A YEAR later the first child born to Ambroise and Andree, a boy, little Leonce, was christened. The young people had been married very quietly six weeks after the death of Rose. And that christening was to be the first outing for Mathieu and Marianne, who had not yet fully1 recovered from the terrible shock of their eldest2 daughter's death. Moreover, it was arranged that after the ceremony there should simply be a lunch at the parents' home, and that one and all should afterwards be free to return to his or her avocations3. It was impossible for the whole family to come, and, indeed, apart from the grandfather and grandmother, only the twins, Denis and Blaise, and the latter's wife Charlotte, were expected, together with the godparents. Beauchene, the godfather, had selected Madame Seguin as his _commere_, for, since the death of Maurice, Constance shuddered5 at the bare thought of touching7 a child. At the same time she had promised to be present at the lunch, and thus there would be ten of them, sufficient to fill the little dining-room of the modest flat in the Rue8 de La Boetie, where the young couple resided pending9 fortune's arrival.
It was a very pleasant morning. Although Mathieu and Marianne had been unwilling10 to set aside their black garments even for this rejoicing, they ended by evincing some gentle gayety before the cradle of that little grandson, whose advent11 brought them a renewal13 of hope. Early in the winter a fresh bereavement14 had fallen on the family; Blaise had lost his little Christophe, then two and a half years old, through an attack of croup. Charlotte, however, was already at that time again _enceinte_, and thus the grief of the first days had turned to expectancy15 fraught16 with emotion.
The little flat in the Rue de La Boetie seemed very bright and fragrant17; it was perfumed by the fair grace of Andree and illumined by the victorious18 charm of Ambroise, that handsome loving couple who, arm in arm, had set out so bravely to conquer the world. During the lunch, too, there was the formidable appetite and jovial19 laughter of Beauchene, who gave the greatest attention to his _commere_ Valentine, jesting and paying her the most extravagant20 court, which afforded her much amusement, prone21 as she still was to play a girlish part, though she was already forty-five and a grandmother like Marianne. Constance alone remained grave, scarce condescending22 to bend her thin lips into a faint smile, while a shadow of deep pain passed over her withered23 face every time that she glanced round that gay table, whence new strength, based on the invincible24 future, arose in spite of all the recent mourning.
At about three o'clock Blaise rose from the table, refusing to allow Beauchene to take any more Chartreuse.
"It's true, he is right, my children," Beauchene ended by exclaiming in a docile25 way. "We are very comfortable here, but it is absolutely necessary that we should return to the works. And we must deprive you of Denis, for we need his help over a big building affair. That's how we are, we others, we don't shirk duty."
Constance had also risen. "The carriage must be waiting," said she; "will you take it?"
"No, no, we will go on foot. A walk will clear our heads."
The sky was overcast26, and as it grew darker and darker Ambroise, going to the window, exclaimed: "You will get wet."
"Oh! the rain has been threatening ever since this morning, but we shall have time to get to the works."
It was then understood that Constance should take Charlotte with her in the brougham and set her down at the door of the little pavilion adjoining the factory. As for Valentine, she was in no hurry and could quietly return to the Avenue d'Antin, which was close by, as soon as the sky might clear. And with regard to Marianne and Mathieu, they had just yielded to Andree's affectionate entreaties27, and had arranged to spend the whole day and dine there, returning to Chantebled by the last train. Thus the fete would be complete, and the young couple were enraptured28 at the prospect29.
The departure of the others was enlivened by a curious incident, a mistake which Constance made, and which seemed very comical amid all the mirth promoted by the copious30 lunch. She had turned towards Denis, and, looking at him with her pale eyes, she quietly asked him "Blaise, my friend, will you give me my boa? I must have left it in the ante-room."
Everybody began to laugh, but she failed to understand the reason. And it was in the same tranquil31 way as before that she thanked Denis when he brought her the boa: "I am obliged to you, Blaise; you are very amiable32."
Thereupon came an explosion; the others almost choked with laughter, so droll33 did her quiet assurance seem to them. What was the matter, then? Why did they all laugh at her in that fashion? She ended by suspecting that she had made a mistake, and looked more attentively34 at the twins.
"Ah, yes, it isn't Blaise, but Denis! But it can't be helped. I am always mistaking them since they have worn their beards trimmed in the same fashion."
Thereupon Marianne, in her obliging way, in order to take any sting away from the laughter, repeated the well-known family story of how she herself, when the twins were children and slept together, had been wont35 to awake them in order to identify them by the different color of their eyes. The others, Beauchene and Valentine, then intervened and recalled circumstances under which they also had mistaken the twins one for the other, so perfect was their resemblance on certain occasions, in certain lights. And it was amid all this gay animation36 that the company separated after exchanging all sorts of embraces and handshakes.
Once in the brougham, Constance spoke37 but seldom to Charlotte, taking as a pretext38 a violent headache which the prolonged lunch had increased. With a weary air and her eyes half closed she began to reflect. After Rose's death, and when little Christophe likewise had been carried off, a revival39 of hope had come to her, for all at once she had felt quite young again. But when she consulted Boutan on the matter he dealt her a final blow by informing her that her hopes were quite illusive40. Thus, for two months now, her rage and despair had been increasing. That very morning at that christening, and now in that carriage beside that young woman who was again expecting to become a mother, it was this which poisoned her mind, filled her with jealousy41 and spite, and rendered her capable of any evil deed. The loss of her son, the childlessness to which she was condemned42, all threw her into a state of morbid43 perversity44, fraught with dreams of some monstrous45 vengeance46 which she dared not even confess to herself. She accused the whole world of being in league to crush her. Her husband was the most cowardly and idiotic47 of traitors48, for he betrayed her by letting some fresh part of the works pass day by day into the hands of that fellow Blaise, whose wife no sooner lost a child than she had another. She, Constance, was enraged49 also at seeing her husband so gay and happy, since she had left him to his own base courses. He still retained his air of victorious superiority, declaring that he had remained unchanged, and there was truth in this; for though, instead of being an active master as formerly50, he now too often showed himself a senile prowler, on the high road to paralysis51, he yet continued to be a practical egotist, one who drew from life the greatest sum of enjoyment52 possible. He was following his destined53 road, and if he took to Blaise it was simply because he was delighted to have found an intelligent, hard-working young man who spared him all the cares and worries that were too heavy for his weary shoulders, while still earning for him the money which he needed for his pleasures. Constance knew that something in the way of a partnership54 arrangement was about to be concluded. Indeed, her husband must have already received a large sum to enable him to make good certain losses and expenses which he had hidden from her. And closing her eyes as the brougham rolled along, she poisoned her mind by ruminating55 all these things, scarce able to refrain from venting56 her fury by throwing herself upon that young woman Charlotte, well-loved and fruitful spouse57, who sat beside her.
Then the thought of Denis occurred to her. Why was he being taken to the works? Did he also mean to rob her? Yet she knew that he had refused to join his brother, as in his opinion there was not room for two at the establishment of the Boulevard de Grenelle. Indeed, Denis's ambition was to direct some huge works by himself; he possessed58 an extensive knowledge of mechanics, and this it was that rendered him a valuable adviser59 whenever a new model of some important agricultural machine had to be prepared at the Beauchene factory. Constance promptly61 dismissed him from her thoughts; in her estimation there was no reason to fear him; he was a mere4 passer-by, who on the morrow, perhaps, would establish himself at the other end of France. Then once more the thought of Blaise came back to her, imperative62, all-absorbing; and it suddenly occurred to her that if she made haste home she would be able to see Morange alone in his office and ascertain63 many things from him before the others arrived. It was evident that the accountant must know something of the partnership scheme, even if it were as yet only in a preliminary stage. Thereupon she became impassioned, eager to arrive, certain as she felt of obtaining confidential64 information from Morange, whom she deemed to be devoted65 to her.
As the carriage rolled over the Jena bridge she opened her eyes and looked out. "_Mon Dieu_!" said she, "what a time this brougham takes! If the rain would only fall it would, perhaps, relieve my head a little."
She was thinking, however, that a sharp shower would give her more time, as it would compel the three men, Beauchene, Denis, and Blaise, to seek shelter in some doorway66. And when the carriage reached the works she hastily stopped the coachman, without even conducting her companion to the little pavilion.
"You will excuse me, won't you, my dear?" said she; "you only have to turn the street corner."
When they had both alighted, Charlotte, smiling and affectionate, took hold of Constance's hand and retained it for a few moments in her own.
"Of course," she replied, "and many thanks. You are too kind. When you see my husband, pray tell him that you left me safe, for he grows anxious at the slightest thing."
Thereupon Constance in her turn had to smile and promise with many professions of friendship that she would duly execute the commission. Then they parted. "Au revoir, till to-morrow "--"Yes, yes, till to-morrow, au revoir."
Eighteen years had now already elapsed since Morange had lost his wife Valerie; and nine had gone by since the death of his daughter Reine. Yet it always seemed as if he were on the morrow of those disasters, for he had retained his black garb67, and still led a cloister-like, retired68 life, giving utterance69 only to such words as were indispensable. On the other hand, he had again become a good model clerk, a correct painstaking70 accountant, very punctual in his habits, and rooted as it were to the office chair in which he had taken his seat every morning for thirty years past. The truth was that his wife and his daughter had carried off with them all his will-power, all his ambitious thoughts, all that he had momentarily dreamt of winning for their sakes--a large fortune and a luxurious71 triumphant72 life. He, who was now so much alone, who had relapsed into childish timidity and weakness, sought nothing beyond his humble73 daily task, and was content to die in the shady corner to which he was accustomed. It was suspected, however, that he led a mysterious maniacal74 life, tinged75 with anxious jealousy, at home, in that flat of the Boulevard de Grenelle which he had so obstinately76 refused to quit. His servant had orders to admit nobody, and she herself knew nothing. If he gave her free admittance to the dining- and drawing-rooms, he did not allow her to set foot in his own bedroom, formerly shared by Valerie, nor in that which Reine had occupied. He himself alone entered these chambers77, which he regarded as sanctuaries78, of which he was the sole priest. Under pretence79 of sweeping80 or dusting, he would shut himself up in one or the other of them for hours at a time. It was in vain that the servant tried to glance inside, in vain that she listened at the doors when he spent his holidays at home; she saw nothing and heard nothing. Nobody could have told what relics81 those chapels82 contained, nor with what religious cult60 he honored them. Another cause of surprise was his niggardly83, avaricious84 life, which, as time went on, had become more and more pronounced, in such wise that his only expenses were his rental85 of sixteen hundred francs, the wages he paid to his servant, and the few pence per day which she with difficulty extracted from him to defray the cost of food and housekeeping. His salary had now risen to eight thousand francs a year, and he certainly did not spend half of it. What became, then, of his big savings86, the money which he refused to devote to enjoyment? In what secret hole, and for what purpose, what secret passion, did he conceal87 it? Nobody could tell. But amid it all he remained very gentle, and, unlike most misers88, continued very cleanly in his habits, keeping his beard, which was now white as snow, very carefully tended. And he came to his office every morning with a little smile on his face, in such wise that nothing in this man of regular methodical life revealed the collapse89 within him, all the ashes and smoldering90 fire which disaster had left in his heart.
By degrees a link of some intimacy91 had been formed between Constance and Morange. When, after his daughter's death, she had seen him return to the works quite a wreck92, she had been stirred by deep pity, with which some covert93 personal anxiety confusedly mingled94. Maurice was destined to live five years longer, but she was already haunted by apprehensions95, and could never meet Morange without experiencing a chilling shudder6, for he, as she repeated to herself, had lost his only child. "Ah, God! so such a catastrophe96 was possible." Then, on being stricken herself, on experiencing the horrible distress97, on smarting from the sudden, gaping98, incurable99 wound of her bereavement, she had drawn100 nearer to that brother in misfortune, treating him with a kindness which she showed to none other. At times she would invite him to spend an evening with her, and the pair of them would chat together, or more often remain silent, face to face, sharing each other's woe101. Later on she had profited by this intimacy to obtain information from Morange respecting affairs at the factory, of which her husband avoided speaking. It was more particularly since she had suspected the latter of bad management, blunders and debts, that she endeavored to turn the accountant into a confidant, even a spy, who might aid her to secure as much control of the business as possible. And this was why she was so anxious to return to the factory that day, and profit by the opportunity to see Morange privately102, persuaded as she was that she would induce him to speak out in the absence of his superiors.
She scarcely tarried to take off her gloves and her bonnet103. She found the accountant in his little office, seated in his wonted place, and leaning over the everlasting104 ledger105 which was open before him.
"Why, is the christening finished?" he exclaimed in astonishment106.
Forthwith she explained her presence in such a way as to enable her to speak of what she had at heart. "Why, yes. That is to say, I came away because I had such a dreadful headache. The others have remained yonder. And as we are alone here together it occurred to me that it might do me good to have a chat with you. You know how highly I esteem107 you. Ah! I am not happy, not happy at all."
She had sunk upon a chair overcome by the tears which she had been restraining so long in the presence of the happiness of others. Quite upset at seeing her in this condition, having little strength himself, Morange wished to summon her maid. He almost feared that she might have a fainting fit. But she prevented him.
"I have only you left me, my friend," said she. "Everybody else forsakes108 me, everybody is against me. I can feel it; I am being ruined; folks are bent109 on annihilating110 me, as if I had not already lost everything when I lost my child. And since you alone remain to me, you who know my torments111, you who have no daughter left you, pray for heaven's sake help me and tell me the truth! In that wise I shall at least be able to defend myself."
On hearing her speak of his daughter Morange also had begun to weep. And now, therefore, she might question him, it was certain that he would answer and tell her everything, overpowered as he was by the common grief which she had evoked112. Thus he informed her that an agreement was indeed on the point of being signed by Blaise and Beauchene, only it was not precisely113 a deed of partnership. Beauchene having drawn large sums from the strong-box of the establishment for expenses which he could not confess--a horrible story of blackmailing114, so it was rumored--had been obliged to make a confidant of Blaise, the trusty and active lieutenant115 who managed the establishment. And he had even asked him to find somebody willing to lend him some money. Thereupon the young man had offered it himself; but doubtless it was his father, Mathieu Froment, who advanced the cash, well pleased to invest it in the works in his son's name. And now, with the view of putting everything in order, it had been resolved that the property should be divided into six parts, and that one of these parts or shares should be attributed to Blaise as reimbursement116 for the loan. Thus the young fellow would possess an interest of one sixth in the establishment, unless indeed Beauchene should buy him out again within a stipulated117 period. The danger was that, instead of freeing himself in this fashion, Beauchene might yield to the temptation of selling the other parts one by one, now that he was gliding118 down a path of folly119 and extravagance.
Constance listened to Morange, quivering and quite pale. "Is this signed?" she asked.
"No, not yet. But the papers are ready and will be signed shortly. Moreover, it is a reasonable and necessary solution of the difficulty."
She was evidently of another opinion. A feeling of revolt possessed her, and she strove to think of some decisive means of preventing the ruin and shame which in her opinion threatened her. "My God, what am I to do? How can I act?" she gasped120; and then, in her rage at finding no device, at being powerless, this cry escaped her: "Ah! that scoundrel Blaise!"
Worthy121 Morange was quite moved by it. Still he had not fully understood. And so, in his quiet way, he endeavored to calm Constance, explaining that Blaise had a very good heart, and that in the circumstances in question he had behaved in the best way possible, doing all that he could to stifle122 scandal, and even displaying great disinterestedness123. And as Constance had risen, satisfied with knowing the truth, and anxious that the three men might not find her there on their arrival, the accountant likewise quitted his chair, and accompanied her along the gallery which she had to follow in order to return to her house.
"I give you my word of honor, madame," said Morange, "that the young man has made no base calculations in the matter. All the papers pass through my hands, and nobody could know more than I know myself. Besides, if I had entertained the slightest doubt of any machination, I should have endeavored to requite124 your kindness by warning you."
She no longer listened to him, however; in fact, she was anxious to get rid of him, for all at once the long-threatening rain had begun to fall violently, lashing125 the glass roof. So dark a mass of clouds had overspread the sky that it was almost night in the gallery, though four o'clock had scarcely struck. And it occurred to Constance that in presence of such a deluge126 the three men would certainly take a cab. So she hastened her steps, still followed, however, by the accountant.
"For instance," he continued, "when it was a question of drawing up the agreement--"
But he suddenly paused, gave vent12 to a hoarse127 exclamation128, and stopped her, pulling her back as if in terror.
"Take care!" he gasped.
There was a great cavity before them. Here, at the end of the gallery, before reaching the corridor which communicated with the private house, there was a steam lift of great power, which was principally used for lowering heavy articles to the packing room. It only worked as a rule on certain days; on all others the huge trap remained closed. When the appliance was working a watchman was always stationed there to superintend the operations.
"Take care! take care!" Morange repeated, shuddering129 with terror.
The trap was open, and the huge cavity gaped130 before them; there was no barrier, nothing to warn them and prevent them from making a fearful plunge131. The rain still pelted132 on the glass roof, and the darkness had become so complete in the gallery that they had walked on without seeing anything before them. Another step would have hurled133 them to destruction. It was little short of miraculous134 that the accountant should have become anxious in presence of the increasing gloom in that corner, where he had divined rather than perceived the abyss.
Constance, however, still failing to understand her companion, sought to free herself from his wild grasp.
"But look!" he cried.
And he bent forward and compelled her also to stoop over the cavity. It descended135 through three floors to the very lowest basement, like a well of darkness. A damp odor arose: one could scarce distinguish the vague outlines of thick ironwork; alone, right at the bottom, burnt a lantern, a distant speck136 of light, as if the better to indicate the depth and horror of the gulf137. Morange and Constance drew back again blanching138.
And now Morange burst into a temper. "It is idiotic!" he exclaimed. "Why don't they obey the regulations! As a rule there is a man here, a man expressly told off for this duty, who ought not to stir from his post so long as the trap has not come up again. Where is he? What on earth can the rascal139 be up to?"
The accountant again approached the hole, and shouted down it in a fury: "Bonnard!"
No reply came: the pit remained bottomless, black and void.
"Bonnard! Bonnard!"
And still nothing was heard, not a sound; the damp breath of the darkness alone ascended141 as from the deep silence of the tomb.
Thereupon Morange resorted to action. "I must go down; I must find Bonnard. Can you picture us falling through that hole to the very bottom? No, no, this cannot be allowed. Either he must close this trap or return to his post. What can he be doing? Where can he be?"
Morange had already betaken himself to a little winding142 staircase, by which one reached every floor beside the lift, when in a voice which gradually grew more indistinct, he again called: "I beg you, madame, pray wait for me; remain there to warn anybody who might pass."
Constance was alone. The dull rattle143 of the rain on the glass above her continued, but a little livid light was appearing as a gust144 of wind carried off the clouds. And in that pale light Blaise suddenly appeared at the end of the gallery. He had just returned to the factory with Denis and Beauchene, and had left his companions together for a moment, in order to go to the workshops to procure145 some information they required. Preoccupied146, absorbed once more in his work, he came along with an easy step, his head somewhat bent. And when Constance saw him thus appear, all that she felt in her heart was the smart of rancor147, a renewal of her anger at what she had learnt of that agreement which was to be signed on the morrow and which would despoil148 her. That enemy who was in her home and worked against her, a revolt of her whole being urged her to exterminate149 him, and thrust him out like some usurper150, all craft and falsehood.
He drew nearer. She was in the dense151 shadow near the wall, so that he could not see her. But on her side, as he softly approached steeped in a grayish light, she could see him with singular distinctness. Never before had she so plainly divined the power of his lofty brow, the intelligence of his eyes, the firm will of his mouth. And all at once she was struck with fulgural certainty; he was coming towards the cavity without seeing it and he would assuredly plunge into the depths unless she should stop him as he passed. But a little while before, she, like himself, had come from yonder, and would have fallen unless a friendly hand had restrained her; and the frightful152 shudder of that moment yet palpitated in her veins153; she could still and ever see the damp black pit with the little lantern far below. The whole horror of it flashed before her eyes--the ground failing one, the sudden drop with a great shriek155, and the smash a moment afterwards.
Blaise drew yet nearer. But certainly such a thing was impossible; she would prevent it, since a little motion of her hand would suffice. Would she not always have time to stretch out her arms when he was there before her? And yet from the recesses156 of her being a very clear and frigid157 voice seemed to ascend140, articulating brief words which rang in her ears as if repeated by a trumpet158 blast. If he should die it would be all over, the factory would never belong to him. She who had bitterly lamented159 that she could devise no obstacle had merely to let this helpful chance take its own course. And this, indeed, was what the voice said, what it repeated with keen insistence160, never adding another syllable161. After that there would be nothing. After that there would merely remain the shattered remnants of a suppressed man, and a pit of darkness splashed with blood, in which she discerned, foresaw nothing more. What would happen on the morrow? She did not wish to know; indeed there would be no morrow. It was solely162 the brutal163 immediate164 fact which the imperious voice demanded. He dead, it would be all over, he would never possess the works.
He drew nearer still. And within her now there raged a frightful battle. How long did it last--days? years? Doubtless but a few seconds. She was still resolved that she would stop him as he passed, certain as she felt that she would conquer her horrible thoughts when the moment came for the decisive gesture. And yet those thoughts invaded her, became materialized within her, like some physical craving165, thirst or hunger. She hungered for that finish, hungered to the point of suffering, seized by one of those sudden desperate longings166 which beget167 crime; such as when a passer-by is despoiled168 and throttled169 at the corner of a street. It seemed to her that if she could not satisfy her craving she herself must lose her life. A consuming passion, a mad desire for that man's annihilation filled her as she saw him approach. She could now see him still more plainly and the sight of him exasperated170 her. His forehead, his eyes, his lips tortured her like some hateful spectacle. Another step, yet one more, then another, and he would be before her. Yes, yet another step, and she was already stretching out her hand in readiness to stop him as soon as he should brush past.
He came along. What was it that happened? O God! When he was there, so absorbed in his thoughts that he brushed against her without feeling her, she turned to stone. Her hand became icy cold, she could not lift it, it hung too heavily from her arm. And amid her scorching171 fever a great cold shudder came upon her, immobilizing and stupefying her, while she was deafened172 by the clamorous173 voice rising from the depths of her being. All demur174 was swept away; the craving for that death remained intense, invincible, beneath the imperious stubborn call of the inner voice which robbed her of the power of will and action. He would be dead and he would never possess the works. And therefore, standing175 stiff and breathless against the wall, she did not stop him. She could hear his light breathing, she could discern his profile, then the nape of his neck. He had passed. Another step, another step! And yet if she had raised a call she might still have changed the course of destiny even at that last moment. She fancied that she had some such intention, but she was clenching176 her teeth tightly enough to break them. And he, Blaise, took yet a further step, still advancing quietly and confidently over that friendly ground, without even a glance before him, absorbed as he was in thoughts of his work. And the ground failed him, and there was a loud, terrible cry, a sudden gust following the fall, and a dull crash down below in the depths of the black darkness.
Constance did not stir. For a moment she remained as if petrified177, still listening, still waiting. But only deep silence arose from the abyss. She could merely hear the rain pelting178 on the glass roof with renewed rage. And thereupon she fled, turned into the passage, re-entered her drawing-room. There she collected and questioned herself. Had she desired that abominable179 thing? No, her will had had nought180 to do with it. Most certainly it had been paralyzed, prevented from acting181. If it had been possible for the thing to occur, it had occurred quite apart from her, for assuredly she had been absent. Absent, that word reassured182 her. Yes, indeed, that was the case, she had been absent. All her past life spread out behind her, faultless, pure of any evil action. Never had she sinned, never until that day had any consciousness of guilt183 weighed upon her conscience. An honest and virtuous184 woman, she had remained upright amidst all the excesses of her husband. An impassioned mother, she had been ascending185 her calvary ever since her son's death. And this recollection of Maurice alone drew her for a moment from her callousness186, choked her with a rising sob187, as if in that direction lay her madness, the vainly sought explanation of the crime. Vertigo188 again fell upon her, the thought of her dead son and of the other being master in his place, all her perverted189 passion for that only son of hers, the despoiled prince, all her poisoned, fermenting190 rage which had unhinged and maddened her, even to the point of murder. Had that monstrous vegetation growing within her reached her brain then? A rush of blood suffices at times to bedim a conscience. But she obstinately clung to the view that she had been absent; she forced back her tears and remained frigid. No remorse191 came to her. It was done, and 'twas good that it should be done. It was necessary. She had not pushed him, he himself had fallen. Had she not been there he would have fallen just the same. And so since she had not been there, since both her brain and her heart had been absent, it did not concern her. And ever and ever resounded192 the words which absolved193 her and chanted her victory; he was dead, and would never possess the works.
Erect194 in the middle of the drawing-room, Constance listened, straining her ears. Why was it that she heard nothing? How long they were in going down to pick him up! Anxiously waiting for the tumult195 which she expected, the clamor of horror which would assuredly rise from the works, the heavy footsteps, the loud calls, she held her breath, quivering at the slightest, faintest sound. Several minutes still elapsed, and the cosey quietude of her drawing-room pleased her. That room was like an asylum196 of bourgeois197 rectitude, luxurious dignity, in which she felt protected, saved. Some little objects on which her eyes lighted, a pocket scent-bottle ornamented198 with an opal, a paper-knife of burnished199 silver left inside a book, fully reassured her. She was moved, almost surprised at the sight of them, as if they had acquired some new and particular meaning. Then she shivered slightly and perceived that her hands were icy cold. She rubbed them together gently, wishing to warm them a little. Why was it, too, that she now felt so tired? It seemed to her as if she had just returned from some long walk, from some accident, from some affray in which she had been bruised200. She felt within her also a tendency to somnolence201, the somnolence of satiety202, as if she had feasted too copiously203 off some spicy204 dish, after too great a hunger. Amid the fatigue205 which benumbed her limbs she desired nothing more; apart from her sleepiness all that she felt was a kind of astonishment that things should be as they were. However, she had again begun to listen, repeating that if that frightful silence continued, she would certainly sink upon a chair, close her eyes, and sleep. And at last it seemed to her that she detected a faint sound, scarcely a breath, far away.
What was it? No, there was nothing yet. Perhaps she had dreamt that horrible scene, perhaps it had all been a nightmare; that man marching on, that black pit, that loud cry of terror! Since she heard nothing, perhaps nothing had really happened. Were it true a clamor would have ascended from below in a growing wave of sound, and a distracted rush up the staircase and along the passages would have brought her the news. Then again she detected the faint distant sound, which seemed to draw a little nearer. It was not the tramping of a crowd; it seemed to be a mere footfall, perhaps that of some pedestrian on the quay206. Yet no; it came from the works, and now it was quite distinct; it ascended steps and then sped along a passage. And the steps became quicker, and a panting could be heard, so tragical207 that she at last divined that the horror was at hand. All at once the door was violently flung open. Morange entered. He was alone, beside himself, with livid face and scarce able to stammer209.
"He still breathes, but his head is smashed; it is all over."
He looked at her, agape. He had hastened upstairs at a run to ask her for an explanation, for he had quite lost his poor head over that unaccountable catastrophe. And the apparent ignorance and tranquillity211 in which he found Constance completed his dismay.
"But I left you near the trap," said he.
"Near the trap, yes. You went down, and I immediately came up here."
"But before I went down," he resumed with despairing violence, "I begged you to wait for me and keep a watch on the hole, so that nobody might fall through it."
"Oh! dear no. You said nothing to me, or, at all events, I heard nothing, understood nothing of that kind."
In his terror he peered into her eyes. Assuredly she was lying. Calm as she might appear, he could detect her voice trembling. Besides, it was evident she must still have been there, since he had not even had time to get below before it happened. And all at once he recalled their conversation, the questions she had asked him and her cry of hatred212 against the unfortunate young fellow who had now been picked up, covered with blood, in the depths of that abyss. Beneath the gust of horror which chilled him, Morange could only find these words: "Well, madame, poor Blaise came just behind you and broke his skull213."
Her demeanor214 was perfect; her hands quivered as she raised them, and it was in a halting voice that she exclaimed: "Good Lord! good Lord, what a frightful misfortune."
But at that moment an uproar215 arose through the house. The drawing-room door had remained open, and the voices and footsteps of a number of people drew nearer, became each moment more distinct. Orders were being given on the stairs, men were straining and drawing breath, there were all the signs of the approach of some cumbrous burden, carried as gently as possible.
"What! is he being brought up here to me?" exclaimed Constance turning pale, and her involuntary cry would have sufficed to enlighten the accountant had he needed it. "He is being brought to me here!"
It was not Morange who answered; he was stupefied by the blow. But Beauchene abruptly216 appeared preceding the body, and he likewise was livid and beside himself, to such a degree did this sudden visit of death thrill him with fear, in his need of happy life.
"Morange will have told you of the frightful catastrophe, my dear," said he. "Fortunately Denis was there, for the question of responsibility towards his family. And it was Denis, too, who, just as we were about to carry the poor fellow home to the pavilion, opposed it, saying that, given his wife's condition, we should kill her if we carried him to her in this dying state. And so the only course was to bring him here, was it not?"
Then he quitted his wife with a gesture of bewilderment, and returned to the landing, where one could hear him repeating in a quivering voice: "Gently, gently, take care of the balusters."
The lugubrious217 train entered the drawing-room. Blaise had been laid on a stretcher provided with a mattress218. Denis, as pale as linen219, followed, supporting the pillow on which rested his brother's head. A little streamlet of blood coursed over the dying man's brow, his eyes were closed. And four factory hands held the shafts220 of the stretcher. Their heavy shoes crushed down the carpet, and fragile articles of furniture were thrust aside anyhow to open a passage for this invasion of horror and of fright.
Amid his bewilderment, an idea occurred to Beauchene, who continued to direct the operation.
"No, no, don't leave him there. There is a bed in the next room. We will take him up very gently with the mattress, and lay him with it on the bed."
It was Maurice's room; it was the bed in which Maurice had died, and which Constance with maternal221 piety222 had kept unchanged, consecrating223 the room to her son's memory. But what could she say? How could she prevent Blaise from dying there in his turn, killed by her?
The abomination of it all, the vengeance of destiny which exacted this sacrilege, filled her with such a feeling of revolt that at the moment when vertigo was about to seize her and the flooring began to flee from beneath her feet, she was lashed154 by it and kept erect. And then she displayed extraordinary strength, will, and insolent224 courage. When the stricken man passed before her, her puny225 little frame stiffened226 and grew. She looked at him, and her yellow face remained motionless, save for a flutter of her eyelids227 and an involuntary nervous twinge on the left side of her mouth, which forced a slight grimace228. But that was all, and again she became perfect both in words and gesture, doing and saying what was necessary without lavishness229, but like one simply thunderstruck by the suddenness of the catastrophe.
However, the orders had been carried out in the bedroom, and the bearers withdrew greatly upset. Down below, directly the accident had been discovered, old Moineaud had been told to take a cab and hasten to Dr. Boutan's to bring him back with a surgeon, if one could be found on the way.
"All the same, I prefer to have him here rather than in the basement," Beauchene repeated mechanically as he stood before the bed. "He still breathes. There! see, it is quite apparent. Who knows? Perhaps Boutan may be able to pull him through, after all."
Denis, however, entertained no illusions. He had taken one of his brother's cold yielding hands in his own and he could feel that it was again becoming a mere thing, as if broken, wrenched230 away from life in that great fall. For a moment he remained motionless beside the death-bed, with the mad hope they he might, perhaps, by his clasp infuse a little of the blood in his own heart into the veins of the dying man. Was not that blood common to them both? Had not their twin brotherhood231 drunk life from the same source? It was the other half of himself that was about to die. Down below, after raising a loud cry of heartrending distress, he had said nothing. Now all at once he spoke.
"One must go to Ambroise's to warn my mother and father. Since he still breathes, perhaps they will arrive soon enough to embrace him."
"Shall I go to fetch them?" Beauchene good-naturedly inquired.
"No, no! thanks. I did at first think of asking that service of you, but I have reflected. Nobody but myself can break this horrible news to mamma. And nothing must be done as yet with regard to Charlotte. We will see about that by and by, when I come back. I only hope that death will have a little patience, so that I may find my poor brother still alive."
He leant forward and kissed Blaise, who with his eyes closed remained motionless, still breathing faintly. Then distractedly Denis printed another kiss upon his hand and hurried off.
Constance meantime was busying herself, calling the maid, and requesting her to bring some warm water in order that they might wash the sufferer's blood-stained brow. It was impossible to think of taking off his jacket; they had to content themselves with doing the little they could to improve his appearance pending the arrival of the doctor. And during these preparations, Beauchene, haunted, worried by the accident, again began to speak of it.
"It is incomprehensible. One can hardly believe such a stupid mischance to be possible. Down below the transmission gearing gets out of order, and this prevents the mechanician from sending the trap up again. Then, up above, Bonnard gets angry, calls, and at last decides to go down in a fury when he finds that nobody answers him. Then Morange arrives, flies into a temper, and goes down in his turn, exasperated at receiving no answer to his calls for Bonnard. Poor Bonnard! he's sobbing233; he wanted to kill himself when he saw the fine result of his absence."
At this point Beauchene abruptly broke off and turned to Constance. "But what about you?" he asked. "Morange told me that he had left you up above near the trap."
She was standing in front of her husband, in the full light which came through the window. And again did her eyelids beat while a little nervous twinge slightly twisted her mouth on the left side. That was all.
"I? Why I had gone down the passage. I came back here at once, as Morange knows very well."
A moment previously234, Morange, annihilated235, his legs failing him, had sunk upon a chair. Incapable236 of rendering237 any help, he sat there silent, awaiting the end. When he heard Constance lie in that quiet fashion, he looked at her. The assassin was herself, he no longer doubted it. And at that moment he felt a craving to proclaim it, to cry it aloud.
"Why, he thought that he had begged you to remain there on the watch," Beauchene resumed, addressing his wife.
"At all events his words never reached me," Constance duly answered. "Should I have moved if he had asked me to do that?" And turning towards the accountant she, in her turn, had the courage to fix her pale eyes upon him. "Just remember, Morange, you rushed down like a madman, you said nothing to me, and I went on my way."
Beneath those pale eyes, keen as steel, which dived into his own, Morange was seized with abject238 fear. All his weakness, his cowardice239 of heart returned. Could he accuse her of such an atrocious crime? He pictured the consequences. And then, too, he no longer knew if he were right or not; his poor maniacal mind was lost.
"It is possible," he stammered240, "I may simply have thought I spoke. And it must be so since it can't be otherwise."
Then he relapsed into silence with a gesture of utter lassitude. The complicity demanded was accepted. For a moment he thought of rising to see if Blaise still breathed; but he did not dare. Deep peacefulness fell upon the room.
Ah! how great was the anguish241, the torture in the cab, when Blaise brought Mathieu and Marianne back with him. He had at first spoken to them simply of an accident, a rather serious fall. But as the vehicle rolled along he had lost his self-possession, weeping and confessing the truth in response to their despairing questions. Thus, when they at last reached the factory, they doubted no longer, their child was dead. Work had just been stopped, and they recalled their visit to the place on the morrow of Maurice's death. They were returning to the same stillness, the same grave-like silence. All the rumbling242 life had suddenly ceased, the machines were cold and mute, the workshops darkened and deserted243. Not a sound remained, not a soul, not a puff244 of that steam which was like the very breath of the place. He who had watched over its work was dead, and it was dead like him. Then their affright increased when they passed from the factory to the house amid that absolute solitude245, the gallery steeped in slumber246, the staircase quivering, all the doors upstairs open, as in some uninhabited place long since deserted. In the ante-room they found no servant. And it was indeed in the same tragedy of sudden death that they again participated, only this time it was their own son whom they were to find in the same room, on the same bed, frigid, pale, and lifeless.
Blaise had just expired. Boutan was there at the head of the bed, holding the inanimate hand in which the final pulsation247 of blood was dying away. And when he saw Mathieu and Marianne, who had instinctively248 crossed the disorderly drawing-room, rushing into that bedchamber whose odor of nihility they recognized, he could but murmur249 in a voice full of sobs250:
"My poor friends, embrace him; you will yet have a little of his last breath."
That breath had scarce ceased, and the unhappy mother, the unhappy father, had already sprung forward, kissing those lips that exhaled251 the final quiver of life, and sobbing and crying their distress aloud. Their Blaise was dead. Like Rose, he had died suddenly, a year later, on a day of festivity. Their heart wound, scarce closed as yet, opened afresh with a tragic208 rending232. Amid their long felicity this was the second time that they were thus terribly recalled to human wretchedness; this was the second hatchet252 stroke which fell on the flourishing, healthy, happy family. And their fright increased. Had they not yet finished paying their accumulated debt to misfortune? Was slow destruction now arriving with blow following blow? Already since Rose had quitted them, her bier strewn with flowers, they had feared to see their prosperity and fruitfulness checked and interrupted now that there was an open breach253. And to-day, through that bloody254 breach, their Blaise departed in the most frightful of fashions, crushed as it were by the jealous anger of destiny. And now what other of their children would be torn away from them on the morrow to pay in turn the ransom255 of their happiness?
Mathieu and Marianne long remained sobbing on their knees beside the bed. Constance stood a few paces away, silent, with an air of quivering desolation. Beauchene, as if to combat that fear of death which made him shiver, had a moment previously seated himself at the little writing-table formerly used by Maurice, which had been left in the drawing-room like a souvenir. And he then strove to draw up a notice to his workpeople, to inform them that the factory would remain closed until the day after the funeral. He was vainly seeking words when he perceived Denis coming out of the bedroom, where he had wept all his tears and set his whole heart in the last kiss which he had bestowed256 on his departed brother. Beauchene called him, as if desirous of diverting him from his gloomy thoughts. "There, sit down here and continue this," said he.
Constance, in her turn entering the drawing-room, heard those words. They were virtually the same as the words which her husband had pronounced when making Blaise seat himself at that same table of Maurice's, on the day when he had given him the place of that poor boy, whose body almost seemed to be still lying on the bed in the adjoining room. And she recoiled257 with fright on seeing Denis seated there and writing. Had not Blaise resuscitated258? Even as she had mistaken the twins one for the other that very afternoon on rising from the gay baptismal lunch, so now again she saw Blaise in Denis, the pair of them so similar physically259 that in former times their parents had only been able to distinguish them by the different color of their eyes. And thus it was as if Blaise returned and resumed his place; Blaise, who would possess the works although she had killed him. She had made a mistake; dead as he was, he would nevertheless have the works. She had killed one of those Froments, but behold260 another was born. When one died his brother filled up the breach. And her crime then appeared to her such a useless one, such a stupid one, that she was aghast at it, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up, while she burst into a cold sweat of fear, and recoiled as from a spectre.
"It is a notice for the workpeople," Beauchene repeated. "We will have it posted at the entrance."
She wished to be brave, and, approaching her husband, she said to him: "Draw it up yourself. Why give Blaise the trouble at such a moment as this?"
She had said "Blaise"; and once more an icy sensation of horror came over her. Unconsciously she had heard herself saying yonder, in the ante-room: "Blaise, where did I put my boa?" And it was Denis who had brought it to her. Of what use had it been for her to kill Blaise, since Denis was there? When death mows261 down a soldier of life, another is always ready to take the vacant post of combat.
But a last defeat awaited her. Mathieu and Marianne reappeared, while Morange, seized with a need of motion, came and went with an air of stupefaction, quite losing his wits amid his dreadful sufferings, those awful things which could but unhinge his narrow mind.
"I am going down," stammered Marianne, trying to wipe away her tears and to remain erect. "I wish to see Charlotte, and prepare and tell her of the misfortune. I alone can find the words to say, so that she may not die of the shock, circumstanced as she is."
But Mathieu, full of anxiety, sought to detain his wife, and spare her this fresh trial. "No, I beg you," he said; "Denis will go, or I will go myself."
With gentle obstinacy262, however, she still went towards the stairs. "I am the only one who can tell her of it, I assure you--I shall have strength--"
But all at once she staggered and fainted. It became necessary to lay her on a sofa in the drawing-room. And when she recovered consciousness, her face remained quite white and distorted, and an attack of nausea263 came upon her. Then, as Constance, with an air of anxious solicitude264, rang for her maid and sent for her little medicine-chest, Mathieu confessed the truth, which hitherto had been kept secret; Marianne, like Charlotte, was _enceinte_. It confused her a little, he said, since she was now three-and-forty years old; and so they had not mentioned it. "Ah! poor brave wife!" he added. "She wished to spare our daughter-in-law too great a shock; I trust that she herself will not be struck down by it."
_Enceinte_, good heavens! As Constance heard this, it seemed as if a bludgeon were falling on her to make her defeat complete. And so, even if she should now let Denis, in his turn, kill himself, another Froment was coming who would replace him. There was ever another and another of that race--a swarming265 of strength, an endless fountain of life, against which it became impossible to battle. Amid her stupefaction at finding the breach repaired when scarce opened, Constance realized her powerlessness and nothingness, childless as she was fated to remain. And she felt vanquished266, overcome with awe267, swept away as it were herself; thrust aside by the victorious flow of everlasting Fruitfulness.
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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avocations
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| n.业余爱好，嗜好( avocation的名词复数 )；职业 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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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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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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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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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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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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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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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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illusive
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| adj.迷惑人的，错觉的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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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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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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53
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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ruminating
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| v.沉思( ruminate的现在分词 )；反复考虑；反刍；倒嚼 | |
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venting
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| 消除； 泄去； 排去； 通风 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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61
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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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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65
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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66
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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67
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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68
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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69
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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70
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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71
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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72
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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73
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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74
maniacal
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| adj.发疯的 | |
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75
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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77
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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78
sanctuaries
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| n.避难所( sanctuary的名词复数 )；庇护；圣所；庇护所 | |
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79
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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80
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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81
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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82
chapels
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| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
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83
niggardly
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| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
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84
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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85
rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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86
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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87
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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88
misers
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| 守财奴，吝啬鬼( miser的名词复数 ) | |
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89
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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90
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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91
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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92
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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93
covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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94
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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95
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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96
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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97
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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98
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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99
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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100
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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101
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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102
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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103
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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104
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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105
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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106
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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107
esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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108
forsakes
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| 放弃( forsake的第三人称单数 )； 弃绝； 抛弃； 摒弃 | |
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109
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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110
annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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111
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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112
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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113
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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114
blackmailing
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| 胁迫，尤指以透露他人不体面行为相威胁以勒索钱财( blackmail的现在分词 ) | |
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115
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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116
reimbursement
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| n.偿还，退还 | |
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117
stipulated
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| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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118
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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119
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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120
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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121
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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122
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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123
disinterestedness
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124
requite
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| v.报酬，报答 | |
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125
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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126
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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127
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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128
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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129
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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130
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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131
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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132
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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133
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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134
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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135
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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136
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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137
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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138
blanching
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| adj.漂白的n.热烫v.使变白( blanch的现在分词 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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139
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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140
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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141
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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143
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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144
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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145
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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146
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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147
rancor
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| n.深仇，积怨 | |
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148
despoil
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| v.夺取，抢夺 | |
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149
exterminate
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| v.扑灭，消灭，根绝 | |
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150
usurper
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| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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151
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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152
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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153
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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154
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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155
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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156
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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157
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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158
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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159
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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161
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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162
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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163
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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164
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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165
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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166
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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167
beget
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| v.引起；产生 | |
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168
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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170
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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171
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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172
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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173
clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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174
demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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175
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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176
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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177
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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178
pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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179
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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180
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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181
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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182
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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183
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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184
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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185
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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186
callousness
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187
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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188
vertigo
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| n.眩晕 | |
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189
perverted
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| adj.不正当的v.滥用( pervert的过去式和过去分词 )；腐蚀；败坏；使堕落 | |
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190
fermenting
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| v.（使）发酵( ferment的现在分词 )；（使）激动；骚动；骚扰 | |
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191
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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192
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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193
absolved
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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194
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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195
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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196
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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197
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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198
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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199
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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200
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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201
somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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202
satiety
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| n.饱和；(市场的)充分供应 | |
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203
copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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204
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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205
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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206
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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207
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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208
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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209
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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210
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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211
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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212
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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213
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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214
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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215
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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216
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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217
lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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218
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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219
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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220
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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221
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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222
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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223
consecrating
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| v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的现在分词 )；奉献 | |
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224
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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225
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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226
stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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227
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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228
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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229
lavishness
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| n.浪费，过度 | |
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230
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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231
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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232
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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233
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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234
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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235
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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236
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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237
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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238
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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239
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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240
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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241
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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242
rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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243
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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244
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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245
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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246
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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247
pulsation
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| n.脉搏，悸动，脉动；搏动性 | |
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248
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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249
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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250
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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251
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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252
hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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253
breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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254
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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255
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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256
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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257
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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258
resuscitated
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| v.使（某人或某物）恢复知觉，苏醒( resuscitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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259
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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260
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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261
mows
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| v.刈，割( mow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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262
obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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263
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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264
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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265
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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266
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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267
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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