"Take away that mole! it hurts me!"
Shuddering10 at this recollection, he felt tempted11 to rush from the room; but a look from the Count recalled him to himself; he made a strong effort to master his emotion, and fixing his eyes upon the window, he looked at the falling rain.
"As a preliminary question," suddenly exclaimed the Count, speaking to his son; "do me the favor, sir, to tell me how much time you have passed in what you call a dungeon12, for I do not remember."
Stephane's face colored with a vivid blush. He hesitated a moment and then answered:
"I was there in all fifteen hours, which appeared to me as long as fifteen days."
"You see!" said the Count, looking at Gilbert. "And now," resumed he, "let us come to the point; a scene of the greatest impropriety occurred in this house this morning. Fritz, my valet, in presenting himself to my secretary, who is my friend, permitted himself to say three times: 'Good-morning, comrade; comrade, good- morning!'"
At these words Stephane's lips contracted slightly, as if about to smile; but the smile was arrested on its way.
"My little story amuses you, apparently13," pursued the Count, raising his head.
Stephane.
"His folly seems to me less than his insolence," replied the Count; "but without discussing words, I am delighted to see that you disavow his conduct. I ought not to conceal15 from you the fact, that this scoundrel wished to make me believe that he acted upon your orders, and I was resolved to punish you severely16. I see now that he has lied, and it remains17 for me but to dismiss him in disgrace." Gilbert trembled lest Stephane's veracity18 should succumb19 under this temptation; the young man hesitated but an instant.
"I am the guilty one," answered he in a firm voice, "and it is I who should be punished."
"What," said M. Leminof, "was it then my son, who, availing himself of the only resources of his mind, conceived this truly happy idea. The invention was admirable, it does honor to your genius. But if Fritz has been but the instrument to carry out your sublime20 conceptions, why do you laugh at his stupidity?"
"Oh, poor soul!" replied Stephane, with animation21, "oh! the donkey, how he spoiled my idea! I didn't order him to call M. Saville his comrade, but to treat him as a comrade, which is a different thing. Unfortunately I had not time to give him minute instructions, and he misunderstood me, but he did what he could conscientiously22 to earn his fee. The poor fellow must be pardoned. I am the only guilty one, I repeat it. I am the one to be punished."
"And might we know, sir," said the Count, "what your intention was in causing M. Saville to be insulted by a servant?"
"Always exaggerations," replied the Count sneeringly26. "Can you not, sir, rid yourself of this detestable habit of perpetual exaggeration in the expression of your thoughts? Can I not impress upon your mind the maxims27 upon this subject which two men of equal genius have given us: M. de Metternich and Pigault Lebrun! The first of these illustrious men used to say that superlatives were the seals of fools, and the second wrote these immortal28 words:
"'Everything exaggerated is insignificant29.'" Then extending his arm:
"To hate! to hate!" exclaimed he. "You say the word glibly30. Do you know what it is? Sorrow, anger, jealousy31, antipathy32, aversion, you may know all these; but hatred33, hatred!—you have no right to say this terrible word. Ah! hatred is a rough work! it is ceaseless torture, it is a cross of lead to carry, and to sustain its weight without breaking down requires very different shoulders than yours!"
At this moment Stephane ventured to look his father in the face. He slowly uplifted his eyes, inclining his head backward. His look signified "You are right, I will take your word for it; you are better acquainted with it than I."
But the Count's face was so terrible that Stephane closed his eyes and resumed his former attitude. A slight shudder9 agitated34 his whole frame. The Count perceived that he was near forgetting himself, and drove back the bitter wave which came up from his heart to his lips in spite of himself:
"Besides, my young friend here is the least detestable being in the world," pursued he in a tranquil35 tone. "Judge for yourself; just now he pleaded your cause to me with so much warmth, that he drew from me a promise not to punish you for what he has the kindness to call only a boy's freak. He even stipulates36 that I shall restore you your flowers, which he pretends give you delight, and within an hour Ivan will have carried them to your room. In short, two words of apology are all he requires of you. You must admit that one could not have a more accommodating disposition37, and that you owe him a thousand thanks."
"Apologies! to him!" cried Stephane with a gesture of horror.
"You hesitate! oh! this is too much! Do you then wish to revisit a certain rather gloomy hall?"
"In mercy," cried he, "inflict39 any other punishment upon me you please, but not that one. Oh, no! I cannot go back to that frightful40 hall. Oh! I entreat41 you, deprive me of my customary walks for six months; sell Soliman, cut my hair, shave my head,— anything, yes, anything rather than put my feet in that horrible dungeon again! I shall die there or go mad. You don't want me to become insane?"
"When one is unfortunate enough to believe in ghosts and apparitions42 at the age of sixteen," retorted the Count, "he should free himself as soon as possible from the ridiculous weakness."
Stephane's whole body trembled. He staggered a few steps, and falling on his knees before his father, clung to him and cried: "I am only a poor sick child, have pity on me. You are still my father, are you not? and I am still your child? Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! You do not, you cannot, want your child to die!"
"Put an end to this miserable43 comedy," cried the Count, disengaging himself from Stephane's clasp. "I am your father, and you are my son; no one here doubts it; but your father, sir, has a horror of scenes. This has lasted too long; end it, I tell you. You are already in a suitable posture44. The most difficult part is done, the rest is a trifle!"
"What do you say, sir?" answered the child impetuously, trying to rise. "I am on my knees to you only. Ah! great God! I to kneel before this man! it is impossible! you know very well it is impossible!
The Count, however, pressing his hand upon his shoulder, constrained45 him to remain upon his knees, and turning his face to Gilbert:
"I tell you, you are kneeling before the man you have insulted, and we all understand it."
Was it, indeed thus, that Gilbert understood it? Quiet, impassible, his eyes fixed46 upon the window, he seemed a perfect stranger to all that passed around him.
A cry of anguish47 escaped Stephane, a frightful change came over his face. Three times he tried to rise, and three times the hand of his father weighed him down again, and kept him in a kneeling posture. Then, as if annihilated48 by the thought of his weakness and powerlessness, he yielded, and covering his eyes with both hands, he murmured these words in a stifled49 and convulsive voice:
"Sir they do me violence,—I ask pardon for hating you."
And immediately his strength abandoned him, and he fainted; as a lily broken by the storm, his head sank, and he would have fallen backward, if his father had not signed to Ivan, who raised him like a feather in his robust50 arms, and carried him hastily out of the room.
Gilbert's first care after returning to his turret51, was to light a candle and burn Stephane's letter. Then he opened a closet and began to prepare his trunk. While engaged in this task, someone knocked at the door. He had only time to close the closet and the trunk when Ivan appeared with a basket on his arm. The serf came for the flowers, which he had orders to carry to the apartment of his young master. Having placed five or six in his basket, he turned to Gilbert and gave him to understand, in his Teutonic gibberish mingled53 with French, that he had something important to communicate to him. Gilbert answered in a tone of ill-humor, that he had not time to listen to him. Ivan shook his head with a pensive54 air, and left. Gilbert immediately seated himself at the table, and upon the first scrap55 of paper which came under his hand, hastily wrote the following lines:
"Poor child, do not distress56 yourself too much for the humiliation57 to which you have just submitted. As you said yourself, you yielded only to violence, and your apologies are void in my eyes. Believe me, I exact nothing. Why did I not divine, this morning, that Fritz spoke58 in your name! I should not have felt offended, for it is not to me that your insults are addressed, it is to some strange Gilbert of your imagination. I am not acquainted with him. But what can it avail you to provoke contests, the result of which is certain in advance? It is a hand of iron which lately weighed upon your shoulder. Do you hope then to free yourself so soon from its grasp? Believe me, submit yourself to your lot, and mitigate59 its rigors60 by patience, until the day when your eyes have become strong enough to dare to look him in the face, and your hand manly61 enough to throw the gage52 of battle. Poor child the only consolation62 I can offer you in your misfortune I should be a culprit to refuse. I have but one night more to pass here; keep this secret for me for twenty-four hours, and receive the adieus of that Gilbert whom you have never known. One day he passed near you and looked at you, and you read an offensive curiosity in his eyes. I swear to you, they were full of tears."
Gilbert folded this letter, and slid it under the facing of one of his sleeves; then taking the key of the private door in his hand, and posting himself at the head of the staircase, he waited Ivan's return. As soon as he heard the sound of his steps in the corridor, he descended63 rapidly and met him on the landing at the gallery.
"I do not know what to do," said Ivan to him. "My young master is not himself, and he has broken the first flower-pots I carried to him in a thousand pieces."
"Take the others too," replied Gilbert, taking care to let him see the key which he flourished in his hand. "You can put them in your room for the time being. When he becomes calmer he will be glad to see them again."
"But will it not be better to leave them with you until he asks for them?"
"I don't want to keep them half an hour longer," replied Gilbert quickly, and he descended the first steps of the private staircase.
"As you are going on the terrace, sir," cried the serf to him, "don't forget, I beg of you, to close the door behind you."
Gilbert promised this. "It works well," thought he; "his caution proves to me that the wicket is not closed." He was not mistaken. For the convenience of his transportation, the serf had left it half open, only taking the precaution to close and double-lock the door of the grand staircase. Gilbert waited until Ivan had reached the second story, and immediately remounting upon tiptoe, he darted65 into the corridor, followed its entire length, turned to the right, passed before the Count's study, turned a second time to the right, found himself in the gallery which led to the square tower, sprang through the wicket, and arrived without obstacle at the foot of the tower staircase. He found the steps littered with the debris66 of broken pots and flowers. As he began to descend64, loud voices came to his ears; he thought for a moment that M. Leminof was with his son. This did not turn him from his project. He had nothing to conceal. "I will beg the Count himself," thought he, "to read my farewell letter to his son." Having reached the top of the staircase, he crossed a vestibule and found himself in a long, dark alcove67, lighted by a solitary68 glass door, opening into the great room ordinarily occupied by Stephane. This door was ajar, and the strange scene which presented itself to Gilbert, as he approached, held him motionless a few steps from the threshold. Stephane, with his back towards him, stood with his arms crossed upon his breast. He was not speaking to his father, but to two pictures of saints hanging from the wall above a lighted taper69. These two paintings on wood, in the style of Father Alexis, represented St. George and St. Sergius. The child, looking at them with burning eyes, apostrophized them in a voice trembling with anger, at intervals70 stamping his foot and running his hands furiously through his long hair and tossing it in wild disorder71. Illustrious Saints of the Eastern Church, heard you ever such language before?
Then he sprang on a chair, tore the two pictures from the wall, threw them to the ground, and seizing his riding whip, switched them furiously. In this affair, St. George lost half of his head and one of his legs, and St. Sergius was disfigured for the rest of his days. When he had satisfied his fury, Stephane hung them up again on their nails, turning their faces to the wall, and blew out the lamp; then he rolled upon the floor, twisting his arms and tearing his hair—but suddenly sitting up, he drew from his bosom72 a small, heart-shaped medallion which he gazed on fixedly73, and as he looked the tears began to roll down his cheeks, and in the midst of his sobs74, he cried out:
"Oh, my mother! I desire nothing from you! you could do nothing for me; but why did I have time to know you? To remember! to remember— what torment75! Yes, I can see you now— Every morning you gave me a kiss, high on my forehead at the roots of my hair. The mark is there yet—sometimes it burns me. I have often looked in the glass to see if I had not a scar there— Oh, my mother! come and heal my wound by renewing it! To be kissed by one's mother, Great God! what happiness! Oh! for a kiss, for a single kiss from you, I would brave a thousand dangers, I would give my blood, my life, my soul. Ah! how sad you look! there are tears in your eyes. You recognize me, do you not? I am much changed, much changed; but I have always your look, your forehead, your mouth, your hair."
Then starting up suddenly, Stephane walked around the room with an unsteady step. He held the medallion closely grasped in his right hand and kept his eyes upon it. Again he held it out at arm's length and looked at it steadily76 with half-closed eyes, or drawing it nearer to him, he said to it sweet and tender things, pressing it to his lips, kissing it a thousand times and passing it over his hair and his cheeks wet with tears; it seemed as though he were trying to make some particle of this sacred image penetrate77 his life and being. At last, placing it on the bed, he knelt before it, and burying his face in his hands, cried out sobbing78, "Mother, mother, it is long since your daughter died. When will you call your son to you?"
Gilbert retired79 in silence. A voice from this room said to him: "Thou art out of place here. Take care not to meddle80 in the secret communion of a son and his mother. Great sorrows have something sacred about them. Even pity profanes81 them by its presence." He descended the staircase with precaution. When he had reached the last step,—extending his arm in the direction of the Count's room, he muttered in a low tone: "You have lied! Under that tunic82 of black velvet83 there is a beating heart!" Then advancing with a rapid step through the corridor, he hoped to pass out unseen; but on reaching the wicket, he found himself face to face with Ivan, who was coming out of his room, and who in his surprise dropped the basket he held in his hand.
"You here!" exclaimed he in a severe tone. "Another would have paid dearly for this—"
Then in a soft voice, expressing profound melancholy84:
"Brother," said he, "do you want both of us to be killed? I see you do not know the man whose orders you dare to brave." And he added, bowing humbly85: "You will pardon me for calling you brother? In my mouth, that does not mean 'comrade.'"
"Fortunately the barine has gone out; but take care; two days since he had one of his turns, he has one every year, and while they last, his mind wanders at night, and his anger is terrible during the day. I tell you there is a storm in the air, do not draw the thunderbolt upon your head."
Then placing himself between Gilbert and the door, he added with a grave air:
"Upon your conscience, what have you been doing here? Have you seen my young father? Has he been talking to himself? You could understand what he said, for he always talks in French. He only knows enough Russian to scold me. Tell me, what have you heard? I must know."
"Don't be alarmed," answered Gilbert. "If he has secrets he has not betrayed them. He was engaged in complaining to himself, in scolding the saints and weeping. Neither must you think that I came hither to spy upon him, or to question him. As he had met with sorrow, I wanted to console him by imparting the agreeable news of my near departure; but I had not the courage to show myself to him, and besides, I am not quite certain now what I shall do."
"Yes, you will do well to go," eagerly answered the serf; "but go secretly, without warning anyone. I will help you, if you wish it. You are too inquisitive87 to remain here. Certain suspicions have already been excited on your account, which I have combated. Then, too, you are imprudent!" Thus saying, he drew from his pocket the candle which Gilbert had dropped in the corridor, the preceding night.
"Fortunately," said he, returning it to him, "it was I who found it, and picked it up, and I wish you well, you know why. But before going from here," added he in a solemn tone, "swear to me, that during the time you may yet remain in this house, you will not try to come into this gallery again, and that you will not ramble88 in the other any more in the night. I tell you your life is in danger if you do."
Gilbert answered him by a gesture of assent, and passing the wicket, regained89 his room, where alternately standing at the window, or stretched upon an easy-chair, he passed two full hours communing with his thoughts. The dinner-bell put an end to his long meditations90. There was but little conversation during the repast. M. Leminof was grave and gloomy, and seemed to be laboring91 under a great nervous excitement which he strove to conceal. Stephane was calmer than would have been expected, after the violent emotions he had experienced, but there was something singular in his look. Father Alexis alone wore his everyday face; he found it very good, and did not judge it expedient92 to change it. Towards the end of the repast, Gilbert was surprised to see Stephane, who was in the habit of drinking only wine and water, fill his glass with Marsala three times, and swallow it almost at a single draught93. The young man was not long in feeling the effect of it; his face flushed, and his gaze became vacant. Towards the close of the meal, he looked a great deal at the Apocalyptic94 frescoes95 of the vaulted96 ceiling: then turning suddenly to his father, he ventured to address him a question. It was the first time for nearly two years,—an event which made even Father Alexis open his eyes.
"Is it true," asked Stephane, "that living persons, supposed to be dead, have sometimes been buried?"
"Yes, it has sometimes happened," replied the Count.
"But is there no way of establishing the certainty of death?"
"Some say yes, others no. I have been told of a frozen man who was dissected97 in a hospital. The operator, in opening him, saw his heart beating in his breast; he took flight and is running yet."
"But when one dies a violent death—poisoned, for example?"
"My opinion is, that they can still be mistaken. Physiology98 is a great mystery."
"Oh! that would be horrible," said Stephane in a penetrating99 voice; "to awaken100 by bruising101 one's forehead against the cover of a coffin102."
"It would certainly be a very disagreeable experience, answered the Count. And the conversation dropped. Stephane appeared very much affected by his father's answers. He gazed no more at the ceiling, but fixed his eyes on his plate. His face changed color several times, and as if feeling the need of stupefying himself, he filled his glass with wine for the fourth time, but he could not empty it, and had hardly touched it with his lips before he set it on the table with an air of disgust.
Tea was brought in. M. Leminof served it; and leaving his cup to cool, rose and walked the floor. After making two or three turns, he called Gilbert, and leaning upon his arm continued his walk, talking with him about the political news of the day. Stephane saw them come and go; he was evidently deeply agitated. Suddenly, at the moment when they turned their backs, he drew from his sleeve a small packet, which contained a pinch of yellow powder, and unfolding it quickly, held it over his still full cup; but as he was about emptying it, his hand trembled, and at this moment, his father and Gilbert returning to his side, he had only time to conceal the paper in his hand. In an instant he raised it again, but at the decisive moment his courage again failed him. It was not until the third trial that the yellow powder glided103 into the cup, where Stephane stirred it with his spoon. This little scene had escaped Gilbert. The Count alone had lost nothing of it; he had eyes at the back of his head. He reseated himself in his place and drank his tea slowly, continuing to talk with Gilbert, and apparently quite unconscious of his son; but not a movement escaped him. Stephane looked at his cup steadily, his agitation104 increased, he breathed heavily, he shuddered, and his hand trembled with feverish105 excitement. After waiting several minutes, the Count turned to him and, looking him full in the eyes, said:
"Well! you do not drink? Cold tea is a bad drug."
The child trembled still more; his eyes had a glassy brightness. Turning his head slowly, they wandered over everything about him, the table, the chairs, the plate, and the black oak wainscoting. There are moments when the aspect of the most common objects stirs the soul with solemn emotion. When the condemned106 man is led out to die, the least straw on the floor of his cell seems to say something to his heart. Finally, gathering107 all his courage, Stephane raised the cup and carried it to his mouth; but before it had touched his lips, the Count took it roughly from his hands. Stephane uttered a piercing cry and fell back in his chair with closed eyes. M. Leminof looked at him for a moment with a sarcastic108 and scornful smile; then bending over the cup he examined it with care, smelt109 of it, and dipping his spoon in it, drew out two or three yellow grains which he rubbed and pulverized110 between his fingers. Then in a tone as tranquil and as indifferent as if speaking of the rain, or of the fine weather, he said:
"It is phosphorus, a sufficiently111 active poison, and phosphorus matches have been the death of a man more than once. But I saw your little paper some time before. If I am not mistaken the dose was not strong enough." And dipping his finger in the cup, he passed it over his tongue, and curled his lip disdainfully. "I was not mistaken," continued he, "it would only have given you a violent colic. It was very imprudent in you; you do not like to suffer, and you know we have only fresh-water physicians in this neighborhood. Why didn't you wait a few hours? Doctor Vladimir Paulitch will be here to-morrow evening." And then he went on in a more phlegmatic112 tone. "It should be a first principle to do thoroughly113 whatever you undertake to do at all. Thus, when a man wants to kill himself according to rule, he should not begin by exciting suspicions in talking of the cemetery114. And as these affairs require the exercise of coolness, he should not try to get intoxicated115. The courage which a person finds at the bottom of a glass of Marsala is not of a good quality, and the approach of death always sobers one. Finally, when a man has seriously resolved to kill himself, he does not do this little thing at the table, in company, but in his room, after having carefully bolted the door. In short, your little scene has failed in every point, and you do not know the first rudiments116 of this fine art. I advise you not to meddle with it any more."
At these words he pulled the bell for Ivan.
"Your young master wanted to kill himself," said he; "take him to his room and prepare him a composing draught that will put him to sleep. Watch with him to-night, and in future be careful not to leave any phosphorus matches in his rooms. Not that I suspect him of entertaining any intense desire of killing117 himself,—but who knows? Wounded vanity might drive him to try it. As his nerves are excited, you will see that for some days he takes a great deal of exercise. If the weather is fine tomorrow, keep him in the open air all day, and in the evening walk him on the terrace; he must get his blood stirred up."
From the moment that his father had taken the poisoned cup from him, Stephane had remained petrified118 on his chair, with livid face and arms hanging over his knees, giving no sign of life. When Ivan approached to take him away, he rose with a start, and leaning upon the arm of the serf, he crossed the room without opening his eyes. When he had gone, the Count heaved a long sigh of weariness and dejection.
"What did I tell you?" exclaimed he, throwing upon Gilbert a scrutinizing119 look; "this boy has a theatrical120 turn of mind. I would wager121 my life that he hadn't the faintest desire to kill himself: he only aimed at exciting us; but certainly if it was the sensitive heart of Father Alexis which he took for a target, he has lost the trouble." And he directed Gilbert's attention to the worthy122 priest, who, as soon as he had emptied his cup, had fallen sound asleep on his stool, and smiled at the angels in his dreams. Gilbert gave the Count a lively and agreeable surprise by answering him in the steadiest tone:
"You are entirely123 right, sir; it was only a very ridiculous affectation. Fortunately, we may consider it pretty certain that our young tragedian will not regale124 us a second time with his little play. Where courage is required, it is good to have an opportunity of seeing to the bottom of one's sack; nothing is more likely to cure a boaster of the foolish mania125 for blustering126."
"Decidedly my secretary is improving," thought the Count; "he has a tender mouth and feels the curb127." And in the joy which this discovery gave him, he felt that he entertained for him sentiments of real friendship, of which he would not have believed himself capable. His surprise and pleasure increased still more when Gilbert resumed:
"But apropos128, sir, do you persist in believing that, according to Constantius Porphyrogennatus, all Greece became Slavonian in the eighteenth century? I have new objections to present to you on that subject. And first this famous Copronymus of whom he speaks. . . ."
They did not rise from the table until eleven o'clock. It was necessary to awaken Father Alexis, who slept during the whole time, his right arm extended over his plate, and his head leaning upon his elbow. The Count having shaken him, he rose with a start and exclaimed:
"Don't touch it! The colors are all fresh; Jacob's beard is such a fine gray!"
The compliant129 secretary retired humming an aria130. M. Leminof followed him with his eyes, and, pointing after him, said to his serf in a confidential131 tone:
"Thou seest that man there; just fancy! I feel friendship for him. He is at least my most cherished—habit. My suspicions were absurd, thou wert right in combating them. By way of precaution, however, make a tour of the corridor between midnight and two o'clock. Now come and double-lock me in my room, for I feel a paroxysm coming on. To-morrow at five o'clock thou wilt132 come to open it for me."
"Count Kostia!" murmured Gilbert, when he found himself in his room, "fear no longer that I shall think of leaving you. Whatever happens, I remain here. Count Kostia, understand me, you have buried the smile: I take heaven to witness that I will resuscitate133 it."
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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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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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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veracity
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| n.诚实 | |
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succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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25
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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28
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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29
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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30
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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31
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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32
antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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33
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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36
stipulates
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| n.（尤指在协议或建议中）规定，约定，讲明（条件等）( stipulate的名词复数 )；规定，明确要求v.（尤指在协议或建议中）规定，约定，讲明（条件等）( stipulate的第三人称单数 )；规定，明确要求 | |
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37
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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38
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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39
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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40
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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41
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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42
apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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43
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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46
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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47
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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48
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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49
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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50
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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51
turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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52
gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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53
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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54
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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55
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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56
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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57
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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59
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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60
rigors
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| 严格( rigor的名词复数 )； 严酷； 严密； （由惊吓或中毒等导致的身体）僵直 | |
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61
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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63
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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64
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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65
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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66
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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67
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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68
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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69
taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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71
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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72
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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73
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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74
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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75
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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76
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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77
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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78
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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79
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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80
meddle
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| v.干预，干涉，插手 | |
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81
profanes
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| n.不敬（神）的( profane的名词复数 )；渎神的；亵渎的；世俗的v.不敬( profane的第三人称单数 )；亵渎，玷污 | |
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82
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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83
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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84
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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85
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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86
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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87
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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88
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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89
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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90
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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91
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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92
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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93
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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94
apocalyptic
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| adj.预示灾祸的，启示的 | |
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95
frescoes
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| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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96
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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97
dissected
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| adj.切开的，分割的，（叶子）多裂的v.解剖（动物等）( dissect的过去式和过去分词 )；仔细分析或研究 | |
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98
physiology
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| n.生理学，生理机能 | |
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99
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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100
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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101
bruising
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| adj.殊死的；十分激烈的v.擦伤(bruise的现在分词形式) | |
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102
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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103
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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104
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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105
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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106
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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107
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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108
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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109
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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110
pulverized
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| adj.[医]雾化的，粉末状的v.将…弄碎( pulverize的过去式和过去分词 )；将…弄成粉末或尘埃；摧毁；粉碎 | |
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111
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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112
phlegmatic
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| adj.冷静的，冷淡的，冷漠的，无活力的 | |
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113
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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114
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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115
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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116
rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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117
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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118
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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119
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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120
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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121
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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122
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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123
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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124
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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125
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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126
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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127
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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128
apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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129
compliant
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| adj.服从的，顺从的 | |
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130
aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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131
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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132
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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133
resuscitate
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| v.使复活，使苏醒 | |
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