Many days had passed since the hut was made — how many may not be known, since I notched1 no stick and knotted no cord — yet never in my rambles2 in the wood had I seen that desolate3 ash-heap where the fire had done its work. Nor had I looked for it. On the contrary, my wish was never to see it, and the fear of coming accidentally upon it made me keep to the old familiar paths. But at length, one night, without thinking of Rima’s fearful end, it all at once occurred to me that the hated savage4 whose blood I had shed on the white savannah might have only been practicing his natural deceit when he told me that most pitiful story. If that were so — if he had been prepared with a fictitious5 account of her death to meet my questions — then Rima might still exist: lost, perhaps, wandering in some distant place, exposed to perils6 day and night, and unable to find her way back, but living still! Living! her heart on fire with the hope of reunion with me, cautiously threading her way through the undergrowth of immeasurable forests; spying out the distant villages and hiding herself from the sight of all men, as she knew so well how to hide; studying the outlines of distant mountains, to recognize some familiar landmark7 at last, and so find her way back to the old wood once more! Even now, while I sat there idly musing8, she might be somewhere in the wood — somewhere near me; but after so long an absence full of apprehension9, waiting in concealment10 for what tomorrow’s light might show.
I started up and replenished11 the fire with trembling hands, then set the door open to let the welcoming stream out into the wood. But Rima had done more; going out into the black forest in the pitiless storm, she had found and led me home. Could I do less! I was quickly out in the shadows of the wood. Surely it was more than a mere12 hope that made my heart beat so wildly! How could a sensation so strangely sudden, so irresistible13 in its power, possess me unless she were living and near? Can it be, can it be that we shall meet again? To look again into your divine eyes — to hold you again in my arms at last! I so changed — so different! But the old love remains14; and of all that has happened in your absence I shall tell you nothing — not one word; all shall be forgotten now — sufferings, madness, crime, remorse15! Nothing shall ever vex16 you again — not Nuflo, who vexed17 you every day; for he is dead now — murdered, only I shall not say that — and I have decently buried his poor old sinful bones. We alone together in the wood — our wood now! The sweet old days again; for I know that you would not have it different, nor would I.
Thus I talked to myself, mad with the thoughts of the joy that would soon be mine; and at intervals18 I stood still and made the forest echo with my calls. “Rima! Rima!” I called again and again, and waited for some response; and heard only the familiar night-sounds — voices of insect and bird and tinkling19 tree-frog, and a low murmur20 in the topmost foliage21, moved by some light breath of wind unfelt below. I was drenched22 with dew, bruised23 and bleeding from falls in the dark, and from rocks and thorns and rough branches, but had felt nothing; gradually the excitement burnt itself out; I was hoarse25 with shouting and ready to drop down with fatigue26, and hope was dead: and at length I crept back to my hut, to cast myself on my grass bed and sink into a dull, miserable27, desponding stupor28.
But on the following morning I was out once more, determined29 to search the forest well; since, if no evidence of the great fire Kua-ko had described to me existed, it would still be possible to believe that he had lied to me, and that Rima lived. I searched all day and found nothing; but the area was large, and to search it thoroughly30 would require several days.
On the third day I discovered the fatal spot, and knew that never again would I behold31 Rima in the flesh, that my last hope had indeed been a vain one. There could be no mistake: just such an open place as the Indian had pictured to me was here, with giant trees standing32 apart; while one tree stood killed and blackened by fire, surrounded by a huge heap, sixty or seventy yards across, of prostrate33 charred34 tree-trunks and ashes. Here and there slender plants had sprung up through the ashes, and the omnipresent small-leaved creepers were beginning to throw their pale green embroidery35 over the blackened trunks. I looked long at the vast funeral tree that had a buttressed36 girth of not less than fifty feet, and rose straight as a ship’s mast, with its top about a hundred and fifty feet from the earth. What a distance to fall, through burning leaves and smoke, like a white bird shot dead with a poisoned arrow, swift and straight into that sea of flame below! How cruel imagination was to turn that desolate ash-heap, in spite of feathery foliage and embroidery of creepers, into roaring leaping flames again — to bring those dead savages37 back, men, women, and children — even the little ones I had played with — to set them yelling around me: “Burn! burn!” Oh, no, this damnable spot must not be her last resting-place! If the fire had not utterly38 consumed her, bones as well as sweet tender flesh, shrivelling her like a frail39 white-winged moth40 into the finest white ashes, mixed inseparably with the ashes of stems and leaves innumerable, then whatever remained of her must be conveyed elsewhere to be with me, to mingle41 with my ashes at last.
Having resolved to sift42 and examine the entire heap, I at once set about my task. If she had climbed into the central highest branch, and had fallen straight, then she would have dropped into the flames not far from the roots; and so to begin I made a path to the trunk, and when darkness overtook me I had worked all round the tree, in a width of three to four yards, without discovering any remains. At noon on the following day I found the skeleton, or, at all events, the larger bones, rendered so fragile by the fierce heat they had been subjected to, that they fell to pieces when handled. But I was careful — how careful! — to save these last sacred relics43, all that was now left of Rima! — kissing each white fragment as I lifted it, and gathering44 them all in my old frayed45 cloak, spread out to receive them. And when I had recovered them all, even to the smallest, I took my treasure home.
Another storm had shaken my soul, and had been succeeded by a second calm, which was more complete and promised to be more enduring than the first. But it was no lethargic46 calm; my brain was more active than ever; and by and by it found a work for my hands to do, of such a character as to distinguish me from all other forest hermits47, fugitives48 from their fellows, in that savage land. The calcined bones I had rescued were kept in one of the big, rudely shaped, half-burnt earthen jars which Nuflo had used for storing grain and other food-stuff. It was of a wood-ash colour; and after I had given up my search for the peculiar49 fine clay he had used in its manufacture — for it had been in my mind to make a more shapely funeral urn24 myself — I set to work to ornament50 its surface. A portion of each day was given to this artistic51 labour; and when the surface was covered with a pattern of thorny52 stems, and a trailing creeper with curving leaf and twining tendril, and pendent bud and blossom, I gave it colour. Purples and black only were used, obtained from the juices of some deeply coloured berries; and when a tint53, or shade, or line failed to satisfy me I erased54 it, to do it again; and this so often that I never completed my work. I might, in the proudly modest spirit of the old sculptors55, have inscribed56 on the vase the words: Abel was doing this. For was not my ideal beautiful like theirs, and the best that my art could do only an imperfect copy — a rude sketch57? A serpent was represented wound round the lower portion of the jar, dull-hued, with a chain of irregular black spots or blotches58 extending along its body; and if any person had curiously59 examined these spots he would have discovered that every other one was a rudely shaped letter, and that the letters, by being properly divided, made the following words:
Sin vos y siu dios y mi.
Words that to some might seem wild, even insane in their extravagance, sung by some ancient forgotten poet; or possibly the motto of some love-sick knight-errant, whose passion was consumed to ashes long centuries ago. But not wild nor insane to me, dwelling60 alone on a vast stony61 plain in everlasting62 twilight63, where there was no motion, nor any sound; but all things, even trees, ferns, and grasses, were stone. And in that place I had sat for many a thousand years, drawn64 up and motionless, with stony fingers clasped round my legs, and forehead resting on my knees; and there would I sit, unmoving, immovable, for many a thousand years to come — I, no longer I, in a universe where she was not, and God was not.
The days went by, and to others grouped themselves into weeks and months; to me they were only days — not Saturday, Sunday, Monday, but nameless. They were so many and their sum so great that all my previous life, all the years I had existed before this solitary65 time, now looked like a small island immeasurably far away, scarcely discernible, in the midst of that endless desolate waste of nameless days.
My stock of provisions had been so long consumed that I had forgotten the flavour of pulse and maize66 and pumpkins67 and purple and sweet potatoes. For Nuflo’s cultivated patch had been destroyed by the savages — not a stem, not a root had they left: and I, like the sorrowful man that broods on his sorrow and the artist who thinks only of his art, had been improvident68 and had consumed the seed without putting a portion into the ground. Only wild food, and too little of that, found with much seeking and got with many hurts. Birds screamed at and scolded me; branches bruised and thorns scratched me; and still worse were the angry clouds of waspish things no bigger than flies. Buzz — buzz! Sting — — sting! A serpent’s tooth has failed to kill me; little do I care for your small drops of fiery70 venom71 so that I get at the spoil — grubs and honey. My white bread and purple wine! Once my soul hungered after knowledge; I took delight in fine thoughts finely expressed; I sought them carefully in printed books: now only this vile72 bodily hunger, this eager seeking for grubs and honey, and ignoble73 war with little things!
A bad hunter I proved after larger game. Bird and beast despised my snares74, which took me so many waking hours at night to invent, so many daylight hours to make. Once, seeing a troop of monkeys high up in the tall trees, I followed and watched them for a long time, thinking how royally I should feast if by some strange unheard-of accident one were to fall disabled to the ground and be at my mercy. But nothing impossible happened, and I had no meat. What meat did I ever have except an occasional fledgling, killed in its cradle, or a lizard75, or small tree-frog detected, in spite of its green colour, among the foliage? I would roast the little green minstrel on the coals. Why not? Why should he live to tinkle76 on his mandolin and clash his airy cymbals77 with no appreciative78 ear to listen? Once I had a different and strange kind of meat; but the starved stomach is not squeamish. I found a serpent coiled up in my way in a small glade79, and arming myself with a long stick, I roused him from his siesta80 and slew81 him without mercy. Rima was not there to pluck the rage from my heart and save his evil life. No coral snake this, with slim, tapering82 body, ringed like a wasp69 with brilliant colour; but thick and blunt, with lurid83 scales, blotched with black; also a broad, flat, murderous head, with stony, ice-like, whity-blue eyes, cold enough to freeze a victim’s blood in its veins84 and make it sit still, like some wide-eyed creature carved in stone, waiting for the sharp, inevitable85 stroke — so swift at last, so long in coming. “O abominable86 flat head, with icy-cold, humanlike, fiend-like eyes, I shall cut you off and throw you away!” And away I flung it, far enough in all conscience: yet I walked home troubled with a fancy that somewhere, somewhere down on the black, wet soil where it had fallen, through all that dense87, thorny tangle88 and millions of screening leaves, the white, lidless, living eyes were following me still, and would always be following me in all my goings and comings and windings89 about in the forest. And what wonder? For were we not alone together in this dreadful solitude90, I and the serpent, eaters of the dust, singled out and cursed above all cattle? He would not have bitten me, and I— faithless cannibal! — had murdered him. That cursed fancy would live on, worming itself into every crevice91 of my mind; the severed92 head would grow and grow in the night-time to something monstrous93 at last, the hellish white lidless eyes increasing to the size of two full moons. “Murderer! murderer!” they would say; “first a murderer of your own fellow creatures — that was a small crime; but God, our enemy, had made them in His image, and He cursed you; and we two were together, alone and apart — you and I, murderer! you and I, murderer!”
I tried to escape the tyrannous fancy by thinking of other things and by making light of it. “The starved, bloodless brain,” I said, “has strange thoughts.” I fell to studying the dark, thick, blunt body in my hands; I noticed that the livid, rudely blotched, scaly94 surface showed in some lights a lovely play of prismatic colours. And growing poetical95, I said: “When the wild west wind broke up the rainbow on the flying grey cloud and scattered96 it over the earth, a fragment doubtless fell on this reptile97 to give it that tender celestial98 tint. For thus it is Nature loves all her children, and gives to each some beauty, little or much; only to me, her hated stepchild, she gives no beauty, no grace. But stay, am I not wronging her? Did not Rima, beautiful above all things, love me well? said she not that I was beautiful?”
“Ah, yes, that was long ago,” spoke99 the voice that mocked me by the pool when I combed out my tangled100 hair. “Long ago, when the soul that looked from your eyes was not the accursed thing it is now. Now Rima would start at the sight of them; now she would fly in terror from their insane expression.”
“O spiteful voice, must you spoil even such appetite as I have for this fork-tongued spotty food? You by day and Rima by night — what shall I do — what shall I do?”
For it had now come to this, that the end of each day brought not sleep and dreams, but waking visions. Night by night, from my dry grass bed I beheld101 Nuflo sitting in his old doubled-up posture102, his big brown feet close to the white ashes — sitting silent and miserable. I pitied him; I owed him hospitality; but it seemed intolerable that he should be there. It was better to shut my eyes; for then Rima’s arms would be round my neck; the silky mist of her hair against my face, her flowery breath mixing with my breath. What a luminous103 face was hers! Even with closeshut eyes I could see it vividly104, the translucent105 skin showing the radiant rose beneath, the lustrous106 eyes, spiritual and passionate107, dark as purple wine under their dark lashes108. Then my eyes would open wide. No Rima in my arms! But over there, a little way back from the fire, just beyond where old Nuflo had sat brooding a few minutes ago, Rima would be standing, still and pale and unspeakably sad. Why does she come to me from the outside darkness to stand there talking to me, yet never once lifting her mournful eyes to mine? “Do not believe it, Abel; no, that was only a phantom109 of your brain, the What-I-was that you remember so well. For do you not see that when I come she fades away and is nothing? Not that — do not ask it. I know that I once refused to look into your eyes, and afterwards, in the cave at Riolama, I looked long and was happy — unspeakably happy! But now — oh, you do not know what you ask; you do not know the sorrow that has come into mine; that if you once beheld it, for very sorrow you would die. And you must live. But I will wait patiently, and we shall be together in the end, and see each other without disguise. Nothing shall divide us. Only wish not for it soon; think not that death will ease your pain, and seek it not. Austerities? Good works? Prayers? They are not seen; they are not heard, they are less-than nothing, and there is no intercession. I did not know it then, but you knew it. Your life was your own; you are not saved nor judged! acquit110 yourself — undo111 that which you have done, which Heaven cannot undo — and Heaven will say no word nor will I. You cannot, Abel, you cannot. That which you have done is done, and yours must be the penalty and the sorrow — yours and mine — yours and mine — yours and mine.”
This, too, was a phantom, a Rima of the mind, one of the shapes the ever-changing black vapours of remorse and insanity112 would take; and all her mournful sentences were woven out of my own brain. I was not so crazed as not to know it; only a phantom, an illusion, yet more real than reality — real as my crime and vain remorse and death to come. It was, indeed, Rima returned to tell me that I that loved her had been more cruel to her than her cruellest enemies; for they had but tortured and destroyed her body with fire, while I had cast this shadow on her soul — this sorrow transcending113 all sorrows, darker than death, immitigable, eternal.
If I could only have faded gradually, painlessly, growing feebler in body and dimmer in my senses each day, to sink at last into sleep! But it could not be. Still the fever in my brain, the mocking voice by day, the phantoms114 by night; and at last I became convinced that unless I quitted the forest before long, death would come to me in some terrible shape. But in the feeble condition I was now in, and without any provisions, to escape from the neighbourhood of Parahuari was impossible, seeing that it was necessary at starting to avoid the villages where the Indians were of the same tribe as Runi, who would recognize me as the white man who was once his guest and afterwards his implacable enemy. I must wait, and in spite of a weakened body and a mind diseased, struggle still to wrest115 a scanty116 subsistence from wild nature.
One day I discovered an old prostrate tree, buried under a thick growth of creeper and fern, the wood of which was nearly or quite rotten, as I proved by thrusting my knife to the heft in it. No doubt it would contain grubs — those huge, white wood-borers which now formed an important item in my diet. On the following day I returned to the spot with a chopper and a bundle of wedges to split the trunk up, but had scarcely commenced operations when an animal, startled at my blows, rushed or rather wriggled117 from its hiding-place under the dead wood at a distance of a few yards from me. It was a robust118, round-headed, short-legged creature, about as big as a good-sized cat, and clothed in a thick, greenish-brown fur. The ground all about was covered with creepers, binding119 the ferns, bushes, and old dead branches together; and in this confused tangle the animal scrambled120 and tore with a great show of energy, but really made very little progress; and all at once it flashed into my mind that it was a sloth122 — a common animal, but rarely seen on the ground — with no tree near to take refuge in. The shock of joy this discovery produced was great enough to unnerve me, and for some moments I stood trembling, hardly able to breathe; then recovering I hastened after it, and stunned123 it with a blow from my chopper on its round head.
“Poor sloth!” I said as I stood over it. “Poor old lazy-bones! Did Rima ever find you fast asleep in a tree, hugging a branch as if you loved it, and with her little hand pat your round, human-like head; and laugh mockingly at the astonishment124 in your drowsy125, waking eyes; and scold you tenderly for wearing your nails so long, and for being so ugly? Lazybones, your death is revenged! Oh, to be out of this wood — away from this sacred place — to be anywhere where killing126 is not murder!”
Then it came into my mind that I was now in possession of the supply of food which would enable me to quit the wood. A noble capture! As much to me as if a stray, migratory127 mule128 had rambled121 into the wood and found me, and I him. Now I would be my own mule, patient, and long-suffering, and far-going, with naked feet hardened to hoofs129, and a pack of provender130 on my back to make me independent of the dry, bitter grass on the sunburnt savannahs.
Part of that night and the next morning was spent in curing the flesh over a smoky fire of green wood and in manufacturing a rough sack to store it in, for I had resolved to set out on my journey. How safely to convey Rima’s treasured ashes was a subject of much thought and anxiety. The clay vessel131 on which I had expended132 so much loving, sorrowful labour had to be left, being too large and heavy to carry; eventually I put the fragments into a light sack; and in order to avert133 suspicion from the people I would meet on the way, above the ashes I packed a layer of roots and bulbs. These I would say contained medicinal properties, known to the white doctors, to whom I would sell them on my arrival at a Christian134 settlement, and with the money buy myself clothes to start life afresh.
On the morrow I would bid a last farewell to that forest of many memories. And my journey would be eastwards135, over a wild savage land of mountains, rivers, and forests, where every dozen miles would be like a hundred of Europe; but a land inhabited by tribes not unfriendly to the stranger. And perhaps it would be my good fortune to meet with Indians travelling east who would know the easiest routes; and from time to time some compassionate136 voyager would let me share his wood-skin, and many leagues would be got over without weariness, until some great river, flowing through British or Dutch Guiana, would be reached; and so on, and on, by slow or swift stages, with little to eat perhaps, with much labour and pain, in hot sun and in storm, to the Atlantic at last, and towns inhabited by Christian men.
In the evening of that day, after completing my preparations, I supped on the remaining portions of the sloth, not suitable for preservation137, roasting bits of fat on the coals and boiling the head and bones into a broth138; and after swallowing the liquid I crunched139 the bones and sucked the marrow140, feeding like some hungry carnivorous animal.
Glancing at the fragments scattered on the floor, I remembered old Nuflo, and how I had surprised him at his feast of rank coatimundi in his secret retreat. “Nuflo, old neighbour,” said I, “how quiet you are under your green coverlet, spangled just now with yellow flowers! It is no sham141 sleep, old man, I know. If any suspicion of these curious doings, this feast of flesh on a spot once sacred, could flit like a small moth into your mouldy hollow skull142 you would soon thrust out your old nose to sniff143 the savour of roasting fat once more.”
There was in me at that moment an inclination144 to laughter; it came to nothing, but affected145 me strangely, like an impulse I had not experienced since boyhood — familiar, yet novel. After the good-night to my neighbour, I tumbled into my straw and slept soundly, animal-like. No fancies and phantoms that night: the lidless, white, implacable eyes of the serpent’s severed head were turned to dust at last; no sudden dream-glare lighted up old Cla-cla’s wrinkled dead face and white, blood-dabbled locks; old Nuflo stayed beneath his green coverlet; nor did my mournful spirit-bride come to me to make my heart faint at the thought of immortality146.
But when morning dawned again, it was bitter to rise up and go away for ever from that spot where I had often talked with Rima — the true and the visionary. The sky was cloudless and the forest wet as if rain had fallen; it was only a heavy dew, and it made the foliage look pale and hoary147 in the early light. And the light grew, and a whispering wind sprung as I walked through the wood; and the fast-evaporating moisture was like a bloom on the feathery fronds148 and grass and rank herbage; but on the higher foliage it was like a faint iridescent149 mist — a glory above the trees. The everlasting beauty and freshness of nature was over all again, as I had so often seen it with joy and adoration150 before grief and dreadful passions had dimmed my vision. And now as I walked, murmuring my last farewell, my eyes grew dim again with the tears that gathered to them.
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notched
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| a.有凹口的，有缺口的 | |
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rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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perils
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| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
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landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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replenished
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| 补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 )； 重新装满 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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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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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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foliage
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drenched
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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hoarse
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fatigue
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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thoroughly
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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35
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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36
buttressed
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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38
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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39
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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40
moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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41
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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42
sift
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| v.筛撒，纷落，详察 | |
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43
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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44
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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45
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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47
hermits
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| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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48
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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49
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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50
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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51
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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52
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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53
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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54
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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55
sculptors
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| 雕刻家，雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 )； [天]玉夫座 | |
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56
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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57
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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58
blotches
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| n.（皮肤上的）红斑，疹块( blotch的名词复数 )；大滴 [大片]（墨水或颜色的）污渍 | |
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59
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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60
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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61
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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62
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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63
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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64
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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65
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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66
maize
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| n.玉米 | |
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67
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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68
improvident
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| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
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69
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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70
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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71
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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72
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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73
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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74
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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75
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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76
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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77
cymbals
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| pl.铙钹 | |
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78
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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79
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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80
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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81
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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82
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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83
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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84
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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85
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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86
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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87
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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88
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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89
windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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90
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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91
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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92
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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93
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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94
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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95
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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96
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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97
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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98
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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99
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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100
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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101
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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102
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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103
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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104
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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105
translucent
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| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
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106
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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107
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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108
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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109
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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110
acquit
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| vt.宣判无罪；(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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111
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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112
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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113
transcending
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| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的现在分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
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114
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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115
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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116
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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117
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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118
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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119
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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120
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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121
rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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122
sloth
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| n.[动]树懒；懒惰，懒散 | |
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123
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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124
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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125
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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126
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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127
migratory
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| n.候鸟，迁移 | |
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128
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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129
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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130
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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131
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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132
expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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133
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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134
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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135
eastwards
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| adj.向东方（的），朝东（的）；n.向东的方向 | |
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136
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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137
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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138
broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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139
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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140
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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141
sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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142
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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143
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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144
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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145
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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146
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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147
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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148
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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149
iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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150
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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