I was full of intuitions now, just as I was at the moment when he passed me in his carriage with his terrible face, but I did not grasp a single certainty. Would I have persisted in a struggle in which I felt beforehand that I must be beaten?
I cannot tell; for, when I no longer expected any solution to the problem set before me for my grief, a grief, too, that was both sterile1 and mortal, a day came on which I had a conversation with my mother so startling and appalling2 that to this hour my heart stands still when I think of it. I have spoken of dates; among them is the 25th of May, 1879.
My stepfather, who was on the eve of his departure for Vichy, had just had a severe attack of liver-complaint, the first since his illness after our terrible conversation in the month of January. I know that I counted for nothing—at least in any direct or positive way—in this acute revival3 of his malady4. The fight between us, which went on without the utterance5 of a word on either side, and with no witnesses except ourselves, had not been marked by any fresh episode; I therefore attributed this complication to the natural development of the disease under which he labored6.
I can exactly recall what I was thinking of on the 25th of May, at five o'clock in the evening, as I walked up the stairs in the hotel on the Boulevard de Latour-Marbourg. I hoped to learn that my stepfather was better, because I had been witnessing my mother's distress7 for a whole week, and also—I must tell all—because to know he was going to the watering-place was a great relief to me, on account of the separation it would bring about. I was so tired of my unprofitable pain! My wretched nerves were in such a state of tension that the slightest disagreeable impression became a torment9. I could not sleep without the aid of narcotics10, and such sleep as these procured12 was full of cruel dreams in which I walked by my father's side, while knowing and feeling that he was dead.
One particular nightmare used to recur13 so regularly that it rendered my dread14 of the night almost unbearable15. I stood in a street crowded with people and was looking into a shop window; on a sudden I heard a man's step approaching, that of M. Termonde. I did not see him, and yet I was certain it was he. I tried to move on, but my feet were leaden; to turn my head, but my neck was immovable. The step drew nearer, my enemy was behind me, I heard his breathing, and knew that he was about to strike me. He passed his arm over my shoulder. I saw his hand, it grasped a knife, and sought for the spot where my heart lay; then it drove the blade in, slowly, slowly, and I awoke in unspeakable agony.
So often had this nightmare recurred16 within a few weeks, that I had taken to counting the days until my stepfather's departure, which had been at first fixed17 for the 21st, and then put off until he should be stronger. I hoped that when he was absent I should be at rest at least for a time. I had not the courage to go away myself, attracted as I was every day by that presence which I hated, and yet sought with feverish18 eagerness; but I secretly rejoiced that the obstacle was of his raising, that his absence gave me breathing-time, without my being obliged to reproach myself with weakness.
Such were my reflections as I mounted the wooden staircase, covered with a red carpet, and lighted by stained-glass windows, that led to my mother's favorite hall. The servant who opened the door informed me in answer to my question that my stepfather was better, and I entered the room with which my saddest recollections were connected, more cheerfully than usual. Little did I think that the dial hung upon one of the walls was ticking off in minutes one of the most solemn hours of my life!
My mother was seated before a small writing-table, placed in a corner of the deep glazed19 projection20 which formed the garden-end of the hall. Her left hand supported her head, and in the right, instead of going on with the letter she had begun to write, she held her idle pen, in a golden holder21 with a fine pearl set in the top of it (the latter small detail was itself a revelation of her luxurious22 habits). She was so lost in reverie that she did not hear me enter the room, and I looked at her for some time without moving, startled by the expression of misery23 in her refined and lovely face. What dark thought was it that closed her mouth, furrowed24 her brow, and transformed her features? The alteration25 in her looks and the evident absorption of her mind contrasted so strongly with the habitual26 serenity27 of her countenance28 that it at once alarmed me. But, what was the matter? Her husband was better; why, then, should the anxiety of the last few days have developed into this acute trouble? Did she suspect what had been going on close to her, in her own house, for months past? Had M. Termonde made up his mind to complain to her, in order to procure11 the cessation of the torture inflicted29 upon him by my assiduity? No. If he had divined my meaning from the very first day, as I thought he had, unless he were sure he could not have said to her: "Andre suspects me of having had his father killed." Or had the doctor discerned dangerous symptoms behind this seeming improvement in the invalid30?
Was my stepfather in danger of death?
At the idea, my first feeling was joy, my second was rage—joy that he should disappear from my life, and for ever; rage that, being guilty, he should die without having felt my full vengeance31. Beneath all my hesitation32, my scruples33, my doubts, there lurked34 that savage35 appetite for revenge which I had allowed to grow up in me, revenge that is not satisfied with the death of the hated object unless it be caused by one's self. I thirsted for revenge as a dog thirsts for water after running in the sun on a summer day. I wanted to roll myself in it, as the dog in question rolls himself in the water when he comes to it, were it the sludge of a swamp. I continued to gaze at my mother without moving. Presently she heaved a deep sigh and said aloud: "Oh, me, oh, me! what misery it is!" Then lifting up her tear-stained face, she saw me, and uttered a cry of surprise. I hastened towards her.
Dread of her answer made my voice falter37; I knelt down before her as I used to do when a child, and, taking both her hands, I covered them with kisses. Again, at this solemn hour, my lips were met by that golden wedding-ring which I hated like a living person; yet the feeling did not hinder me from speaking to her almost childishly. "Ah," I said, "you have troubles, and to whom should you tell them if not to me? Where will you find anyone to love you more? Be good to me," I went on; "do you not feel how dear you are to me?"
"Has your trouble anything to do with me?" I asked.
She shook her head as an emphatic40 negative, and then said in a half-stifled voice, while she smoothed my hair with her hands, as she used to do in the old times:
"You are very nice to me, my Andre."
How simple those few words were, and yet they caught my heart and gripped it as a hand might do. How had I longed for some of those little words which she had never uttered, some of those gracious phrases which are like the gestures of the mind, some of her involuntary tender caresses41. Now I had what I had so earnestly desired, but at what a moment and by what means! It was, nevertheless, very sweet to feel that she loved me. I told her so, employing words which scorched42 my lips, so that I might be kind to her.
"Is our dear invalid worse?"
"No, he is better. He is resting now," she answered, pointing in the direction of my stepfather's room.
"Mother, speak to me," I urged, "trust yourself to me; let me grieve with you, perhaps I may help you. It is so cruel for me that I must take you by surprise in order to see your tears."
I went on, pressing her by my questions and my complaining. What, then, did I hope to tear from those lips which quivered but yet kept silence? At any price I WOULD know; I was in no state to endure fresh mysteries, and I was certain that my stepfather was somehow concerned in this inexplicable43 trouble, for it was only he and I who so deeply moved that woman's heart of hers. She was not thus troubled on account of me, she had just told me so; the cause of her grief must have reference to him, and it was not his health. Had she, too, made any discovery? Had the terrible suspicion crossed her mind also? At the mere44 idea a burning fever seized upon me; I insisted and insisted again. I felt that she was yielding, if it were only by the leaning of her head towards me, the passing of her trembling hand over my hair, and the quickening of her breath.
"If I were sure," said she at length, "that this secret would die with you and me."
"Oh, mother!" I exclaimed, in so reproachful a tone that the blood flew to her cheeks. Perhaps this little betrayal of shame decided45 her; she pressed a lingering kiss on my forehead, as though she would have effaced46 the frown which her unjust distrust had set there.
"Forgive me, my Andre," she said, "I was wrong. In whom should I trust, to whom confide47 this thing, except to you? From whom ask counsel?" And then she went on as though she were speaking to herself, "If he were ever to apply to him?"
"He! Whom?"
"Andre, will you swear to me by your love for me, that you will never, you understand me, never, make the least illusion to what I am going to tell you?"
"Mother!" I replied, in the same tone of reproach, and then added at once, to draw her on, "I give you my word of honor!"
"Never."
"You have heard of Edmond Termonde, his brother?" Her voice was lowered, as though she were afraid of the words she uttered, and now her eyes only were turned towards the closed door, indicating that she meant the brother of her husband. I had a vague knowledge of the story; it was of this brother I had thought when I was reviewing the mental history of my stepfather's family. I knew that Edmond Termonde had dissipated his share of the family fortune, no less than 1,200,000 francs, in a few years; that he had been enlisted49, that he had gone on leading a debauched life in his regiment50; that, having no money to come into from any quarter, and after a heavy loss at cards, he had been tempted51 into committing both theft and forgery52. Then, finding himself on the brink53 of being detected, he had deserted54. The end was that he did justice on himself by drowning himself in the Seine, after he had implored55 his brother's forgiveness in terms which proved that some sense of moral decency57 still lingered in him. The stolen money was made good by my stepfather; the scandal was hushed up, thanks to the scoundrel's disappearance58. I had reconstructed the whole story in my mind from the gossip of my good old nurse, and also from certain traces of it which I had found in some passages of my father's correspondence. Thus, when my mother put her question to me in so agitated59 a way, I supposed she was about to tell me of family grievances60 on the part of her husband which were totally indifferent to me, and it was with a feeling of disappointment that I asked her:
"Edmond Termonde? The man who killed himself?"
She bent her head to answer, yes, to the first part of my question; then, in a still lower voice, she said:
"He did not kill himself, he is still alive."
"He is still alive," I repeated mechanically, and without a notion of what could be the relation between the existence of this brother and the tears which I had seen her shed.
"Now you know the secret of my sorrow," she resumed, in a firmer, almost a relieved tone. "This infamous61 brother is a tormentor62 of my Jacques; he puts him to death daily by the agonies which he inflicts63 upon him. No; the suicide never took place. Such men as he have not the courage to kill themselves. Jacques dictated64 that letter to save him from penal65 servitude after he had arranged everything for his flight, and given him the wherewithal to lead a new life, if he would have done so. My poor love, he hoped at least to save the integrity of his name out of all the terrible wreck66. Edmond had, of course, to renounce67 the name of Termonde, to escape pursuit, and he went to America. There he lived—as he had lived here. The money he took with him was soon exhausted68, and again he had recourse to his brother. Ah! the wretch8 knew well that Jacques had made all these sacrifices to the honor of his name, and when my husband refused him the money he demanded, he made use of the weapon which he knew would avail.
"Then began the vilest69 persecution70, the most atrocious levying71 of black-mail. Edmond threatened to return to France; between going to the galleys72 here or starving in America, he said, he preferred the galleys here and Jacques yielded the first time—he loved him; after all, he was his only brother. You know when you have once shown weakness in dealing73 with people of this sort you are lost. The threat to return had succeeded, and the other has since used it to extort74 sums of which you have no idea.
"This abominable75 persecution has been going on for years, but I have only been aware of it since the war. I saw that my husband was utterly76 miserable77 about something; I knew that a hidden trouble was preying78 on him, and then, one day, he told me all. Would you believe it? It was for me that he was afraid. 'What can he possibly do to me?' I asked my Jacques. 'Ah,' he said, 'he is capable of anything for the sake of revenge. And then he saw me so overwhelmed by distress at his fits of melancholy79, and I so earnestly entreated80 him, that at length he made a stand. He positively81 refused to give any more money. We have not heard of the wretch for some time—he has kept his word—Andre he is in Paris!"
I had listened to my mother with growing attention. At any period of my life, I, who had not the same notions of my stepfather's sensitiveness of feeling which my dear mother entertained, would have been astonished at the influence exercised by this disgraced brother. There are similar pests in so many families, that it is plainly to the interest of society to separate the various representatives of the same name from each other. At any time I should have doubted whether M. Termonde, a bold and violent man as I knew him to be, had yielded under the menace of a scandal whose real importance he would have estimated quite correctly. Then I would have explained this weakness by the recollections of his childhood, by a promise made to his dying parents; but now, in the actual state of my mind, full as I was of the suspicions which had been occupying my thoughts for weeks, it was inevitable82 that another idea should occur to me. And that idea grew, and grew, taking form as my mother went on speaking. No doubt my face betrayed the dread with which the notion inspired me, for she interrupted her narrative83 to ask me:
"Are you feeling ill, Andre?"
I found strength to answer, "No; I am upset by having found you in tears. It is nothing."
She believed me; she had just seen me overcome by her emotion; she kissed me tenderly, and I begged her to continue. She then told me that one day in the previous week a stranger, coming ostensibly from one of their friends in London, had asked to see my stepfather. He was ushered84 into the hall, and into her presence, and she guessed at once by the extraordinary agitation85 which M. Termonde displayed that the man was Edmond. The two brothers went into my stepfather's private room, while my mother remained in the hall, half dead with anxiety and suspense86, every now and then hearing the angry tones of their voices, but unable to distinguish any words. At length the brother came out, through the hall, and looked at her as he passed by with eyes that transfixed her with fear.
"And the same evening," she went on, "Jacques took to his bed. Now, do you understand my despair? Ah, it is not our name that I care for. I wear myself out with repeating, 'What has this to do with us? How can we be spattered by this mud?' It is his health, his precious health! The doctor says that every violent emotion is a dose of poison to him. Ah!" she cried, with a gesture of despair, "this man will kill him."
To hear that cry, which once again revealed to me the depth of her passion for my stepfather, to hear it at this moment, and to think what I was thinking!
"You saw him?" I asked, hardly knowing what I said. "Have I not told you that he passed by me, there?" and with terror depicted87 in her face, she showed me the place on the carpet.
"And you are sure that the man was his brother?"
"Jacques told me so in the evening; but I did not require that; I should have recognized him by the eyes. How strange it is! Those two brothers, so different; Jacques so refined, so distinguished88, so noble-minded, and the other, a big, heavy, vulgar lout89, common- looking, and a rascal—well, they have the same look in their eyes."
"And under what name is he in Paris?"
"I do not know. I dare not speak of him any more. If he knew that I have told you this, with his ideas! But then, dear, you would have heard it at some time or other; and besides," she added with firmness, "I would have told you long ago about this wretched secret if I had dared! You are a man now, and you are not bound by this excessively scrupulous90 fraternal affection. Advise me, Andre; what is to be done?"
"I do not understand you."
"Yes, yes. There must be some means of informing the police and having this man arrested without its being talked of in the newspapers or elsewhere. Jacques would not do this, because the man is his brother; but if we were to act, you and I, on our own side? I have heard you say that you visit M. Massol, whom we knew at the time of our great misfortune; suppose I were to go to him and ask his advice? Ah! I must keep my husband alive—he must be saved! I love him too much!"
Why was I seized with a panic at the idea that she might carry out this project, and apply to the former Judge of Instruction—I, who had not ventured to go to his house since my aunt's death for fear he should divine my suspicions merely by looking at me? What was it that I saw so clearly, that made me implore56 her to abandon her idea in the very name of the love she bore her husband?
"You will not do this," I said; "you have no right to do it. He would never forgive you, and he would have just cause; it would be betraying him."
"Betraying him! It would be saving him!"
"And if his brother's arrest were to strike him a fresh blow? If you were to see him ill, more ill than ever, on account of what you had done?"
I had used the only argument that could have convinced her. Strange irony91 of fate! I calmed her, I persuaded her not to act— I, who had suddenly conceived the monstrous92 notion that the doer of the murderous deed, the docile93 instrument in my stepfather's hands, was this infamous brother—that Edmond Termonde and Rochdale were one and the same man!
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
sterile
|
|
| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
revival
|
|
| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
malady
|
|
| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
wretch
|
|
| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
narcotics
|
|
| n.麻醉药( narcotic的名词复数 )；毒品；毒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
procure
|
|
| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
recur
|
|
| vi.复发，重现，再发生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
glazed
|
|
| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
projection
|
|
| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
holder
|
|
| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
furrowed
|
|
| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
alteration
|
|
| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
inflicted
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
invalid
|
|
| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
scruples
|
|
| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
lurked
|
|
| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
ails
|
|
| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
falter
|
|
| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
emphatic
|
|
| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
scorched
|
|
| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
inexplicable
|
|
| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
effaced
|
|
| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
confide
|
|
| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
enlisted
|
|
| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
forgery
|
|
| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
brink
|
|
| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
implore
|
|
| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
decency
|
|
| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
grievances
|
|
| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tormentor
|
|
| n. 使苦痛之人, 使苦恼之物, 侧幕 =tormenter | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
inflicts
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
dictated
|
|
| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
penal
|
|
| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
renounce
|
|
| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
vilest
|
|
| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
70
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
levying
|
|
| 征（兵）( levy的现在分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
galleys
|
|
| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
extort
|
|
| v.勒索，敲诈，强要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
abominable
|
|
| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
preying
|
|
| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
entreated
|
|
| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
suspense
|
|
| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
depicted
|
|
| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
lout
|
|
| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
scrupulous
|
|
| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
docile
|
|
| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |