It was in the days when the German armies had broken their way across France, and when the shattered forces of the young Republic had been swept away to the north of the Aisne and to the south of the Loire. Three broad streams of armed men had rolled slowly but irresistibly1 from the Rhine, now meandering2 to the north, now to the south, dividing, coalescing3, but all uniting to form one great lake round Paris. And from this lake there welled out smaller streams — one to the north, one southward, to Orleans, and a third westward4 to Normandy. Many a German trooper saw the sea for the first time when he rode his horse girth-deep into the waves at Dieppe.
Black and bitter were the thoughts of Frenchmen when they saw this weal of dishonour5 slashed6 across the fair face of their country. They had fought and they had been overborne. That swarming7 cavalry8, those countless9 footmen, the masterful guns — they had tried and tried to make head against them. In battalions10 their invaders11 were not to be beaten, but man to man, or ten to ten, they were their equals. A brave Frenchman might still make a single German rue12 the day that he had left his own bank of the Rhine. Thus, unchronicled amid the battles and the sieges, there broke out another war, a war of individuals, with foul13 murder upon the one side and brutal14 reprisal15 on the other.
Colonel von Gramm, of the 24th Posen Infantry16, had suffered severely17 during this new development. He commanded in the little Norman town of Les Andelys, and his outposts stretched amid the hamlets and farmhouses18 of the district round. No French force was within fifty miles of him, and yet morning after morning he had to listen to a black report of sentries19 found dead at their posts, or of foraging20 parties which had never returned. Then the colonel would go forth21 in his wrath22, and farmsteadings would blaze and villages tremble; but next morning there was still that same dismal23 tale to be told. Do what he might, he could not shake off his invisible enemies. And yet it should not have been so hard, for, from certain signs in common, in the plan and in the deed, it was certain that all these outrages25 came from a single source.
Colonel von Gramm had tried violence, and it had failed. Gold might be more successful. He published it abroad over the countryside that 500frs. would be paid for information. There was no response. Then 800frs. The peasants were incorruptible. Then, goaded26 on by a murdered corporal, he rose to a thousand, and so bought the soul of Francois Rejane, farm labourer, whose Norman avarice27 was a stronger passion than his French hatred28.
“You say that you know who did these crimes?” asked the Prussian colonel, eyeing with loathing29 the blue-bloused, rat-faced creature before him.
“Yes, colonel.”
“And it was —?”
“Those thousand francs, colonel —”
“Not a sou until your story has been tested. Come! Who is it who has murdered my men?”
“It is Count Eustace of Chateau30 Noir.”
“You lie!” cried the colonel, angrily. “A gentleman and a nobleman could not have done such crimes.”
The peasant shrugged31 his shoulders. “It is evident to me that you do not know the count. It is this way, colonel. What I tell you is the truth, and I am not afraid that you should test it. The Count of Chateau Noir is a hard man, even at the best time he was a hard man. But of late he has been terrible. It was his son’s death, you know. His son was under Douay, and he was taken, and then in escaping from Germany he met his death. It was the count’s only child, and indeed we all think that it has driven him mad. With his peasants he follows the German armies. I do not know how many he has killed, but it is he who cut the cross upon the foreheads, for it is the badge of his house.”
It was true. The murdered sentries had each had a saltire cross slashed across their brows, as by a hunting-knife. The colonel bent32 his stiff back and ran his forefinger33 over the map which lay upon the table.
“The Chateau Noir is not more than four leagues,” he said.
“Three and a kilometre, colonel.”
“You know the place?”
“I used to work there.”
Colonel von Gramm rang the bell.
“Give this man food and detain him,” said he to the sergeant34.
“Why detain me, colonel? I can tell you no more.”
“We shall need you as guide.”
“As guide? But the count? If I were to fall into his hands? Ah, colonel —”
The Prussian commander waved him away. “Send Captain Baumgarten to me at once,” said he.
The officer who answered the summons was a man of middle-age, heavy-jawed, blue-eyed, with a curving yellow moustache, and a brick-red face which turned to an ivory white where his helmet had sheltered it. He was bald, with a shining, tightly stretched scalp, at the back of which, as in a mirror, it was a favourite mess-joke of the subalterns to trim their moustaches. As a soldier he was slow, but reliable and brave. The colonel could trust him where a more dashing officer might be in danger.
“You will proceed to Chateau Noir to-night, captain,” said he. “A guide has been provided. You will arrest the count and bring him back. If there is an attempt at rescue, shoot him at once.”
“How many men shall I take, colonel?”
“Well, we are surrounded by spies, and our only chance is to pounce35 upon him before he knows that we are on the way. A large force will attract attention. On the other hand, you must not risk being cut off.”
“I might march north, colonel, as if to join General Goeben. Then I could turn down this road which I see upon your map, and get to Chateau Noir before they could hear of us. In that case, with twenty men —”
“Very good, captain. I hope to see you with your prisoner tomorrow morning.”
It was a cold December night when Captain Baumgarten marched out of Les Andelys with his twenty Poseners, and took the main road to the north west. Two miles out he turned suddenly down a narrow, deeply rutted track, and made swiftly for his man. A thin, cold rain was falling, swishing among the tall poplar trees and rustling36 in the fields on either side. The captain walked first with Moser, a veteran sergeant, beside him. The sergeant’s wrist was fastened to that of the French peasant, and it had been whispered in his ear that in case of an ambush37 the first bullet fired would be through his head. Behind them the twenty infantrymen plodded38 along through the darkness with their faces sunk to the rain, and their boots squeaking39 in the soft, wet clay. They knew where they were going, and why, and the thought upheld them, for they were bitter at the loss of their comrades. It was a cavalry job, they knew, but the cavalry were all on with the advance, and, besides, it was more fitting that the regiment40 should avenge41 its own dead men.
It was nearly eight when they left Les Andelys. At half-past eleven their guide stopped at a place where two high pillars, crowned with some heraldic stonework, flanked a huge iron gate. The wall in which it had been the opening had crumbled42 away, but the great gate still towered above the brambles and weeds which had overgrown its base. The Prussians made their way round it and advanced stealthily, under the shadow of a tunnel of oak branches, up the long avenue, which was still cumbered by the leaves of last autumn. At the top they halted and reconnoitred.
The black chateau lay in front of them. The moon had shone out between two rain-clouds, and threw the old house into silver and shadow. It was shaped like an L, with a low arched door in front, and lines of small windows like the open ports of a man-of-war. Above was a dark roof, breaking at the corners into little round overhanging turrets43, the whole lying silent in the moonshine, with a drift of ragged44 clouds blackening the heavens behind it. A single light gleamed in one of the lower windows.
The captain whispered his orders to his men. Some were to creep to the front door, some to the back. Some were to watch the east, and some the west. He and the sergeant stole on tiptoe to the lighted window.
It was a small room into which they looked, very meanly furnished. An elderly man, in the dress of a menial, was reading a tattered45 paper by the light of a guttering46 candle. He leaned back in his wooden chair with his feet upon a box, while a bottle of white wine stood with a half-filled tumbler upon a stool beside him. The sergeant thrust his needle-gun through the glass, and the man sprang to his feet with a shriek47.
“Silence, for your life! The house is surrounded, and you cannot escape. Come round and open the door, or we will show you no mercy when we come in.”
“For God’s sake, don’t shoot! I will open it! I will open it!” He rushed from the room with his paper still crumpled48 up in his hand. An instant later, with a groaning49 of old locks and a rasping of bars, the low door swung open, and the Prussians poured into the stone-flagged passage.
“Where is Count Eustace de Chateau Noir?”
“My master! He is out, sir.”
“Out at this time of night? Your life for a lie!”
“It is true, sir. He is out!”
“Where?”
“I do not know.”
“Doing what?”
“I cannot tell. No, it is no use your cocking your pistol, sir. You may kill me, but you cannot make me tell you that which I do not know.”
“Is he often out at this hour?”
“Frequently.”
“And when does he come home?”
“Before daybreak.”
Captain Baumgarten rasped out a German oath. He had had his journey for nothing, then. The man’s answers were only too likely to be true. It was what he might have expected. But at least he would search the house and make sure. Leaving a picket50 at the front door and another at the back, the sergeant and he drove the trembling butler in front of them — his shaking candle sending strange, flickering51 shadows over the old tapestries52 and the low, oak-raftered ceilings. They searched the whole house, from the huge stone-flagged kitchen below to the dining-hall on the second floor, with its gallery for musicians, and its panelling black with age, but nowhere was there a living creature. Up above, in an attic53, they found Marie, the elderly wife of the butler; but the owner kept no other servants, and of his own presence there was no trace.
It was long, however, before Captain Baumgarten had satisfied himself upon the point. It was a difficult house to search. Thin stairs, which only one man could ascend54 at a time, connected lines of tortuous55 corridors. The walls were so thick that each room was cut off from its neighbour. Huge fireplaces yawned in each, while the windows were 6ft. deep in the wall. Captain Baumgarten stamped with his feet, tore down curtains, and struck with the pommel of his sword. If there were secret hiding-places, he was not fortunate enough to find them.
“I have an idea,” said he, at last, speaking in German to the sergeant. “You will place a guard over this fellow, and make sure that he communicates with no one.”
“Yes, captain.”
“And you will place four men in ambush at the front and at the back. It is likely enough that about daybreak our bird may return to the nest.”
“And the others, captain?”
“Let them have their suppers in the kitchen. The fellow will serve you with meat and wine. It is a wild night, and we shall be better here than on the country road.”
“And yourself, captain?”
“I will take my supper up here in the dining-hall. The logs are laid and we can light the fire. You will call me if there is any alarm. What can you give me for supper — you?”
“Alas, monsieur, there was a time when I might have answered, ‘What you wish!’ but now it is all that we can do to find a bottle of new claret and a cold pullet.”
“That will do very well. Let a guard go about with him, sergeant, and let him feel the end of a bayonet if he plays us any tricks.”
Captain Baumgarten was an old campaigner. In the Eastern provinces, and before that in Bohemia, he had learned the art of quartering himself upon the enemy. While the butler brought his supper he occupied himself in making his preparations for a comfortable night. He lit the candelabrum of ten candles upon the centre table. The fire was already burning up, crackling merrily, and sending spurts56 of blue, pungent57 smoke into the room. The captain walked to the window and looked out. The moon had gone in again, and it was raining heavily. He could hear the deep sough of the wind, and see the dark loom58 of the trees, all swaying in the one direction. It was a sight which gave a zest59 to his comfortable quarters, and to the cold fowl60 and the bottle of wine which the butler had brought up for him. He was tired and hungry after his long tramp, so he threw his sword, his helmet, and his revolver-belt down upon a chair, and fell to eagerly upon his supper. Then, with his glass of wine before him and his cigar between his lips, he tilted61 his chair back and looked about him.
He sat within a small circle of brilliant light which gleamed upon his silver shoulder-straps, and threw out his terra-cotta face, his heavy eyebrows62, and his yellow moustache. But outside that circle things were vague and shadowy in the old dining-hall. Two sides were oak-panelled and two were hung with faded tapestry63, across which huntsmen and dogs and stags were still dimly streaming. Above the fireplace were rows of heraldic shields with the blazonings of the family and of its alliances, the fatal saltire cross breaking out on each of them.
Four paintings of old seigneurs of Chateau Noir faced the fireplace, all men with hawk64 noses and bold, high features, so like each other that only the dress could distinguish the Crusader from the Cavalier of the Fronde. Captain Baumgarten, heavy with his repast, lay back in his chair looking up at them through the clouds of his tobacco smoke, and pondering over the strange chance which had sent him, a man from the Baltic coast, to eat his supper in the ancestral hall of these proud Norman chieftains. But the fire was hot, and the captain’s eyes were heavy. His chin sank slowly upon his chest, and the ten candles gleamed upon the broad, white scalp.
Suddenly a slight noise brought him to his feet. For an instant it seemed to his dazed senses that one of the pictures opposite had walked from its frame. There, beside the table, and almost within arm’s length of him, was standing65 a huge man, silent, motionless, with no sign of life save his fierce-glinting eyes. He was black-haired, olive-skinned, with a pointed66 tuft of black beard, and a great, fierce nose, towards which all his features seemed to run. His cheeks were wrinkled like a last year’s apple, but his sweep of shoulder, and bony, corded hands, told of a strength which was unsapped by age. His arms were folded across his arching chest, and his mouth was set in a fixed67 smile.
“Pray do not trouble yourself to look for your weapons,” he said, as the Prussian cast a swift glance at the empty chair in which they had been laid. “You have been, if you will allow me to say so, a little indiscreet to make yourself so much at home in a house every wall of which is honeycombed with secret passages. You will be amused to hear that forty men were watching you at your supper. Ah! what then?”
Captain Baumgarten had taken a step forward with clenched68 fists. The Frenchman held up tho revolver which he grasped in his right hand, while with the left he hurled69 the German back into his chair.
“Pray keep your seat,” said he. “You have no cause to trouble about your men. They have already been provided for. It is astonishing with these stone floors how little one can hear what goes on beneath. You have been relieved of your command, and have now only to think of yourself. May I ask what your name is?”
“I am Captain Baumgarten of, the 24th Posen Regiment.”
“Your French is excellent, though you incline, like most of your countrymen, to turn the ‘p’ into a ‘b.’ I have been amused to hear them cry ‘Avez bitie sur moi!’ You know, doubtless, who it is who addresses you.”
“The Count of Chateau Noir.”
“Precisely. It would have been a misfortune if you had visited my chateau and I had been unable to have a word with you. I have had to do with many German soldiers, but never with an officer before. I have much to talk to you about.”
Captain Baumgarten sat still in his chair. Brave as he was, there was something in this man’s manner which made his skin creep with apprehension70. His eyes glanced to right and to left, but his weapons were gone, and in a struggle he saw that he was but a child to this gigantic adversary71. The count had picked up the claret bottle and held it to the light.
“Tut! tut!” said he. “And was this the best that Pierre could do for you? I am ashamed to look you in the face, Captain Baumgarten. We must improve upon this.”
He blew a call upon a whistle which hung from his shooting-jacket. The old manservant was in the room in an instant.
“Chambertin from bin72 15!” he cried, and a minute later a grey bottle, streaked73 with cobwebs, was carried in as a nurse bears an infant. The count filled two glasses to the brim.
“Drink!” said he. “It is the very best in my cellars, and not to be matched between Rouen and Paris. Drink, sir, and be happy! There are cold joints74 below. There are two lobsters75, fresh from Honfleur. Will you not venture upon a second and more savoury supper?”
The German officer shook his head. He drained the glass, however, and his host filled it once more, pressing him to give an order for this or that dainty.
“There is nothing in my house which is not at your disposal. You have but to say the word. Well, then, you will allow me to tell you a story while you drink your wine. I have so longed to tell it to some German officer. It is about my son, my only child, Eustace, who was taken and died in escaping. It is a curious little story, and I think that I can promise you that you will never forget it.
“You must know, then, that my boy was in the artillery76 — a fine young fellow, Captain Baumgarten, and the pride of his mother. She died within a week of the news of his death reaching us. It was brought by a brother officer who was at his side throughout, and who escaped while my lad died. I want to tell you all that he told me.
“Eustace was taken at Weissenburg on the 4th of August. The prisoners were broken up into parties, and sent back into Germany by different routes. Eustace was taken upon the 5th to a village called Lauterburg, where he met with kindness from the German officer in command. This good colonel had the hungry lad to supper, offered him the best he had, opened a bottle of good wine, as I have tried to do for you, and gave him a cigar from his own case. Might I entreat77 you to take one from mine?”
The German again shook his head. His horror of his companion had increased as he sat watching the lips that smiled and the eyes that glared.
“The colonel, as I say, was good to my boy. But, unluckily, the prisoners were moved next day across the Rhine into Ettlingen. They were not equally fortunate there. The officer who guarded them was a ruffian and a villain78, Captain Baumgarten. He took a pleasure in humiliating and ill-treating the brave men who had fallen into his power. That night upon my son answering fiercely back to some taunt79 of his, he struck him in the eye, like this!”
The crash of the blow rang through the hall. The German’s face fell forward, his hand up, and blood oozing80 through his fingers. The count settled down in his chair once more.
“My boy was disfigured by the blow, and this villain made his appearance the object of his jeers81. By the way, you look a little comical yourself at the present moment, captain, and your colonel would certainly say that you had been getting into mischief82. To continue, however, my boy’s youth and his destitution83 — for his pockets were empty — moved the pity of a kind-hearted major, and he advanced him ten Napoleons from his own pocket without security of any kind. Into your hands, Captain Baumgarten, I return these ten gold pieces, since I cannot learn the name of the lender. I am grateful from my heart for this kindness shown to my boy.
“The vile84 tyrant85 who commanded the escort accompanied the prisoners to Durlack, and from there to Carlsruhe. He heaped every outrage24 upon my lad, because the spirit of the Chateau Noirs would not stoop to turn away his wrath by a feigned86 submission87. Ay, this cowardly villain, whose heart’s blood shall yet clot88 upon this hand, dared to strike my son with his open hand, to kick him, to tear hairs from his moustache — to use him thus — and thus — and thus!”
The German writhed89 and struggled. He was helpless in the hands of this huge giant whose blows were raining upon him. When at last, blinded and half-senseless, he staggered to his feet, it was only to be hurled back again into the great oaken chair. He sobbed90 in his impotent anger and shame.
“My boy was frequently moved to tears by the humiliation91 of his position,” continued the count. “You will understand me when I say that it is a bitter thing to be helpless in the hands of an insolent92 and remorseless enemy. On arriving at Carlsruhe, however, his face, which had been wounded by the brutality93 of his guard, was bound up by a young Bavarian subaltern who was touched by his appearance. I regret to see that your eye is bleeding so. Will you permit me to bind94 it with my silk handkerchief?”
He leaned forward, but the German dashed his hand aside.
“I am in your power, you monster!” he cried; “I can endure your brutalities, but not your hypocrisy95.”
The count shrugged his shoulders.
“I am taking things in their order, just as they occurred,” said he. “I was under vow96 to tell it to the first German officer with whom I could talk tete-a-tete. Let me see, I had got as far as the young Bavarian at Carlsruhe. I regret extremely that you will not permit me to use such slight skill in surgery as I possess. At Carlsruhe, my lad was shut up in the old caserne, where he remained for a fortnight. The worst pang97 of his captivity98 was that some unmannerly curs in the garrison99 would taunt him with his position as he sat by his window in the evening. That reminds me, captain, that you are not quite situated100 upon a bed of roses yourself, are you now? You came to trap a wolf, my man, and now the beast has you down with his fangs101 in your throat. A family man, too, I should judge, by that well-filled tunic102. Well, a widow the more will make little matter, and they do not usually remain widows long. Get back into the chair, you dog!
“Well, to continue my story — at the end of a fortnight my son and his friend escaped. I need not trouble you with the dangers which they ran, or with the privations which they endured. Suffice it that to disguise themselves they had to take the clothes of two peasants, whom they waylaid103 in a wood. Hiding by day and travelling by night, they had got as far into France as Remilly, and were within a mile — a single mile, captain — of crossing the German lines when a patrol of Uhlans came right upon them. Ah! it was hard, was it not, when they had come so far and were so near to safety?” The count blew a double call upon his whistle, and three hard-faced peasants entered the room.
“These must represent my Uhlans,” said he. “Well, then, the captain in command, finding that these men were French soldiers in civilian104 dress within the German lines, proceeded to hang them without trial or ceremony. I think, Jean, that the centre beam is the strongest.”
The unfortunate soldier was dragged from his chair to where a noosed105 rope had been flung over one of the huge oaken rafters which spanned the room. The cord was slipped over his head, and he felt its harsh grip round his throat. The three peasants seized the other end, and looked to the count for his orders. The officer, pale, but firm, folded his arms and stared defiantly106 at the man who tortured him.
“You are now face to face with death, and I perceive from your lips that you are praying. My son was also face to face with death, and he prayed, also. It happened that a general officer came up, and he heard the lad praying for his mother, and it moved him so — he being himself a father — that he ordered his Uhlans away, and he remained with his aide-decamp only, beside the condemned107 men. And when he heard all the lad had to tell — that he was the only child of an old family, and that his mother was in failing health — he threw off the rope as I throw off this, and he kissed him on either cheek, as I kiss you, and he bade him go, as I bid you go, and may every kind wish of that noble general, though it could not stave off the fever which slew108 my son, descend109 now upon your head.”
And so it was that Captain Baumgarten, disfigured, blinded, and bleeding, staggered out into the wind and the rain of that wild December dawn.
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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coalescing
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| v.联合，合并( coalesce的现在分词 ) | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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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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invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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reprisal
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| n.报复，报仇，报复性劫掠 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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farmhouses
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| n.农舍，农场的主要住房( farmhouse的名词复数 ) | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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outrages
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| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
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goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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30
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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31
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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32
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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33
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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34
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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35
pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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36
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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37
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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38
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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39
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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40
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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41
avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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42
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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43
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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44
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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45
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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46
guttering
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| n.用于建排水系统的材料；沟状切除术；开沟 | |
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47
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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48
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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49
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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50
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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51
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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52
tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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54
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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55
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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56
spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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57
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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58
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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59
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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62
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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63
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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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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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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72
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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73
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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74
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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75
lobsters
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| 龙虾( lobster的名词复数 )； 龙虾肉 | |
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76
artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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78
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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80
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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81
jeers
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| n.操纵帆桁下部（使其上下的）索具；嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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82
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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83
destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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84
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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85
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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86
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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87
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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88
clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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89
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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90
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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91
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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92
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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93
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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94
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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95
hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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96
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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97
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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98
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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99
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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100
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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101
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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102
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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103
waylaid
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| v.拦截，拦路( waylay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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105
noosed
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| v.绞索，套索( noose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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107
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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108
slew
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| v.（使）旋转；n.大量，许多 | |
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109
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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