"Tell me, if you please," said Count Kostia, addressing him gayly, "what you think of our new comrade?"
Gilbert then noticed a fifth guest, whose face was not absolutely unknown to him. This newly invited individual was seated at the right of Father Alexis, who seemed to relish2 his society but little, and was no less a personage than Solon, the favorite of the master, one of those apes which are vulgarly called "monkeys in mourning," with black hair, but with face, hands, and feet of a reddish brown.
"You will not be vexed3 with me for inviting4 Solon to dine with us?" continued M. Leminof. "The poor beast has been hypochondriacal for several days, and I am glad to procure5 this little distraction6 for him. I hope it will dissipate it. I cannot bear melancholy7 faces; hypochondria is the fate of fools who have no mental resources."
He pronounced these last words half turning towards Stephane. The young man's face was more gloomy than ever. His eyes were swollen8, and dark circles surrounded them. The indignation with which the brutal9 remark of his father filled him, gave him strength to recover from his dejection. He resolutely10 set about eating his soup, which he had not touched before, and feeling that Gilbert's eyes were fixed11 upon him, he raised his head quickly and darted12 upon him a withering13 glance. Gilbert thought he divined that he called him to account for his carnation14, and could not help blushing,—so true is it that innocence15 does not suffice to secure one a clear conscience.
"Frankly16, now," resumed the Count, lowering his voice, "don't you see some resemblance between the two persons who adorn17 the lower end of this table?"
"The resemblance does not strike me," answered Gilbert coldly.
"Ah! mon Dieu, I do not mean to say that they are identical in all points. I readily grant that Father Alexis uses his thumbs better; I admit, too, that he has a grain or two more of phosphorus in his brain, for you know the savants of to-day, at their own risk and peril18, have discovered that the human mind is nothing but a phosphoric tinder-box."
"It is these same savants," said Gilbert, "who consider genius a nervous disorder19. Much good may it do them. They are not my men."
"You treat science lightly; but answer my question seriously: do you not discover certain analogies between these two personages in black clothes and red faces?"
"My opinion," interrupted Gilbert impatiently, "is that Solon is very ugly, and that Father Alexis is very handsome."
"Your answer embarrasses me," retorted the Count, "and I don't know whether I ought to thank you for the compliment you pay my priest, or be angry at the hard things you say of my monkey. One thing is certain," added he, "that my monkey and my priest,—I'm wrong,—my priest and my monkey, resemble each other in one respect: they have both a passionate20 appetite for truffles. You will soon see."
They were just serving fowl21 with truffles. Solon devoured22 his portion in the twinkling of an eye, and as he was prone23 to coveting24 the property of others, he fixed his eyes, full of affectionate longing25, on his neighbor's plate. Active, adroit26, and watching his opportunity, he seized the moment when the priest was carrying his glass to his lips; to extend his paw, seize a truffle, and swallow it, was the work of but half a second. Beside himself with indignation, the holy man turned quickly and looked at the robber with flashing eyes. The monkey was but little affected27 by his anger, and to celebrate the happy success of his roguery, he capered28 and frisked in a ridiculous and frantic29 way, clinging with his forepaws to the back of his chair. The good father shook his head sadly, moved his plate further off, and returned to his eating, not, however, without watching the movements of the enemy from the corner of his eye. In vain he kept guard; in spite of his precautions,—a new attack, a new larceny—and fresh caperings of joy by the monkey. Father Alexis at last lost patience, and the monkey received a vigorous blow full in the muzzle30, which drew from him a sharp shriek31; but at the same instant the priest felt two rows of teeth bury themselves in his left cheek. He could hardly repress a cry, and gave up the game, leaving Solon to gorge32 himself to his beard in the spoils, while he busied himself in stanching33 his wound, from which the blood gushed34 freely.
The Count affected to be ignorant of all that passed; but there was a merry sparkle in his eyes which testified that not a detail of this tragic35 comedy had escaped his notice.
"You appear to distrust Solon, Father," said he, seeing that the priest pushed back his chair and kept at a distance from the baboon36. "You are wrong. He has very sweet manners; he is incapable37 of a bad action. He is only a little sad now, but in his melancholy, he observes all the rules of good breeding; which is not the case with all melancholy people," added he, throwing a look at Stephane, who, taken with a sudden access of sadness, had just leaned his elbow upon the table and made a screen of his right hand to hide his tears from his father. Gilbert felt himself near stifling38, and as soon as he could, left the table. Fortunately no one followed him onto the terrace. Stephane had no more flowers to cultivate, and went to shut himself up in his high tower. On his part, Father Alexis went to dress his wound; as to M. Leminof, he was displeased39 with the cool and, as he thought, composed air with which Gilbert had listened to his pleasantries, and he retired40 to his study, promising41 himself to give to Monsieur his secretary, whom, nevertheless, he valued very highly, that last touch of pliancy42 which he needed for his perfection. Count Kostia was of an age when even the strongest mind feels the necessity of occasional relaxation43, and he would have been glad to have near him a pliant44, agreeable companion, and enchanted45 could that companion have been his secretary.
Gilbert strode across the terrace, and, leaning over the parapet, gazed long and silently at the highroad. "Ten months yet!" said he to himself, and contracting his brows, he turned to look at the odious46 castle, where destiny had cast his lot. It seemed as if the old pile wished to avenge47 itself for his ill humor: never had it been clothed with such a smiling aspect. A ray of the setting sun rested obliquely48 upon its wide roof; the bricks had the warm color of amber49, the highest points were bathed in gold dust, and the gables and vanes threw out sparks. The air was balmy; the lilacs, the citron, the jasmine, and the honeysuckle intermingled their perfumes, which the almost imperceptible breath of the north wind spread in little waves to the four corners of the terrace.
And these wandering perfumes mingled50 themselves, in passing, with other odors more delicate and more subtle; from each leaf, each petal51, each blade of grass, exhaled52 secret aromas53, mute words which the plants exchange with each other, and which revealed to Gilbert's heart the great mystery of happiness which animates54 the soul of things.
Gilbert was determined55 to drown his sorrows this evening in the divine harmonies of nature. To succeed the better, he called poetry to his aid, for the great poets are the eternal mediators between the soul of things and our feeble hearts of earth and clay. He recited the distichs where Goethe has related in a tongue worthy56 of Homer or Lucretius the metamorphosis of the plants. This was placed like a preamble57 at the beginning of the volume which he carried with him in his walks, and he had learned it by heart a few days before. The better to penetrate58 the sense of these admirable lines, he tried to translate them into French alexandrines, which he sometimes composed. This effort at translation soon appeared to him beyond his abilities; all the French words seemed too noisy, too brilliant or too vulgar, or too solemn to render these mute accents, these intonations59 veiled as if in religious mystery, by which the author of Faust intended to express the subtle sounds and even the silence of nature. We know that it is only in German poetry that we can hear the grass growing from the bosom60 of the earth, and the celestial61 spheres revolving62 in space.
Every language has its pedals and its peculiar63 registers; the Teutonic muse64 alone can execute these solemn airs which must be played with the soft pedal. For more than an hour Gilbert exhausted65 himself in vain attempts, and at last, disheartened, he contented66 himself with reciting aloud the poem which he despaired of translating. He uttered the first part with the fire of enthusiasm; but his voice fell as he pronounced the following passage:
"Every flower, my beloved, speaks to thee in a voice distinct and clear; every plant announces to thee plainly the eternal laws of life; but these sacred hieroglyphics67 of the goddess which thou decipherest upon their perfumed foreheads, thou wilt69 find everywhere hidden under other emblems70. Let the caterpillar71 drag itself creeping along, and soon the light butterfly darts72 rapidly through the air; and let man also, with his power of self- development, follow the circle of his soul's metamorphoses. Oh! then wilt thou remember that the bond which united our spirits was first a germ from which sprang in time a sweet and charming acquaintance; friendship in its turn soon revealed its power in our hearts, until love came at last, crowning it with flowers and fruits."
At this place a light cloud of sadness passed over Gilbert's face; he felt a secret dissatisfaction at meeting in the verses of his favorite poet a passage which he could not apply to his own experience.
Meanwhile, night had come, a night like a softened73 and refreshed day. The radiant moon shone in the zenith; she inundated74 the fields of heaven with soft whiteness, she shook her torch over the Rhine, and made the crests75 of its restless waves scintillate76; she poured over the tops of the trees a rain of silvery light; she suspended from their branches necklaces of sapphires77 and azure78 diamonds, which the breeze in passing sportively dashed together. The great slumbering79 woods thrilled at the touch of this dew of light which bathed their lofty brows; they felt something divine insinuating80 itself in the horror of their somber81 recesses82. From time to time a nightingale gave to the wind a few notes sonorous83 and sustained; it seemed the voice of the forest, speaking in its sleep,—its soul, carried away in ecstasy84, exhaling85 its intoxication86 in a long sigh of love.
Gilbert had been sitting up very late recently, since he had decided87 to remain but a short time at Geierfels, and he had grown pale over the Byzantines, in the hope of advancing in his task so much, that Count Kostia would more easily consent to his departure. Robust88 as was his constitution, he finished by tiring himself out, and nature claiming its rights, sleep seized him at the moment when he was about leaving the bank to seek his room, and have a little nocturnal chat with Agathias and Procopius.
When he awoke, the moon had already declined towards the horizon, which discovery surprised him greatly, as he thought he had slept but a few moments. He rose and shook his limbs, stiff from the dampness. Fortunately, he was the only one at Geierfels who had free ingress and egress89; the turret90 which he inhabited communicated with the terrace by a private staircase, to the entrance of which he had the key. Fortunately, too, the bulldogs had learned to know him, and never dreamed of disturbing his movements. He gained the little door without any difficulty, opened it, and having lit a candle which he drew from his pocket, commenced cautiously to ascend91 the winding92 staircase, the steps of which were broken in many places. He had just reached the first landing where terminated the spacious93 corridor, which extended along the principal facade94 parallel with the terrace, and was preparing to cross it, when he heard a long and painful groan95, which seemed to come from the other end of the gallery. Starting, he remained motionless some moments, with neck extended and ears alert, peering into the obscurity from whence he expected to see some melancholy phantom96 emerge; but almost immediately a gust97 of wind driving through the broken square of a dormer window made it grind upon its hinges and give out a plaintive98 sound, which reverberated99 through the corridor. Gilbert then fancied that what he had taken for a sigh was only the moaning of the wind, counterfeiting100 in its melancholy gambols101 the voice of human grief. Resuming his ascent102, he had already mounted some steps, when a second groan, still more dismal103 than the first, reached his ears, and froze the blood in his veins104. He was sure he could not be deceived now; the wind had no such accents—it was a wail105, sharp, harsh, and heartrending, which seemed as though it might come from the bosom of a specter.
A thousand sinister106 suppositions assailed107 Gilbert's mind, but he gave himself no time to reflect. Agitated108, panting, his head on fire, he sprang with one bound down the staircase, and reaching the entrance of the gallery, cried out in a trembling voice, and scarcely knowing what he said:
"Who's there? Who wants assistance? I, Gilbert, am ready to come to his aid—"
His voice was swallowed up and lost in the somber arches of the corridor. No answer; the darkness remained dumb. In the rapidity of his movement, Gilbert had extinguished his candle; he prepared to relight it, when a hat flew by and struck his forehead with his wings. The start which this unforeseen attack gave him made him drop the candle; he stooped to pick it up, but could not find it. In spite of this accident, he walked on. A feeble ray of moonlight, which came in by the dormer window and shed through the entrance of the corridor a long thread of bluish light, seemed to guide him a few steps. Then he groped his way with arms extended and touching109 the wall. Every few steps he stopped and listened, and repeated in a voice hoarse110 with excitement:
"Who's there? You who are moaning, can I do anything to help you?"
Nothing answered him except the beating of his heart, and the murmur111 of the wind, which continued to torment112 the hinges of the dormer window.
The gallery into which Gilbert had entered was divided halfway113 in its length by two steps, at the bottom of which was a large iron door, always kept open during the day, but closed and double-locked as night set in. Approaching this, Gilbert saw a feeble light glimmering114 beneath the door. He descended the steps, and looking through the key-hole, from which the key had been withdrawn115, saw what changed the frightful117 anguish118 he had just been suffering into surprise and terror.
At twenty paces from him he saw the appalling119 figure of a phantom standing120 erect121; it was enveloped123 in a large white cloth wound several times round its body, passing under its left arm, and falling over the right shoulder. In one hand it held a torch and a sword, in the other an oval ebony frame of which Gilbert could only see the back, but which seemed to inclose a portrait. The face of this specter was emaciated124, drawn116, and of unusual length; its skin, withered125 and dry, seemed to be incrusted upon its bones, its complexion126 was sallow; a profuse127 perspiration128 trickled129 from its brows and glued the hair to its temples. Nothing could describe the expression of terror in its face. It seemed to Gilbert that its two burning eyeballs penetrated130 even through the door, though they saw nothing which surrounded them; their vision seemed turned within, and the invisible object which fastened their gaze, a heart haunted by specters.
Suddenly the lips of this nocturnal wanderer opened, and another groan more fearful than the first issued from them. It seemed as if his burdened breast wished to shake off by a violent effort a mountain of weariness, the weight of which was crushing it, or rather as though the soul sought to expel itself in this despairing cry. Gilbert was seized with inexpressible agitation131, his hair stood on end. He started to fly; but a curiosity stronger than his terror prevented him from leaving the spot and kept him riveted132 to the door. By the eyebrows133 and cheekbones, in spite of the distortion of the face, he had recognized Count Kostia.
At length this sinister somnambulist stirred from his motionless position and advanced at a slow pace; he walked like an automaton134. After taking a dozen steps he stopped, looked around him, and slightly bent135 forward. His strained features resumed their natural proportions, life re-animated his brow, the deathlike inertia136 of his face gave place to an expression of sadness and prostration137. For a few seconds his lips moved, without saying a word, as if to become flexible, and fashioned anew to the use of speech:—then, in a soft voice which Gilbert did not recognize, and with the plaintive accents of a suffering child, he murmured:
"How heavy this portrait is! I can carry it no longer; take it out of my hands, it burns them. In mercy, extinguish this fire. I have a brand in my breast. It must be kept covered with ashes; when I can see it no more, I shall suffer less. It is my eyes that make me suffer; if I were blind, I could return to Moscow."
Then in a harsher voice:
"I could easily destroy this likeness138, but THE OTHER, I cannot kill it, curses on me! it is the better portrait of the two. There is her hair, her mouth, her smile. Ah, thank God, I have killed the smile. The smile is no longer there. I have buried the smile. But there is the mole139 in the corner of the mouth. I have kissed it a thousand times; take away that mole, it hurts me. If that mole were gone I should suffer less. Merciful Heaven! it is always there. But I have buried the smile. The smile is no more. I have buried it deep in a leaden coffin140. It can't come. . . ."
Then suddenly changing his accent, and in a tragical141, but bitter voice, his eyes fixed upon the large rusty142 sword which he held in his right hand, he muttered:
"The spot will not go away. The iron will not drink it. It was not for this blood it thirsted. I shall find it in the other, it will drink that. Ah! we shall see how it will drink it."
Upon this, he relapsed into silence and appeared to be thinking deeply. Then raising his head, he cried in a voice so strong and vibrating that the iron door trembled upon its hinges:
"Morlof, then it was not thou! Ah! my dear friend, I was deceived. . . . Go, do not regret life. It is only the dream of a screech-owl. . . . Believe me, friend, I want to die, but I cannot. I must know . . . I must discover. Ah! Morlof, Morlof, leave thy hands in mine, or I shall think thou hast not forgiven me. . . . God! how cold these hands are . . . cold . . . cold . . ."
And at these words he shuddered143; his head moved convulsively upon his shoulders, and his teeth chattered144; but soon calming himself, he murmured:
"I want to know the name, I must know that name! Is there no one who can tell me that name?"
Thus speaking, he raised the picture to a level with his face, and with bent head and extended neck, appeared to be trying to decipher upon the canvas some microscopic145 writing or obscure hieroglyphics.
"The name is there!" said he. "It is written somewhere about the heart,—at the bottom of the heart; but I cannot read it, the writing is so fine, it is a female hand; I do not know how to read a woman's writing. They have a cipher68 of which Satan alone has the key. My sight is failing me. I have flies in my head. There is always one of them that hides this name from me. Oh! in mercy, in pity, take away the fly and bring me a pair of pincers. . . . With good pincers I will seek that name even in the last fibers146 of this heart which beats no more."
He added with a terrible air:
The dead do not open their teeth. The one who lives will speak. You shall see how I will make him speak. You shall see how I will make him speak. . . . Tear off his black robe, stretch him on this plank147. The iron boots! the iron boots! tighten148 the boots!"
Then interrupting himself abruptly149, he raised his eyes and fixed them upon the door. An expression of fury mingled with terror swept over his face, as if he had suddenly perceived some hideous150 and alarming object. His features became distorted; his mouth worked convulsively and frothed; his eyes, unnaturally151 dilated152, darted flames; he uttered a hollow moan, took a few steps backward, and suddenly dropping his torch to the ground, where it went out he cried in a frightful voice:
"There are eyes behind the door! there are eyes! there are eyes!"
Horror-struck, distracted, beside himself, Gilbert turned and took to flight. In spite of the darkness, he found his way as if by miracle. He crossed the corridor at a run, mounted the staircase in three bounds, dashed into his chamber153 and bolted the door. Then he hurriedly lighted a candle, and having glanced about to assure himself that the phantom had not followed him into his room, dropped heavily upon a chair, stunned154 and breathless. In a few moments he had collected his thoughts, and was ashamed of his terror; but in spite of himself his agitation was such that at every noise which struck his ear, he thought he heard the step of Count Kostia ascending155 the staircase of his turret. It was not until he had bathed his burning head in cold water that he recovered something like tranquillity156; and determining by a supreme158 effort to banish159 the frightful images which haunted him, he seated himself at his worktable and resolutely opened one of the Byzantine folios. As he began to read, his eye fell upon an unsealed letter which had been left on his table during his absence; it ran thus:
"Man of great phrases, I write to you to inform you of the hatred160 with which you inspire me. I wish you to understand that from the first day I saw you, your bearing, your face, your manners, your whole person, have been objects of distrust and aversion to me. I thought I recognized an enemy in you, and the result has proved that I was not mistaken. Now I hate you, and I tell you so frankly, for I am not a hypocrite, and I want you to know, that just now in my prayers I supplicated161 St. George to give me an opportunity of revenging myself upon you. What do you want in this house? What is there between us and you? How long do you intend to torture me with your odious presence, your ironical162 smiles, and your insulting glances? Before your arrival I was not completely unhappy. God be praised, it has been reserved for you to give me the finishing stroke. Before, I could weep at my ease, with none to busy themselves in counting my tears; the man that makes me shed them does not lower himself to such petty calculations; he has confidence in me, he knows that at the end of the year the account will be there; but you! you watch me, you pry163 into me, you study me. I see very well that, while you are looking at me, you are indulging in little dialogues with yourself, and these little dialogues are insupportable to me. Mark me now, I forbid you to understand me. It is an affront164 which you have no right to put upon me, and I have the right to be incomprehensible if it pleases me. Ah! once a little while ago, I felt that you had your eyes fastened on me again. And then I raised my head, and looked at you steadily165 and forced you to blush. . . . Yes, you did blush; do not attempt to deny it! What a consolation166 to me! What a triumph! Alas167! for all that, I dare not go to my own window any longer for fear of seeing you ogling168 the sky, and making declamations of love to nature with your sentimental169 air.
"Tell me, now, in a few words, clever man that you are, how you manage to combine so much sentimentality with such skillful diplomacy170? Tender friend of childhood, of virtue171 and of sunsets, what an adroit courtier you make! From the first day you came here, the master honored you with his confidence and his affection. How he esteems172 you! how he cherishes you! what attentions! what favors! Will he not order us tomorrow to kiss the dust under your feet? If you want to know what disgusts me the most in you, it is the unalterable placidity173 of your disposition174 and your face. You know the faun who admires himself night and day in the basin upon the terrace; he is always laughing and looks at himself laugh. I detest175 this eternal laughter from the bottom of my soul, as I detest you, as I detest the whole world with the exception of my horse Soliman. But he, at least, is sincere in his gayety; he shows himself what he really is, life amuses him, great good may it do him! But you envelop122 your beatific176 happiness in an intolerable gravity. Your tranquil157 airs fill me with consternation177; your great contented eyes seem to say: 'I am very well, so much the worse for the sick!' One word more. You treat me as a child—I will prove to you that I am not a child, showing you how well I have divined you. The secret of your being is, that you were born without passions! Confess honestly that you have never in your life felt a sentiment of disgust, of anger, or of pity. Is there a single passion, tell me, that you have experienced, or that you are acquainted with, except through your books? Your soul is like your cravat178, which is always tied precisely179 the same way, and has such an air of repose180 and rationality about it, that it is perfectly181 insufferable to me. Yes, the bow of that cravat exasperates182 me; the two ends are always exactly the same length, and have an effect of INDERANGEABILITY which nearly drives me mad. Not that this famous bow is elegant. No, a thousand times no! but it has an exasperating183 accuracy. And in this, behold184 the true story of your soul. Every night when you go to bed you put it in its proper folds; every morning you unfold it carefully without rumpling185 it! And you dare to plume186 yourself on your wisdom! What does this pretended wisdom prove? Nothing, unless it be that you have poor blood, and that you were fifty years old when you were born. There is, however, one passion which no one will deny that you possess. You understand me,—man of the gilded187 tongue and the viper's heart,—you have a passion common to many others! But, hold, in commencing this letter, I intended to conceal188 from you that I had discovered everything. I feared it would give you too much pleasure to learn that I know.—Oh! why can't I make you stand before me now this moment! I should confound you! how I would force you to fall at my feet and cry for pardon!
"Oh, my dear flowers, my Maltese cross, my verbenas, my white starred fox, and you, my musk189 rosebush, and above all my beautiful variegated190 carnation, which ought to be opening to-day! Was it then for him,—was it to rejoice the eyes of this insolent191 parasite192, that I planted, watered, and tended you with so much care? Beloved flowers, will you not share my hate? Send out from each of your cups, from each of your corollas, some devouring193 insect, some wasp194 with pointed195 sting, some furious horse-fly, and let them all together throw themselves upon him, harass196 him and persecute197 him with their threatening buzzing, and pierce his face with their poisoned stings. And you yourselves, my cherished daughters, at his approach, fold up your beautiful petals198, refuse him your perfumes, cheat him of his cares and hopes, let the sap dry up in your fibers, that he may have the mortification199 of seeing you perish and fall to dust in his hands. And may he, this treacherous200 man, may he before your blighted201 petals and drooping202 stems, pine away himself with ennui203, spite, anger, and remorse204!"
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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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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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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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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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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24
coveting
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| v.贪求，觊觎( covet的现在分词 ) | |
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25
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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26
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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27
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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28
capered
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| v.跳跃，雀跃( caper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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30
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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31
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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32
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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33
stanching
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| v.使（伤口）止血( stanch的现在分词 )；止（血）；使不漏；使不流失 | |
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34
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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35
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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36
baboon
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| n.狒狒 | |
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37
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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38
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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39
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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40
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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41
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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42
pliancy
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| n.柔软，柔顺 | |
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43
relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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44
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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45
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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46
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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47
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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48
obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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49
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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50
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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51
petal
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| n.花瓣 | |
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52
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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53
aromas
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| n.芳香( aroma的名词复数 )；气味；风味；韵味 | |
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54
animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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55
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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56
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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57
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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58
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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59
intonations
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| n.语调，说话的抑扬顿挫( intonation的名词复数 )；（演奏或唱歌中的）音准 | |
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60
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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61
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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62
revolving
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|
| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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63
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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64
muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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65
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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66
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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67
hieroglyphics
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| n.pl.象形文字 | |
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68
cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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69
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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70
emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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71
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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72
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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73
softened
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| （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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74
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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75
crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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76
scintillate
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| v.闪烁火光；放出火花 | |
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77
sapphires
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| n.蓝宝石，钢玉宝石( sapphire的名词复数 )；蔚蓝色 | |
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78
azure
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|
| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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79
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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80
insinuating
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|
| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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81
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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82
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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83
sonorous
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|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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84
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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85
exhaling
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的现在分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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86
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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87
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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88
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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89
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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90
turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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91
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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92
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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93
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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94
facade
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| n.(建筑物的)正面，临街正面；外表 | |
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95
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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96
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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97
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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98
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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99
reverberated
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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100
counterfeiting
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| n.伪造v.仿制，造假( counterfeit的现在分词 ) | |
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101
gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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102
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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103
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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104
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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105
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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106
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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107
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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108
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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109
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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110
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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111
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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112
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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113
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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114
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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115
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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116
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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117
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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118
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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119
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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120
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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121
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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122
envelop
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| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
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123
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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124
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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125
withered
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|
| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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126
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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127
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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128
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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129
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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130
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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131
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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132
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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133
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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134
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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135
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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136
inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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137
prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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138
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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139
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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140
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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141
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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142
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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143
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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144
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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145
microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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146
fibers
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| 光纤( fiber的名词复数 )； （织物的）质地； 纤维，纤维物质 | |
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147
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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148
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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149
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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150
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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151
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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152
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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153
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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154
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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155
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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156
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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157
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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158
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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159
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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160
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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161
supplicated
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| v.祈求，哀求，恳求( supplicate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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162
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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163
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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164
affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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165
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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166
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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167
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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168
ogling
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| v.（向…）抛媚眼，送秋波( ogle的现在分词 ) | |
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169
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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170
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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171
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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172
esteems
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| n.尊敬，好评( esteem的名词复数 )v.尊敬( esteem的第三人称单数 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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173
placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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174
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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175
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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176
beatific
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| adj.快乐的，有福的 | |
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177
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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178
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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179
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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180
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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181
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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182
exasperates
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| n.激怒，触怒( exasperate的名词复数 )v.激怒，触怒( exasperate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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183
exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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184
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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185
rumpling
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的现在分词 ) | |
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186
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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187
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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188
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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189
musk
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| n.麝香, 能发出麝香的各种各样的植物，香猫 | |
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190
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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191
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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192
parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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193
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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194
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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195
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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196
harass
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| vt.使烦恼，折磨，骚扰 | |
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197
persecute
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| vt.迫害，虐待；纠缠，骚扰 | |
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198
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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199
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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200
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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201
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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202
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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203
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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204
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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