She looked at Stelio, who had thrown himself, half reclining, on a divan2 near the balcony, and now lay silent, his eyes half-closed, his disordered hair touched with a ray of gold from the setting sun. She realized that she was possessed3 by an incurable4 madness, spreading throughout her declining body. Lost! Lost! She was irrevocably lost!
"Die?" said her beloved, in a dreamy voice, without moving or opening his eyes, as if he were wrapped in a melancholy5 trance.
"Yes—die—before you hate me!"
Stelio opened his eyes quickly, raised himself erect6 and held up one hand, as if to prevent her from saying more.
He saw that she was ivory pale; her hair fell in wandering wavy8 locks over her cheeks; she seemed consumed by some corrosive9 poison; her face was full of terror and misery10.
"I love you!"
"Not as I wish, not as I have dreamed; I do not wish to be loved thus."
"But you set my heart on fire, and then madness seizes me."
"No, no; do not say that!"
"Your fierceness makes me feel that you hate me—that you even wish to kill me."
"But you make me blind, I tell you, and then I know not what I say or do."
"What is it that maddens you so? What do you see in me?"
"Ah, I know not—I cannot tell!"
"But I know very well what it is!"
"Why do you torment yourself, I say? I love you! This is the love...."
"You are mine! You belong to me, and I will not lose you."
"Yes, you will lose me."
"But why? I do not understand. What wild fancy is this of yours? Does my love offend you? Do you not love me in the same way?"
His irritation14 and misunderstanding only aggravated16 her suffering. She covered her face with her hands. Her heart throbbed17 with hammer-like beating in her rigid18 breast, seeming to echo in her brain.
Presently she raised her head and looked at him with painful effort.
"I have a heart, Stelio," she said, with trembling lips, as if she were struggling with a sort of fierce timidity in order to force herself to speak those words. "I suffer from a heart, too keenly alive—oh, Stelio, alive and eager and anguished19 as you never will know...."
She smiled the sweet, faint smile with which she sought to disguise her suffering; hesitated a moment, then reached toward a bunch of violets, which she took and pressed close to her lips. Her eyelids20 drooped21, her classic brow, between her dark hair and the flowers, showed its ivory-like beauty.
"You wound my heart sometimes, Stelio," she said softly, her lips still caressing22 the violets. "Sometimes you are cruel to it."
It seemed as if those fragrant23, humble24 blossoms helped her to confess her sadness, to veil still more the timid reproach she had made to her beloved. She was silent; Stelio bowed his head. The logs on the hearth25 crackled; the autumn rain fell monotonously26 in the fading garden.
"I long for kindness, with a thirst that you never will understand. For that deep, true kindness, dear friend, which does not speak but which comprehends, which knows how to give all in a single look or a single movement; which is strong, sure, always armed against the evil impulse that tempts27 us. Do you know the sort of kindness I mean?"
Her voice, alternately strong and wavering, was so warm with inner light, was so full of revelation of a soul, that it passed through the young man's blood more like a spiritual essence than a sound.
"In you, yes, Foscarina, I know it."
He took in his own hands the slender hands that lay filled with violets on her lap; he bowed his head low over them and kissed them submissively. Then he knelt at her feet, in the same submission28. The delicate perfume seemed to arouse his tenderness. During the long pause the fire and the rain continued their murmured speech.
Suddenly she asked in a clear voice:
"Do you think that I believe myself sure of you?"
"Have you not watched over my slumbers30?" he replied, but in an altered tone, for he was suddenly seized by a new emotion: with her query31 he had seen rise before him her naked soul; and he felt that that soul had penetrated32 his own, and recognized his secret yearning33 for the belief and confidence of others in himself.
"Yes, but what does that prove?" was her reply. "Youth sleeps quietly on any pillow. You are young"—
"I love you and I have faith in you! I give myself entirely34 to you. You are my life's companion, and your hand is strong."
He saw the well known sadness in the lines of that loved face, and his voice trembled with tenderness.
"Kindness!" said she, caressing with light touch the hair on his temples. "You know how to be kind—you even feel a need to comfort at times. But a fault has been committed, and it calls for expiation35. Once it seemed to me that for you I could do the humblest as well as the highest things; but now I feel that I can do only one thing—to go away, disappear, and leave you free with your destiny."
He interrupted her by springing to his feet and taking the loved face between his hands.
"I can do this, which love alone could not do," she said softly, turning pale, and looking at him with an expression he never had seen before.
Stelio felt that he held her soul in his hands—a living spring, infinitely36 beautiful and precious.
"Foscarina, Foscarina! my soul, my life! Yes, you can give me more than love—I know it well, and nothing is worth to me that which you give me; no other offer could console me for not having you beside me on my way. Believe me, believe! I have said this to you so often—don't you remember?—even before you became all my own, when the compact still held between us"—
Still holding her face between his palms, he leaned over and kissed her passionately37 on her lips.
This time she shivered; the glacial flood she felt at times seemed passing over her.
"No! no!" she pleaded, turning away from the young man. Dreamily she bent38 to gather up the scattered39 violets.
Stelio's eyes were fixed42 on the changeful splendor43 of the fire on the hearth, but in his open hands lingered the strange sensation, the trace of a miracle—that human face over which, through its sad pallor, had passed a wave of sublime44 beauty.
"Why?" the woman repeated sadly. "Ah, confess—confess that you, too, before we were seized with the blind madness of that night, felt that the higher life was about to be devastated45 and lost; that we must not yield if we wished to save the good that remained in us—that powerful, intoxicating46 thing which seemed to be the only treasure left in my life. Confess, Stelio! speak the truth! I can almost name the exact moment when the better voice spoke47 to you in warning. Was it not on the water, on the way home, when we had with us—Donatella?"
Before pronouncing that name she had hesitated a second, then she felt an almost physical bitterness—a bitterness that descended48 from her lips to the depths of her soul, as if the syllables49 held poison for her. She awaited his reply with suffering. "I do not know how to think about the past, Fosca," the young man replied; "moreover, I do not wish to think about it. I have lost no good attribute that belonged to me. It pleases me that your soul springs to your ripe lips, heavy with sweetness, and that your fair cheek pales when I embrace you."
"Hush50, hush!" she begged. "Do not speak like that! Do not prevent me from saying what it is that troubles me! Why do you not help me?"
She shrank back among the cushions, and looked fixedly51 at the fire, to avoid meeting the eyes of her beloved.
"More than once I have seen a look in your eyes that has filled me with horror," she said at last, with a touch of hoarseness52 in her effort to speak.
Stelio started, but dared not contradict her.
"Yes, with horror," she repeated, in a clearer tone, implacable against herself, having already triumphed over her fear and regained53 her courage.
Both were now face to face with the truth.
"The first time I saw it was out there in the garden—that night—you know! I understood then what it was you saw in me; all the mire55 over which I have walked, all the infamy56 that clung to my feet, all the impurity57 for which I have so much disgust! Ah, you could not have acknowledged the visions that kindled58 your thoughts that night! Your eyes were cruel and your mouth was convulsed. When you felt that you wounded my sensitiveness, you took pity on me. But then—but since then"—
Her face was covered with blushes; her voice had grown impetuous, and her eyes were brilliant.
"To have nourished for years, with all the best that was in me, a sentiment of devotion and unbounded admiration59, near you or from afar, in joy and in sadness; to have accepted in the purest spirit all the consolation60 offered by you to mankind through your poetry, and to have awaited eagerly other gifts, even higher and more consoling; to have believed in the great force of your genius since its dawn, and never to have relaxed my watch over your ascent61, and to have accompanied it with a wish that has been my morning and evening prayer all these years; to have continued, with silent fervor62, the effort to give some beauty and harmony to my own spirit, that it might be more worthy63 to approach yours; so many times, on the stage, before an ardent audience, to have pronounced with a thrill some immortal64 phrase, thinking of those which perhaps one day you would communicate to mankind through my lips; to have worked without respite65, to have tried always to rise to a higher and simpler form in my art, to have aspired66 unceasingly to perfection, fearing that nothing less would please you, that otherwise I should seem inferior to your dream; to have loved my fleeting67 glory only because some day it might serve yours; to have hastened, with the fervent68 confidence of faith, the latest of your revelations, that I might offer myself to you as the instrument of your victory before my own decay; against all and everything, to have defended this secret ideal in my soul, against all and against myself as much as against others; to have made of you my melancholy, my steadfast69 hope, my heroic test, the symbol of all things good, strong, and free—ah, Stelio! Stelio!"—
She paused an instant, overcome by that memory as by a new shame.
"And then to have reached that dawn—to have seen you leaving my house in that way on that horrible morning—Do you remember?"
"No, no! Do you remember? You left me as you would have left some light love, some passing fancy, after a few hours of idle pastime."
"You deceive yourself!"
"Confess! Come, speak the truth. Only through truth can we now hope to save ourselves."
"I was happy, I tell you; my whole heart expanded with joy; I dreamed, I hoped, I felt as if I were born anew."
"Yes, yes!—happy to breathe freely, to feel your youth in the breeze and the fresh air. What did you see in her who in her renunciation had so many times suffered keenly—yes, you know it well!—rather than break the vow72 that she had taken and borne with her in her wanderings over the earth? Tell me! what did you see in me, if you did not believe me a corrupt73 creature, the heroine of chance amours, the vagabond actress who in her own life, as on the stage, may belong to any man and every man?"
"Foscarina! Foscarina!"
Stelio leaned over her and closed her lips with a trembling hand.
"No, no, do not say that! You are mad! Hush! hush!"
"It is horrible!" murmured the woman, sinking back on the cushions, unnerved by her agitation74, submerged in the bitter wave that had flooded her heart.
But her eyes remained wide open, fixed as two crystal orbs75, hard as if they had no lashes76, fastened on Stelio. They prevented him from speaking, from denying or softening77 the truth they had discovered. In a moment or two he found that gaze intolerable, and gently pressed the lids down with the tips of his fingers, as one closes the eyes of the dead. She noted78 the movement, which was full of infinite melancholy; she felt that only tender love and pity were in that touch. Her bitterness passed away, her eyes grew moist. She extended her arms, clasped them around his neck, and raised herself a little. She seemed to be shutting her soul within herself, and became once more gentle and weak, full of silent pleading.
"And so I must go," she sighed at last. "Is there no help for it? Is there no pardon?"
"I love you!" her lover repeated.
She disengaged one arm, and held her open hand toward the fire, as if to conjure79 fate. Then once more she clasped her lover in a close embrace.
"Yes, still a little while! Let me remain with you a little longer. Then I will go away; I will go somewhere, far-away, and die on a stone under a tree. But let me stay with you a little longer."
"I love you!"
The blind and indomitable forces of life were whirling over them in that embrace. And because they realized this with terror their clasp grew closer; and from that embrace sprang an impulse, both good and evil, that stirred them to the soul. In the silent room, the voices of the elements spoke their obscure language, which was like an uncomprehended reply to their mute questioning. The fire, near them, and the rain, from without, discoursed80, replied, narrated81. Little by little, these voices reached the spirit of the Animator, enticed82 it, charmed it, drew it into the world of innumerable myths, born of their eternity83. His keener spiritual senses heard the deep resonance84 of the two melodies expressing the intimate essence of the two elementary wills—the two marvelous melodies that he had found, to weave them into the symphonic web of the new tragedy. Of a sudden, all sadness and anxiety left him as in a happy truce85, an interval of enchantment86. And the woman's clasp relaxed, as if in obedience87 to some command of liberation.
"There is no help for it!" she repeated to herself, seeming to repeat a formula of condemnation88 heard by her in the same mysterious way that Stelio had heard the wonderful melodies.
She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee; and in this attitude she gazed a long time into the fire, with a slight frown on her brow.
As Stelio looked at her, his soul was troubled. He yearned89 to find some way of breaking the iron band that oppressed her, of dissipating that mist of sadness, of leading his beloved back to joy.
The fire in its sudden burst of flame illumined her face and hair; her forehead was as beautiful as a noble manly90 brow; something natural and untamed was suggested in the rippling91 waves and changeful hue92 of her thick hair.
"What are you looking at so intently?" she said at last, feeling his fixed gaze. "Have you found a gray hair?"
He knelt before his love again, flexible and tender.
"I see only your beauty. In you I always find something that delights me. I was looking then at the strange wave of your hair here—a wave not made by the comb, but by the storm!"
He slipped his fingers through the thick tresses. She closed her eyes, feeling again the spell of his terrible power over her.
"I see only your beauty. When you close your eyes thus, I feel that you are mine to the depth of your heart—lost in me, as the soul is one with the body: a single life, mine and thine."
She listened in the half light, and his voice seemed to come from a long distance, and to be speaking not to her but to another woman; she felt as if she were overhearing a lover's protestations to his mistress, and suddenly fancied herself mad with jealousy93, possessed by a desire to kill, filled with a spirit of revenge; but that body must remain motionless, her hands hanging at her sides, nerveless and powerless.
"You are my delight and my inspiration. You have a stimulating94 power of which you are unconscious. Your simplest act suffices to reveal to me some truth of which I was ignorant. And love is like the intellect: it shines in the measure of the truth it discovers. Why, why do you grieve yourself? Nothing is destroyed, nothing is lost. It was intended that we should be united, so that together we might rise to joy and triumph. It was necessary that I should be free and happy in your true and perfect love in order to create the work of beauty that so many men expect of me. I need your faith; I need to pass through joy and to create. Your presence alone suffices to inspire my mind with incalculable fruitfulness. Just now, when your arms held me close, I heard a sudden torrent95 of music, a flood of melody, passing through the silence."
To whom was he speaking? Whom did he ask for joy? Was not his imperious demand for music a yearning toward her that sang, transfiguring the universe with her song? Of whom, if not of fresh youth and maidenhood97, could he ask joy and creation? While she had held him in her embrace, it was the other woman who had sung and spoken within him! And now, now—to whom was he speaking, if not to that other woman? She alone could give him what was necessary for his art and his life. The maiden96 was a new force, a closed beauty, an unused weapon, keen and magnificent for the intoxication98 of war. Malediction99! Malediction!
Mingled100 sorrow and anger stirred her heart, in that vibrating darkness which she dared not leave. She suffered the torments101 of a nightmare; as if she were rolling toward a precipice102 with the indestructible burden of her vanished years—years of misery and of triumph—her fading face with its thousand masks, her despairing soul, and the thousand other souls that had inhabited her mortal body. This grand passion of her life, which was to have saved her, seemed now to be pushing her relentlessly103 toward ruin and death. In order to reach her, and through her to attain104 to his highest joy, the passion of her beloved was compelled to make its way through what he believed to be a multitude of unknown loves; it would contaminate, corrupt and embitter105 itself, perhaps even change by slow degrees to disgust. Always that shadowy multitude must keep alive in him that instinct of brutal106 ferocity which lurked107 in his strong nature. Ah, what had she done? She herself had armed a furious devastator108, and had put him between her friend and herself. No escape was possible. She herself, on that night of the flame, had led before him the fresh and beautiful prey109, of whom he had taken possession by one of those looks that are a choice and a promise. To whom was he speaking now, if not to that other woman. Of whom did he ask joy?
"Do not be sad! do not be sad!"
But now she heard his words only confusedly, more faint than before, as if her soul had sunk into a chasm110; but she felt his impatient hands as they touched her caressingly111. And, in that red darkness, wherein, as it seemed to her, all madnesses and folly112 were born, she felt a surging revolt in her veins113.
"Do you wish me to take you to her? Do you wish me to call her to you?" cried the unhappy woman, suddenly opening her eyes with an expression that astonished Stelio; she seized his wrists and shook him with a grasp so tight that he felt her nails in his flesh. "Go! go! She awaits you! Why do you remain here? Go, run! She awaits you!"
She sprang up, raising him at the same time, and tried to push him toward the door. She was no longer recognizable, transfigured by fury into a dangerous, threatening creature. The strength of her hands was incredible, like the energy of evil intent in her whole being.
"Who awaits me? What did you say? What is the matter with you? Come back to your senses, Foscarina!"
He stammered114 his appeal, he trembled, fancying he saw madness in that distorted face. But she was like one distraught and heard him not.
"Foscarina!" He called her with all his soul, white with terror, as if to stop with his cry her escaping reason.
She gave a great start, opened her hands, and gazed around as if just roused from a long sleep, of which she remembered nothing.
"Come, sit down."
He led her back to the cushions, and gently made her settle herself among them. She allowed herself to be soothed115 by his solicitous116 tenderness. Presently she moaned:
"Who has beaten me?"
"Come; lie down! Put your head here."
He made her lie on the couch; disposed her head comfortably, put a light cushion over her feet, softly and carefully, leaning over her as over a dear invalid118, giving up to her all his heart still throbbing119 with fear.
"Yes, yes," she repeated, in a voice no louder than a sigh, at each movement he made, as if she would prolong the sweetness of these cares.
"Are you cold?"
"Yes."
"Shall I cover you with something?" Stelio inquired.
"Yes."
He sought for some wrap, and found on a table a piece of antique velvet120, which he spread over her. She smiled faintly.
"Are you comfortable like that?"
She made an affirmative sign by simply closing her eyelids.
Stelio gathered up the violets, now warm and languid, and laid them on the pillow near her head.
"So?"
Her eyelids drooped even more slightly than before. He kissed her forehead, amid the perfume of the violets; then he turned to stir the fire, putting on more wood and raising a fine blaze.
"Do you feel the heat? Are you getting warm?" he asked softly.
He approached and bent over the poor soul. She slept; the contraction121 of her face had relaxed, and the lines of her mouth were composed in the equal rhythm of sleep; a calm like that of death spread over her pale face. "Sleep! Sleep!" He was so moved by love and pity that he would have liked to transfuse122 into that slumber29 an infinite virtue123 of consolation and forgetfulness.
He remained standing15 on the rug, watching her, counting her respirations. Those lips had said: "I can do one thing that love alone cannot do." Those lips had said: "Do you wish me to take you to her? Do you wish me to call her to you?" He neither judged nor resolved, but let his thoughts scatter40. Once again he felt the blind, indomitable forces of life whirling over his head, over that sleeping form, and also his terrible desire to cling to life. "The bow is named BIOS, and its work is death."
In the silence, the fire and the rain continued to talk. The voice of the elements, the woman sleeping in her sadness, the imminence124 of fate, the immensity of the future, remembrance and presentiment125, all these things created in his mind a state of musical mystery wherein the yet unwritten work surged anew and illumined his thought. He listened to his melodies developing themselves indefinitely, and heard a personage in the drama say: "This alone quenches126 our thirst, and all the thirst in us turns eagerly toward this freshness. If it did not exist, none could live here; we should all die of thirst." He saw a country furrowed128 by the dry, white bed of an ancient river, dotted with bonfires which lighted up the extraordinarily129 calm, pure evening. He saw a funereal130 gleam of gold, a tomb filled with corpses132 all covered with gold, and the crowned corpse131 of Cassandra among the sepulchral133 urns127. A voice said: "How soft her ashes are! They run between the fingers like the sands of the sea." Another voice said: "She speaks of a shadow that passes over things, and of a damp sponge that effaces134 all traces." Then night fell; stars sparkled, the myrtles breathed perfume, and a voice said: "Ah! Behold135 the statue of Niobe! Before dying, Antigone sees a stone statue whence gushes136 an eternal fountain of tears." The error of the age had passed away; the remoteness of centuries was abolished.
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1
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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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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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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corrosive
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| adj.腐蚀性的；有害的；恶毒的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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13
condemns
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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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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aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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20
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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tempts
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| v.引诱或怂恿（某人）干不正当的事( tempt的第三人称单数 )；使想要 | |
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28
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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32
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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33
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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expiation
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| n.赎罪，补偿 | |
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36
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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37
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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38
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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39
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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40
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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41
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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42
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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43
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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44
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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45
devastated
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| v.彻底破坏( devastate的过去式和过去分词)；摧毁；毁灭；在感情上（精神上、财务上等）压垮adj.毁坏的；极为震惊的 | |
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46
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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47
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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48
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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49
syllables
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| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
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50
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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51
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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52
hoarseness
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| n.嘶哑， 刺耳 | |
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53
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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54
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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55
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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56
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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57
impurity
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| n.不洁，不纯，杂质 | |
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58
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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59
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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60
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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61
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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62
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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63
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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64
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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65
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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66
aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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68
fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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69
steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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70
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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71
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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72
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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73
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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74
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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75
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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76
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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77
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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78
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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79
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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80
discoursed
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| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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81
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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84
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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85
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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86
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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87
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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88
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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89
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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90
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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91
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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92
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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93
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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94
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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95
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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96
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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97
maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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98
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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99
malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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100
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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101
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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102
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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103
relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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104
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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105
embitter
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| v.使苦；激怒 | |
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106
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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107
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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108
devastator
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| n.蹂躏者，破坏者 | |
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109
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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110
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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111
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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112
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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113
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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114
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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115
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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116
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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117
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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118
invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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119
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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120
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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121
contraction
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| n.缩略词，缩写式，害病 | |
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122
transfuse
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| v.渗入；灌输；输血 | |
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123
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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124
imminence
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| n.急迫，危急 | |
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125
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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126
quenches
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| 解（渴）( quench的第三人称单数 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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127
urns
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| n.壶( urn的名词复数 )；瓮；缸；骨灰瓮 | |
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128
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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130
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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131
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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132
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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133
sepulchral
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| adj.坟墓的，阴深的 | |
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134
effaces
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| v.擦掉( efface的第三人称单数 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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135
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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136
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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