Walking up and down her room with long strides, she began to talk so rapidly, that I was frightened.
"You are to find out who the man in the Cascine was, immediately—
"Oh, what a man! Did you see him? What do you think of him? Tell me."
"The man is beautiful," I replied dully.
"He is so beautiful," she paused, supporting herself on the arm of a chair, "that he has taken my breath away."
"I can understand the impression he has made on you," I replied, my imagination carrying me away in a mad whirl. "I am quite lost in admiration2 myself, and I can imagine—"
"You may imagine," she laughed aloud, "that this man is my lover, and that he will apply the lash3 to you, and that you will enjoy being punished by him.
"But now go, go."
* * * * *
Before evening fell, I had the desired information.
Wanda was still fully4 dressed when I returned. She reclined on the ottoman, her face buried in her hands, her hair in a wild tangle5, like the red mane of a lioness.
"What is his name?" she asked, uncanny calm.
"Alexis Papadopolis."
"A Greek, then,"
I nodded.
"He is very young?"
"Scarcely older than you. They say he was educated in Paris, and that he is an atheist6. He fought against the Turks in Candia, and is said to have distinguished7 himself there no less by his race-hatred8 and cruelty, than by his bravery."
"All in all, then, a man," she cried with sparkling eyes.
"At present he is living in Florence," I continued, "he is said to be tremendously rich—"
"I didn't ask you about that," she interrupted quickly and sharply.
"The man is dangerous. Aren't you afraid of him? I am afraid of him.
Has he a wife?"
"No."
"A mistress?"
"No."
"What theaters does he attend?"
"To-night he will be at the Nicolini Theater, where Virginia Marini and Salvini are acting9; they are the greatest living artists in Italy, perhaps in Europe.
"See that you get a box—and be quick about it!" she commanded.
"But, mistress—"
"Do you want a taste of the whip?"
* * * * *
"You can wait down in the lobby," she said when I had placed the opera-glasses and the programme on the edge of her box and adjusted the footstool.
I am standing10 there and had to lean against the wall for support so as not to fall down with envy and rage—no, rage isn't the right word; it was a mortal fear.
I saw her in her box dressed in blue moire, with a huge ermine cloak about her bare shoulders; he sat opposite. I saw them devour11 each other with their eyes. For both of them the stage, Goldoni's Pamela, Salvini, Marini, the public, even the entire world, were non-existant to-night. And I—what was I at that moment?—
* * * * *
To-day she is attending the ball at the Greek ambassador's. Does she know, that she will meet him there?
At any rate she dressed, as if she did. A heavy sea-green silk dress plastically encloses her divine form, leaving the bust12 and arms bare. In her hair, which is done into a single flaming knot, a white water-lily blossoms; from it the leaves of reeds interwoven with a few loose strands13 fall down toward her neck. There no longer is any trace of agitation14 or trembling feverishness16 in her being. She is calm, so calm, that I feel my blood congealing17 and my heart growing cold under her glance. Slowly, with a weary, indolent majesty18, she ascends19 the marble staircase, lets her precious wrap slide off, and listlessly enters the hall, where the smoke of a hundred candles has formed a silvery mist.
For a few moments my eyes follow her in a daze20, then I pick up her furs, which without my being aware, had slipped from my hands. They are still warm from her shoulders.
I kiss the spot, and my eyes fill with tears.
* * * * *
He has arrived.
In his black velvet21 coat extravagantly22 trimmed with sable23, he is a beautiful, haughty24 despot who plays with the lives and souls of men. He stands in the ante-room, looking around proudly, and his eyes rest on me for an uncomfortably long time.
Under his icy glance I am again seized by a mortal fear. I have a presentiment25 that this man can enchain her, captivate her, subjugate26 her, and I feel inferior in contrast with his savage27 masculinity; I am filled with envy, with jealousy28.
I feel that I am a queer weakly creature of brains, merely! And what is most humiliating, I want to hate him, but I can't. Why is that among all the host of servants he has chosen me.
With an inimitably aristocratic nod of the head he calls me over to him, and I—I obey his call—against my own will.
"Take my furs," he quickly commands.
* * * * *
All night long I waited in the ante-room, raving32 as in a fever. Strange images hovered33 past my inner eye. I saw their meeting—their long exchange of looks. I saw her float through the hall in his arms, drunken, lying with half-closed lids against his breast. I saw him in the holy of holies of love, lying on the ottoman, not as slave, but as master, and she at his feet. On my knees I served them, the tea-tray faltering34 in my hands, and I saw him reach for the whip. But now the servants are talking about him.
He is a man who is like a woman; he knows that he is beautiful, and he acts accordingly. He changes his clothes four or five times a day, like a vain courtesan.
In Paris he appeared first in woman's dress, and the men assailed35 him with love-letters. An Italian singer, famous equally for his art and his passionate36 intensity37, even invaded his home, and lying on his knees before him threatened to commit suicide if he wouldn't be his.
"I am sorry," he replied, smiling, "I should like to do you the favor, but you will have to carry out your threat, for I am a man."
* * * * *
The drawing-room has already thinned out to a marked degree, but she apparently38 has no thought of leaving.
Morning is already peering through the blinds.
At last I hear the rustling39 of her heavy gown which flows along behind her like green waves. She advances step by step, engaged in conversation with him.
I hardly exist for her any longer; she doesn't even trouble to give me an order.
"The cloak for madame," he commands. He, of course, doesn't think of looking after her himself.
While I put her furs about her, he stands to one side with his arms crossed. While I am on my knees putting on her fur over-shoes, she lightly supports herself with her hand on his shoulder. She asks:
"And what about the lioness?"
"When the lion whom she has chosen and with whom she lives is attacked by another," the Greek went on with his narrative40, "the lioness quietly lies down and watches the battle. Even if her mate is worsted she does not go to his aid. She looks on indifferently as he bleeds to death under his opponent's claws, and follows the victor, the stronger—that is the female's nature."
It made me shudder42, though I didn't know why—and the red dawn immerses me and her and him in blood.
* * * * *
She did not go to bed, but merely threw off her ball-dress and undid43 her hair; then she ordered me to build a fire, and she sat by the fire-place, and stared into the flames.
"Do you need me any longer, mistress?" I asked, my voice failed me at the last word.
Wanda shook her head.
I left the room, passed through the gallery, and sat down on one of the steps, leading from there down into the garden. A gentle north wind brought a fresh, damp coolness from the Arno, the green hills extended into the distance in a rosy44 mist, a golden haze45 hovered over the city, over the round cupola of the Duomo.
A few stars still tremble in the pale-blue sky.
I tore open my coat, and pressed my burning forehead against the marble. Everything that had happened so far seemed to me a mere29 child's play; but now things were beginning to be serious, terribly serious.
I anticipated a catastrophe46, I visualized47 it, I could lay hold of it with my hands, but I lacked the courage to meet it. My strength was broken. And if I am honest with myself, neither the pains and sufferings that threatened me, not the humiliations that impended48, were the thing that frightened me.
I merely felt a fear, the fear of losing her whom I loved with a sort of fanatical devotion; but it was so overwhelming, so crushing that I suddenly began to sob49 like a child.
* * * * *
During the day she remained locked in her room, and had the negress attend her. When the evening star rose glowing in the blue sky, I saw her pass through the garden, and, carefully following her at a distance, watched her enter the shrine50 of Venus. I stealthily followed and peered through the chink in the door.
She stood before the divine image of the goddess, her hands folded as in prayer, and the sacred light of the star of love casts its blue rays over her.
* * * * *
On my couch at night the fear of losing her and despair took such powerful hold of me that they made a hero and a libertine51 of me. I lighted the little red oil-lamp which hung in the corridor beneath a saint's image, and entered her bedroom, covering the light with one hand.
The lioness had been hunted and driven until she was exhausted52. She had fallen asleep among her pillows, lying on her back, her hands clenched53, breathing heavily. A dream seemed to oppress her. I slowly withdrew my hand, and let the red light fall full on her wonderful face.
I gently set the lamp on the floor, sank down beside Wanda's bed, and rested my head on her soft, glowing arm.
She moved slightly, but even now did not awaken. I do not know how long I lay thus in the middle of the night, turned as into a stone by horrible torments55.
Finally a severe trembling seized me, and I was able to cry. My tears flowed over her arm. She quivered several times and finally sat up; she brushed her hand across her eyes, and looked at me.
"Severin," she exclaimed, more frightened than angry.
I was unable to reply.
"Severin," she continued softly, "what is the matter? Are you ill?"
Her voice sounded so sympathetic, so kind, so full of love, that it clutched my breast like red-hot tongs56 and I began to sob aloud.
"Severin," she began anew. "My poor unhappy friend." Her hand gently stroked my hair. "I am sorry, very sorry for you; but I can't help you; with the best intention in the world I know of nothing that would cure you."
"Oh, Wanda, must it be?" I moaned in my agony.
"What, Severin? What are you talking about?"
"Don't you love me any more?" I continued. "Haven't you even a little bit of pity for me? Has the beautiful stranger taken complete possession of you?"
"I cannot lie," she replied softly after a short pause. "He has made an impression on me which I haven't yet been able to analyse, further than that I suffer and tremble beneath it. It is an impression of the sort I have met with in the works of poets or on the stage, but I always thought it was a figment of the imagination. Oh, he is a man like a lion, strong and beautiful and yet gentle, not brutal57 like the men of our northern world. I am sorry for you, Severin, I am; but I must possess him. What am I saying? I must give myself to him, if he will have me."
"Consider your reputation, Wanda, which so far has remained spotless," I exclaimed, "even if I no longer mean anything to you."
"I am considering it," she replied, "I intend to be strong, as long as it is possible, I want—" she buried her head shyly in the pillows —"I want to become his wife—if he will have me."
"Wanda," I cried, seized again by that mortal fear, which always robs me of my breath, makes me lose possession of myself, "you want to be his wife, belong to him for always. Oh! Do not drive me away! He does not love you—"
"He does not love you," I went on passionately59, "but I love you, I adore you, I am your slave, I let you tread me underfoot, I want to carry you on my arms through life."
"Who says that he doesn't love me?" she interrupted vehemently60.
"Oh! be mine," I replied, "be mine! I cannot exist, cannot live without you. Have mercy on me, Wanda, have mercy!"
She looked at me again, and her face had her cold heartless expression, her evil smile.
"You say he doesn't love me," she said, scornfully. "Very well then, get what consolation61 you can out of it."
With this she turned over on the other side, and contemptuously showed me her back.
"Good God, are you a woman without flesh or blood, haven't you a heart as well as I!" I cried, while my breast heaved convulsively.
"You know what I am," she replied, coldly. "I am a woman of stone, Venus in Furs, your ideal, kneel down, and pray to me."
She began to laugh. I buried my face in her pillows. Pain had loosened the floodgates of my tears and I let them flow.
"You bore me," she began.
"Wanda!"
"I am tired, let me go to sleep."
"Mercy," I implored. "Do not drive me away. No man, no one, will love you as I do."
"Let me go to sleep,"—she turned her back to me again.
I leaped up, and snatched the poinard, which hung beside her bed, from its sheath, and placed its point against my breast.
"I shall kill myself here before your eyes," I murmured dully.
"Do what you please," Wanda replied with complete indifference64. "But let me go to sleep." She yawned aloud. "I am very sleepy."
For a moment I stood as if petrified65. Then I began to laugh and cry at the same time. Finally I placed the poinard in my belt, and again fell on my knees before her.
"Wanda, listen to me, only for a few moments," I begged.
"I want to go to sleep! Don't you hear!" she cried, leaping angrily out of bed and pushing me away with her foot. "You forget that I am your mistress?" When I didn't budge66, she seized the whip and struck me. I rose; she struck me again—this time right in the face.
With clenched fist held heavenward, I left her bedroom with a sudden resolve. She tossed the whip aside, and broke out into clear laughter. I can imagine that my theatrical68 attitude must have been very droll69.
* * * * *
I have determined70 to set myself free from this heartless woman, who has treated me so cruelly, and is now about to break faith and betray me, as a reward for all my slavish devotion, for everything I have suffered from her. I packed my few belongings71 into a bundle, and then wrote her as follows:
"Dear Madam,—
I have loved you even to madness, I have given myself to you as no man ever has given himself to a woman. You have abused my most sacred emotions, and played an impudent72, frivolous73 game with me. However, as long as you were merely cruel and merciless, it was still possible for me to love you. Now you are about to become cheap. I am no longer the slave whom you can kick about and whip. You yourself have set me free, and I am leaving a woman I can only hate and despise.
Severin Kusiemski."
I handed these lines to the negress, and hastened away as fast as I could go. I arrived at the railway-station all out of breath. Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my heart and stopped. I began to weep. It is humiliating that I want to flee and I can't. I turn back— whither?—to her, whom I abhor74, and yet, at the same time, adore.
Again I pause. I cannot go back. I dare not.
But how am I to leave Florence. I remember that I haven't any money, not a penny. Very well then, on foot; it is better to be an honest beggar than to eat the bread of a courtesan.
But still I can't leave.
She has my pledge, my word of honor. I have to return. Perhaps she will release me.
After a few rapid strides, I stop again.
She has my word of honor and my bond, that I shall remain her slave as long as she desires, until she herself gives me my freedom. But I might kill myself.
I go through the Cascine down to the Arno, where its yellow waters plash monotonously75 about a couple of stray willows76. There I sit, and cast up my final accounts with existence. I let my entire life pass before me in review. On the whole, it is rather a wretched affair—a few joys, an endless number of indifferent and worthless things, and between these an abundant harvest of pains, miseries77, fears, disappointments, shipwrecked hopes, afflictions, sorrow and grief.
I thought of my mother, whom I loved so deeply and whom I had to watch waste away beneath a horrible disease; of my brother, who full of the promise of joy and happiness died in the flower of youth, without even having put his lips to the cup of life. I thought of my dead nurse, my childhood playmates, the friends that had striven and studied with me; of all those, covered by the cold, dead, indifferent earth. I thought of my turtle-dove, who not infrequently made his cooing bows to me, instead of to his mate.—All have returned, dust unto dust.
I laughed aloud, and slid down into the water, but at the same moment I caught hold of one of the willow-branches, hanging above the yellow waves. As in a vision, I see the woman who has caused all my misery78. She hovers79 above the level of the water, luminous80 in the sunlight as though she were transparent81, with red flames about her head and neck. She turns her face toward me and smiles.
* * * * *
I am back again, dripping, wet through, glowing with shame and fever. The negress has delivered my letter; I am judged, lost, in the power of a heartless, affronted82 woman.
Well, let her kill me. I am unable to do it myself, and yet I have no wish to go on living.
As I walk around the house, she is standing in the gallery, leaning over the railing. Her face is full in the light of the sun, and her green eyes sparkle.
"Still alive?" she asked, without moving. I stood silent, with bowed head.
"Give me back my poinard," she continued. "It is of no use to you.
You haven't even the courage to take your own life."
"I have lost it," I replied, trembling, shaken by chills.
She looked me over with a proud, scornful glance.
"I suppose you lost it in the Arno?" She shrugged83 her shoulders. "No matter. Well, and why didn't you leave?"
"Oh! you haven't any money," she cried. "Here!" With an indescribably disdainful gesture she tossed me her purse.
I did not pick it up.
Both of us were silent for some time.
"You don't want to leave then?"
"I can't."
* * * * *
Wanda drives in the Cascine without me, and goes to the theater without me; she receives company, and the negress serves her. No one asks after me. I stray about the garden, irresolutely86, like an animal that has lost its master.
Lying among the bushes, I watch a couple of sparrows, fighting over a seed.
Suddenly I hear the swish of a woman's dress.
Wanda approaches in a gown of dark silk, modestly closed up to the neck; the Greek is with her. They are in an eager discussion, but I cannot as yet understand a word of what they are saying. He stamps his foot so that the gravel87 scatters88 about in all directions, and he lashes89 the air with his riding whip. Wanda startles.
Is she afraid that he will strike her?
Have they gone that far?
He has left her, she calls him; he does not hear her, does not want to hear her.
Wanda sadly lowers her head, and then sits down on the nearest stone-bench. She sits for a long time, lost in thought. I watch her with a sort of malevolent90 pleasure, finally I pull myself together by sheer force of will, and ironically step before her. She startles, and trembles all over.
"I come to wish you happiness," I said, bowing, "I see, my dear lady, too, has found a master."
"Yes, thank God!" she exclaimed, "not a new slave, I have had enough of them. A master! Woman needs a master, and she adores him."
"You adore him, Wanda?" I cried, "this brutal person—"
"Yes, I love him, as I have never loved any one else."
"Wanda!" I clenched my fists, but tears already filled my eyes, and I was seized by the delirium91 of passion, as by a sweet madness. "Very well, take him as your husband, let him be your master, but I want to remain your slave, as long as I live."
"You want to remain my slave, even then?" she said, "that would be interesting, but I am afraid he wouldn't permit it."
"He?"
"Yes, he is already jealous of you," she exclaimed, "he, of you! He demanded that I dismiss you immediately, and when I told him who you were—"
"You told him—" I repeated, thunderstruck.
"I told him everything," she replied, "our whole story, all your queerness, everything—and he, instead of being amused, grew angry, and stamped his foot."
"And threatened to strike you?"
Wanda looked to the ground, and remained silent.
"Yes, indeed," I said with mocking bitterness, "you are afraid of him, Wanda!" I threw myself down at her feet, and in my agitation embraced her knees. "I don't want anything of you, except to be your slave, to be always near you! I will be your dog-"
"Do you know, you bore me?" said Wanda, indifferently.
"You are now no longer cruel, but cheap," I said, clearly and distinctly, accentuating93 every word.
"You have already written that in your letter," Wanda replied, with a proud shrug84 of the shoulders. "A man of brains should never repeat himself."
"The way you are treating me," I broke out, "what would you call it?"
"I might punish you," she replied ironically, "but I prefer this time to reply with reasons instead of lashes. You have no right to accuse me. Haven't I always been honest with you? Haven't I warned you more than once? Didn't I love you with all my heart, even passionately, and did I conceal94 the fact from you, that it was dangerous to give yourself into my power, to abase95 yourself before me, and that I want to be dominated? But you wished to be my plaything, my slave! You found the highest pleasure in feeling the foot, the whip of an arrogant96, cruel woman. What do you want now?
"Dangerous potentialities were slumbering97 in me, but you were the first to awaken them. If I now take pleasure in torturing you, abusing you, it is your fault; you have made of me what I now am, and now you are even unmanly, weak, and miserable98 enough to accuse me."
"Yes, I am guilty," I said, "but haven't I suffered because of it?
Let us put an end now to the cruel game."
"That is my wish, too," she replied with a curious deceitful look.
"Wanda!" I exclaimed violently, "don't drive me to extremes; you see that I am a man again."
"A fire of straw," she replied, "which makes a lot of stir for a moment, and goes out as quickly as it flared99 up. You imagine you can intimidate100 me, and you only make yourself ridiculous. Had you been the man I first thought you were, serious, reserved, stern, I would have loved you faithfully, and become your wife. Woman demands that she can look up to a man, but one like you who voluntarily places his neck under her foot, she uses as a welcome plaything, only to toss it aside when she is tired of it."
"Don't challenge me," exclaimed Wanda. Her eyes began to flash, and a flush entered her cheeks.
"If you won't be mine now," I continued, with a voice stifled102 with rage, "no one else shall possess you either."
"What play is this from?" she mocked, seizing me by the breast. She was pale with anger at this moment. "Don't challenge me," she continued, "I am not cruel, but I don't know whether I may not become so and whether then there will be any bounds."
"What worse can you do, than to make your lover, your husband?" I exclaimed, more and more enraged103.
"I might make you his slave," she replied quickly, "are you not in my power? Haven't I the agreement? But, of course, you will merely take pleasure in it, if I have you bound, and say to him.
"Do with him what you please."
"Woman, are you mad!" I cried.
"I am entirely104 rational," she said, calmly. "I warn you for the last time. Don't offer any resistance, one who has gone as far as I have gone might easily go still further. I feel a sort of hatred for you, and would find a real joy in seeing him beat you to death; I am still restraining myself, but—"
Scarcely master of myself any longer, I seized her by the wrist and forced her to the ground, so that she lay on her knees before me.
"Severin!" she cried. Rage and terror were painted on her face.
"I shall kill you if you marry him," I threatened; the words came hoarsely105 and dully from my breast. "You are mine, I won't let you go, I love you too much." Then I clutched her and pressed her close to me; my right hand involuntarily seized the dagger106 which I still had in my belt.
"I like you that way," she said, carelessly. "Now you are a man, and at this moment I know I still love you."
"Wanda," I wept with rapture108, and bent109 down over her, covering her dear face with kisses, and she, suddenly breaking into a loud gay laugh, said, "Have you finished with your ideal now, are you satisfied with me?"
"I am very serious," she gaily111 continued. "I love you, only you, and you—you foolish, little man, didn't know that everything was only make-believe and play-acting. How hard it often was for me to strike you with the whip, when I would have rather taken your head and covered it with kisses. But now we are through with that, aren't we? I have played my cruel role better than you expected, and now you will be satisfied with my being a good, little wife who isn't altogether unattractive. Isn't that so? We will live like rational people—"
"You will marry me!" I cried, overflowing112 with happiness.
"Yes—marry you—you dear, darling man," whispered Wanda, kissing my hands.
I drew her up to my breast.
"Now, you are no longer Gregor, my slave," said she, "but Severin, the dear man I love—"
"And he—you don't love him?" I asked in agitation.
"How could you imagine my loving a man of his brutal type? You were blind to everything, I was really afraid for you."
"I almost killed myself for your sake."
"Really?" she cried, "ah, I still tremble at the thought, that you were already in the Arno."
"But you saved me," I replied, tenderly. "You hovered over the waters and smiled, and your smile called me back to life."
* * * * *
I have a curious feeling when I now hold her in my arms and she lies silently against my breast and lets me kiss her and smiles. I feel like one who has suddenly awakened113 out of a feverish15 delirium, or like a shipwrecked man who has for many days battled with waves that momentarily threatened to devour him and finally has found a safe shore.
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1
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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4
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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atheist
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| n.无神论者 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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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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devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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feverishness
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congealing
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| v.使凝结，冻结( congeal的现在分词 )；（指血）凝结 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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ascends
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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21
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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extravagantly
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| adv.挥霍无度地 | |
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23
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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24
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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25
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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26
subjugate
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| v.征服；抑制 | |
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27
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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28
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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29
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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30
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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31
abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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32
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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33
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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34
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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35
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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36
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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37
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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38
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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39
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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40
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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41
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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42
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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43
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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44
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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45
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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46
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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47
visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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48
impended
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| v.进行威胁，即将发生( impend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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50
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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51
libertine
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| n.淫荡者；adj.放荡的，自由思想的 | |
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52
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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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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56
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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57
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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58
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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59
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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60
vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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61
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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62
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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64
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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65
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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66
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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67
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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68
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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69
droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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70
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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71
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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72
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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73
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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74
abhor
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| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
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75
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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76
willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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77
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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78
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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79
hovers
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| 鸟( hover的第三人称单数 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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80
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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81
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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82
affronted
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| adj.被侮辱的，被冒犯的v.勇敢地面对( affront的过去式和过去分词 )；相遇 | |
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83
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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84
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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85
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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87
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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88
scatters
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| v.（使）散开， （使）分散，驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 )；撒 | |
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89
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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90
malevolent
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| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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91
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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92
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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93
accentuating
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| v.重读( accentuate的现在分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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94
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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95
abase
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| v.降低，贬抑 | |
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96
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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97
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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98
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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99
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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100
intimidate
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| vt.恐吓，威胁 | |
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101
jeeringly
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| adv.嘲弄地 | |
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102
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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103
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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104
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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105
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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106
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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107
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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108
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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109
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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110
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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111
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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112
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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113
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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