 from its wide, slit105, crocodile-like mouth, where in and out crawled fat insects with tortoise-shell-hued wings (I think they were big ants). Though the Queen wore a Catholic medallion on her 262bosom, and had told me that “She belonger Popey God, and was all-e-samee great Cliston womans,” I distinctly saw her aged form give a bow of heathenish reverence106 as we both stood in front of that monstrous107 heathen deity108! It stood nearly seven feet high, and standing there as some representation of infinity109, the hopelessness of creeds110 and all the ills and mockery of human existence, it was a magnificent bit of perfection. When we returned into the small palace, it was dusk. “Salaba!” called Vakamoa in a wheezy voice. In a moment I heard the shuffling111 of running feet, and then a beautiful Marquesan maid, robed in tappa-cloth, flowers, and threaded shells, appeared before me. She gazed on me with a quizzical lustrous112 gleam in her eyes. This maid interested me because of her European-like features. I saw her place her fingers into the folds of her thick tresses to see that the hibiscus blossoms were still tastefully arranged, in much the same way as a vanity-stricken English maid might do. In a few moments this serving-maid, for such she was, lit up all the tiny hanging coco-nut-oil lamps in the apartment, then she went away and left Vakamoa and myself alone.
Squatting on the mats, I did as she bade me, and commenced to play my violin. She seemed very pleased with the English melodies that I performed, and once or twice mumbled113 as I played.
“You liker see me dance?” she said. Then she hummed a little himine and asked me to play it. Had I not seen that old woman career round that low-roofed chamber114 as she danced some old barbarian rhythm, I would never have believed it possible. So astonished was I, that I forgot my part of the business and stopped playing. “Alo! Alo!” (Go on! Go on!) she said, almost fiercely. In a moment I placed my instrument to my chin, and once more fired away. The hanging 263lamps along the roof-beams swayed to and fro as her skirt swished violently, and her stiff legs made such movements that it is impossible to describe them. “If this is how she goes on in the dry leaf what did she do in the green?” was my reflection, as her bony legs went up with a bound, and then right over my head! I’ve no wish to exaggerate in the description of it all; only those who have seen the fetish frenzy115 of an aged barbarian woman under the influence of whisky (for so I concluded she must be) will know what I saw that night! I had no alternative but to go through with it. As she leapt over me her toes caught in my hair and withdrew some by the roots! But I did not budge116 an inch; I simply played for dear life, as it were. I knew that she was a heathen, that she was old and childish and not responsible for her actions. I also recalled many things that O Le Langi had told me about heathen women’s mad ways when they grow old and realize the loss of their beauty. “She can’t go on much longer,” I thought, as she bounded round the room, lifting her scraggy arms and chanting in a weird117 manner. True enough, she slowed down after the fiftieth round, and then sat panting beside me. After that exhibition, I did my best to keep on the right side of her. I handed her a piece of tobacco plug that I, fortunately, had in my pocket. And, though it was my last piece of tobacco, I felt well repaid for its loss by the evident pleasure the gift gave her. She immediately twisted a lump off and placed it in her large corn-cob pipe, then struck a match on the boniest portion of her anatomy, and started to puff118 vigorously at my gift.
After that I withdrew as hastily as possible from her chamber. Palao and Sango re-entered and prostrated119 themselves at her feet. This pleased her immensely. Going down the mossy pathway that led to the stockade 264gate, I turned my head and waved two or three farewell salutations. The last I saw of her was as she stood by her door, her forked teeth close together as she grinned with pleasure at thinking I should return on the morrow! But I did not return again. And I may say here, that I have always felt more at ease in the presence of old native men than in the presence of native women, be they waiting-women or ex-queens.
Before I left the immediate precincts of that bungalow120, which Vakamoa styled her “palace,” I strolled into the tiny coral-fenced clearing by the plateau of the mountain slopes. It was the lonely place where the tribe buried their dead. I gazed for a little time on the strange tomb-stones, and tried to make out the inscriptions121 that apparently122 commemorated123 the past virtues124 of kings and chiefs who had passed into shadowland. Notwithstanding the feathery palms and the glimpse of the far-away, moonlit, tumbling seas, it was a forlorn place. And now, doubtlessly, that discarded Queen Vakamoa has long since dissolved, with all her pride of past queenship, into a little dust, and a lump of memorial coral tells where she lies in that tiny, barbarian necropolis.
Next day I accepted the invitation of Palao to stop in his father’s bungalow near the shore. I had had enough adventure for the time being, and so was extremely pleased to romp125 with the native children and listen to their wonderful fairy-tales. For be it noted48 that those children had their Hans Andersens and Grimms, just as we have. I’ll tell one of the stories in the next chapter.
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1
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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2
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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3
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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6
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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7
banyan
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| n.菩提树，榕树 | |
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tribal
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| adj.部族的，种族的 | |
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citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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10
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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11
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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12
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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14
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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15
stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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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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implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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lagoon
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| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
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opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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30
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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elongated
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| v.延长，加长( elongate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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sylvan
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| adj.森林的 | |
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demesne
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| n.领域，私有土地 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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43
palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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44
skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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46
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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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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48
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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50
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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51
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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52
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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53
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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55
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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56
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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57
majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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58
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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59
determinedness
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| 坚定，坚决，决意 | |
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60
calamities
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| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
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61
commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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62
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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63
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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64
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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65
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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66
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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67
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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68
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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69
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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72
wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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74
certify
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| vt.证明，证实；发证书(或执照)给 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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76
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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77
plantations
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| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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accruing
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| v.增加( accrue的现在分词 )；（通过自然增长）产生；获得；（使钱款、债务）积累 | |
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hearties
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| 亲切的( hearty的名词复数 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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82
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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83
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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84
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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85
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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86
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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88
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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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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93
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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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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anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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99
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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100
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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101
taro
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| n.芋，芋头 | |
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102
buttressed
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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104
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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105
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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106
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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107
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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108
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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109
infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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110
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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111
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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112
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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113
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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115
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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116
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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117
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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118
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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119
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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120
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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121
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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122
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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123
commemorated
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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125
romp
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| n.欢闹；v.嬉闹玩笑 | |
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