For singers can be jealous: and the advice of Dr. 32Watts is more at discount behind the operatic scenes, perhaps, than elsewhere. For women may be, and are, jealous of other women; and men may be, and are, jealous of men, off the stage; but it is reserved for the hero and heroine of the stage to be jealous of one another. The glare of the footlights, held by so many virtuous15 persons to be inimical to the rosebud16 of innocence17, has a curiously18 wilting20 and shriveling effect upon the fine flower of chivalry21. Signor Alberto Fumaroli, primo uomo, and possessor of a glorious tenor6, was possessed22 by the idea that the chief soprano, De Melzi, the enchanting23 Teresa—still in the splendor24 of her youth, with ebony tresses, eyes of jet, skin of ivory, an almost imperceptible mustache, and a figure of the most seductive, doomed25 ere long to expand into a pronounced embonpoint—had adorned26 her classic temples with laurels27 which should by rights have decked his own. The press-cuttings of the previous weeks certainly balanced in her favor. Feeble-minded musical critics, of what the indignant tenor termed “provincial rags,” lauded28 the Signora to the skies. She was termed a “springing fountain of crystal song,” a “human bulbul in the rose-garden of melody.” Eulogy29 had exhausted30 itself upon her; while he, Alberto Fumaroli, the admired of empresses, master of the emotions of myriads31 of American millionairesses, he was fobbed off with half a dozen patronizing lines. Glancing over the paper in the saloon carriage, he had seen the impertinent upper lip of the De Melzi, tipped with the faintest line of shadow, curl with delight as she scanned each accursed column in turn, and handed the paper to her aunt (a vast person invariably clad in the tightest and shiniest of black satins, and crowned with a towering hat of violet velvet32 adorned with once snowy plumes33 and crushed crimson34 roses), who went everywhere with her niece, and mounted guard over the exchequer35. Outwardly calm as Vesuvius, 33and cool as a Neapolitan ice on a hot day, the outraged36 Alberto endured the triumph of the women, marked the subterranean37 chuckles38 of the stout39 Signora, the mischievous40 enjoyment41 of Teresa; pulled his Austrian-Tyrolese hat over his Corsican brows, and vowed42 a wily vendetta43. His opportunity for wreaking44 retribution would come at Smutchester, he knew. Wagner was to be given at the Opera House, and as great as the previous triumph of Teresa de Melzi in the r?le of Elsa—newly added by the soprano to her repertoire—should be her fall. Evviva! Down with that fatally fascinating face, smiling so provokingly under its laurels! She should taste the consequences of having insulted a Neapolitan. And the tenor smiled so diabolically45 that Zamboni, the basso, sarcastically46 inquired whether Fumaroli was rehearsing Mephistofole?
“Not so, dear friend,” Fumaroli responded, with a dazzling show of ivories. “In that part I should make a bel fiasco; I have no desire to emulate47 a basso or a bull.... But in this—the r?le in which I am studying to perfect myself—I predict that I shall achieve a dazzling success.” He drew out a green Russia-leather cigarette case, adorned with a monogram48 in diamonds. “It is permitted that one smokes?” he added, and immediately lighted up.
“It is permitted, if I am to have one also.”
The De Melzi stretched a white, bejeweled hand out, and the seething49 Alberto, under pain of appearing openly impolite, was forced to comply. “No, I will not take the cigarette you point out,” said the saucy50 prima donna, as the tenor extended the open case. “It might disagree with me, who knows? and I have predicted that in the part of Elsa to-morrow night at Smutchester I shall achieve a ‘dazzling success.’” And she smiled with brilliant malice51 upon Alberto Fumaroli, who played Lohengrin. “They are discriminating—the audiences of 34that big, black, melancholy52 place—they never mistake geese for swans.”
“Ach, no!” said the Impresario53, looking up from his tatting—he was engaged upon a green silk purse for Madame Da Capo, a wrinkled little doll of an old lady with whom he was romantically in love. “They will not take a dournure, some declamation54, and half a dozen notes in the upper register bour dout botage. Sing to them well, they will be ready to give you their heads. But sing to them badly, and they will be ready to pelt55 yours. Twenty years ago they did. I remember a graceless impostor, a ragazzo (foisted upon me for a season by a villain56 of an agent), who annoyed them in Almaviva.... Ebbene! the elections were in progress—there was a dimonstranza. I can smell those antique eggs, those decomposed57 oranges, now.”
“Heart’s dearest, thou must not excite thyself,” interrupted Madame; “it is so bad for thee. Play at the poker-game, mes enfants,” she continued, “and leave my good child, my beloved little one, alone!” Saying this, Madame drew from her vast under-pocket a neat case containing an ivory comb, and, removing the fearfully and wonderfully braided traveling cap of the Impresario, fell to combing his few remaining hairs until, soothed58 by the process, Carlo, who had been christened Karl, fell asleep with his head on Madame’s shoulder; snoring peacefully, despite the screams, shrieks59, howls, and maledictions which were the invariable accompaniment of the poker-game.
The train bundled into Smutchester some hours later; a string of cabs conveyed the Impresario, his wife, and the principal members of his company to the Crown Diamonds Hotel. Before he sought his couch that night the revengeful Alberto Fumaroli had interviewed the chef and bribed60 him with the gift of a box of regalias from the cedar61 smoking-cabinet of a King, to aid in 35the carrying-out of the vendetta. Josebattista Funkmuller was not a regal judge of cigars; but these were black, rank, and oily enough to have made an Emperor most imperially sick. Besides, the De Melzi had, or so he declared, once ascribed an indigestion which had ruined, or so she swore, one of her grandest scenas, to an omelette of his making, and the cook was not unwilling62 that the haughty63 spirit of the cantatrice should be crushed. His complex nature, his cosmopolitan origin, showed in the plan Josebattista Funkmuller now evolved and placed before the revengeful tenor, who clasped him to his bosom64 in an ecstasy65 of delight, planting at the same time a huge, resounding66 kiss upon both his cheeks.
“It is perfection!” Fumaroli cried. “My friend, it can scarcely fail! If it should, per Bacco! the Fiend himself is upon that insolent67 creature’s side! But I never heard yet of his helping68 a woman to resist temptation—oh, mai! it is he who spreads the board and invites Eve.”
And the tenor retired69 exultant70. His sleeping-chamber was next door to that of the hated cantatrice. He dressed upon the succeeding morning to the accompaniment of roulades trilled by the owner of the lovely throat to which Fumaroli would so willingly have given the fatal squeeze. And as Fumaroli, completing his frugal71 morning ablutions by wiping his beautiful eyes and classic temples very gingerly with a damp towel, paused to listen, a smile of peculiar72 malignancy was only partly obscured by the folds of the towel. But when the tenor and the soprano encountered at the twelve o’clock déjeuner, Fumaroli’s politeness was excessive, and his large, dark, brilliant eyes responded to every glance of the gleaming black orbs73 of De Melzi with a languorous74, melting significance which almost caused her heart to palpitate beneath her Parisian corsets. Concealed75 passion 36lay, it might be, behind an affectation of enmity and ill-will.
“Mai santo cielo!” exclaimed the stout aunt, to whom the cantatrice subsequently revealed her suspicions, “thou guessest always as I myself have thought. The unhappy man is devoured76 by a grand passion for my Teresa. He grinds his teeth, he calls upon the saints, he grows more bilious77 every day, and thou more beautiful. One day he will declare himself——”
“And I shall lose an entertaining enemy, to find a stupid lover,” gurgled Teresa. She was looking divine, her dark beauty glowing like a gem78 in the setting of an Eastern silk of shot turquoise79 and purple, fifty yards of which an enamored noble of the Ukraine had thrown upon the stage of the Opera House, St. Petersburg, wound round the stem of a costly80 bouquet81. She glanced in the mirror as she kissed the black nose of her Japanese pug. “Every man becomes stupid after a while,” she went on. “Even Josebattista is in love with me. He sends me a little note written on papier jambon to entreat82 an interview.”
The saucy singer shook her head as Funkmuller tapped at the door. One need not give in detail the interview that eventuated. It is enough that the intended treachery of Fumaroli was laid bare. His intended victim laughed madly.
“But it is a cerotto—what the English call a nincompoop,” she gasped83, pressing a laced handkerchief to her streaming eyes. “If the heavens were to fall, then one could catch larks84; but the proverb says nothing about nightingales.”
She tossed her brilliant head and took a turn or two upon the hotel sitting-room85 carpet, considering.
“I will keep this appointment,” said she.
“Chi sa? Chi sa?
Evviva l’opportunita!”
hummed the provoking beauty. And she dealt the cook a sparkling glance of such intelligence that he felt Signor Alberto would never triumph. Relieved in mind, Josebattista Funkmuller took his leave.
“I will return the King’s cigars,” he said, as he pressed his garlic-scented mustache to the pearly knuckles87 of the lady.
The door closed upon the disgusted chef, and reopened ten minutes later to admit a waiter carrying upon a salver a pretty three-cornered pink note with a gold monogram in the corner. The writer entreated89 the inestimable privilege of three minutes’ conversation with Madame de Melzi in a private apartment in the basement of the hotel. He did not propose to visit the prima donna in her own rooms, even under the wing of her aunt, for it was of supreme90 importance that tongues should not be set wagging. Delicacy91 and respect prevented him from suggesting an interview in the apartments occupied by himself. On the neutral ground of an office in the basement the interview might take place without comment or interruption. He was, in fact, waiting there for an answer.
The answer came in the person of the singer herself, charmingly dressed and radiant with loveliness.
“Fie! What an underground hole! The window barred, the blank wall of an area beyond it!” Her beautiful nostrils92 quivered. “Caro mio, you have in that covered dish upon the table there something that smells good. What is under the cover?”
38“Look and see!” said the cunning tenor, with a provoking smile.
“I am not curious,” responded Teresa, putting both hands behind her and leaning her back against the door. “Come, hurry up! One of your three minutes has gone by, the other two will follow, and I shall be obliged to take myself off without having heard this mysterious revelation. What is it?” She showed a double row of pearl-hued teeth in a mischievous smile. “Shall I guess? You have, by chance, fallen in love with me, and wish to tell me so? How dull and unoriginal! A vivacious93, interesting enemy is to be preferred a million times before a stupid friend or a commonplace adorer.”
“Grazie a Dio!” said the tenor, “I am not in love with you.” But at that moment he was actually upon the verge94; and the dull, dampish little basement room, floored with kamptulicon warmed by a grudging95 little gas-stove, its walls adorned with a few obsolete96 and hideous97 prints, its oilcloth-covered table, on which stood the mysterious dish, closely covered, bubbling over a spirit lamp and flanked by a spoon, fork, and plate—that little room might have been the scene of a declaration instead of a punishment had it not been for the De Melzi’s amazing nonchalance98. It would have been pleasant to have seen the spiteful little arrow pierce that lovely bosom. But instead of frowning or biting her lips, Teresa laughed with the frankest grace in the world.
“Dear Signor Alberto, Heaven has spared you much. Besides, you are of those who esteem99 quantity above quality—and, for a certain thing, I should be torn to pieces by the ladies of the Chorus.” She shrugged100 her shoulders. “Well, what is this mysterious communication? The three minutes are up, the fumes101 of a gas fire are bad for the throat—and I presume you of all 39people would not wish me to sing ‘Elsa’ with a veiled voice, and disappoint the dear people of Smutchester, and Messieurs the critics, who say such kind things.”
Alberto Fumaroli’s brain spun102 round. Quick as thought his supple103 hand went out; the wrist of the coquettish prima donna was imprisoned104 as in a vise of steel.
“Ragazza!” he gnashed out, “you shall pay for your cursed insolence105.” He swung the cantatrice from the door, and Teresa, noting the convulsed workings of his Corsican features, and devoured by the almost scorching106 glare of his fierce eyes, felt a thrill of alarm.
“Oimè! Signor,” she faltered107, “what do you mean by this violence? Recollect108 that we are not now upon the stage.”
A harsh laugh came from the bull throat of the tenor.
“By mystic Love
Brought from the distance
In thy hour of need.
Loveliest, purest—
Thine own
Unknown!”
he hummed. But his Elsa did not entreat to flow about his feet like the river, or kiss them like the flowers blooming amidst the grasses he trod. Struggling in vain for release from the rude, unchivalrous grasp, an idea came to her; she stooped her beautiful head and bit Lohengrin smartly on the wrist, evoking110, instead of further music, a torrent111 of curses; and as Alberto danced and yelled in agony, she darted112 from the room. With the key she had previously113 extracted she locked the door; and as her light footsteps and crisping draperies retreated along the passage, the tenor realized that he was caught in his own trap. Winding114 his handkerchief about his 40smarting wrist, he bestowed115 a few more hearty116 curses upon Teresa, and sat down upon a horsehair-covered chair to wait for deliverance. They could not possibly give “Lohengrin” without him—there was no understudy for the part. For her own sake, therefore, the De Melzi would see him released in time to assume the armor of the Knight117 of the Swan. Ebbene! There was nothing to do but wait. He looked at his watch, a superb timepiece encrusted with brilliants. Two o’clock! And the opera did not commence until eight. Six hours to spend in this underground hole, if no one came to let him out. Patience! He would smoke. He got over half an hour with the aid of the green cigarette-case. Then he did a little pounding at the door. This bruised118 his tender hands, and he soon left off and took to shouting. To the utmost efforts of his magnificent voice no response was made; the part of the hotel basement in which his prison happened to be situated119 was, in the daytime, when all the servants were engaged in their various departments, almost deserted120. Therefore, after an hour of shouting, Fumaroli abandoned his efforts.
What was to be done? He could take a siesta121, and did, extended upon two of the grim horsehair chairs with which the apartment was furnished. He slept excellently for an hour, and woke hungry.
Hungry! Diavolo! with what a raging hunger—an appetite of Gargantuan122 proportions, sharpened to the pitch of famine by the bubbling gushes123 of savory124 steam that jetted from underneath125 the cover of the mysterious dish still simmering over its spirit-lamp upon the table! He knew what that dish contained—his revenge, in fact. Well, it had missed fire, the vendetta. He who had devised the ordeal126 of temptation for Teresa found himself helpless, exposed to its fiendish seductions. Not that he would be likely to yield, oh mai! was it probable? 41He banished127 the idea with a gesture full of superb scorn and a haughty smile. Never, a thousand times never! The cunning Teresa should be disappointed. That evening’s performance should be attacked by him as ever, fasting, the voice of melody, the sonorous128 lungs, supported by an empty frame. Cospetto! how savory the smell that came from that covered dish! The unhappy tenor moved to the table, snuffed it up in nosefuls, thought of flinging the dish and its contents out of window—would have done so had not the window been barred.
“After all, perhaps she means to keep me here all night,” he thought, and rashly lifted the dish-cover, revealing a vast and heaving plain of macaroni, over which little rills of liquid butter wandered. Parmesan cheese was not lacking to the dish, nor the bland129 juices of the sliced tomato, and, like the violet by the wayside, the modest garlic added its perfume to the distracting bouquet. Fumaroli was only human, though, as a tenor, divine. He had been shut up for four hours, fasting, in company with a dish of macaroni.... Ah, Heaven! he could endure no longer.... He drew up a chair, grasped fork and spoon—fell to. In the act of finishing the dish, he started, fancying that the silvery tinkle130 of a feminine laugh sounded at the keyhole. But his faculties131 were dulled by vast feeding; his anger, like his appetite, had lost its edge. With an effort he disposed of the last shreds132 of macaroni, the last trickle133 of butter; and at seven o’clock a waiter, who accidentally unlocked the door of the basement room, awakened134 a plethoric135 sleeper136 from heavy dreams.
“To the Opera House,” was the listless direction he gave the driver of his hired brougham; as one in a dream he entered by the stage-door, and strode to his room.
The curtain had already risen upon grassy137 lowlands in the neighborhood of Antwerp. Henry, King of Germany, 42seated under a spreading canvas oak, held court with military pomp. Frederic of Telramond, wizard husband of Ortrud, the witch, had stepped forward to accuse Elsa of the murder of her brother, Gottlieb; the King had cried, “Summon the maid!” and in answer to the command, amidst the blare of brass138 and the clashing of swords, the De Melzi, draped in pure white, followed by her ladies, and looking the picture of virginal innocence, moved dreamily into view:
“How like an angel!
He who accuses her
Must surely prove
Ah! had those who listened to the thrilling strains that poured from those exquisite141 lips but guessed, as Elsa described the appearance of her dream-defender, her shining Knight, and sank upon her knees in an ecstasy of passionate142 prayer, that the celestial143 deliverer was at that moment gasping144 in the agonies of indigestion!
“Let me behold
That form of light!”
entreated the maiden; and amidst the exclamations145 of the eight-part chorus the swan-drawn bark approached the bank; the noble, if somewhat fleshy, form of Alberto Fumaroli, clad from head to foot in silvery mail, stepped from it.... With lofty grace he waved his adieu to the swan, he launched upon his opening strain of unaccompanied melody.... Alas146! how muffled147, how farinaceous those once clarion148 tones!... In labored149 accents, amid the growing disappointment of the Smutchester audience, Lohengrin announced his mission to the King. As he folded the entranced Elsa to his oppressed bosom, crying:
43“Elsa, I love thee!”
My hero, I am thine!”
Teresa trilled in answer. And raising her love-illumined, mischievously152 dancing eyes to her deliverer, breathed in his ear: “Try pepsin!”
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1
biennial
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| adj.两年一次的 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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tenors
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| n.男高音( tenor的名词复数 )；大意；男高音歌唱家；（文件的）抄本 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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13
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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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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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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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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wilting
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| 萎蔫 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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lauded
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| v.称赞，赞美( laud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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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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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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exchequer
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| n.财政部；国库 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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chuckles
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的名词复数 ) | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vendetta
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| n.世仇，宿怨 | |
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wreaking
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| 诉诸（武力），施行（暴力），发（脾气）( wreak的现在分词 ) | |
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diabolically
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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emulate
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| v.努力赶上或超越，与…竞争；效仿 | |
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monogram
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| n.字母组合 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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51
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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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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impresario
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| n.歌剧团的经理人；乐团指挥 | |
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54
declamation
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| n. 雄辩，高调 | |
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55
pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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56
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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57
decomposed
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| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
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58
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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59
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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60
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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61
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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62
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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63
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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64
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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65
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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66
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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67
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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68
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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69
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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70
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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71
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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72
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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73
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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74
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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75
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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76
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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77
bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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78
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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79
turquoise
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| n.绿宝石；adj.蓝绿色的 | |
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80
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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81
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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82
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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83
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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84
larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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85
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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86
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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88
raffle
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| n.废物，垃圾，抽奖售卖；v.以抽彩出售 | |
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89
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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91
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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92
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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93
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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94
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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95
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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96
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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97
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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98
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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99
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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100
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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101
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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102
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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103
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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104
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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106
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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107
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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108
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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109
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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110
evoking
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| 产生，引起，唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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111
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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112
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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113
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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114
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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115
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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116
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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117
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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118
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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119
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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120
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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121
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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122
gargantuan
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| adj.巨大的，庞大的 | |
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123
gushes
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| n.涌出，迸发( gush的名词复数 )v.喷，涌( gush的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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124
savory
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| adj.风味极佳的，可口的，味香的 | |
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125
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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126
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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127
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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129
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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130
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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131
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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132
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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133
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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134
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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135
plethoric
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| adj.过多的，多血症的 | |
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136
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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137
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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138
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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139
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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140
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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141
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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142
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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143
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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144
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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145
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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146
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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147
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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148
clarion
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| n.尖音小号声；尖音小号 | |
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149
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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150
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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151
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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152
mischievously
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| adv.有害地；淘气地 | |
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