Cairo and plague! During the whole time of my stay the plague was so master of the city, and showed itself so staringly in every street and every alley1, that I can’t now affect to dissociate the two ideas.
When coming from the Desert I rode through a village which lies near to the city on the eastern side, there approached me with busy face and earnest gestures a personage in the Turkish dress. His long flowing beard gave him rather a majestic2 look, but his briskness3 of manner, and his visible anxiety to accost4 me, seemed strange in an Oriental. The man in fact was French, or of French origin, and his object was to warn me of the plague, and prevent me from entering the city.
“Arretez-vous, monsieur, je vous en prie — arretez-vous; il ne faut pas entrer dans la ville; la peste y regne partout.”
“Oui, je sais,31 mais — ”
“Mais monsieur, je dis la peste — la peste; c’est de LA PESTE, qu’il est question.”
“Oui, je sais, mais — ”
“Mais monsieur, je dis encore LA PESTE— LA PESTE. Je vous conjure6 de ne pas entrer dans la ville — vous seriez dans une ville empestee.”
“Oui, je sais, mais — ”
“Mais monsieur, je dois donc vous avertir tout5 bonnement que si vous entrez dans la ville, vous serez — enfin vous serez COMPROMIS!”32
“Oui, je sais, mais — ”
The Frenchman was at last convinced that it was vain to reason with a mere7 Englishman, who could not understand what it was to be “compromised.” I thanked him most sincerely for his kindly8 meant warning; in hot countries it is very unusual indeed for a man to go out in the glare of the sun and give free advice to a stranger.
When I arrived at Cairo I summoned Osman Effendi, who was, as I knew, the owner of several houses, and would be able to provide me with apartments. He had no difficulty in doing this, for there was not one European traveller in Cairo besides myself. Poor Osman! he met me with a sorrowful countenance10, for the fear of the plague sat heavily on his soul. He seemed as if he felt that he was doing wrong in lending me a resting-place, and he betrayed such a listlessness about temporal matters, as one might look for in a man who believed that his days were numbered. He caught me too soon after my arrival coming out from the public baths, 33 and from that time forward he was sadly afraid of me, for he shared the opinions of Europeans with respect to the effect of contagion11.
Osman’s history is a curious one. He was a Scotchman born, and when very young, being then a drummer-boy, he landed in Egypt with Fraser’s force. He was taken prisoner, and according to Mahometan custom, the alternative of death or the Koran was offered to him; he did not choose death, and therefore went through the ceremonies which were necessary for turning him into a good Mahometan. But what amused me most in his history was this, that very soon after having embraced Islam he was obliged in practice to become curious and discriminating13 in his new faith, to make war upon Mahometan dissenters14, and follow the orthodox standard of the Prophet in fierce campaigns against the Wahabees, who are the Unitarians of the Mussulman world. The Wahabees were crushed, and Osman returning home in triumph from his holy wars, began to flourish in the world. He acquired property, and became effendi, or gentleman. At the time of my visit to Cairo he seemed to be much respected by his brother Mahometans, and gave pledge of his sincere alienation15 from Christianity by keeping a couple of wives. He affected16 the same sort of reserve in mentioning them as is generally shown by Orientals. He invited me, indeed, to see his harem, but he made both his wives bundle out before I was admitted. He felt, as it seemed to me, that neither of them would bear criticism, and I think that this idea, rather than any motive18 of sincere jealousy19, induced him to keep them out of sight. The rooms of the harem reminded me of an English nursery rather than of a Mahometan paradise. One is apt to judge of a woman before one sees her by the air of elegance20 or coarseness with which she surrounds her home; I judged Osman’s wives by this test, and condemned22 them both. But the strangest feature in Osman’s character was his inextinguishable nationality. In vain they had brought him over the seas in early boyhood; in vain had he suffered captivity23, conversion24, circumcision; in vain they had passed him through fire in their Arabian campaigns, they could not cut away or burn out poor Osman’s inborn26 love of all that was Scotch12; in vain men called him Effendi; in vain he swept along in eastern robes; in vain the rival wives adorned27 his harem: the joy of his heart still plainly lay in this, that he had three shelves of books, and that the books were thoroughbred Scotch — the Edinburgh this, the Edinburgh that, and above all, I recollect28, he prided himself upon the “Edinburgh Cabinet Library.”
The fear of the plague is its forerunner29. It is likely enough that at the time of my seeing poor Osman the deadly taint30 was beginning to creep through his veins31, but it was not till after I had left Cairo that he was visibly stricken. He died.
As soon as I had seen all that I wanted to see in Cairo and in the neighbourhood I wished to make my escape from a city that lay under the terrible curse of the plague, but Mysseri fell ill, in consequence, I believe, of the hardships which he had been suffering in my service. After a while he recovered sufficiently32 to undertake a journey, but then there was some difficulty in procuring33 beasts of burthen, and it was not till the nineteenth day of my sojourn34 that I quitted the city.
During all this time the power of the plague was rapidly increasing. When I first arrived, it was said that the daily number of “accidents” by plague, out of a population of about two hundred thousand, did not exceed four or five hundred, but before I went away the deaths were reckoned at twelve hundred a day. I had no means of knowing whether the numbers (given out, as I believe they were, by officials) were at all correct, but I could not help knowing that from day to day the number of the dead was increasing. My quarters were in a street which was one of the chief thoroughfares of the city. The funerals in Cairo take place between daybreak and noon, and as I was generally in my rooms during this part of the day, I could form some opinion as to the briskness of the plague. I don’t mean this for a sly insinuation that I got up every morning with the sun. It was not so; but the funerals of most people in decent circumstances at Cairo are attended by singers and howlers, and the performances of these people woke me in the early morning, and prevented me from remaining in ignorance of what was going on in the street below.
These funerals were very simply conducted. The bier was a shallow wooden tray, carried upon a light and weak wooden frame. The tray had, in general, no lid, but the body was more or less hidden from view by a shawl or scarf. The whole was borne upon the shoulders of men, who contrived35 to cut along with their burthen at a great pace. Two or three singers generally preceded the bier; the howlers (who are paid for their vocal36 labours) followed after, and last of all came such of the dead man’s friends and relations as could keep up with such a rapid procession; these, especially the women, would get terribly blown, and would straggle back into the rear; many were fairly “beaten off.” I never observed any appearance of mourning in the mourners: the pace was too severe for any solemn affectation of grief.
When first I arrived at Cairo the funerals that daily passed under my windows were many, but still there were frequent and long intervals37 without a single howl. Every day, however (except one, when I fancied that I observed a diminution38 of funerals), these intervals became less frequent and shorter, and at last, the passing of the howlers from morn till noon was almost incessant39. I believe that about one-half of the whole people was carried off by this visitation. The Orientals, however, have more quiet fortitude40 than Europeans under afflictions of this sort, and they never allow the plague to interfere41 with their religious usages. I rode one day round the great burial-ground. The tombs are strewed42 over a great expanse, among the vast mountains of rubbish (the accumulations of many centuries) which surround the city. The ground, unlike the Turkish “cities of the dead,” which are made so beautiful by their dark cypresses43, has nothing to sweeten melancholy44, nothing to mitigate45 the odiousness46 of death. Carnivorous beasts and birds possess the place by night, and now in the fair morning it was all alive with fresh comers — alive with dead. Yet at this very time, when the plague was raging so furiously, and on this very ground, which resounded47 so mournfully with the howls of arriving funerals, preparations were going on for the religious festival called the Kourban Bairam. Tents were pitched, and SWINGS HUNG FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF CHILDREN— a ghastly holiday; but the Mahometans take a pride, and a just pride, in following their ancient customs undisturbed by the shadow of death.
I did not hear, whilst I was at Cairo, that any prayer for a remission of the plague had been offered up in the mosques48. I believe that however frightful50 the ravages51 of the disease may be, the Mahometans refrain from approaching Heaven with their complaints until the plague has endured for a long space, and then at last they pray God, not that the plague may cease, but that it may go to another city!
A good Mussulman seems to take pride in repudiating52 the European notion that the will of God can be eluded53 by eluding54 the touch of a sleeve. When I went to see the pyramids of Sakkara I was the guest of a noble old fellow, an Osmanlee, whose soft rolling language it was a luxury to hear after suffering, as I had suffered of late, from the shrieking55 tongue of the Arabs. This man was aware of the European ideas about contagion, and his first care therefore was to assure me that not a single instance of plague had occurred in his village. He then inquired as to the progress of the plague at Cairo. I had but a bad account to give. Up to this time my host had carefully refrained from touching57 me out of respect to the European theory of contagion, but as soon as it was made plain that he, and not I, would be the person endangered by contact, he gently laid his hand upon my arm, in order to make me feel sure that the circumstance of my coming from an infected city did not occasion him the least uneasiness. In that touch there was true hospitality.
Very different is the faith and the practice of the Europeans, or rather, I mean of the Europeans settled in the East, and commonly called Levantines. When I came to the end of my journey over the Desert I had been so long alone, that the prospect58 of speaking to somebody at Cairo seemed almost a new excitement. I felt a sort of consciousness that I had a little of the wild beast about me, but I was quite in the humour to be charmingly tame, and to be quite engaging in my manners, if I should have an opportunity of holding communion with any of the human race whilst at Cairo. I knew no one in the place, and had no letters of introduction, but I carried letters of credit, and it often happens in places remote from England that those “advices” operate as a sort of introduction, and obtain for the bearer (if disposed to receive them) such ordinary civilities as it may be in the power of the banker to offer.
Very soon after my arrival I went to the house of the Levantine to whom my credentials60 were addressed. At his door several persons (all Arabs) were hanging about and keeping guard. It was not till after some delay, and the passing of some communications with those in the interior of the citadel61, that I was admitted. At length, however, I was conducted through the court, and up a flight of stairs, and finally into the apartment where business was transacted62. The room was divided by an excellent, substantial fence of iron bars, and behind this grille the banker had his station. The truth was, that from fear of the plague he had adopted the course usually taken by European residents, and had shut himself up “in strict quarantine” — that is to say, that he had, as he hoped, cut himself off from all communication with infecting substances. The Europeans long resident in the East, without any, or with scarcely any, exception are firmly convinced that the plague is propagated by contact, and by contact only; that if they can but avoid the touch of an infecting substance they are safe, and that if they cannot, they die. This belief induces them to adopt the contrivance of putting themselves in that state of siege which they call “quarantine.” It is a part of their faith that metals, and hempen63 rope, and also, I fancy, one or two other substances, will not carry the infection; and they likewise believe that the germ of pestilence64, which lies in an infected substance, may be destroyed by submersion in water, or by the action of smoke. They therefore guard the doors of their houses with the utmost care against intrusion, and condemn21 themselves, with all the members of their family, including any European servants, to a strict imprisonment65 within the walls of their dwelling66. Their native attendants are not allowed to enter at all, but they make the necessary purchases of provisions, which are hauled up through one of the windows by means of a rope, and are then soaked in water.
I knew nothing of these mysteries, and was not therefore prepared for the sort of reception which I met with. I advanced to the iron fence, and putting my letter between the bars, politely proffered67 it to Mr. Banker. Mr. Banker received me with a sad and dejected look, and not “with open arms,” or with any arms at all, but with — a pair of tongs68! I placed my letter between the iron fingers, which picked it up as if it were a viper69, and conveyed it away to be scorched70 and purified by fire and smoke. I was disgusted at this reception, and at the idea that anything of mine could carry infection to the poor wretch71 who stood on the other side of the grille, pale and trembling, and already meet for death. I looked with something of the Mahometan’s feeling upon these little contrivances for eluding fate; and in this instance, at least, they were vain. A few more days, and the poor money-changer, who had striven to guard the days of his life (as though they were coins) with bolts and bars of iron — he was seized by the plague, and he died.
To people entertaining such opinions as these respecting the fatal effect of contact, the narrow and crowded streets of Cairo were terrible as the easy slope that leads to Avernus. The roaring ocean and the beetling72 crags owe something of their sublimity73 to this — that if they be tempted74, they can take the warm life of a man. To the contagionist, filled as he is with the dread76 of final causes, having no faith in destiny nor in the fixed77 will of God, and with none of the devil-may-care indifference78 which might stand him instead of creeds79 — to such one, every rag that shivers in the breeze of a plague-stricken city has this sort of sublimity. If by any terrible ordinance80 he be forced to venture forth81, he sees death dangling82 from every sleeve, and as he creeps forward, he poises83 his shuddering84 limbs between the imminent85 jacket that is stabbing at his right elbow and the murderous pelisse that threatens to mow86 him clean down as it sweeps along on his left. But most of all, he dreads87 that which most of all he should love — the touch of a woman’s dress; for mothers and wives, hurrying forth on kindly errands from the bedsides of the dying, go slouching along through the streets more wilfully88 and less courteously89 than the men. For a while it may be that the caution of the poor Levantine may enable him to avoid contact, but sooner or later perhaps the dreaded90 chance arrives; that bundle of linen91, with the dark tearful eyes at the top of it, that labours along with the voluptuous92 clumsiness of Grisi — she has touched the poor Levantine with the hem17 of her sleeve! From that dread moment his peace is gone; his mind, for ever hanging upon the fatal touch, invites the blow which he fears. He watches for the symptoms of plague so carefully, that sooner or later they come in truth. The parched93 mouth is a sign — his mouth is parched; the throbbing95 brain — his brain DOES throb94; the rapid pulse — he touches his own wrist (for he dares not ask counsel of any man lest he be deserted96), he touches his wrist, and feels how his frighted blood goes galloping97 out of his heart; there is nothing but the fatal swelling99 that is wanting to make his sad conviction complete; immediately he has an odd feel under the arm — no pain, but a little straining of the skin; he would to God it were his fancy that were strong enough to give him that sensation. This is the worst of all; it now seems to him that he could be happy and contented100 with his parched mouth and his throbbing brain and his rapid pulse, if only he could know that there were no swelling under the left arm; but dare he try? — In a moment of calmness and deliberation he dares not, but when for a while he has writhed101 under the torture of suspense102, a sudden strength of will drives him to seek and know his fate. He touches the gland59, and finds the skin sane103 and sound, but under the cuticle104 there lies a small lump like a pistol-bullet, that moves as he pushes it. Oh! but is this for all certainty, is this the sentence of death? Feel the gland of the other arm; there is not the same lump exactly, yet something a little like it: have not some people glands105 naturally enlarged? — would to Heaven he were one! So he does for himself the work of the plague, and when the Angel of Death, thus courted, does indeed and in truth come, he has only to finish that which has been so well begun; he passes his fiery106 hand over the brain of the victim, and lets him rave9 for a season, but all chance-wise, of people and things once dear, or of people and things indifferent. Once more the poor fellow is back at his home in fair Provence, and sees the sun-dial that stood in his childhood’s garden; sees part of his mother, and the long-since-forgotten face of that little dead sister (he sees her, he says, on a Sunday morning, for all the church bells are ringing); he looks up and down through the universe, and owns it well piled with bales upon bales of cotton, and cotton eternal — so much so that he feels, he knows, he swears he could make that winning hazard, if the billiard table would not slant107 upwards108, and if the cue were a cue worth playing with; but it is not — it’s a cue that won’t move — his own arm won’t move — in short, there’s the devil to pay in the brain of the poor Levantine, and perhaps the next night but one he becomes the “life and the soul” of some squalling jackal family who fish him out by the foot from his shallow and sandy grave.
Better fate was mine. By some happy perverseness109 (occasioned perhaps by my disgust at the notion of being received with a pair of tongs) I took it into my pleasant head that all the European notions about contagion were thoroughly110 unfounded; that the plague might be providential or “epidemic” (as they phrase it), but was not contagious111; and that I could not be killed by the touch of a woman’s sleeve, nor yet by her blessed breath. I therefore determined112 that the plague should not alter my habits and amusements in any one respect. Though I came to this resolve from impulse, I think that I took the course which was in effect the most prudent113, for the cheerfulness of spirits which I was thus enabled to retain discouraged the yellow-winged angel, and prevented him from taking a shot at me. I, however, so far respected the opinion of the Europeans, that I avoided touching when I could do so without privation or inconvenience. This endeavour furnished me with a sort of amusement as I passed through the streets. The usual mode of moving from place to place in the city of Cairo is upon donkeys, of which great numbers are always in readiness, with donkey-boys attached. I had two who constantly (until one of them died of the plague) waited at my door upon the chance of being wanted. I found this way of moving about exceedingly pleasant, and never attempted any other. I had only to mount my beast, and tell my donkey-boy the point for which I was bound, and instantly I began to glide114 on at a capital pace. The streets of Cairo are not paved in any way, but strewed with a dry sandy soil, so deadening to sound, that the footfall of my donkey could scarcely be heard. There is no trottoir, and as you ride through the streets you mingle115 with the people on foot. Those who are in your way, upon being warned by the shouts of the donkey-boy, move very slightly aside, so as to leave you a narrow lane, through which you pass at a gallop98. In this way you glide on delightfully116 in the very midst of crowds, without being inconvenienced or stopped for a moment. It seems to you that it is not the donkey but the donkey-boy who wafts117 you on with his shouts through pleasant groups, and air that feels thick with the fragrance118 of burial spice. “Eh! Sheik, Eh! Bint, — reggalek, — “shumalek, &c. &c. — O old man, O virgin119, get out of the way on the right — O virgin, O old man, get out of the way on the left — this Englishman comes, he comes, he comes!” The narrow alley which these shouts cleared for my passage made it possible, though difficult, to go on for a long way without touching a single person, and my endeavours to avoid such contact were a sort of game for me in my loneliness, which was not without interest. If I got through a street without being touched, I won; if I was touched, I lost — lost a deuce of stake, according to the theory of the Europeans; but that I deemed to be all nonsense — I only lost that game, and would certainly win the next.
There is not much in the way of public buildings to admire at Cairo, but I saw one handsome mosque49, to which an instructive history is attached. A Hindustanee merchant having amassed120 an immense fortune settled in Cairo, and soon found that his riches in the then state of the political world gave him vast power in the city — power, however, the exercise of which was much restrained by the counteracting121 influence of other wealthy men. With a view to extinguish every attempt at rivalry122 the Hindustanee merchant built this magnificent mosque at his own expense. When the work was complete, he invited all the leading men of the city to join him in prayer within the walls of the newly built temple, and he then caused to be massacred all those who were sufficiently influential123 to cause him any jealousy or uneasiness — in short, all “the respectable men” of the place; after this he possessed124 undisputed power in the city and was greatly revered125 — he is revered to this day. It seemed to me that there was a touching simplicity126 in the mode which this man so successfully adopted for gaining the confidence and goodwill127 of his fellow-citizens. There seems to be some improbability in the story (though not nearly so gross as it might appear to an European ignorant of the East, for witness Mehemet Ali’s destruction of the Mamelukes, a closely similar act, and attended with the like brilliant success 34), but even if the story be false as a mere fact, it is perfectly128 true as an illustration — it is a true exposition of the means by which the respect and affection of Orientals may be conciliated.
I ascended129 one day to the citadel, which commands a superb view of the town. The fanciful and elaborate gilt-work of the many minarets130 gives a light and florid grace to the city as seen from this height, but before you can look for many seconds at such things your eyes are drawn131 westward132 — drawn westward and over the Nile, till they rest upon the massive enormities of the Ghizeh Pyramids.
I saw within the fortress133 many yoke134 of men all haggard and woebegone, and a kennel135 of very fine lions well fed and flourishing: I say YOKE of men, for the poor fellows were working together in bonds; I say a KENNEL of lions, for the beasts were not enclosed in cages, but simply chained up like dogs.
I went round the bazaars136: it seemed to me that pipes and arms were cheaper here than at Constantinople, and I should advise you therefore if you go to both places to prefer the market of Cairo. I had previously137 bought several of such things at Constantinople, and did not choose to encumber138 myself, or to speak more honestly, I did not choose to disencumber my purse by making any more purchases. In the open slave-market I saw about fifty girls exposed for sale, but all of them black, or “invisible” brown. A slave agent took me to some rooms in the upper storey of the building, and also into several obscure houses in the neighbourhood, with a view to show me some white women. The owners raised various objections to the display of their ware56, and well they might, for I had not the least notion of purchasing; some refused on account of the illegality of the proceeding139, 35 and others declared that all transactions of this sort were completely out of the question as long as the plague was raging. I only succeeded in seeing one white slave who was for sale but on this one the owner affected to set an immense value, and raised my expectations to a high pitch by saying that the girl was Circassian, and was “fair as the full moon.” After a good deal of delay I was at last led into a room, at the farther end of which was that mass of white linen which indicates an Eastern woman. She was bid to uncover her face, and I presently saw that, though very far from being good looking, according to my notion of beauty, she had not been inaptly described by the man who compared her to the full moon, for her large face was perfectly round and perfectly white. Though very young, she was nevertheless extremely fat. She gave me the idea of having been got up for sale, of having been fattened140 and whitened by medicines or by some peculiar141 diet. I was firmly determined not to see any more of her than the face. She was perhaps disgusted at this my virtuous142 resolve, as well as with my personal appearance; perhaps she saw my distaste and disappointment; perhaps she wished to gain favour with her owner by showing her attachment143 to his faith: at all events, she holloaed out very lustily and very decidedly that “she would not be bought by the infidel.”
Whilst I remained at Cairo I thought it worth while to see something of the magicians, because I considered that these men were in some sort the descendants of those who contended so stoutly145 against the superior power of Aaron. I therefore sent for an old man who was held to be the chief of the magicians, and desired him to show me the wonders of his art. The old man looked and dressed his character exceedingly well; the vast turban, the flowing beard, and the ample robes were all that one could wish in the way of appearance. The first experiment (a very stale one) which he attempted to perform for me was that of showing the forms and faces of my absent friends, not to me, but to a boy brought in from the streets for the purpose, and said to be chosen at random146. A mangale (pan of burning charcoal) was brought into my room, and the magician bending over it, sprinkled upon the fire some substances which must have consisted partly of spices or sweetly burning woods, for immediately a fragrant147 smoke arose that curled around the bending form of the wizard, the while that he pronounced his first incantations. When these were over the boy was made to sit down, and a common green shade was bound over his brow; then the wizard took ink, and still continuing his incantations, wrote certain mysterious figures upon the boy’s palm, and directed him to rivet148 his attention to these marks without looking aside for an instant. Again the incantations proceeded, and after a while the boy, being seemingly a little agitated149, was asked whether he saw anything on the palm of his hand. He declared that he saw a kind of military procession, with flags and banners, which he described rather minutely. I was then called upon to name the absent person whose form was to be made visible. I named Keate. You were not at Eton, and I must tell you, therefore, what manner of man it was that I named, though I think you must have some idea of him already, for wherever from utmost Canada to Bundelcund — wherever there was the whitewashed150 wall of an officer’s room, or of any other apartment in which English gentlemen are forced to kick their heels, there likely enough (in the days of his reign) the head of Keate would be seen scratched or drawn with those various degrees of skill which one observes in the representations of saints. Anybody without the least notion of drawing could still draw a speaking, nay151 scolding, likeness152 of Keate. If you had no pencil, you could draw him well enough with a poker153, or the leg of a chair, or the smoke of a candle. He was little more (if more at all) than five feet in height, and was not very great in girth, but in this space was concentrated the pluck of ten battalions154. He had a really noble voice, which he could modulate155 with great skill, but he had also the power of quacking156 like an angry duck, and he almost always adopted this mode of communication in order to inspire respect. He was a capital scholar, but his ingenuous157 learning had NOT “softened his manners” and HAD “permitted them to be fierce” — tremendously fierce; he had the most complete command over his temper — I mean over his GOOD temper, which he scarcely ever allowed to appear: you could not put him out of humour — that is, out of the ILL-humour which he thought to be fitting for a head-master. His red shaggy eyebrows158 were so prominent, that he habitually159 used them as arms and hands for the purpose of pointing out any object towards which he wished to direct attention; the rest of his features were equally striking in their way, and were all and all his own; he wore a fancy dress partly resembling the costume of Napoleon, and partly that of a widow-woman. I could not by any possibility have named anybody more decidedly differing in appearance from the rest of the human race.
“Whom do you name?” — “I name John Keate.” — “Now, what do you see?” said the wizard to the boy. — “I see,” answered the boy, “I see a fair girl with golden hair, blue eyes, pallid160 face, rosy161 lips.” THERE was a shot! I shouted out my laughter to the horror of the wizard, who perceiving the grossness of his failure, declared that the boy must have known sin (for none but the innocent can see truth), and accordingly kicked him downstairs.
One or two other boys were tried, but none could “see truth”; they all made sadly “bad shots.”
Notwithstanding the failure of these experiments, I wished to see what sort of mummery my magician would practise if I called upon him to show me some performances of a higher order than those which had been attempted. I therefore entered into a treaty with him, in virtue162 of which he was to descend144 with me into the tombs near the Pyramids, and there evoke163 the devil. The negotiation164 lasted some time, for Dthemetri, as in duty bound, tried to beat down the wizard as much as he could, and the wizard, on his part, manfully stuck up for his price, declaring that to raise the devil was really no joke, and insinuating165 that to do so was an awesome166 crime. I let Dthemetri have his way in the negotiation, but I felt in reality very indifferent about the sum to be paid, and for this reason, namely, that the payment (except a very small present which I might make or not, as I chose) was to be CONTINGENT167 ON SUCCESS. At length the bargain was made, and it was arranged that after a few days, to be allowed for preparation, the wizard should raise the devil for two pounds ten, play or pay — no devil, no piastres.
The wizard failed to keep his appointment. I sent to know why the deuce he had not come to raise the devil. The truth was, that my Mahomet had gone to the mountain. The plague had seized him, and he died.
Although the plague had now spread terrible havoc168 around me, I did not see very plainly any corresponding change in the looks of the streets until the seventh day after my arrival. I then first observed that the city was SILENCED. There were no outward signs of despair nor of violent terror, but many of the voices that had swelled169 the busy hum of men were already hushed in death, and the survivors170, so used to scream and screech171 in their earnestness whenever they bought or sold, now showed an unwonted indifference about the affairs of this world: it was less worth while for men to haggle173 and haggle, and crack the sky with noisy bargains, when the great commander was there, who could “pay all their debts with the roll of his drum.”
At this time I was informed that of twenty-five thousand people at Alexandria, twelve thousand had died already; the destroyer had come rather later to Cairo, but there was nothing of weariness in his strides. The deaths came faster than ever they befell in the plague of London; but the calmness of Orientals under such visitations, and the habit of using biers for interment, instead of burying coffins174 along with the bodies, rendered it practicable to dispose of the dead in the usual way, without shocking the people by any unaccustomed spectacle of horror. There was no tumbling of bodies into carts, as in the plague of Florence and the plague of London. Every man, according to his station, was properly buried, and that in the usual way, except that he went to his grave in a more hurried pace than might have been adopted under ordinary circumstances.
The funerals which poured through the streets were not the only public evidence of deaths. In Cairo this custom prevails: At the instant of a man’s death (if his property is sufficient to justify175 the expense) professional howlers are employed. I believe that these persons are brought near to the dying man when his end appears to be approaching, and the moment that life is gone they lift up their voices and send forth a loud wail176 from the chamber177 of death. Thus I knew when my near neighbours died; sometimes the howls were near, sometimes more distant. Once I was awakened178 in the night by the wail of death in the next house, and another time by a like howl from the house opposite; and there were two or three minutes, I recollect, during which the howl seemed to be actually running along the street.
I happened to be rather teased at this time by a sore throat, and I thought it would be well to get it cured if I could before I again started on my travels. I therefore inquired for a Frank doctor, and was informed that the only one then at Cairo was a young Bolognese refugee, who was so poor that he had not been able to take flight, as the other medical men had done. At such a time as this it was out of the question to send for an European physician; a person thus summoned would be sure to suppose that the patient was ill of the plague, and would decline to come. I therefore rode to the young doctor’s residence. After experiencing some little difficulty in finding where to look for him, I ascended a flight or two of stairs and knocked at his door. No one came immediately, but after some little delay the medico himself opened the door, and admitted me. I of course made him understand that I had come to consult him, but before entering upon my throat grievance179 I accepted a chair, and exchanged a sentence or two of commonplace conversation. Now the natural commonplace of the city at this season was of a gloomy sort, “Come va la peste?” (how goes the plague?) and this was precisely180 the question I put. A deep sigh, and the words, “Sette cento per giorno, signor” (seven hundred a day), pronounced in a tone of the deepest sadness and dejection, were the answer I received. The day was not oppressively hot, yet I saw that the doctor was perspiring181 profusely182, and even the outside surface of the thick shawl dressing-gown, in which he had wrapped himself, appeared to be moist. He was a handsome, pleasant-looking young fellow, but the deep melancholy of his tone did not tempt75 me to prolong the conversation, and without further delay I requested that my throat might be looked at. The medico held my chin in the usual way, and examined my throat. He then wrote me a prescription183, and almost immediately afterwards I bade him farewell, but as he conducted me towards the door I observed an expression of strange and unhappy watchfulness184 in his rolling eyes. It was not the next day, but the next day but one, if I rightly remember, that I sent to request another interview with my doctor. In due time Dthemetri, who was my messenger, returned, looking sadly aghast — he had “MET the medico,” for so he phrased it, “coming out from his house — in a bier!”
It was of course plain that when the poor Bolognese was looking at my throat, and almost mingling185 his breath with mine, he was stricken of the plague. I suppose that the violent sweat in which I found him had been produced by some medicine, which he must have taken in the hope of curing himself. The peculiar rolling of the eyes which I had remarked is, I believe, to experienced observers, a pretty sure test of the plague. A Russian acquaintance, of mine, speaking from the information of men who had made the Turkish campaigns of 1828 and 1829, told me that by this sign the officers of Sabalkansky’s force were able to make out the plague-stricken soldiers with a good deal of certainty.
It so happened that most of the people with whom I had anything to do during my stay at Cairo were seized with plague, and all these died. Since I had been for a long time en route before I reached Egypt, and was about to start again for another long journey over the Desert, there were of course many little matters touching my wardrobe and my travelling equipments which required to be attended to whilst I remained in the city. It happened so many times that Dthemetri’s orders in respect to these matters were frustrated186 by the deaths of the tradespeople and others whom he employed, that at last I became quite accustomed to the peculiar manner which he assumed when he prepared to announce a new death to me. The poor fellow naturally supposed that I should feel some uneasiness at hearing of the “accidents” which happened to persons employed by me, and he therefore communicated their deaths as though they were the deaths of friends. He would cast down his eyes and look like a man abashed187, and then gently, and with a mournful gesture, allow the words, “Morto, signor,” to come through his lips. I don’t know how many of such instances occurred, but they were several, and besides these (as I told you before), my banker, my doctor, my landlord, and my magician all died of the plague. A lad who acted as a helper in the house which I occupied lost a brother and a sister within a few hours. Out of my two established donkey-boys, one died. I did not hear of any instance in which a plague-stricken patient had recovered.
Going out one morning I met unexpectedly the scorching188 breath of the kamsin wind, and fearing that I should faint under the horrible sensations which it caused, I returned to my rooms. Reflecting, however, that I might have to encounter this wind in the Desert, where there would be no possibility of avoiding it, I thought it would be better to brave it once more in the city, and to try whether I could really bear it or not. I therefore mounted my ass25 and rode to old Cairo, and along the gardens by the banks of the Nile. The wind was hot to the touch, as though it came from a furnace. It blew strongly, but yet with such perfect steadiness, that the trees bending under its force remained fixed in the same curves without perceptibly waving. The whole sky was obscured by a veil of yellowish grey, that shut out the face of the sun. The streets were utterly189 silent, being indeed almost entirely190 deserted; and not without cause, for the scorching blast, whilst it fevers the blood, closes up the pores of the skin, and is terribly distressing191, therefore, to every animal that encounters it. I returned to my rooms dreadfully ill. My head ached with a burning pain, and my pulse bounded quick and fitfully, but perhaps (as in the instance of the poor Levantine, whose death I was mentioning), the fear and excitement which I felt in trying my own wrist may have made my blood flutter the faster.
It is a thoroughly well believed theory, that during the continuance of the plague you can’t be ill of any other febrile malady192 — an unpleasant privilege that! for ill I was, and ill of fever, and I anxiously wished that the ailment193 might turn out to be anything rather than plague. I had some right to surmise194 that my illness may have been merely the effect of the hot wind; and this notion was encouraged by the elasticity195 of my spirits, and by a strong forefeeling that much of my destined196 life in this world was yet to come, and yet to be fulfilled. That was my instinctive197 belief, but when I carefully weighed the probabilities on the one side and on the other, I could not help seeing that the strength of argument was all against me. There was a strong antecedent likelihood in FAVOUR of my being struck by the same blow as the rest of the people who had been dying around me. Besides, it occurred to me that, after all, the universal opinion of the Europeans upon a medical question, such as that of contagion, might probably be correct, and IF IT WERE, I was so thoroughly “compromised,” and especially by the touch and breath of the dying medico, that I had no right to expect any other fate than that which now seemed to have overtaken me. Balancing as well as I could all the considerations which hope and fear suggested, I slowly and reluctantly came to the conclusion that, according to all merely reasonable probability, the plague had come upon me.
You would suppose that this conviction would have induced me to write a few farewell lines to those who were dearest, and that having done that, I should have turned my thoughts towards the world to come. Such, however, was not the case. I believe that the prospect of death often brings with it strong anxieties about matters of comparatively trivial import, and certainly with me the whole energy of the mind was directed towards the one petty object of concealing198 my illness until the latest possible moment — until the delirious199 stage. I did not believe that either Mysseri or Dthemetri, who had served me so faithfully in all trials, would have deserted me (as most Europeans are wont172 to do) when they knew that I was stricken by plague, but I shrank from the idea of putting them to this test, and I dreaded the consternation200 which the knowledge of my illness would be sure to occasion.
I was very ill indeed at the moment when my dinner was served, and my soul sickened at the sight of the food; but I had luckily the habit of dispensing201 with the attendance of servants during my meal, and as soon as I was left alone I made a melancholy calculation of the quantity of food which I should have eaten if I had been in my usual health, and filled my plates accordingly, and gave myself salt, and so on, as though I were going to dine. I then transferred the viands202 to a piece of the omnipresent Times newspaper, and hid them away in a cupboard, for it was not yet night, and I dared not throw the food into the street until darkness came. I did not at all relish203 this process of fictitious204 dining, but at length the cloth was removed, and I gladly reclined on my divan205 (I would not lie down) with the “Arabian Nights” in my hand.
I had a feeling that tea would be a capital thing for me, but I would not order it until the usual hour. When at last the time came, I drank deep draughts206 from the fragrant cup. The effect was almost instantaneous. A plenteous sweat burst through my skin, and watered my clothes through and through. I kept myself thickly covered. The hot tormenting207 weight which had been loading my brain was slowly heaved away. The fever was extinguished. I felt a new buoyancy of spirits, and an unusual activity of mind. I went into my bed under a load of thick covering, and when the morning came, and I asked myself how I was, I found that I was thoroughly well.
I was very anxious to procure208, if possible, some medical advice for Mysseri, whose illness prevented my departure. Every one of the European practising doctors, of whom there had been many, had either died or fled. It was said, however, that there was an Englishman in the medical service of the Pasha who quietly remained at his post, but that he never engaged in private practice. I determined to try if I could obtain assistance in this quarter. I did not venture at first, and at such a time as this, to ask him to visit a servant who was prostrate209 on the bed of sickness, but thinking that I might thus gain an opportunity of persuading him to attend Mysseri, I wrote a note mentioning my own affair of the sore throat, and asking for the benefit of his medical advice. He instantly followed back my messenger, and was at once shown up into my room. I entreated210 him to stand off, telling him fairly how deeply I was “compromised,” and especially by my contact with a person actually ill and since dead of plague. The generous fellow, with a good-humoured laugh at the terrors of the contagionists, marched straight up to me, and forcibly seized my hand, and shook it with manly211 violence. I felt grateful indeed, and swelled with fresh pride of race because that my countryman could carry himself so nobly. He soon cured Mysseri as well as me, and all this he did from no other motives212 than the pleasure of doing a kindness and the delight of braving a danger.
At length the great difficulty 36 which I had had in procuring beasts for my departure was overcome, and now, too, I was to have the new excitement of travelling on dromedaries. With two of these beasts and three camels I gladly wound my way from out of the pest-stricken city. As I passed through the streets I observed a fanatical-looking elder, who stretched forth his arms, and lifted up his voice in a speech which seemed to have some reference to me. Requiring an interpretation213, I found that the man had said, “The Pasha seeks camels, and he finds them not; the Englishman says, ‘Let camels be brought,’ and behold214, there they are!”
I no sooner breathed the free, wholesome215 air of the Desert than I felt that a great burden which I had been scarcely conscious of bearing was lifted away from my mind. For nearly three weeks I had lived under peril216 of death; the peril ceased, and not till then did I know how much alarm and anxiety I had really been suffering.
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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briskness
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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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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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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dissenters
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| n.持异议者，持不同意见者( dissenter的名词复数 ) | |
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alienation
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| n.疏远；离间；异化 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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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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captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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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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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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diminution
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| n.减少；变小 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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odiousness
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| n.可憎；讨厌；可恨 | |
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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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mosques
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| 清真寺； 伊斯兰教寺院，清真寺； 清真寺，伊斯兰教寺院( mosque的名词复数 ) | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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repudiating
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的现在分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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eluding
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的现在分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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gland
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| n.腺体，(机)密封压盖，填料盖 | |
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credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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transacted
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| v.办理（业务等）( transact的过去式和过去分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
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hempen
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| adj. 大麻制的, 大麻的 | |
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pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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beetling
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| adj.突出的，悬垂的v.快速移动( beetle的现在分词 ) | |
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sublimity
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| 崇高，庄严，气质高尚 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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79
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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80
ordinance
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| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
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81
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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82
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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83
poises
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| 使平衡( poise的第三人称单数 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
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84
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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85
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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86
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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87
dreads
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| n.恐惧，畏惧( dread的名词复数 )；令人恐惧的事物v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的第三人称单数 ) | |
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88
wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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89
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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90
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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91
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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92
voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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93
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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94
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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95
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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96
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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97
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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98
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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99
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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100
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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101
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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103
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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104
cuticle
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| n.表皮 | |
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105
glands
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| n.腺( gland的名词复数 ) | |
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106
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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107
slant
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| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
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108
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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109
perverseness
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| n. 乖张, 倔强, 顽固 | |
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110
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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111
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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112
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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113
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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114
glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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115
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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116
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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117
wafts
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| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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118
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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119
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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120
amassed
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| v.积累，积聚( amass的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
counteracting
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| 对抗，抵消( counteract的现在分词 ) | |
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122
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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123
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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124
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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125
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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126
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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127
goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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128
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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129
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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131
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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132
westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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133
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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134
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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135
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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136
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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137
previously
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|
| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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138
encumber
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| v.阻碍行动，妨碍，堆满 | |
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139
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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140
fattened
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| v.喂肥( fatten的过去式和过去分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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141
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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142
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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143
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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144
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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145
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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146
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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147
fragrant
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|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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148
rivet
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| n.铆钉；vt.铆接，铆牢；集中(目光或注意力) | |
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149
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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150
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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152
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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153
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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154
battalions
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| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
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155
modulate
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|
| v.调整，调节(音的强弱)；变调 | |
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156
quacking
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| v.（鸭子）发出嘎嘎声( quack的现在分词 ) | |
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157
ingenuous
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|
| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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158
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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159
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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160
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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161
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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162
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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163
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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164
negotiation
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| n.谈判，协商 | |
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165
insinuating
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| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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166
awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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167
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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168
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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169
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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170
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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171
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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172
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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173
haggle
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| vi.讨价还价，争论不休 | |
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174
coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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175
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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176
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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177
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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178
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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179
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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180
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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181
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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182
profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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183
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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184
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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185
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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186
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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187
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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189
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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190
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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191
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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192
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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193
ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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194
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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195
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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196
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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197
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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198
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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199
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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200
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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201
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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202
viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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203
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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204
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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205
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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206
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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207
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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208
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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209
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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210
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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211
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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212
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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213
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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214
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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215
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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216
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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