The soup had just been served on the following Tuesday evening, when Helene, after listening attentively1, exclaimed:
"Oh, it's only a few drops," said the Abbe quietly, though his old cassock was already wet about the shoulders.
"I've got a good distance to go," said Monsieur Rambaud. "But I shall return home on foot all the same; I like it. Besides, I have my umbrella."
Jeanne was reflecting as she gazed gravely on her last spoonful of vermicelli; and at last her thoughts took shape in words: "Rosalie said you wouldn't come because of the wretched weather; but mamma said you would come. You are very kind; you always come."
A smile lit up all their faces. Helene addressed a nod of affectionate approval to the two brothers. Out of doors the rain was falling with a dull roar, and violent gusts3 of wind beat angrily against the window-shutters4. Winter seemed to have returned. Rosalie had carefully drawn5 the red repp curtains; and the small, cosy6 dining-room, illumined by the steady light of the white hanging-lamp, looked, amidst the buffeting7 of the storm, a picture of pleasant, affectionate intimacy8. On the mahogany sideboard some china reflected the quiet light; and amidst all this indoor peacefulness the four diners leisurely9 conversed10, awaiting the good pleasure of the servant-maid, as they sat round the table, where all, if simple, was exquisitely11 clean.
"Oh! you are waiting; so much the worse!" said Rosalie familiarly, as she entered with a dish. "These are fillets of sole _au gratin_ for Monsieur Rambaud; they require to be lifted just at the last moment."
Monsieur Rambaud pretended to be a gourmand12, in order to amuse Jeanne, and give pleasure to Rosalie, who was very proud of her accomplishments13 as a cook. He turned towards her with the question: "By the way, what have you got for us to-day? You are always bringing in some surprise or other when I am no longer hungry."
"Oh," said she in reply, "there are three dishes as usual, and no more. After the sole you will have a leg of mutton and then some Brussels sprouts14. Yes, that's the truth; there will be nothing else."
From the corner of his eye Monsieur Rambaud glanced towards Jeanne. The child was boiling over with glee, her hands over her mouth to restrain her laughter, while she shook her head, as though to insinuate15 that the maid was deceiving them. Monsieur Rambaud thereupon clacked his tongue as though in doubt, and Rosalie pretended great indignation.
"You don't believe me because Mademoiselle Jeanne laughs so," said she. "Ah, very well! believe what you like. Stint16 yourself, and see if you won't have a craving17 for food when you get home."
When the maid had left the room, Jeanne, laughing yet more loudly, was seized with a longing18 to speak out.
"You are really too greedy!" she began. "I myself went into the kitchen--" However, she left her sentence unfinished: "No, no, I won't tell; it isn't right, is it, mamma? There's nothing more--nothing at all! I only laughed to cheat you."
This interlude was re-enacted every Tuesday with the same unvarying success. Helene was touched by the kindliness19 with which Monsieur Rambaud lent himself to the fun; she was well aware that, with Provencal frugality20, he had long limited his daily fare to an anchovy21 and half-a-dozen olives. As for Abbe Jouve, he never knew what he was eating, and his blunders and forgetfulness supplied an inexhaustible fund of amusement. Jeanne, meditating23 some prank24 in this respect, was even now stealthily watching him with her glittering eyes.
"How nice this whiting is!" she said to him, after they had all been served.
"Very nice, my dear," he answered. "Bless me, you are right--it is whiting; I thought it was turbot."
And then, as every one laughed, he guilelessly asked why. Rosalie, who had just come into the room again, seemed very much hurt, and burst out:
"A fine thing indeed! The priest in my native place knew much better what he was eating. He could tell the age of the fowl25 he was carving26 to a week or so, and didn't require to go into the kitchen to find out what there was for dinner. No, the smell was quite sufficient. Goodness gracious! had I been in the service of a priest like your reverence27, I should not know yet even how to turn an omelet."
The Abbe hastened to excuse himself with an embarrassed air, as though his inability to appreciate the delights of the table was a failing he despaired of curing. But, as he said, he had too many other things to think about.
"There! that is a leg of mutton!" exclaimed Rosalie, as she placed on the table the joint28 referred to.
Everybody once more indulged in a peal29 of laughter, the Abbe Jouve being the first to do so. He bent30 forward to look, his little eyes twinkling with glee.
"Yes, certainly," said he; "it is a leg of mutton. I think I should have known it."
Despite this remark, there was something about the Abbe that day which betokened31 unusual absent-mindedness. He ate quickly, with the haste of a man who is bored by a long stay at table, and lunches standing32 when at home. And, having finished, himself, he would wait the convenience of the others, plunged33 in deep thought, and simply smiling in reply to the questions put to him. At every moment he cast on his brother a look in which encouragement and uneasiness were mingled34. Nor did Monsieur Rambaud seen possessed35 of his wonted tranquillity36 that evening; but his agitation37 manifested itself in a craving to talk and fidget on his chair, which seemed rather inconsistent with his quiet disposition38. When the Brussels sprouts had disappeared, there was a delay in the appearance of the dessert, and a spell of silence ensued. Out of doors the rain was beating down with still greater force, rattling39 noisily against the house. The dining-room was rather close, and it suddenly dawned on Helene that there was something strange in the air--that the two brothers had some worry of which they did not care to speak. She looked at them anxiously, and at last spoke40:
"Dear, dear! What dreadful rain! isn't it? It seems to be influencing both of you, for you look out of sorts."
They protested, however, that such was not the case, doing their utmost to clear her mind of the notion. And as Rosalie now made her appearance with an immense dish, Monsieur Rambaud exclaimed, as though to veil his emotion: "What did I say! Still another surprise!"
The surprise of the day was some vanilla41 cream, one of the cook's triumphs. And thus it was a sight to see her broad, silent grin, as she deposited her burden on the table. Jeanne shouted and clapped her hands.
"I knew it, I knew it! I saw the eggs in the kitchen!"
"But I have no more appetite," declared Monsieur Rambaud, with a look of despair. "I could not eat any of it!"
Thereupon Rosalie became grave, full of suppressed wrath42. With a dignified43 air, she remarked: "Oh, indeed! A cream which I made specially44 for you! Well, well! just try not to eat any of it--yes, try!"
He had to give in and accept a large helping45 of the cream. Meanwhile the Abbe remained thoughtful. He rolled up his napkin and rose before the dessert had come to an end, as was frequently his custom. For a little while he walked about, with his head hanging down; and when Helene in her turn quitted the table, he cast at Monsieur Rambaud a look of intelligence, and led the young woman into the bedroom.[*] The door being left open behind them, they could almost immediately afterwards be heard conversing46 together, though the words which they slowly exchanged were indistinguishable.
[*] Helene's frequent use of her bedroom may seem strange to the English reader who has never been in France. But in the _petite bourgeoisie_ the bedchamber is often the cosiest47 of the whole suite48 of rooms, and whilst indoors, when not superintending her servant, it is in the bedroom that madame will spend most of her time. Here, too, she will receive friends of either sex, and, the French being far less prudish49 than ourselves, nobody considers that there is anything wrong or indelicate in the practice.
"Oh, do make haste!" said Jeanne to Monsieur Rambaud, who seemed incapable50 of finishing a biscuit. "I want to show you my work."
However, he evinced no haste, though when Rosalie began to clear the table it became necessary for him to leave his chair.
"Wait a little! wait a little!" he murmured, as the child strove to drag him towards the bedroom, And, overcome with embarrassment51 and timidity, he retreated from the doorway52. Then, as the Abbe raised his voice, such sudden weakness came over him that he had to sit down again at the table. From his pocket he drew a newspaper.
"Now," said he, "I'm going to make you a little coach."
Jeanne at once abandoned her intention of entering the adjoining room. Monsieur Rambaud always amazed her by his skill in turning a sheet of paper into all sorts of playthings. Chickens, boats, bishops53' mitres, carts, and cages, were all evolved under his fingers. That day, however, so tremulous were his hands that he was unable to perfect anything. He lowered his head whenever the faintest sound came from the adjacent room. Nevertheless, Jeanne took interest in watching him, and leaned on the table at his side.
"Now," said she, "you must make a chicken to harness to the carriage."
Meantime, within the bedroom, Abbe Jouve remained standing in the shadow thrown by the lamp-shade upon the floor. Helene had sat down in her usual place in front of the round table; and, as on Tuesdays she refrained from ceremony with her friends, she had taken up her needlework, and, in the circular glare of light, only her white hands could be seen sewing a child's cap.
"Jeanne gives you no further worry, does she?" asked the Abbe.
Helene shook her head before making a reply.
"Doctor Deberle seems quite satisfied," said she. "But the poor darling is still very nervous. Yesterday I found her in her chair in a fainting fit."
"She needs exercise," resumed the priest. "You stay indoors far too much; you should follow the example of other folks and go about more than you do."
He ceased speaking, and silence followed. He now, without doubt, had what he had been seeking,--a suitable inlet for his discourse54; but the moment for speaking came, and he was still communing with himself. Taking a chair, he sat down at Helene's side.
"Hearken to me, my dear child," he began. "For some time past I have wished to talk with you seriously. The life you are leading here can entail55 no good results. A convent existence such as yours is not consistent with your years; and this abandonment of worldly pleasures is as injurious to your child as it is to yourself. You are risking many dangers--dangers to health, ay, and other dangers, too."
Helene raised her head with an expression of astonishment56. "What do you mean, my friend?" she asked.
"Dear me! I know the world but little," continued the priest, with some slight embarrassment, "yet I know very well that a woman incurs57 great risk when she remains58 without a protecting arm. To speak frankly59, you keep to your own company too much, and this seclusion60 in which you hide yourself is not healthful, believe me. A day must come when you will suffer from it."
"But I make no complaint; I am very happy as I am," she exclaimed with spirit.
The old priest gently shook his large head.
"Yes, yes, that is all very well. You feel completely happy. I know all that. Only, on the downhill path of a lonely, dreamy life, you never know where you are going. Oh! I understand you perfectly61; you are incapable of doing any wrong. But sooner or later you might lose your peace of mind. Some morning, when it is too late, you will find that blank which you now leave in your life filled by some painful feeling not to be confessed."
As she sat there in the shadow, a blush crimsoned62 Helene's face. Had the Abbe, then, read her heart? Was he aware of this restlessness which was fast possessing her--this heart-trouble which thrilled her every-day life, and the existence of which she had till now been unwilling64 to admit? Her needlework fell on her lap. A sensation of weakness pervaded65 her, and she awaited from the priest something like a pious66 complicity which would allow her to confess and particularize the vague feelings which she buried in her innermost being. As all was known to him, it was for him to question her, and she would strive to answer.
"I leave myself in your hands, my friend," she murmured. "You are well aware that I have always listened to you."
The priest remained for a moment silent, and then slowly and solemnly said:
"My child, you must marry again."
She remained speechless, with arms dangling67, in a stupor68 this counsel brought upon her. She awaited other words, failing, as it were, to understand him. And the Abbe continued putting before her the arguments which should incline her towards marriage.
"Remember, you are still young. You must not remain longer in this out-of-the-way corner of Paris, scarcely daring to go out, and wholly ignorant of the world. You must return to the every-day life of humanity, lest in the future you should bitterly regret your loneliness. You yourself have no idea how the effects of your isolation69 are beginning to tell on you, but your friends remark your pallor, and feel uneasy."
With each sentence he paused, in the hope that she might break in and discuss his proposition. But no; she sat there as if lifeless, seemingly benumbed with astonishment.
"No doubt you have a child," he resumed. "That is always a delicate matter to surmount70. Still, you must admit that even in Jeanne's interest a husband's arm would be of great advantage. Of course, we must find some one good and honorable, who would be a true father--"
However, she did not let him finish. With violent revolt and repulsion she suddenly spoke out: "No, no; I will not! Oh, my friend, how can you advise me thus? Never, do you hear, never!"
Her whole heart was rising; she herself was frightened by the violence of her refusal. The priest's proposal had stirred up that dim nook in her being whose secret she avoided reading, and, by the pain she experienced, she at last understood all the gravity of her ailment71. With the open, smiling glance of the priest still bent on her, she plunged into contention72.
"No, no; I do not wish it! I love nobody!"
And, as he still gazed at her, she imagined he could read her lie on her face. She blushed and stammered73:
"Remember, too, I only left off my mourning a fortnight ago. No, it could not be!"
"My child!" quietly said the priest, "I thought over this a great deal before speaking. I am sure your happiness is wrapped up in it. Calm yourself; you need never act against your own wishes."
The conversation came to a sudden stop. Helene strove to keep pent within her bosom74 the angry protests that were rushing to her lips. She resumed her work, and, with head lowered, contrived75 to put in a few stitches. And amid the silence, Jeanne's shrill76 voice could be heard in the dining-room.
"People don't put a chicken to a carriage; it ought to be a horse! You don't know how to make a horse, do you?"
"No, my dear; horses are too difficult," said Monsieur Rambaud. "But if you like I'll show you how to make carriages."
This was always the fashion in which their game came to an end. Jeanne, all ears and eyes, watched her kindly77 playfellow folding the paper into a multitude of little squares, and afterwards she followed his example; but she would make mistakes and then stamp her feet in vexation. However, she already knew how to manufacture boats and bishops' mitres.
"You see," resumed Monsieur Rambaud patiently, "you make four corners like that; then you turn them back--"
With his ears on the alert, he must during the last moment have heard some of the words spoken in the next room; for his poor hands were now trembling more and more, while his tongue faltered78, so that he could only half articulate his sentences.
Helene, who was unable to quiet herself, now began the conversation anew. "Marry again! And whom, pray?" she suddenly asked the priest, as she laid her work down on the table. "You have some one in view, have you not?"
"Well! tell me who he is," she said.
For a moment he lingered before her erect80, then, shrugging his shoulders, said: "What's the good, since you decline?"
"No matter, I want to know," she replied. "How can I make up my mind when I don't know?"
He did not answer her immediately, but remained standing there, gazing into her face. A somewhat sad smile wreathed his lips. At last he exclaimed, almost in a whisper: "What! have you not guessed?"
No, she could not guess. She tried to do so, with increasing wonder, whereupon he made a simple sign--nodding his head in the direction of the dining-room.
"He!" she exclaimed, in a muffled81 tone, and a great seriousness fell upon her. She no longer indulged in violent protestations; only sorrow and surprise remained visible on her face. She sat for a long time plunged in thought, her gaze turned to the floor. Truly, she had never dreamed of such a thing; and yet, she found nothing in it to object to. Monsieur Rambaud was the only man in whose hand she could put her own honestly and without fear. She knew his innate82 goodness; she did not smile at his _bourgeois_ heaviness. But despite all her regard for him, the idea that he loved her chilled her to the soul.
Meanwhile the Abbe had again begun walking from one to the other end of the room, and on passing the dining-room door he gently called Helene. "Come here and look!"
She rose and did as he wished.
Monsieur Rambaud had ended by seating Jeanne in his own chair; and he, who had at first been leaning against the table, had now slipped down at the child's feet. He was on his knees before her, encircling her with one of his arms. On the table was the carriage drawn by the chicken, with some boats, boxes, and bishops' mitres.
"Now, do you love me well?" he asked her. "Tell me that you love me well!"
"Of course, I love you well; you know it."
He stammered and trembled, as though he were making some declaration of love.
"And what would you say if I asked you to let me stay here with you always?"
"Oh, I should be quite pleased. We would play together, wouldn't we? That would be good fun."
"Ah, but you know I should always be here."
Jeanne had taken up a boat which she was twisting into a gendarme's hat. "You would need to get mamma's leave," she murmured.
"Of course," said he. "But if mamma gave me leave, would you say yes, too?"
Jeanne, busy finishing her gendarme's hat, sang out in a rapturous strain: "I would say yes! yes! yes! I would say yes! yes! yes! Come, look how pretty my hat is!"
Monsieur Rambaud, with tears in his eyes, rose to his knees and kissed her, while she threw her arms round his neck. He had entrusted84 the asking of Helene's consent to his brother, whilst he himself sought to secure that of Jeanne.
"You see," said the priest, with a smile, "the child is quite content."
Helene still retained her grave air, and made no further inquiry85. The Abbe, however, again eloquently86 took up his plea, and emphasized his brother's good qualities. Was he not a treasure-trove of a father for Jeanne? She was well acquainted with him; in trusting him she gave no hostages to fortune. Then, as she still remained silent, the Abbe with great feeling and dignity declared that in the step he had taken he had not thought of his brother, but of her and her happiness.
"I believe you; I know how you love me," Helene promptly87 answered. "Wait; I want to give your brother his answer in your presence."
The clock struck ten. Monsieur Rambaud made his entry into the bedroom. With outstretched hands she went to meet him.
"I thank you for your proposal, my friend," said she. "I am very grateful; and you have done well in speaking--"
She was gazing calmly into his face, holding his big hand in her grasp. Trembling all over, he dared not lift his eyes.
"Yet I must have time to consider," she resumed. "You will perhaps have to give me a long time."
"Oh! as long as you like--six months, a year, longer if you please," exclaimed he with a light heart, well pleased that she had not forthwith sent him about his business.
His excitement brought a faint smile to her face. "But I intend that we shall still continue friends," said she. "You will come here as usual, and simply give me your promise to remain content till I speak to you about the matter. Is that understood?"
He had withdrawn88 his hand, and was now feverishly89 hunting for his hat, signifying his acquiescence90 by a continuous bobbing of the head. Then, at the moment of leaving, he found his voice once more.
"Listen to me," said he. "You now know that I am there--don't you? Well, whatever happens I shall always be there. That's all the Abbe should have told you. In ten years, if you like; you will only have to make a sign. I shall obey you!"
And it was he who a last time took Helene's hand and gripped it as though he would crush it. On the stairs the two brothers turned round with the usual good-bye:
"Till next Tuesday!"
"Yes, Tuesday," answered Helene.
On returning to her room a fresh downfall of rain beating against the shutters filled her with grave concern. Good heavens! what an obstinate91 downpour, and how wet her poor friends would get! She opened the window and looked down into the street. Sudden gusts of wind were making the gaslights flicker92, and amid the shiny puddles93 and shimmering94 rain she could see the round figure of Monsieur Rambaud, as he went off with dancing gait, exultant95 in the darkness, seemingly caring nothing for the drenching96 torrent97.
Jeanne, however, was very grave, for she had overheard some of her playfellow's last words. She had just taken off her little boots, and was sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, in deep cogitation98. On entering the room to kiss her, her mother discovered her thus.
"Good-night, Jeanne; kiss me."
Then, as the child did not seem to hear her, Helene sank down in front of her, and clasped her round the waist, asking her in a whisper: "So you would be glad if he came to live with us?"
The question seemed to bring no surprise to Jeanne. She was doubtless pondering over this very matter. She slowly nodded her head.
"But you know," said her mother, "he would be always beside us--night and day, at table--everywhere!"
A great trouble dawned in the clear depths of the child's eyes. She nestled her cheek against her mother's shoulder, kissed her neck, and finally, with a quiver, whispered in her ear: "Mamma, would he kiss you?"
A crimson63 flush rose to Helene's brow. In her first surprise she was at a loss to answer, but at last she murmured: "He would be the same as your father, my darling!"
Then Jeanne's little arms tightened99 their hold, and she burst into loud and grievous sobbing100. "Oh! no, no!" she cried chokingly. "I don't want it then! Oh! mamma, do please tell him I don't. Go and tell him I won't have it!"
She gasped101, and threw herself on her mother's bosom, covering her with tears and kisses. Helene did her utmost to appease102 her, assuring her she would make it all right; but Jeanne was bent on having a definite answer at once.
"Oh! say no! say no, darling mother! You know it would kill me. Never! Oh, never! Eh?"
"Well, I'll promise it will never be. Now, be good and lie down."
For some minutes longer the child, speechless with emotion, clasped her mother in her arms, as though powerless to tear herself away, and intent on guarding her against all who might seek to take her from her. After some time Helene was able to put her to bed; but for a part of the night she had to watch beside her. Jeanne would start violently in her sleep, and every half-hour her eyes would open to make sure of her mother's presence, and then she would doze22 off again, with her lips pressed to Helene's hand.
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1
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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3
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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7
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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10
conversed
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的过去式 ) | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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gourmand
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| n.嗜食者 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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sprouts
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| n.新芽，嫩枝( sprout的名词复数 )v.发芽( sprout的第三人称单数 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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15
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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frugality
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| n.节约，节俭 | |
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anchovy
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| n.凤尾鱼 | |
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doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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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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35
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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36
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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37
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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39
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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40
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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41
vanilla
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| n.香子兰，香草 | |
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42
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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43
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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44
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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cosiest
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| adj.温暖舒适的( cosy的最高级 )；亲切友好的 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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49
prudish
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| adj.装淑女样子的，装规矩的，过分规矩的；adv.过分拘谨地 | |
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50
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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51
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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53
bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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56
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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57
incurs
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| 遭受，招致，引起( incur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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58
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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surmount
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| vt.克服；置于…顶上 | |
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ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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72
contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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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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81
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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82
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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83
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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84
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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86
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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87
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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88
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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89
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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90
acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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91
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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92
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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93
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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95
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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96
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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97
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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98
cogitation
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| n.仔细思考，计划，设计 | |
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99
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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100
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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101
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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102
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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