Miles Hendon hurried along toward the Southwark end of the bridge, keeping a sharp look-out for the persons he sought, and hoping and expecting to overtake them presently. He was disappointed in this, however. By asking questions, he was enabled to track them part of the way through Southwark; then all traces ceased, and he was perplexed1 as to how to proceed. Still, he continued his efforts as best he could during the rest of the day. Nightfall found him leg-weary, half-famished, and his desire as far from accomplishment2 as ever; so he supped at the Tabard Inn and went to bed, resolved to make an early start in the morning, and give the town an exhaustive search. As he lay thinking and planning, he presently began to reason thus: The boy would escape from the ruffian, his reputed father, if possible; would he go back to London and seek his former haunts? No, he would not do that, he would avoid recapture. What, then, would he do? Never having had a friend in the world, or a protector, until he met Miles Hendon, he would naturally try to find that friend again, provided the effort did not require him to go toward London and danger. He would strike for Hendon Hall, that is what he would do, for he knew Hendon was homeward bound and there he might expect to find him. Yes, the case was plain to Hendon—he must lose no more time in Southwark, but move at once through Kent, toward Monk’s Holm, searching the wood and inquiring as he went. Let us return to the vanished little King now.
The ruffian whom the waiter at the inn on the bridge saw ‘about to join’ the youth and the King did not exactly join them, but fell in close behind them and followed their steps. He said nothing. His left arm was in a sling4, and he wore a large green patch over his left eye; he limped slightly, and used an oaken staff as a support. The youth led the King a crooked5 course through Southwark, and by-and-by struck into the high road beyond. The King was irritated, now, and said he would stop here—it was Hendon’s place to come to him, not his to go to Hendon. He would not endure such insolence6; he would stop where he was. The youth said—
“Thou’lt tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded in the wood yonder? So be it, then.”
The King’s manner changed at once. He cried out—
“Wounded? And who hath dared to do it? But that is apart; lead on, lead on! Faster, sirrah! Art shod with lead? Wounded, is he? Now though the doer of it be a duke’s son he shall rue7 it!”
It was some distance to the wood, but the space was speedily traversed. The youth looked about him, discovered a bough9 sticking in the ground, with a small bit of rag tied to it, then led the way into the forest, watching for similar boughs10 and finding them at intervals12; they were evidently guides to the point he was aiming at. By-and-by an open place was reached, where were the charred13 remains14 of a farm-house, and near them a barn which was falling to ruin and decay. There was no sign of life anywhere, and utter silence prevailed. The youth entered the barn, the King following eagerly upon his heels. No one there! The King shot a surprised and suspicious glance at the youth, and asked—
“Where is he?”
A mocking laugh was his answer. The King was in a rage in a moment; he seized a billet of wood and was in the act of charging upon the youth when another mocking laugh fell upon his ear. It was from the lame15 ruffian who had been following at a distance. The King turned and said angrily—
“Who art thou? What is thy business here?”
“Leave thy foolery,” said the man, “and quiet thyself. My disguise is none so good that thou canst pretend thou knowest not thy father through it.”
“Thou art not my father. I know thee not. I am the King. If thou hast hid my servant, find him for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for what thou hast done.”
John Canty replied, in a stern and measured voice—
“It is plain thou art mad, and I am loath16 to punish thee; but if thou provoke me, I must. Thy prating17 doth no harm here, where there are no ears that need to mind thy follies18; yet it is well to practise thy tongue to wary19 speech, that it may do no hurt when our quarters change. I have done a murder, and may not tarry at home—neither shalt thou, seeing I need thy service. My name is changed, for wise reasons; it is Hobbs—John Hobbs; thine is Jack20—charge thy memory accordingly. Now, then, speak. Where is thy mother? Where are thy sisters? They came not to the place appointed—knowest thou whither they went?”
The King answered sullenly—
The youth near by burst into a derisive23 laugh, and the King would have assaulted him, but Canty—or Hobbs, as he now called himself—prevented him, and said—
“Peace, Hugo, vex24 him not; his mind is astray, and thy ways fret25 him. Sit thee down, Jack, and quiet thyself; thou shalt have a morsel26 to eat, anon.”
Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together, in low voices, and the King removed himself as far as he could from their disagreeable company. He withdrew into the twilight27 of the farther end of the barn, where he found the earthen floor bedded a foot deep with straw. He lay down here, drew straw over himself in lieu of blankets, and was soon absorbed in thinking. He had many griefs, but the minor28 ones were swept almost into forgetfulness by the supreme29 one, the loss of his father. To the rest of the world the name of Henry VIII. brought a shiver, and suggested an ogre whose nostrils30 breathed destruction and whose hand dealt scourgings and death; but to this boy the name brought only sensations of pleasure; the figure it invoked31 wore a countenance32 that was all gentleness and affection. He called to mind a long succession of loving passages between his father and himself, and dwelt fondly upon them, his unstinted tears attesting33 how deep and real was the grief that possessed34 his heart. As the afternoon wasted away, the lad, wearied with his troubles, sank gradually into a tranquil35 and healing slumber36.
After a considerable time—he could not tell how long—his senses struggled to a half-consciousness, and as he lay with closed eyes vaguely37 wondering where he was and what had been happening, he noted38 a murmurous39 sound, the sullen21 beating of rain upon the roof. A snug40 sense of comfort stole over him, which was rudely broken, the next moment, by a chorus of piping cackles and coarse laughter. It startled him disagreeably, and he unmuffled his head to see whence this interruption proceeded. A grim and unsightly picture met his eye. A bright fire was burning in the middle of the floor, at the other end of the barn; and around it, and lit weirdly41 up by the red glare, lolled and sprawled42 the motliest company of tattered43 gutter-scum and ruffians, of both sexes, he had ever read or dreamed of. There were huge stalwart men, brown with exposure, long-haired, and clothed in fantastic rags; there were middle-sized youths, of truculent44 countenance, and similarly clad; there were blind mendicants, with patched or bandaged eyes; crippled ones, with wooden legs and crutches45; diseased ones, with running sores peeping from ineffectual wrappings; there was a villain-looking pedlar with his pack; a knife-grinder, a tinker, and a barber-surgeon, with the implements46 of their trades; some of the females were hardly-grown girls, some were at prime, some were old and wrinkled hags, and all were loud, brazen47, foul-mouthed; and all soiled and slatternly; there were three sore-faced babies; there were a couple of starveling curs, with strings48 about their necks, whose office was to lead the blind.
The night was come, the gang had just finished feasting, an orgy was beginning; the can of liquor was passing from mouth to mouth. A general cry broke forth49—
“A song! a song from the Bat and Dick and Dot-and-go-One!”
One of the blind men got up, and made ready by casting aside the patches that sheltered his excellent eyes, and the pathetic placard which recited the cause of his calamity50. Dot-and-go-One disencumbered himself of his timber leg and took his place, upon sound and healthy limbs, beside his fellow-rascal; then they roared out a rollicking ditty, and were reinforced by the whole crew, at the end of each stanza51, in a rousing chorus. By the time the last stanza was reached, the half-drunken enthusiasm had risen to such a pitch, that everybody joined in and sang it clear through from the beginning, producing a volume of villainous sound that made the rafters quake. These were the inspiring words:—
On Chates to trine by Rome Coves dine
For his long lib at last.
Bing’d out bien Morts and toure, and toure,
Upon the Chates to trine.‘
Conversation followed; not in the thieves’ dialect of the song, for that was only used in talk when unfriendly ears might be listening. In the course of it, it appeared that ‘John Hobbs’ was not altogether a new recruit, but had trained in the gang at some former time. His later history was called for, and when he said he had ‘accidentally’ killed a man, considerable satisfaction was expressed; when he added that the man was a priest, he was roundly applauded, and had to take a drink with everybody. Old acquaintances welcomed him joyously55, and new ones were proud to shake him by the hand. He was asked why he had ’tarried away so many months.’ He answered—
“London is better than the country, and safer, these late years, the laws be so bitter and so diligently56 enforced. An’ I had not had that accident, I had stayed there. I had resolved to stay, and never more venture country-wards—but the accident has ended that.”
He inquired how many persons the gang numbered now. The ‘ruffler,’ or chief, answered—
“Five and twenty sturdy budges57, bulks, files, clapperdogeons and maunders, counting the dells and doxies and other morts. {7} Most are here, the rest are wandering eastward58, along the winter lay. We follow at dawn.”
“I do not see the Wen among the honest folk about me. Where may he be?”
“Poor lad, his diet is brimstone, now, and over hot for a delicate taste. He was killed in a brawl59, somewhere about midsummer.”
“I sorrow to hear that; the Wen was a capable man, and brave.”
“That was he, truly. Black Bess, his dell, is of us yet, but absent on the eastward tramp; a fine lass, of nice ways and orderly conduct, none ever seeing her drunk above four days in the seven.”
“She was ever strict—I remember it well—a goodly wench and worthy60 all commendation. Her mother was more free and less particular; a troublesome and ugly-tempered beldame, but furnished with a wit above the common.”
“We lost her through it. Her gift of palmistry and other sorts of fortune-telling begot61 for her at last a witch’s name and fame. The law roasted her to death at a slow fire. It did touch me to a sort of tenderness to see the gallant62 way she met her lot—cursing and reviling63 all the crowd that gaped64 and gazed around her, whilst the flames licked upward toward her face and catched her thin locks and crackled about her old gray head—cursing them! why an’ thou should’st live a thousand years thoud’st never hear so masterful a cursing. Alack, her art died with her. There be base and weakling imitations left, but no true blasphemy65.”
The Ruffler sighed; the listeners sighed in sympathy; a general depression fell upon the company for a moment, for even hardened outcasts like these are not wholly dead to sentiment, but are able to feel a fleeting66 sense of loss and affliction at wide intervals and under peculiarly favouring circumstances—as in cases like to this, for instance, when genius and culture depart and leave no heir. However, a deep drink all round soon restored the spirits of the mourners.
“Have any others of our friends fared hardly?” asked Hobbs.
“Some—yes. Particularly new comers—such as small husbandmen turned shiftless and hungry upon the world because their farms were taken from them to be changed to sheep ranges. They begged, and were whipped at the cart’s tail, naked from the girdle up, till the blood ran; then set in the stocks to be pelted67; they begged again, were whipped again, and deprived of an ear; they begged a third time—poor devils, what else could they do?—and were branded on the cheek with a red-hot iron, then sold for slaves; they ran away, were hunted down, and hanged. ’Tis a brief tale, and quickly told. Others of us have fared less hardly. Stand forth, Yokel68, Burns, and Hodge—show your adornments!”
These stood up and stripped away some of their rags, exposing their backs, criss-crossed with ropy old welts left by the lash69; one turned up his hair and showed the place where a left ear had once been; another showed a brand upon his shoulder—the letter V—and a mutilated ear; the third said—
“I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with loving wife and kids—now am I somewhat different in estate and calling; and the wife and kids are gone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in—in the other place—but the kindly70 God be thanked, they bide71 no more in England! My good old blameless mother strove to earn bread by nursing the sick; one of these died, the doctors knew not how, so my mother was burnt for a witch, whilst my babes looked on and wailed72. English law!—up, all, with your cups!—now all together and with a cheer!—drink to the merciful English law that delivered her from the English hell! Thank you, mates, one and all. I begged, from house to house—I and the wife—bearing with us the hungry kids—but it was crime to be hungry in England—so they stripped us and lashed73 us through three towns. Drink ye all again to the merciful English law!—for its lash drank deep of my Mary’s blood and its blessed deliverance came quick. She lies there, in the potter’s field, safe from all harms. And the kids—well, whilst the law lashed me from town to town, they starved. Drink, lads—only a drop—a drop to the poor kids, that never did any creature harm. I begged again—begged, for a crust, and got the stocks and lost an ear—see, here bides74 the stump75; I begged again, and here is the stump of the other to keep me minded of it. And still I begged again, and was sold for a slave—here on my cheek under this stain, if I washed it off, ye might see the red S the branding-iron left there! A slave! Do you understand that word? An English slave!—that is he that stands before ye. I have run from my master, and when I am found—the heavy curse of heaven fall on the law of the land that hath commanded it!—I shall hang!” {1}
“Thou shalt not!—and this day the end of that law is come!”
All turned, and saw the fantastic figure of the little King approaching hurriedly; as it emerged into the light and was clearly revealed, a general explosion of inquiries77 broke out—
“Who is it? What is it? Who art thou, manikin?”
The boy stood unconfused in the midst of all those surprised and questioning eyes, and answered with princely dignity—
“I am Edward, King of England.”
A wild burst of laughter followed, partly of derision and partly of delight in the excellence78 of the joke. The King was stung. He said sharply—
He said more, with angry voice and excited gesture, but it was lost in a whirlwind of laughter and mocking exclamations81. ’John Hobbs’ made several attempts to make himself heard above the din11, and at last succeeded—saying—
“I am the King,” said Edward, turning toward him, “as thou shalt know to thy cost, in good time. Thou hast confessed a murder—thou shalt swing for it.”
“Thou’lt betray me?—thou? An’ I get my hands upon thee—”
“Tut-tut!” said the burley Ruffler, interposing in time to save the King, and emphasising this service by knocking Hobbs down with his fist, “hast respect for neither Kings nor Rufflers? An’ thou insult my presence so again, I’ll hang thee up myself.” Then he said to his Majesty83, “Thou must make no threats against thy mates, lad; and thou must guard thy tongue from saying evil of them elsewhere. Be king, if it please thy mad humour, but be not harmful in it. Sink the title thou hast uttered—’tis treason; we be bad men in some few trifling84 ways, but none among us is so base as to be traitor85 to his King; we be loving and loyal hearts, in that regard. Note if I speak truth. Now—all together: ’Long live Edward, King of England!’”
“LONG LIVE EDWARD, KING OF ENGLAND!”
The response came with such a thundergust from the motley crew that the crazy building vibrated to the sound. The little King’s face lighted with pleasure for an instant, and he slightly inclined his head, and said with grave simplicity—
“I thank you, my good people.”
This unexpected result threw the company into convulsions of merriment. When something like quiet was presently come again, the Ruffler said, firmly, but with an accent of good nature—
“drop it, boy, ’tis not wise, nor well. Humour thy fancy, if thou must, but choose some other title.”
“Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!”
The title ’took,’ at once, every throat responded, and a roaring shout went up, of—
“Long live Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!” followed by hootings, cat-calls, and peals87 of laughter.
“Hale him forth, and crown him!”
“Robe him!”
“Sceptre him!”
“Throne him!”
These and twenty other cries broke out at once! and almost before the poor little victim could draw a breath he was crowned with a tin basin, robed in a tattered blanket, throned upon a barrel, and sceptred with the tinker’s soldering-iron. Then all flung themselves upon their knees about him and sent up a chorus of ironical88 wailings, and mocking supplications, whilst they swabbed their eyes with their soiled and ragged89 sleeves and aprons—
“Be gracious to us, O sweet King!”
“Trample not upon thy beseeching90 worms, O noble Majesty!”
“Pity thy slaves, and comfort them with a royal kick!”
“Cheer us and warm us with thy gracious rays, O flaming sun of sovereignty!”
“Sanctify the ground with the touch of thy foot, that we may eat the dirt and be ennobled!”
“Deign to spit upon us, O Sire, that our children’s children may tell of thy princely condescension91, and be proud and happy for ever!”
But the humorous tinker made the ‘hit’ of the evening and carried off the honours. Kneeling, he pretended to kiss the King’s foot, and was indignantly spurned92; whereupon he went about begging for a rag to paste over the place upon his face which had been touched by the foot, saying it must be preserved from contact with the vulgar air, and that he should make his fortune by going on the highway and exposing it to view at the rate of a hundred shillings a sight. He made himself so killingly93 funny that he was the envy and admiration94 of the whole mangy rabble95.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
perplexed
|
|
| adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ken
|
|
| n.视野，知识领域 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
sling
|
|
| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
insolence
|
|
| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
cove
|
|
| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
bough
|
|
| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
boughs
|
|
| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
intervals
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
charred
|
|
| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
loath
|
|
| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
prating
|
|
| v.（古时用语）唠叨，啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
follies
|
|
| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
wary
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
riddles
|
|
| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
derisive
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
vex
|
|
| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
fret
|
|
| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
morsel
|
|
| n.一口，一点点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
twilight
|
|
| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
supreme
|
|
| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
nostrils
|
|
| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
invoked
|
|
| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
attesting
|
|
| v.证明( attest的现在分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
murmurous
|
|
| adj.低声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
40
snug
|
|
| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
weirdly
|
|
| 古怪地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
tattered
|
|
| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
truculent
|
|
| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
crutches
|
|
| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
implements
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
brazen
|
|
| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
stanza
|
|
| n.（诗）节，段 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
coves
|
|
| n.小海湾( cove的名词复数 )；家伙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
vile
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
rogue
|
|
| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
joyously
|
|
| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
budges
|
|
| v.（使）稍微移动( budge的第三人称单数 )；（使）改变主意，（使）让步 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
eastward
|
|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
brawl
|
|
| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
begot
|
|
| v.为…之生父( beget的过去式 )；产生，引起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
gallant
|
|
| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
reviling
|
|
| v.辱骂，痛斥( revile的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
gaped
|
|
| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
blasphemy
|
|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fleeting
|
|
| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
pelted
|
|
| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
yokel
|
|
| n.乡下人；农夫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
bide
|
|
| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
wailed
|
|
| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
bides
|
|
| v.等待，停留( bide的第三人称单数 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待；面临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
stump
|
|
| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
murky
|
|
| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
excellence
|
|
| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
vagrants
|
|
| 流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 )； 无业游民； 乞丐； 无赖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
boon
|
|
| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
stark
|
|
| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
traitor
|
|
| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
shrieked
|
|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
peals
|
|
| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
ironical
|
|
| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
beseeching
|
|
| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
condescension
|
|
| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
spurned
|
|
| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
killingly
|
|
| 吸引人地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
rabble
|
|
| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
proffered
|
|
| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
nought
|
|
| n.／adj.无，零 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |