Pindar.
The sun sank in an unclouded blaze, but with the approach of evening the toilers did not cease. The builders of the pyramids of Egypt could boast no greater zeal2 than that with which the Athenians fortified3 their city. Men, women and children, rich, middle-class and poor worked together for the attainment4 of but one end; the erection of a wall about their city which would protect it from over-ambitious states and cities. Stones from partly demolished6 buildings, broken pieces of statuary, the debris7 of structures once the pride of every loyal Athenian, added bit by bit to the work of defense8.
Zopyrus labored10 near the Diomean Gate lifting the large stones into places which had been freshly spread with mortar11 by the women and children. In vain his eyes searched the throng12 for a figure, the memory of which occupied his thoughts almost constantly since Salamis. He had worked at different sections of the wall in the hope that somewhere he would see her employed in the common task of all, but though he anxiously scanned a thousand faces during the course of his labor9, hers was not among them.
112
A young man at his side nudged his elbow. “By tomorrow at this time the wall should be of sufficient height for Aristides and his companion to leave for Sparta to join Themistocles who awaits them.”
Zopyrus agreed with the youth’s statement and added, “It was a clever scheme of Themistocles to go to Sparta apparently13 to argue about the feasibility of building a wall around Athens, the while he planned to have all Athenians erect5 such a wall. By having Aristides delay in joining him he made it possible for us to get the wall to a height sufficient for defense.”
“Themistocles is very clever, no doubt,” replied his companion, “but the calm judgment14 of Aristides is not to be discredited15.”
“Of course not,” said Zopyrus, “but it is the wit of Themistocles which will frustrate16 the ambitions of Sparta this time. Aristides is like the moon which is now rising on the other side of the city, as compared with the sun, Themistocles.”
At this moment Abronychus, a youth whom Zopyrus had met after the battle of Platæa, approached the two with a friendly clap upon the shoulder of each.
“Zopyrus and Lysimachus! I am glad to see you two together. In my mind I have always associated you as men of like temperament17.”
“But,” said Zopyrus jocosely18, “an argument has engaged us both up to the present moment. Your friend puts much confidence in the opinions of Aristides, while I maintain Themistocles to be the superior of the two.”
113
Abronychus’ smile spread into a broad grin. Turning to Lysimachus he said, “Your father wishes to talk with you at once. I met him at the shop of Aphobus where he awaits you.”
As the figure of Lysimachus disappeared in the crowd Zopyrus remarked, “A likely young fellow. I liked his upright manner, though his opinions differed from mine.”
“His father summons him,” said the other, “that he may bid farewell before leaving in the morning, at least twelve hours before he expected to make the trip. You see his father is Aristides who is to join Themistocles at Sparta.”
“Aristides his father!” exclaimed the crest-fallen Zopyrus. “Well I like him and hope he will not resent my remarks.”
“If I know Lysimachus,” said the other, “he will take no offense19 at what you said. I hope you will see him again. He has worked near the Diomean Gate ever since the wall was commenced. Your energies have not been so concentrated, for if I remember correctly, I have seen you at the gate of Diocharus and upon another occasion you were unloading stones at the north of the city beyond the Acharman Gate.”
“I will tell you the reason for my scattered20 efforts, though I maintain I have worked diligently21 wherever I happened to be. I began at the east side of the city, working near the different gates, a half day at a time and traveling northward22. I am searching for a girl whom I met at the time of the battle of Salamis. I have not seen her since, and I know not where to find her.”
“Her name?” inquired Abronychus.
114
“Alas I did not ask it, but her face I can not forget! Eyes that reflect the heaven’s blue, straight brows, delicately chiseled23 nose, a mouth that——.”
Abronychus threw up his hands in deprecation. “I have not seen her, or I have seen hundreds of her! Which shall I say, my friend? I must be going now and I wish you success in your search for the missing lady.”
After the departure of Abronychus, Zopyrus toiled24 lifting rocks and pieces of masonry25. It was with a feeling of ineffable26 relief that he heard the orders of the night-guard and saw that others were coming to take the places of those who had labored since mid-afternoon. Presently an approaching female figure caught his eye and in an instant he recognized Ladice whom he had rescued from the coarse Persian officer. She was conversing27 with an older woman and Zopyrus tried to attract her attention, for from her he hoped to learn the identity of her companion on the Acropolis. The tired workers in their eagerness to get to their homes for rest, pressed between him and Ladice, and he soon lost sight of her. He was pleased to know that she had reached Athens in safety, but his heart was filled with anxiety for the maiden28 whom he had rescued on the Acropolis.
As Zopyrus passed the Sacred Gate he glanced down the broad white road that he had followed the day he bore in his arms the unconscious Greek girl. The moon back of him shed its soft ethereal light over a scene that had recurred29 to him again and again in memory. Moved by an unexplainable impulse, he passed through the city-gate and pursued his course along the road that stretched luringly into the distance, bordered by the dusky shadows of olive trees.
115
Scarcely had he proceeded a furlong when he became aware of a figure several paces ahead. The man, for so it proved to be, was lost in thought and walked slowly, his head bent30 forward in meditation31. Zopyrus’ first impulse was to return to the city, but something familiar in the man’s dress and figure arrested his notice, so he carried out his original intention of taking a moonlight stroll along the Sacred Way. Before the man turned Zopyrus had recognized the poet Aeschylus and simultaneously32 with the recognition came a feeling of joy that this much revered33 man could be his companion upon such an occasion. Aeschylus recognized the youth as he approached and placed an arm across his shoulders as together they proceeded to the northwest.
For some moments only the sound of their sandals on the stony34 pavement broke the stillness, but at length Zopyrus asked: “Did this road stretching into the distance lure35 you too as you passed the gate?”
“It always entices36 me, for it is the way to my home. I live at Eleusis.”
Zopyrus expressed no little surprise, for he had always thought of Aeschylus as a native of Athens.
“I had planned to move to Athens,” continued the poet, “so my elder son could attend the Academy, but God saw fit to snatch him forever from me in the late war with the oriental barbarians37.”
116
Aeschylus stood a moment, his head bent forward, his attitude that of a man in complete subjection to a master. Zopyrus imagined that his lips moved but there was no sound forthcoming. Then there came to the Persian the memory of the maiden’s prayer, followed by the song from a myriad38 unseen throats, the mighty39 pæan that had saved Greece. Zopyrus as he watched the poet in silence knew that he too prayed. When the latter raised his head Zopyrus said tensely: “Your prayer is the second of its kind that I have seen. It ascends40 straight to God—“—then after a moment’s pause, “Tell me how do you explain the miracle of Salamis?”
Aeschylus gazed long and earnestly into the eyes of the young man before he answered.
“It was a word from the invisible, unapproachable Spirit of the universe.”
Zopyrus was greatly moved by the poet’s words.
“You believe that in great crises Zeus will help those whom He believes to be in the right?”
“Yes, but I believe that this God must have been approached by a devout41 suppliant42, and that this was his answer to an earnest prayer.”
“Aeschylus,” said the young man, and he stood and faced his companion so that the moon shone full into his face revealing his emotion, “I was myself a witness, the only one, to the prayer that saved Greece.”
“You a witness to such a prayer!” exclaimed the incredulous poet.
117
Zopyrus nodded, then as the two resumed their nocturnal promenade43 he related to the interested philosopher in detail, trying not to reveal his identity, the facts of his meeting with the girl upon whom he had not laid eyes for a year. After his narration44 had been concluded he was conscious of the fixed45 gaze of his companion upon him.
“Zopyrus,” said Aeschylus, “I have decided46 to begin work on a tragedy which will present the Persian point of view and especially that of the royal family in this war, I would be very grateful would you acquaint me with many details of life at Susa.”
Zopyrus was startled. Had his words or manner of speech betrayed him to the friend whom above all others he esteemed47 most highly? It was apparent that even if Aeschylus did know him to be a Persian by birth, he was neither rebuking48 nor condemning49 him for that fact, but rather was he mildly assuring him that his birth need be no detriment50 to him in his present surroundings. Zopyrus believed that Aeschylus was convinced of his sincerity51 in the present interests of Greece.
“I shall be pleased to assist you in your great work,” he replied in a quiet tone. “Having spent a few months out of each year at the Persian court, I should know something of the Persian view-point.”
“Were you a servant or a member of the nobility?” questioned the poet quickly.
“Must I tell you that?” asked the younger man.
“I should like to know.”
“Very well, I am a cousin of king Xerxes. My father was satrap of Sardis and an own brother of Darius Hystaspis.”
The older man turned quickly and his brow clouded as he cried:—
118
“What do you mean by parading in Greek clothes and looking with love upon a maiden of Hellas? Think you that a pure lovely girl of our land would return the affections of a cousin of the profligate52 Xerxes?”
Zopyrus’ reply was made with becoming dignity. “I sincerely believe that the girl returns my affections, and as for my Persian ancestry53, what think you of my features?”
Aeschylus’ expression of anger softened54 as he looked upon the young man’s face.
“There is the mystery,” he said in a puzzled voice, “I can think of no other than Theseus when I behold55 you. Your face is the type that characterizes our people.”
“From my departed mother have I inherited the features in which you behold a likeness56 to one of your national heroes, but not alone in face and form do I resemble the Greeks, but in nature too am I truly one of you. My mother was a Greek whose parents were members of the family of Ceryces.”
“Ceryces!” exclaimed Aeschylus in surprise. “Outside of the family of Eumolpidæ, I know no better in all this fair land. I bid you welcome to Greece and into our midst. I was not mistaken in my first impressions of you. Will you overlook the hasty words I spoke57 a few minutes ago?”
“I was not offended,” replied Zopyrus, “for I knew that after mature deliberation you would be convinced of the reality of my sincerity. My conscience has been my guide. I have always tried to obey it, thus keeping it ever sensitive.”
The poet smiled kindly58 into the earnest young face flushed with emotion.
119
“Young man, perfection lies in just that,” he said, “keeping the conscience sensitive. If you continue thus to strive after perfection in your youth you will be laying up virtues60 which will serve you in the crises of life which come later.”
“But I have often thought,” said Zopyrus puzzled, “that sometimes it is very difficult to determine between virtues and vices62. That may sound very strange to you who consider them to be exactly opposite, but occasionally even a sensitive conscience can not discriminate63. It seems to me that virtues and vices are very closely allied64. How easy it is for one who is the very soul of generosity65 to over-step the bound and become a spendthrift! Might not one who possessed67 the virtue59 of thrift66 pass over the hair-breadth boundary into the vice61 of miserliness? Might not one of a loving nature tend toward licentiousness68 if not watchful69, or one of self-restraint become too cold? Then again if one is neat and careful about one’s personal appearance might he not become vain if not watchful, or on the other hand if indifferent to the appearance of his body because the weightier matters of the soul concerned him more, might he not have the tendency to grow filthy70 and untidy in appearance? So it seems to me, my good Aeschylus, that it takes a very alert and sensitive conscience indeed to distinguish between the so-called virtues and vices, and to pass judgment correctly.”
120
“You are right, my boy, it does, and remember this; that in letting your conscience decide matters, you must not forget that no man lives unto himself, for everything he does affects another, but I see you are tired,” he said. “You have worked hard at the wall. In that you have done rightly, for toil1 is mankind’s greatest boon71 and life without industry is sin.”
Zopyrus glanced toward the sky, “The moon is beginning its descent and I must return to the house of Pasicles.”
“One moment before you go,” said the poet, laying a detaining hand upon the other’s arm, “You as a member of the Ceryces family should be initiated72 into the divine mysteries of Eleusis. Had your departed mother never mentioned them to you?”
“As a very young child I remember my mother’s having mentioned, upon several occasions when we were alone, the Eleusinian Mysteries and my childish mind nourished by an exceptionally vivid imagination, dwelt a great deal upon the probable nature of these enigmatical rites73.”
“At two months from this time when the moon is again in its fullness, I will act in the capacity of mystagogue for you. Till then I will see you occasionally at Athens in the home of our mutual74 friend. May the God who is powerful above all others protect you.”
With these words he was gone leaving Zopyrus puzzled but greatly elated.
点击收听单词发音
1 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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2 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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3 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
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4 attainment | |
n.达到,到达;[常pl.]成就,造诣 | |
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5 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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6 demolished | |
v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 );推翻;拆毁(尤指大建筑物);吃光 | |
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7 debris | |
n.瓦砾堆,废墟,碎片 | |
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8 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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9 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
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10 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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11 mortar | |
n.灰浆,灰泥;迫击炮;v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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12 throng | |
n.人群,群众;v.拥挤,群集 | |
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13 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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14 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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15 discredited | |
不足信的,不名誉的 | |
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16 frustrate | |
v.使失望;使沮丧;使厌烦 | |
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17 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
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18 jocosely | |
adv.说玩笑地,诙谐地 | |
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19 offense | |
n.犯规,违法行为;冒犯,得罪 | |
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20 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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21 diligently | |
ad.industriously;carefully | |
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22 northward | |
adv.向北;n.北方的地区 | |
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23 chiseled | |
adj.凿刻的,轮廓分明的v.凿,雕,镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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24 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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25 masonry | |
n.砖土建筑;砖石 | |
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26 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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27 conversing | |
v.交谈,谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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28 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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29 recurred | |
再发生,复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 ); 治愈 | |
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30 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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31 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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32 simultaneously | |
adv.同时发生地,同时进行地 | |
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33 revered | |
v.崇敬,尊崇,敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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35 lure | |
n.吸引人的东西,诱惑物;vt.引诱,吸引 | |
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36 entices | |
诱惑,怂恿( entice的第三人称单数 ) | |
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37 barbarians | |
n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 );外国人;粗野的人;无教养的人 | |
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38 myriad | |
adj.无数的;n.无数,极大数量 | |
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39 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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40 ascends | |
v.上升,攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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42 suppliant | |
adj.哀恳的;n.恳求者,哀求者 | |
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43 promenade | |
n./v.散步 | |
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44 narration | |
n.讲述,叙述;故事;记叙体 | |
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45 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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46 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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47 esteemed | |
adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 );敬重;认为;以为 | |
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48 rebuking | |
责难或指责( rebuke的现在分词 ) | |
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49 condemning | |
v.(通常因道义上的原因而)谴责( condemn的现在分词 );宣判;宣布…不能使用;迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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50 detriment | |
n.损害;损害物,造成损害的根源 | |
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51 sincerity | |
n.真诚,诚意;真实 | |
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52 profligate | |
adj.行为不检的;n.放荡的人,浪子,肆意挥霍者 | |
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53 ancestry | |
n.祖先,家世 | |
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54 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
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55 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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56 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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57 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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58 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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59 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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60 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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61 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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62 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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63 discriminate | |
v.区别,辨别,区分;有区别地对待 | |
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64 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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65 generosity | |
n.大度,慷慨,慷慨的行为 | |
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66 thrift | |
adj.节约,节俭;n.节俭,节约 | |
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67 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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68 licentiousness | |
n.放肆,无法无天 | |
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69 watchful | |
adj.注意的,警惕的 | |
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70 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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71 boon | |
n.恩赐,恩物,恩惠 | |
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72 initiated | |
n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始,创始,启蒙,介绍加入 | |
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73 rites | |
仪式,典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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74 mutual | |
adj.相互的,彼此的;共同的,共有的 | |
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