Stellan did not look up at the sky when he stepped out into the saddling yard. He did not give a thought to the balloon whose gigantic yellow silk bubble was already beginning to swell4 out and shimmer5 in the cool September sunshine. No, his looks searched anxiously amongst the scattered6 groups of spectators outside the ring of guard. And he suddenly muttered a half-suppressed oath at the sight of Peter who, furious and massive as a bull, bore down on him from his ambush7. He awaited the attack in the most deserted8 spot he could find. And a certain weariness appeared in the hard lines of his mouth:
“You have become damned difficult to find,” panted Peter. But Stellan was already prepared with a smile. It is strange that smiles can thrive so many degrees below freezing point.
“You can meet me as much as you like when you have got decent clothes—and a decent face....”
Peter was unshaven. His overcoat dated from the fat and sentimental9 period. It now hung on him like a sack. His barge10-like shoes were covered with the dirt of the bad roads of Selambshof and he had in his hand, not a stick but a cudgel. And he shook the cudgel and struck the ground with it:
“You are damned smart, you are! But if I take everything 267this fine gentleman possesses perhaps he won’t be quite so smart. Tomorrow I want my seventy-five thousand, or else I’ll make you bankrupt!”
“Come up with me and then we can talk business.”
Peter looked with a ludicrous expression of suspicion and disapproval15 on the expensive and dangerous ascent16 in which his seventy-five thousand would soar heavenwards:
“If you were at least decently insured,” he sighed. Then he suddenly grew furious again and shouted, so that he was overheard by the people round about them:
“I must have the money tomorrow. I won’t wait any longer.”
Stellan grew pale and came close up to his brother. It was as if he were abusing some obstinate17 labourer:
“You lout18! You want to get hold of my last share in Selambshof! But I have already put them up another spout19. Curse you, there are better and bigger creditors20 than you! Yes, I have nothing but debts, so my position is really excellent. The only hope for the creditors is that the bubble won’t burst. But do you think it will improve matters for a shabby old moneylender to come and hang on to my coat tails just as I am going up? No, get away and keep quiet and I will show you something to make you think.”
Stellan suddenly had an idea. He pushed aside the astonished and hesitating Peter without further ceremony and went straight towards the steps of the tennis pavilion.
There Miss L?hnfeldt was standing21 amidst a group of uniforms and allowed Manne von Strelert to pay her his court. Both had taken part in the quadrille on horseback and she was dressed in riding breeches, which at that time was something quite new and bold, and she stood there amongst all the men, slim and slight, but with her head held high and with a proud carriage.
268Stellan ploughed his way through the group. Not a feature betrayed what kind of conversation he had just passed through. The lines round his mouth were gay and slightly cruel. He saluted22, kissed her hand, and said aloud, so that everybody round them should hear:
“Miss L?hnfeldt, do you remember I promised you a sensation? Come up with me today.”
Miss L?hnfeldt wanted to appear a sportwoman. She cultivated to the best of her ability the Anglo-Saxon style. Thanks to persistent23 and expensive training she had really developed her little strength until she was considered a bold rider and a fairly good tennis player. She did not answer Stellan at once, but bit her lip and cast a glance at the officers round her. But Manne protested. One had no right to tempt24 charming ladies into the clouds, he thought. Charming ladies might get dizzy....
Stellan looked gratefully at Manne, certain that his words would only egg her on. She was not a coward, or at least she was more vain than she was afraid. And a crowd is a bellows25 to vanity. Elvira L?hnfeldt was one of those women who are excited by a crowd. The thought of some kind of notoriety always occupied her thoughts. In every crowd the desire to be noticed, spoken of, praised and envied, worked like a stinging poison in her veins26. When she now looked at the group around her it was in order to measure the effect of the proposal! It would surely create a sensation if she went up, a real sensation....
She did not say “yes” straight out. She answered by the eternal feminine question:
“But what shall I put on?”
“My military fur coat,” said Stellan. “Besides, your riding costume is most suitable. But come along, it is twelve o’clock and the people are waiting.”
She took his arm and they stepped out into the open space. The group behind them applauded. Manne was teased at the cavalry27 being outdistanced by the air force. 269There were several people there who were interested in seeing the two friends’ position improved. The balloon was already filled. Stellan turned away a poor journalist who had had half a promise to be allowed to go up with him, and amidst a murmur28 of surprise from the crowd he lifted Miss L?hnfeldt very chivalrously29 over the edge of the gondola30. But he did not give the order to let go at once. He did not grudge31 his partner a few moments of exquisite13 joy in the polite and encouraging exclamations32 of the gentlemen and the little cries of alarm from her lady friends.
Then the attendants let go the ropes and the balloon rose. There was a flutter of white handkerchiefs from the dark group below in the grey oval of the cycle course.
As you know, one need not rise very high before everything down below looks small.
Stellan cast a side-glance at her in order to gauge35 the effect of the increasing depth beneath them. She looked down with an expression which seemed to say; “This is nothing much.”
“Wait a bit, my dear,” thought Stellan. “You will get as much as you can stand.” He had already made up his mind that this would not be a pleasure trip, but an adventure.
The wind was west south-west. The balloon had not had time to rise much before they were out over Liding?n. Below him Stellan saw the shining green roof of the Hills’ villa36.
Hedvig ... yes, he would have to try there too if everything else went wrong. If only Percy had been alive.... But Hedvig alone, no, there wasn’t much chance....
The balloon began to sink very suddenly. One must always be careful when passing over forests, where the air is warmer and lighter37. But Stellan purposely neglected 270to cast out any ballast till they almost swept over the tops of the trees. That was a trick that used to impress beginners. Stellan looked again at his partner. She was perhaps a little paler than before and held on a little more tightly to the edge of the gondola. But if he had hoped for any frightened screams and looks of anxious appeal he was doomed38 to disappointment.
“The balloon must man?uvre badly,” she said.
Stellan flung out ballast, perhaps more than was necessary and they rose quickly into silent and radiant space over the bright and dazzling autumn coast landscape. It was really wonderfully beautiful with the spray of gold that the leafy trees made amongst the dark pines and the deep solemn September blue of the water in the bays—which to the far-penetrating39 gaze of those above shivered in iridescence40 of alg?-green, seaweed-brown and shimmering41 gneiss-red nearer inshore in the shallower water. In a narrow smooth belt of calm water a toy steamer drew behind it a silver shimmering fan of dwarf-like waves. And far away in the east along the strangely banked up horizon the sea stretched like a low endless blue ridge42.
But most wonderful of all was the silence and the stillness, the incomparable, mighty43 calm in a balloon that moved with the wind and in which a candle flame would burn as steadily44 as in a closed room.
“Strange ... it is like sitting in a glass cupboard,” said Miss L?hnfeldt in a low voice and there was after all involuntary admiration45 in her voice. But then she added: “Though I must say I thought it would be more exciting....”
Stellan bit his lip: he was not in the mood for enjoying anything beautiful just now. He felt like a stage manager who is responsible for effect before a critical and spoilt public. He thought of Peter, his affairs, marriage—without any enthusiasm for the last.... He felt almost hostile to the woman by his side. Her affected46 indifference47 271irritated him. He could not manage to pay her any sort of attention. He felt like a partner who dances out of time and has nothing to whisper into his partner’s ear. Annoyed, he tapped the barometer48. It sank, though the balloon was sinking slowly. It was already three o’clock in the afternoon. The sun suddenly disappeared. Behind them in the west the sky was clouded. The air began to grow a cold, whitish grey, and clouded over, they no longer saw the earth below them. In an incredibly short time they had become enveloped49 in a dense50 cloud.
Stellan did not descend51, as was his duty with an approaching storm when he was so near the sea. He was a desperado. Miss L?hnfeldt was going to have an experience, that was all. He threw out several sacks of ballast, which disappeared in long brown streaks52 in the fog below them.
His man?uvring was not quite planless. He had observed that the wind in the upper strata54 was several degrees more southerly and he began to think of the ?land islands.
Now they were suddenly out in the sunshine again, in the cold dazzling sunlight over an enormous shimmering sea of cloud. They soared alone in a dazzling white, ever changing, chaos55 of snow mountains and lakes of fog—millions of years before human life existed....
“I have seen this before in Switzerland,” said Miss L?hnfeldt shivering with cold.
The balloon had risen rapidly and lost much gas. It soon began to sink again through the cloud world, which now grew grey. When it cleared up below them they were already out over a nasty grey, white-crested sea. A very strong wind was blowing.
Then the first feminine exclamation33 escaped from Miss L?hnfeldt:
“But, good heavens, how shall we get back?”
272“By steamer,” he said. “We will sleep at Mariehamn tonight.”
As a matter of fact he was not so sure of it. The wind higher up had evidently been a few degrees more in the west than he had counted on. In its present quarter they would pass south of ?land. But the storm lower down might draw them south ... otherwise ... well what otherwise? Well, otherwise they would go to hell....
What does a man like Captain Stellan Selamb feel when he mutters to himself that he might “go to hell”? Nothing really. He has never properly conceived death. His egoism is so hard and polished that the thought of death slips off everywhere.
If you want an opinion of a man, try to find out his views of death. Death comes in life and not after life. And it is what happens in life that makes us really alive. What else are we but our conception of, our defiance57 of, our struggle against, and our victory over, death? Yes, because there is a real, a living courage which conquers death....
Stellan had the gambler’s courage. It is always better than cowardice58. But it is really very superficial. A hard frozen surface with no resilience beneath. Clear but shallow thoughts that have never penetrated59 to the depths of life. An inner reflection of a blind, pitiless Fate.... How much of the courage that meets us in the wild and bloody60 history of the world is not of this kind? The great gamblers! Minds and souls are only cards to them, playing cards or trumps61 in the wild gamble of politics and war. They only know themselves even as trumps in the game. Even their own terrible egoism is really only a mirage62. For death has not made them alive....
The balloon drove eastwards63 with the gale64. Stellan sailed low and saved his ballast. In the north they could see ?land and Lernland and Lumparland. The waves washed heavily in the apparent stillness around them. 273They were sinking lower and lower. The last sack of ballast went over. The balloon began to shrink round the valve. There must be a leakage65. Now a giant roaring wave attempted to grab the gondola.
Stellan had to throw out everything loose, the ballast sacks themselves, ropes, fur coats, stethoscopes and barometer. He used the momentary66 respite67 to assist Miss L?hnfeldt up into the rigging where she sat as on a trapeze and held on to the cordage. She was very pale and looked as if she might faint any moment, so he thought it best to make her fast.
“This is abominable,” she mumbled68, as if she had been exposed to some clumsiness on the part of a vulgar partner. But she did not whimper.
They swept in over the breakers and rocks of the wild and deserted skerries of K?kars. The gondola was already trailing in the water, and the balloon began to swing and jerk to and fro. Stellan also climbed up into the rigging. He took the anchor with him. With violent jerks they trailed over a stony69 rocky island on the skerries. Then again they were carried over an empty roaring bay. But now the wind had really turned into the south and there was some wooded country ahead of them. Stellan cut away the gondola, as it made the balloon dip. Then it rose for the last time. They sat as in a swing over the surging water. Phew! now they were rushing in towards the land. A jetty and a few red-painted outhouses were visible in the grey twilight70. Stellan dropped anchor in a damp marshy71 meadow so that the balloon might trail a little and reduce speed. It caught in an alder72 with a terrible jerk. Quick as lightning he tore open one of the gores—and the balloon partly fell and was partly flung down into a copse of young birches.
Stellan freed himself at once. He hastened to drag out his fellow passenger from below the torn, flapping and billowing balloon cloth. She had fainted....
274Some people came running up and he made them carry her in. They had had the luck to land just beside a country house. Then he rushed to the telephone and arranged for telegrams....
Miss L?hnfeldt lay ill for a few days, till Stellan one day stepped in to her with a bundle of Swedish newspapers full of highly coloured descriptions of the unique and adventurous73 balloon flight of the well-known tennis player and rider, Miss L?hnfeldt.
Stellan was invited to the autumn shoot at Trefvinge. He gave a low whistle when he saw the name of Miss L?hnfeldt and not her father on the invitation card. He understood that the invitation was from her and not from her father.
But he also whistled, though in another key, when he heard from the coachman that Captain von Strelert had already arrived. For it was equally evident that Manne, Baron75 Manne von Strelert was the guest of the Count.
Count L?hnfeldt had, as a matter of fact, been extremely angry over his daughter’s rash action. Busybodies, of course, telephoned at once to Trefvinge to tell him that his daughter had gone up in a balloon with Captain Selamb. In a balloon! It seemed almost indecent to him. He could not remember any really aristocratic ladies who had gone up in a balloon. And with that Captain Selamb into the bargain! From Selambshof ... brother of Peter Selamb...!
When, later in the day, there came a telephone message from Furusund that the balloon had been driven out to sea in the gale, then he regarded the information as a confirmation77 of his view that Captain Selamb was not the sort of gentleman that the daughter of Count L?hnfeldt should 275go up in the air with. He was so extremely vexed78 that he scarcely felt any anxiety for the life of his only child.
Towards evening he calmed down a little when he received a wire that they had landed at a quite respectable Finnish-Swedish country house. And when the following day he read in the papers of the brave and sporting action of a lady moving in the highest circles, and of the courage and the self-control of Miss L?hnfeldt, daughter of the well-known Count L?hnfeldt of the magnificent seat at Trefvinge, well, then he thought at last that perhaps his daughter’s eccentricity79 had something aristocratic in it after all.
But from that admission to the approval of Captain Selamb as in any sort of capacity suitable company for his daughter was a long step,—So far Stellan had not yet come, in spite of his well arranged stage management and press advertisement. It was therefore with measured dignity and a rather chilly80 expression that the Lord of Trefvinge received him. And this occurred in the largest and most splendid room of the castle, the great tapestry81 hall, which might well have subdued82 even the boldest.
“Yes, I heard that Manne had promised to come for a few days,” answered Stellan in a light, almost insolent84, tone. He read the master of the house quite clearly, so clearly indeed that he sometimes was afraid of not being able to keep a straight face.
Count L?hnfeldt was a very short man, in spite of the high heels and extra soles on his shoes. He had an extremely neat face. His words and his gestures were dignified85, slow, and heraldically stiff. But his eyes showed a continual nervousness, the nervousness of the actor: “Do I make an impression—do you believe in me?” they seemed to say.
Alas86, nobody believed at all in him. People made most 276impudent fun of him behind his back. He was generally called Count Loanfeldt, and the reason was known to everybody.
The owner of Trefvinge was the son of an unmarried actress, but whilst still very young he married the extremely wealthy widow of a brewer87, who died when his only daughter was born. The title of Count was Portuguese88. He had received it from King Charles, of the house of Bragan?a, after having on a certain delicate occasion lent him a hundred thousand crowns. This happened in Vienna whilst the monarch89 was still only Crown Prince. L?hnfeldt, who had quite early begun to imagine that his unknown father was a high-born aristocrat76, did everything to correct the unjust fate that had given him a plebeian90 name, and when travelling he always used to try to come into contact with royalty91. And now he had managed to procure93 rooms at the hotel adjoining the suite94 of the Crown Prince, Charles. It struck him at once that the Crown Prince received a lot of people who did not behave with becoming reverence95 at all. When he questioned the porters, he shrugged97 his shoulders. The callers were simply creditors. A gentleman of his Highness’ suite had gambled away all the funds, and for some incomprehensible reason no money arrived from home. He could not even pay his hotel bill.
Herman Bogislaus L?hnfeldt needed no more. He decided98 to intervene at once for the salvation99 of the monarchic100 principle. Bowing, he stepped up to the Crown Prince Charles and begged that an old admirer of the house of Bragan?a might be allowed to hand over to its present august representative an humble101 gift of a hundred thousand crowns to be used for some charitable purpose.
The Crown Prince received the cheque with an amazed but gracious smile.
About half a year later, L?hnfeldt received two large letters with seals of State and Portuguese stamps. One 277contained an account of the use to which his money had been put in an Orphanage102 in Lisbon, the other letter contained the letters patent of his title.
He rushed down to Lisbon and threw himself at the feet of the newly crowned King Charles. Then he rushed home again to buy an estate as a background to his new dignity. And now he sat here at Trefvinge, the ancestral home of the Oxenstierna family, and tried to fill out the magnificent frame.
Such was Count L?hnfeldt’s history.
He had one great grief. The title was not hereditary103. Already in Elvira’s childhood he would look at the little plebeian with compassion104 and melancholy105. And when she grew up his only hope lay in a suitable marriage for her.
“You must marry, Elvira,” he preached. “If you don’t marry you will remain plain ‘Miss’ all your life.”
But it had not pleased Miss Elvira to marry yet. She was already nearing thirty. Some suitors she had turned away herself, others had withdrawn106 of their own accord, to the great astonishment108 of all but the initiated109.
Neither Stellan nor Manne belonged to the initiated. But both were in such miserable110 circumstances. And they knew only too well each other’s business at Trefvinge. All the same, they kept countenance111 when they met out in the sunshine on the steps, at least Stellan did. Manne was not quite so happy. The poor boy had of course arrived first at the mill but it hurt him all the same to stand in the way of an old friend. So he cast timid and remorseful112 glances at Stellan when he helped Miss Elvira into the saddle.
She, on the other hand, seemed in excellent spirits this morning.
“Come on, Captain Selamb,” she said with a little side-glance at her father. “C?sar II is free. We are riding towards the sand pit.”
Stellan’s voice sounded cold:
278“Thank you, but I am too much handicapped.”
She shrugged her shoulders and gave her black mare113 a light cut with her whip. But Manne sat still and looked as if he could not get going. Stellan was cruel enough to wave a glove, with a meaning wink114, to remind his friend of his faithlessness to “The Glove.”
Never before in his life had Manne looked so lost on horseback. He suddenly set his bay to a gallop115 and followed his companion, who was already disappearing through the park gates.
Stellan had settled on an entirely116 different plan of action to Manne. He had made up his mind to be indifferent to Miss L?hnfeldt so as to excite her spirit of contradiction, and to try to win the father instead. For that reason he at once began to display immense interest in the history of the castle. Faithfully and indefatigably117 he accompanied the Count, as he rattled118 out a whole armoury of dates, and roamed around like a parody119 of greatness in the many splendid apartments. Patiently he sat for hours in the library amongst peerages, pedigrees, genealogies120, and Gotha-almanacs and listened to the anecdotes121 of the lord of the castle. Count L?hnfeldt knew every anecdote122 concerning a prince.... Then they walked outside and down the steps, and Stellan duly admired the Oxenstierna coat of arms cut in sandstone over the proud Renaissance123 doorway124. He sat with a becoming thrill of reverence on the seat round the giant oak which Axel Oxenstierna had planted with his own hand and in the shadow of which the Count, like the previous owners of the castle, used to sit and marvel125 at “the small amount of wisdom that the world is ruled with” and grow horrified126 at the tendency of the time to level us all “like pigs’ feet.” Stellan was surprised at himself that he need not sit silent at the feast but was also able to say something about Oxenstierna. The moment before he had not suspected his knowledge. It had been the same at school long ago when lazy Stellan 279always knew an answer after all. Perhaps it was some kind of thought reading....
The Count by and by worked himself up into stammering127 enthusiasm. Oxenstierna! Oxenstierna! It sounded as if he were speaking of his own ancestor. Well, who knows if he had not some such thoughts. Then he took Stellan’s arm and drew him to the small Chapel128, of which he had the patronage129, whose white-washed gable shone under the yellowing birches on the other side of the garden wall. He took the rather large key of the crypt out of a case he always carried in his pocket, and staggered in front of Stellan down into the dusky vault130. And over the richly carved oak and copper131 coffins133 he mumbled reverently134 a string of names of which most were well known in history, and stopped at last in front of a gigantic open coffin132 of porphyry, the lid of which was leaning against the wall.
“This,” he said, caressing135 the carvings136 on the lid, which depicted137 a bear with a little child on its back, “is the L?hnfeldt coat of arms. And here I shall one day rest my weary bones.”
You could hear from his tone that death had lost its bitterness for him since he would enter such distinguished138 company.
After all this the Count was a little tired, and, excusing himself on the plea of important correspondence, he went up to take his little snooze before dinner, just like any ordinary human being.
Stellan wandered about alone with his hands behind his back in the stately park of Trefvinge. Around him this September day he heard from the high tree tops a sharp sound, as from an over-tense string. In the clear transparent139 air a dry leaf floated slowly down to his feet with a fine even motion. It was a motion as symmetrical and regular as the shape of the leaf itself. He pondered for a moment on the static problem. Then it struck him that 280even in his youth he had felt irritated that wealth and secure luxury should chase shadows and idle fancies in order to obtain a little excitement. He suddenly shivered with a light but penetrating dread140. He realised here in the silence of the park in a way that he had never done before, that he, Stellan Selamb, was on the verge141 of ruin. “If I don’t succeed in this,” he thought, “there is no other way out than the revolver....”
Stellan stood there with twitching142 face and a queer helpless movement of his right hand. What was the matter, were his nerves already giving way? “Well, of course, one does not lead a life like mine without being punished for it,” he muttered. “Strange that it comes like this in the stillness and not in the balloon out there over the sea, for instance....”
He took a few steps but halted again suddenly amongst the sunny patches on the hard dry road. The thought that she, Elvira L?hnfeldt, was now riding by Manne’s side irritated him like a noxious143 poison. He saw her suddenly in the light of anxious and trembling hope. He saw her as she had sat in the sunshine, light, straight, elegant on her nervous jet black horse. Her assurance and her recklessness were thorns in his side. For a moment he found her really beautiful and desirable in her cool refinement144. The brittle145, overstrung elements in her character seemed to him to be in wonderful harmony with the beautiful autumn day. Fancy if he might lead a calm and exquisite life together with this child of luxury and taste with her the joys of a satisfied ambition! Even the thought of her secret infirmity seemed to him at this moment an additional refinement, a promise of a painless, concentrated life of pleasure.
Stellan pulled himself up as if at a word of command. “Damn it, I am not falling in love, I hope,” he thought. But the next moment his thought was: “No, dash it all, the fact is I have not slept for several nights!” He struck 281his leg with his stick: “Keep cool! If you get sentimental, all is lost. She is nothing but a whimsical and obstinate child and you must conquer her through her whims146 and her obstinacy147.”
For a moment Stellan felt his head swim and the ground give way under his feet. This made him doubly reckless. Partly from a kind of cruel sensuousness148 and partly to give himself courage, he began in imagination to undress her and lay bare her infirmity. “It is not the softest women who are the weakest,” he thought. “With all her arrogance149 and all her sport she is really a poor, delicate, and enfeebled creature. She is suffering from the disease of wealth, the sapping of strength of those who do not need to do anything for their living. And she can’t have children. The future is cut out of her body. Whence can she derive150 any strong instincts difficult to conquer? No, she is really a very easy victim to one who is wise and reckless....”
Stellan already smiled to himself. “No, my dear Manne, you are too good natured,” he thought. “Even from behind one can see when you are lying....”
Then he hurried in to dress for dinner.
The evening of that same day, Stellan and Manne were standing out in the moonlight on the narrow balcony that ran outside their two rooms on the first floor. The host and hostess had already withdrawn and everything was quiet in the big house behind them.
Stellan scrutinized151 his old friend. Manne’s face was pale over his big white shirt front. There was really not much left of the old irrepressible Manne von Strelert.
“The old man isn’t exactly exciting,” Stellan mumbled, pointing with his thumb towards the house. Manne answered with unusual vehemence152:
“Why can’t he realize that he is behind the times with his aristocracy! That sort of thing originated in the middle ages, damn it all! And how he chews my poor ‘Baron.’ 282Heavens above, it makes me wish I were a grocer.”
Stellan was amazed that Manne should get excited so easily. He felt a strange cold satisfaction and continued pitilessly:
“My dear Manne, you have not much respect for your prospective153 father-in-law.”
Manne started as if he had been struck. He was unguarded and had no repartee155 ready. He put his hand on Stellan’s arm and mumbled almost tenderly:
“Stellan ... don’t let us talk about that any more....”
For a moment they stood silent, looking out into the blue shimmering night which was full of small fluttering creatures. Below them the apple trees in the orchard156 were bowed down with fruit. Further away a thin veil of mist lay over a meadow in which were some grazing cows whose white spots shone like newly washed clothes in the moonlight. And beyond the bright edging of yellow reeds the bay of Lake M?lar lay dreaming with a narrow silver streak53 upon it that leapt into life when a breeze passed. Still further there were reflections of the moon constantly appearing and disappearing where the water seemed to repose157 as calm as a mirror but was all the same stirred by a faint ground swell.
The whole atmosphere seemed full of the delicious coolness of rich ripe fruits, and full of the peace and calm of possession and ownership.
“Fancy that there are people who lead quiet and happy lives,” mumbled Manne.
Stellan imitated his tone:
“Yes, why are we not innocent vegetarians158, feeding on carrots and staring at the moon.... Nonsense! Manne! Nonsense! There are people who lead dull lives, and people who don’t. Let us as long as possible belong to the latter! Now is the hour of lovers and gamblers.”
He suddenly made a gesture embracing the castles and the acres of Trefvinge.
283“Look here, Manne, all this that seems so safe and still—shall we cut through the pack for it tonight?”
When these words escaped Stellan he had still no second thought. It looked as if Manne did not at first understand what he meant. He remained silent for a long time, but then he mumbled too:
“Yes. Let’s cut for it.”
There was a strange dull note of relief in his voice. It was as if his friend had relieved him of the burden of willing and choosing for himself.
Thoughts flashed quick as lightning through Stellan’s brain. It was now that he began to feel a strange assurance that he would somehow win. His words came quick, like rapier thrusts:
“I have an unopened pack of cards with me. We will simply back our luck. He who draws the highest heart stays. The other leaves early tomorrow morning on the clear understanding that he does not intend to come back.”
Manne was paler than ever and had a vacant look in his eyes:
“Right you are!”
Stellan ran inside to his room and searched for the cards. The lamp was not lit. He had to search for a long time in his suit case. Meanwhile he was thinking swift as lightning. “Manne must not draw the highest heart,” he thought, “No, not this time. For then all is over with me....” The shiver and the dizziness he had felt in the park returned. “No, Manne must not draw the highest card....” At last he found the pack of cards, picked it up with trembling hands and pressed his thumb nail hard into the edge of the ace2 of hearts as it peeped out through the round hole in the wrapper. There must be quite a noticeable mark on the other side ... Stellan had not premeditated this, had never before done anything of the kind. He felt something approaching surprise.
284“Well, that is what we Selambs do,” he muttered to himself. Quickly he went back to Manne’s room and flung the pack on the table:
“We must avoid misunderstandings,” he said. “The two is lowest and the ace highest, isn’t that so?”
“Good!”
With a gesture indicative of long practice Manne spread the cards out fan-like on the polished surface of the mahogany table:
“You draw first, as I shuffled.”
Stellan’s eyes looked searchingly at the fan for the marked card. No, he could not see it. He must gain time. He opened his cigarette case:
“Let us smoke a cigarette together, before we draw. It will be the most exquisite cigarette we ever smoked together. A cigarette with Fate....”
“All right!”
The cigarettes were finished. Stellan had to draw. Now he saw the ace on the extreme right. The little mark on the back of the card was noticeable in a tiny reflection from the lamp. Stellan had a feeling of being lifted off the floor, of soaring. But he did not dare to draw the ace at once. That would have looked too strange. He had to minimize the risk.
“Look here, Manne,” he said, smilingly. “Supposing I draw a low heart straight off and you draw a club. Then it would be sudden death. That would be idiotic161 extravagance with our precious excitement. We will continue to draw till each of us has at least one heart and after that the highest wins.”
“All right,” said Manne. His tone had become more and more obviously indifferent.
Stellan drew the nine of clubs. He saw Manne’s hand 285hovering over the cards with cold excitement. But it stopped at the harmless end and drew the ace of spades.
Next draw. Not even now could Stellan make up his mind to take the ace of hearts. He drew a card beside it, thinking that Manne, in obedience162 to some psychological law, would try his luck at the other end. He drew the two of clubs.
Stellan had not drawn107 a heart yet. Now he had to take it. He felt strangely frightened. It seemed as if he were about to put his hand into somebody else’s purse. He felt as if all his fellow officers were sitting round him staring at his fingers. “No, damn it, what am I really doing,” he thought. Then he pulled himself together. “Bah—you must throw out ballast—keep afloat. And nobody knows!”
He turned up the ace.
Manne leaned back in his chair with a little tired smile, a smile of sad, weary, pathetic relief.
They smoked for a moment in silence. Stellan wanted to say something encouraging but could not get the words over his lips. It was Manne who took up the thread again:
“When some excitement is over, I sometimes feel discomfort166....”
Manne’s voice sounded childishly pleading:
“Yes, but Stellan, have you never experienced moments when you really shudder at yourself ... at all the miserable and damnable things one has done?”
“No, I have never permitted myself that luxury.”
Marine167 looked at him with a mien168 in which for the first time there was something of a stranger.
286“You are a bit of a barbarian169 after all, my dear Stellan,” he mumbled, “You have a queer insensibility on which to fall back. I am damned if I know how it is but I have never been able to will anything when I have been with you. But I will tell you this much, I should never have entered into this folly170 if I had not made up my mind beforehand to escape from it all. It’s disquieting171 to play for a living human being.... No, away with it all....”
“My dear Manne, I can’t help it if you only drew a knave of hearts,” mumbled Stellan coldly.
“No, old boy, of course you can’t, but that’s not the point. I have felt the whole time that this was impossible. You don’t understand what a human being can feel like, Stellan. I played only because you proposed it. For twenty years I have not done anything else but what you proposed. I am a wretch172. And you, Stellan, what are you? Imagine! I have known you for so long and yet I don’t even know that. It’s strange, but tonight ... I almost seem to catch a glimpse of you, after all. Yes, you are one of those who succeed in everything. You remain a Selamb. And all the same I am somehow sorry for you, Stellan. Yes, I feel damned sorry for you, because, you see, there is something in life that you would never understand if you lived to be a hundred....”
Manne had never been known to make so long a speech before. Stellan stood up and patted him on the shoulders.
“My dear Manne, now you are ready for a rest,” he said.
“That’s right ... ready for a rest,” muttered Manne, and gave Stellan a hand which at first was limp, but afterwards pressed hard the hand of his friend.
Thus they separated.
If Manne had realized, about ten years earlier, all he realized that night, his life would perhaps have been shaped differently.
Stellan did not go to bed immediately. The genial173 mists of sleep seemed to have flown into the infinite distance. He 287stood in the moonlight leaning against the stone parapet of the balcony and felt how its chill mounted from his hands to his chest. His thoughts multiplied mechanically and spread like hoar frost. He thought of his own life. “I have been an incurable174 gambler,” he thought. “Well, what of it—it requires courage after all, that flirtation175 with Fate. You can say what you like but I have been a dare-devil. Chance has been my God and I have not betrayed him....”
Cold and penetrating a voice returned the answer he had expected all the time: “Not until tonight. You marked the cards. You were frightened, Stellan Selamb, frightened....”
Stellan was not, for the moment, thinking of Manne, whom he had seduced176 into gambling177, from whom he had won, and whom he now knew to be destitute178. No, he only heard the voice that had called him afraid: So cold and selfish can conscience be.
“No, I was not at all frightened,” he protested. “The fact is that I at last perceived my own stupidity. What the devil is the use of relying on chance. Chance is the fool of necessity, nothing else. And we have been the fools of the fool. If everything is a mathematical certainty what the deuce does it matter if I dig my nail into an ace of hearts!”
But it is dangerous to betray one’s God even if he is a fool. The pitiless voice was not silenced: “You stole your friend’s last chance, Stellan Selamb, you are no longer a gambler, you are a thief, a cowardly thief.”
Stellan shuddered179. That is the worst that can happen to a man of his stamp—to doubt his own courage. He discovers all at once all the things he has neglected to be afraid of. The stone parapet felt dreadfully cold. It positively180 made his hands stiff. But he could not let go. The moon seemed to breathe a silent, cold threat. What lies were told about the moon? A dead world! The death’s 288head from space grinned into his face. Stellan suddenly looked round with an uncertain look. Behind him rose the high white fa?ade like a wall of snow. It struck a chill into his back. And behind it slept the woman without a future, the woman whose bosom181 was a tomb. Was it not almost suicide to take such a half dead creature to wife?
“Why do I stand here in the moonlight,” he thought. “Am I alive or am I only a ghost?”
Yes, the moment of agony had come to Stellan Selamb as it comes to everybody. He felt a cruel fear. But it was not the fear that is the beginning of wisdom. He had gracefully182 skated on the outside edge on the smooth ice of prejudices and fictions. But now he had fallen through into deep reality. “Ugh—this seems to be bottomless! Yes, the world is as deep as my fears.”
Stellan came down late the following morning and found Count L?hnfeldt in an evident bad temper at Captain von Strelert’s sudden and unceremonious departure.
But out on the parapet of the steps Elvira sat already impatiently waiting for her ride. She laughed and shrugged her shoulders:
“The Baron has already run away,” she said. “It was not an orderly retreat, it was precipitate183 flight.”
The morning sun and the ride helped Stellan to recover himself. After the ghostly visions of the night he enjoyed feeling C?sar’s fine shoulders working beneath him. The coolness of the rushing air around his forehead and temples mingled184 exquisitely with the gentle innocent warmth of the beautiful, gleaming body of the horse. Stellan did not feel exactly tired, only strangely unsubstantial and fragile.
They were riding in silence and he kept a little behind. He could not understand his feelings yesterday in the park. No, today he looked at her more critically than 289ever. Even during the ride when she appeared to greater advantage than otherwise he found in her something attenuated185, tense, unsexed, that left his instincts cold and unmoved. But that did not worry him now. It was rather a relief. It somehow made the thing easier. For one always feels it is easier to reach a goal that one does not long for too intensely. And it was high time. Tomorrow the rest of the shooting party was due to arrive, and then it might be difficult to find an opportunity.
Stellan tried to imagine how his rejected predecessors186 had behaved under similar circumstances. Of course they had stopped her in a narrow concealed187 forest path where the horses had been forced close together and were caressing each other’s noses in the twilight of the pines. And then they had avowed188 their intentions in the traditional style and received a shrug96 of the shoulders for an answer.
Stellan made up his mind that she should hear something different.
He chose a moment when they were stopped by a floating bridge which was open to let pass a sand barge that was just being slowly towed through. His tone was as cold as possible:
“Miss L?hnfeldt, what would you say to a shoot in Africa?”
She really looked surprised.
“A shoot in Africa?”
“Yes, up the Nile, for instance. To shoot hippopotamuses189, crocodiles, lions. You get a licence in Cairo and hire a boat, a comfortable house-boat, and a few niggers.”
“Well ... yes ... perhaps it would be an idea ... since we can’t go to the moon....”
“And how do you think I would be as manager and courier then?”
“Well ... perhaps....”
“Would you like to try it with me?”
“I am afraid it would be a bit difficult to arrange.”
290“Not if we got married....”
She suddenly looked straight at him, defiantly190, nervously191. Her voice was hard, almost shrill192.
“And I am ruined....”
A moment before Stellan had never meant to say anything of the kind; he only had a clear feeling that he must be absolutely unsentimental. But he did not regret it. A brutal194 sincerity195 may sometimes be the most refined of lies.
The barge had at last passed through and sailed on. Stellan continued in a different and more passionate196 tone:
“I don’t seek any repetition of my life’s former adventures. What is most exquisite in you, Elvira, is that you are ... free. Heaven protect me from those women who only breathe the nursery. No, there is a different and more robust197 air about you, an air in which one can breathe. I have never dreamt of such courage in a woman as you showed up in the rigging of the balloon. I sincerely believe that we together might do something bold and great with our lives.”
“To begin with, we should make father furious,” she said in a voice that did not sound at all distressed198 at the prospect154. Then she suddenly turned her horse and started off homewards at a sharp gallop.
Stellan followed silent and pale, with lips pressed tight together, without knowing what to think. It was exactly the same feeling as he had in the presence of the roulette ball. Through his head a ridiculous thought flashed. “Be bold and take your courage in both hands. I never talked about courage till I began to doubt it. And now just because I am afraid I shall fling down my courage as if it were the ace of trumps in the highest suit. It will be a continuation of yesterday’s little cheating game.”
291And he felt how chill self-contempt was beginning to grow up out of the events of the night....
Not until they had arrived at the broad steps did the whirling ball stop. Then the princess of the palace reined199 in her horse and graciously stretched out her hand with a quick nervous smile:
“Well, all right then....”
Stellan did not kiss her riding glove. In front of the groom200 he bent201 quickly forward and pressed his lips to her cheek.
She kept her countenance.
“Well, one can still live, even with a little self-contempt,” he thought, when of her own accord she put her arm through his on the steps. He was right. Nothing really improves your chances better in the game of life.
Elvira was right in saying her father would be furious. The little man positively swelled202 with wounded dignity, when Stellan came to ask for his daughter’s hand. Elvira hastened to point out that she was of age and could do as she liked, but then he threatened to cast her off, to disinherit her. Yes, he would give all he possessed203 to the House of Nobles. She tore his heart to pieces when she reminded him in a dry tone that all he possessed came from her mother and that she had her own inheritance from her mother. To be the head of the noble family of L?hnfeldt, and to hear such words from a degenerate204 plebeian daughter was truly terrible. He summoned to his assistance all the great departed of the castle to fight his fight against his blind and irreverent daughter. He painted in wonderful colours the brilliant and distinguished future she was thoughtlessly flinging away. He threatened to descend on her wedding day into the big porphyry coffin in the crypt below the Church.
Goodness only knows if Elvira would have had the strength to struggle on, had not the old man’s mad and 292obstinate resistance suddenly received a blow. A few weeks later a scandal occurred in society that put the Count’s superstitious205 belief in the aristocrat to a severe test.
His own choice, Baron Manne von Strelert, Captain of the Horse Guards, had shot himself after having forged Count L?hnfeldt’s signature on a bill for twenty thousand crowns. Then the lord of Trefvinge at last gave in, sighing. Poor Manne had served Stellan even unto death....
Where Manne had hidden those lost twenty thousand crowns was never quite cleared up. But amongst his fellow officers there was some talk about “The Glove,” having taken fine new business premises206 immediately after his death and having considerably207 increased her business.
Stellan was married at the end of November. There was a splendid ceremony in Church with many decorations and uniforms. Peter was promised higher interest on his loans on the condition that he was ill and absent from the celebrations.
The pair set out immediately for Africa for their shoot.
While the rice pattered against the window of the reserved carriage decorated with flowers, people outside on the platform whispered to each other that there was not much risk in this couple penetrating into Africa, as everybody knew that nothing could happen to the bride.
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收听单词发音
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1
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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6
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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14
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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18
lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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19
spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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20
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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21
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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22
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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23
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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25
bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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26
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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27
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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28
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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29
chivalrously
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| adv.象骑士一样地 | |
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gondola
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| n.威尼斯的平底轻舟；飞船的吊船 | |
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31
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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32
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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34
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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35
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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36
villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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37
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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38
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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39
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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40
iridescence
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| n.彩虹色；放光彩；晕色；晕彩 | |
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41
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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42
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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43
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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44
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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45
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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46
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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47
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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48
barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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49
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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51
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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52
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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53
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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54
strata
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| n.地层（复数）；社会阶层 | |
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55
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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56
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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57
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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58
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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59
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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60
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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61
trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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62
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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63
eastwards
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| adj.向东方（的），朝东（的）；n.向东的方向 | |
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64
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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65
leakage
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| n.漏，泄漏；泄漏物；漏出量 | |
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66
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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67
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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68
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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69
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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70
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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71
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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72
alder
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| n.赤杨树 | |
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73
adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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74
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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75
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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76
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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77
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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78
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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79
eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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80
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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81
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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82
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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83
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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84
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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85
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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86
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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87
brewer
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| n. 啤酒制造者 | |
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88
Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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89
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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90
plebeian
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| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
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91
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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92
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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93
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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94
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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95
reverence
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|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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96
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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97
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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98
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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99
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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100
monarchic
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| 国王的，君主政体的 | |
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101
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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102
orphanage
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| n.孤儿院 | |
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103
hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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104
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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105
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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106
withdrawn
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|
| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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107
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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108
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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109
initiated
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|
| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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110
miserable
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|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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111
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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112
remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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113
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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114
wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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115
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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116
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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117
indefatigably
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| adv.不厌倦地，不屈不挠地 | |
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118
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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119
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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120
genealogies
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| n.系谱，家系，宗谱( genealogy的名词复数 ) | |
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121
anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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122
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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123
renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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124
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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125
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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126
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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127
stammering
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|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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128
chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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129
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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130
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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131
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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132
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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133
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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134
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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135
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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136
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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137
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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138
distinguished
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|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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139
transparent
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|
| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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140
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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141
verge
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|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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142
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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143
noxious
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|
| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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144
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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145
brittle
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|
| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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146
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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147
obstinacy
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|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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148
sensuousness
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| n.知觉 | |
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149
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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150
derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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151
scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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152
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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153
prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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154
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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155
repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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156
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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157
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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158
vegetarians
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|
| n.吃素的人( vegetarian的名词复数 )；素食者；素食主义者；食草动物 | |
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159
shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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160
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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161
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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162
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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163
knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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164
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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165
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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166
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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167
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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168
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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169
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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170
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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171
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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172
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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173
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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174
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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175
flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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176
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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177
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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178
destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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179
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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180
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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181
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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182
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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183
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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184
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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185
attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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186
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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187
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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188
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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189
hippopotamuses
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| n.河马（产于非洲）( hippopotamus的名词复数 ) | |
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190
defiantly
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|
| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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191
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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192
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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193
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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194
brutal
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|
| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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195
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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196
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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197
robust
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|
| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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198
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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199
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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200
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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201
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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202
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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203
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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204
degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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205
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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206
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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207
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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