WHEN the marvelous oversteps the bounds of known possibility there are three ways of meeting it. Trenmore and his sister, after a grave discussion of certain contingencies2 connected with the Catholic religion and a dismissal of them on grounds too utterly3 Celtic and dogmatic for Drayton to follow, took the first way. From that time on they faced every wonder as a fact by itself, to be accepted as such and let go at that.
Drayton, though all his life he had unconsciously so viewed such accustomed marvels4 as electricity or the phenomenon of his own life, could not here follow his Irish friends. He compromised on the second way, and accepted with a mental reservation, as “I see you now, but I am not at all sure that you are there or that I really believe in you!”
Fortunately there was not one of the three so lacking in mental elasticity5 as to discover the third way, which is madness.
“And what we should be thinking of,” declared Viola presently, “is not how did we come here, but how are we to find our way home?”
This was a truism too obvious for dispute. And yet, to Drayton at least, it seemed that no amount of thinking or action either was likely to be of great service. They were without food or water. Without weapons or compass. Without the faintest glimmering6 of knowledge as to their actual geographic7 position upon the earth.
Drayton strained his eyes toward the hills, already purple in the sun’s last rays. What hope was there among those desolate8 heights, more than was offered by the empty flatness of the plain?
How many miles could be traversed by this frail-looking sister of Trenmore’s before those dainty, high-heeled pumps of hers were worn to rags? Before she dropped exhausted9? How many more miles could he and Trenmore carry her if they found neither food nor water?
“We’ll find food as we go,” said Terence as if interpreting and answering the thought. “I never did see a green country like this and no sort of food in it. Viola, ’tis a plucky10 lass you’ve always been. I’ve often promised that some day you’d go wandering with me. Let’s be starting. And, Bobby, lad, don’t look so down-hearted. There’s a way out of everything, and aren’t we just the three ones to find it, wherever we are?”
Drayton realized that his gloomy countenance12 must be anything but encouraging to Viola. Determined13 that henceforth he would be a model adventurer at any cost, he smiled.
“I wasn’t really worrying, old man. I was merely thinking—”
But what innocent fabrication he would have devised to account for his despondency they never discovered. His sentence ended abruptly15, and the forced smile vanished.
The attention of all three had been caught by a strange, deep, moaning sound. Reaching for his sister, Trenmore drew her close to his side. They all stood very still and listened.
The moaning, which began at first faintly and in a low key, seemed to emanate16 from a source immediately beneath their feet. Swiftly, however, this source widened and spread outward, extending itself beneath the empty plain and under the hills toward the mountain peaks. As it spread the note rose in key and in volume until it was more than anything else like the sound which might be thrown out by an immense top, whirling with planetary speed.
The intense vibration17 became agonizing18. The listeners clapped their hands over their ears in a vain effort to shut it out. Drayton, for his part, felt that in one more instant either his eardrums or his brain must give way.
Even as he thought it, however, the last segment of the sun’s red periphery19 sank out of sight beneath the horizon. The terrible humming died away, melting into the universal silence in which it had found birth. With scarcely an intervening moment of twilight20 night swept down.
At first it seemed absolute as blindness, or the end of all created things. Then, as his pupils expanded, Drayton began dimly to perceive his companions, while, on looking upward, he beheld21 a sky powdered thick with clear, brilliant stars.
He drew a long breath, and heard it echoed by the others.
“They have a strange nightfall in this land,” muttered Trenmore, “and they do make a great noise over it!”
“Yes,” replied Drayton, the observant, “but those stars look familiar enough.”
“Right as usual, Bobby. It’s the same old stars they’re using. Look, Viola! There’s the old bear and her cub23!”
“And the Milky24 Way,” said Viola.
Somehow, in spite of all that had occurred, the sight of those familiar stars and constellations25 brought a feeling of almost-security, of at-homeness and actuality.
“Your talk of Purgatory,” laughed Drayton, “and that abominable26 noise just now sent a few unearthly shivers down my back. Those stars tell a different story. We are surely somewhere on earth. Different longitude27, perhaps, but in our own latitude28, or nearly, even though night did shut down with such tropical suddenness. If we were in the tropics we should see a sky different from this—”
His astronomical29 observations were cut short by a low cry from Viola. Dimly he glimpsed her arm, stiffly outstretched and pointing.
“And if this is our own earth,” she cried, “is that our own moon? And if it is, what is the moon doing over there? Will you tell me that?”
There was pertinence30 in her question. From the exact point where the sun had descended31 five minutes earlier the silver rim32 of a great white moon was rising. Already the wide plain before it was invaded and dimly illuminated33 by the flood of its elfin radiance. It was as if, when the sun went down, the moon had been waiting there, and had now slipped past to take his place in the sky.
“Surely a very singular moonrise—in the west!” murmured the ex-lawyer. Inwardly he was more shocked by this apparent misplacement of the lunar orb34 than by anything which had yet occurred. If the stars had reassured35 him surely the moon had been prompt to undo36 their work.
“Is that thing a rock or an animal?”
Again it was Viola who spoke37, and again her companions stared where the girl was pointing. Fifteen feet to the right of them was a large, dark object. It lay half in the black shadow of the ruined arch, half in the steadily38 increasing moonlight.
“That is only a part of the old gateway39,” began Drayton in a quiet, reassuring40 tone.
Even as he spoke, however, the dark thing seemed to rear itself slightly from the ground.
Trenmore made a quick movement; but Viola caught his arm.
“Don’t go! Don’t go near it, Terry! It may be some savage41 wild beast that’s been hiding there!”
“And d’ye think I fear it then?” growled42 Trenmore.
“Don’t be a fool, Trenmore!” Drayton spoke with a brusqueness born of mingled43 horror and amazement44. That uncanny, half-glimpsed thing now appeared to be stretching itself upward, higher and higher in the partial shadow where it stood. “Think of your sister,” he cried, “and help me get her away from this unspeakable place before it’s too late. Look-look there at that wall!”
The wall he referred to was the same behind which he had first come upon Trenmore. Before their incredulous eyes it seemed to come to life, to rise, and to grow upward.
“They’re alive, these stones! They’re alive!” cried Viola.
Trenmore held back no longer. Here was something with which even his great strength was not fit to contend. All about them the fallen rocks, the walls, the very flagstones beneath their feet were heaving, moving, and the motion seemed all the more sinister45 and terrible because of the silence which attended it.
Drayton reached desperately46 for Viola’s arm or hand; but Terry simply plucked her from the ground as one gathers up a child and began running across the court in great leaps and bounds. In one spring he cleared the nearest wall and ran on down the hill. Drayton followed at a speed nearly as great, and only caught up with the Irishman at the foot of the hill, where they both paused as by one impulse to look back.
During his flight Drayton had been filled with a ghastly, unnatural47 terror. He had feared that the ruins were coming after him, lichenous48, soil-incrusted, horribly animate49! But now, looking back, that fear at least was banished50. The bare hillside, almost white in the moonlight, was crowned still by its broken walls. But were they broken now?
“By heaven, it’s like-like—”
“Like a mirage51,” supplied Viola, who seemed suddenly to have achieved a curious composure. “Put me down, Terry. No, put me down, I say! I wish to see better. Yes, it’s growing fast. In a few minutes we shall see the whole castle as it used to be.”
Her calm assurance struck Drayton as odd, but only for a moment. After all, why shouldn’t a castle grow up like a flower—like a flower with a magic scent52? Down here on the plain the grass was filled with flowers and the air with their fragrance53. There was something peculiarly soothing54 and reassuring in the very odor of them.
Drayton no longer felt the least alarm—hardly, even, wonder. Not though a miracle was occurring on the hilltop above.
Rising, ever rising in the white moonlight, the old fortress55 which they had deemed fallen forever, was rebuilding itself. Up, up shot the walls, battlemented now and perfect. Behind them, tower on tower, pinnacle56 upon pinnacle, lifted into the clear silver radiance as the white foam57 of a rising wave might lift—lifted and froze into perfect form—till the vision or mirage or miracle—whatever this marvel1 might be named—was consummate58 and growth ceased. Here and there a pennant59 fluttered in the faint night breeze. From the highest tower of all a great standard drooped60, too heavy for so small a wind to raise.
And now it could be seen that close to where they stood a narrow white road led upward from plain to castle, ending at a huge gateway immediately above them. Suddenly the heavy, iron-studded doors of this gateway opened inward and swung slowly back. Beyond them all was darkness. Then came the first sound from the ghost castle—a heavy stamping, a clash and jingle61 as of metal. Out of the inner darkness a great horse strode into the moonlight. Upon its back sat a gleaming, erect62, armed figure. Five more riders followed. Then the gates slowly, silently shut themselves. The company of six came riding down the pale roadway.
Drayton, for his part, felt arising within him a vast curiosity—a curiosity so great that he actually left his companions and walked over to the roadside.
He had advanced with the deliberate intention of questioning those mysterious riders. As they drew near, however, he turned and strode quickly back to Trenmore and his sister.
“What is the matter?” queried63 Viola. “Why didn’t you ask them who they are and the name of the castle?”
Drayton’s reply was voiced in a tense, fierce whisper.
“Look at them—only look at them, I tell you!”
His tone seemed to rouse his friends from the strange apathy64 into which they had all more or less fallen since setting foot on the plain.
They stood no more than eight or nine yards from the road, and could see very well what Drayton had already perceived. The horses were large, heavy brutes65, of the type bred centuries ago for battle. They were spirited in a clumsy sort of way, and came curveting and prancing66 down the road. But the men on their backs—why, those were not men, nor even the ghosts of men! They were mere14 empty shells of gleaming armor.
The visors of all six were raised, and the watchers could see how the moonlight shimmered67 inside the helmets.
The armor sat erect, six proud, plumed68 figures of chivalry69, and the joints70 rattled71 with a hollow clashing. They were past, and the white moonlight of the plain had swallowed them up. They had melted into it as a ship melts into the sea fog.
Glancing upward, Drayton half expected to see the castle itself dissolve and fade as it had grown; but no such phenomenon occurred. There it stood, massive, solid, dominating the hill.
With a slight shudder72, Drayton turned to his companions.
“Somehow,” he said, “I don’t fancy the idea of asking hospitality at that gate.”
“‘Twould be madness!” ejaculated Trenmore. “It’s fortunate we were to escape from that spook house before the walls grew too high!”
“Yes,” conceded his friend simply.
“And what would we be doing now, do you think? Shall we stay here till the sunrise again, or shall we go on?”
It really made very little difference what they did, thought Drayton. Already that pleasant lassitude, from which sight of the riding armor had momentarily shocked him, was returning. By a volition73 which hardly seemed their own, however, the three of them presently found themselves advancing across the wide green plain.
On the hill the grass had been dry, dead stuff, parched74 as from long drought. The plain, however, was like a sweet, well-watered meadow. A scent came up from it that told of flowers crushed beneath their feet and growing everywhere in the midst of that lush greenness. They were pale, small flowers, and very fragrant75. Viola plucked a few. So delicate were the blossoms that they withered76 instantly in her hands.
The three walked slowly, for the night had brought warmth rather than coolness. The sweet air breathed soft and languid. Now and then one of them would glance back over his shoulder. The phantom77 castle remained on the hilltop, as real in appearance as anything looks by moonlight, which casts a veil over all that is not very near.
Now every one knows that moonshine is at best of an uncertain and bewildering quality. Yet it seemed odd—or would have seemed so had they not been past surprise—that in the beginning they had deemed the plain deserted78 and bare of any moving thing since the empty armor had ridden outward and vanished. For now, as they walked, they perceived that all about them were forms and groups of forms, moving over and through the sweet, flower-sprinkled grass in a weird79 and noiseless dance, without music or apparent rhythm.
Presently they had blundered fairly into the midst of a group of these shapes, which seemed indeed to form about them from the misty80 light itself or rise up from the ground.
They were queer, bulky, clumsy-shouldered figures dressed in tight-fitting clothes and hoods81 and gloves of smooth fur. At least so appeared those directly ahead, black silhouettes82 against the moon. On looking around, however, the travelers were somewhat startled to find that what they had taken for hooded83 faces were not faces at all, but just smooth, featureless expanses of fur. The back and the front of the heads were exactly alike, save for one straight, black gash84 where the mouth might be.
Joining hands, the creatures began to circle with a clumsy, dancing motion. The wanderers, caught in the center of their ring, could proceed no further without using force to break it. Soon the swift, whirling dance began to make Drayton dizzy. Round and round and round. And now over the plain he perceived that there were many other circles like this. They all swung round and round and round. Why had he thought the dance silent? There was music enough, and everywhere the beat, beat of uncounted feet in perfect rhythm with a melody that filled the world. It rose from the scented85 grass between the beating feet; it flowed from the moon with the sorcery of her light; it circled and circled in rhythmic86 rings. It caught his feet in a silver snare87. He was swept into the net of a great and passionate88 desire—to dance and dance forever—now!
Before him Drayton saw the circle break apart, and there was just the space for one to join them, to become a link in the mystic ring and satisfy the calling melody. Almost without his will Drayton’s feet obeyed the call. His hand caught that of the monster nearest him. He remembered afterward89 that it felt neither cold nor warm, but rather like a fur glove stuffed with wool. Another hand caught him violently by the shoulder and wrenched90 him backward.
Drayton cried out and struggled to escape, but Trenmore had him fairly in the grip of his mighty91 arms. Even as the two strove together all that moonlight madness of sound jarred, broke, and from discord92 died to silence. The strength went out of Drayton’s body. He leaned, weak and panting for breath, against the Irishman’s shoulder.
“If you’re so fond of dancing,” said the latter grimly, “you might at least chose Viola or me for a partner. Are you mad, Bobby, to take hands with those?”
Before Drayton could reply the circle of dancers stopped short in their tracks. Each ungainly figure made a strange, wild gesture as of wrath93 or despair. Then they separated, scattered94, and went dancing wildly away across the grass.
“Hss-ss-ss!”
It was a long-drawn, sibilant sound, and it seemed to come from a little pile of rocks close by. In its black shadow they saw two sparklike eyes gleam redly.
“Hss-ss-ss! Touch not the dancers—go not near them—speak not to them! Strange things be abroad and stranger things be done in the white moonlight of Ulithia! Hss-ss-ss! Go not near!”
“And who and what may you be?” demanded Trenmore, bending down; but the sparklike eyes had vanished. An instant later they reappeared, gleaming dimly through a white cobweb between two tall tufts of grass.
“Hss-ss-ss!” Again that snakelike hissing95. “Beware! You have escaped the everlasting96 dance—beware the Weaver97 and her song!”
“But who-what are you?” demanded Trenmore again rather wildly.
The red sparks flashed and faded from behind the silver web.
Only a dim voice trailed back to them:
“I am the Voice of Warning in a land of Illusion—beware!”
Drayton, somewhat recovered from his own queer experience, moved as if to follow. Again Trenmore checked him.
“We’d best not traffic with that thing either,” he recommended gruffly. “We’ve no place in this world we’ve got into—no place at all! And the very best we can do is to keep our own company till we find a way out of it.”
“What was it the thing said?” queried Drayton as he fell into step again beside the other two. “Ulithia? That sounds some way familiar—”
Trenmore shook his head. “Not to me. I’ve traveled many a land, and read not a few books, old and new; but nowhere have I heard that name before.”
“Nor I,” said Viola.
Drayton was silent a moment, searching his memory. Then his face fell. “I recall the association now,” he observed discontentedly. “It’s no help. There were some letters—the first letters of that name—carved on the ruins back there. I read them, while the ruins were still ruins.”
For a while they walked on in silence. With the breaking of that one ring of dancing forms the plain seemed gradually to have cleared, so that they were again alone with the moonlight and each other. Alone until, long before they saw the White Weaver, they heard her singing.
That was a wondrous98, murmurous99, liquid song of hers, like shallow summer brooks100 and rustling101 fields. They were not surprised to come upon her at last, seated in the moon-frosted grass, tossing a weaver’s shuttle between her outstretched hands. They could see neither loom11 nor thread nor web, however, save a thousand silver cobwebs on the grass. All the plain was agleam with them.
This is the song she was singing, or as much of it as any of them could afterward recall:
“The web lies broad in the weaving room.
(Fly, little shuttle fly!)
The air is loud with the clashing loom.
(Fly, little shuttle fly!)”
There was a brief pause in the melody, then:
“Year on year have I woven here.
Green earth, white earth, and autumn sere102;
Sitting singing where the earth-props mold;
Weave I, singing, where the world grows old.
Time’s a traitor103, but the loom is leal—
Time’s a liar22, but the web is real!
Hear my song and behold104 my web!
(Fly, little shuttle—!)”
“But, madam, ’tis no web you have there,” broke in Trenmore. “’Tis naught105 but a little shuttle and no thread to it at all!”
At that the song ceased, and the woman raised her face. It was beautiful as the moon’s self, though her hair was silver and her face without a trace of color. Her clear, pale eyes seemed to look through and far beyond them.
“You are strangers,” she said in a voice that might have come from very far away, clear and sweet as a silver bell. “Yet your lives, too, are in my web. Aye! They are mine—bound up fast in my web that you see not. From here on go forward—go deeper! Heed106 not the mockings of the dancing Shadow People. Heed not the voice of mine enemy, who would keep you forever bound in the shallows of Ulithia. Go forward—go deeper—go forward!”
With that she ceased speaking, and, taking up her song where she had left it, she made the empty shuttle fly like a living thing from hand to hand.
Drayton eyed his companions doubtfully. “If the lady would make her advice a little clearer we might try to follow it. We have to go on somewhere, you know, Terry.”
But Viola shook her head, staring at the Weaver with hostile, questioning glance. “Have you so soon forgotten?” she said. “‘Beware the Weaver and her song!’”
At that the Weaver again ceased singing. Her thin lips were curled in a smile, but her eyes were like pale blue ice.
“Aye,” she murmured, “beware of the Weaver—the White Weaver of the Years—beware! But your feet are set in her web. The door opens before you. There is no way out but on—and what is Ulithia, phantom borderland of life, to such as you? Go forward—go deeper—go forward!”
Trenmore took one step toward her, with what intent he himself scarcely knew. But as he took it Drayton laughed with a touch of weariness.
“You have frightened the lady away, Terry.”
It was true. As Trenmore had stepped toward the “White Weaver” that cold-eyed lady had vanished and taken her song and her shuttle with her. As the three again proceeded Viola waved her hand in a wide gesture, indicating the plain they traversed.
“Did either of you notice,” she said, “that there were so many of these white spider webs about—before we saw that woman?”
Her brother and Drayton merely stared stupidly, heavy-eyed.
“Before we met the White Weaver,” murmured the girl dreamily, “there was only a web here and there, woven between the grass stems. Now it is like-like walking through a silver sea. And the moon. What moon of earth was ever like this of Ulithia?”
“If it is a moon,” said Trenmore with no great interest. “She’s taking an uncommon107 long time for her rising.”
Blank as a silver shield, the moon, or what they had believed a moon, still rested at the edge of the plain, its lower part bisected by the horizon. More like an enormous archway than a moon it seemed—a sort of celestial108 door, perhaps, in the edge of the sky.
They neared and neared, walking across a silver sea of web through which the invisible flowers sent up their perpetually increasing incense109, almost too sweet now for pleasure. More and more like an arch the moon appeared—an immense, light-filled archway, of the nearly circular Moorish110 type. About it they began to perceive a certain dim outline of dark substance, behind which the moon itself was just a depth and a blinding expanse of light. Almost unconsciously they hastened their steps. At last, heads swimming with the fragrance of the plain, they had actually reached the splendid thing.
High, high above them curved the perfect arch of stone, black as unpolished ebony and set in what seemed a solid wall of similar rock stretching away to darkness on either hand. Through the opening they could not see, for it was filled with a brilliant mist of pure white light.
“Look!” said Drayton, leaning dizzily against the black stone to which he pointed111. “Here on the architrave. There are silver characters—inlaid—aren’t they? But they move and writhe112 like white flame—”
Closing his eyes against the glare, he wished that a great wind might arise—a great, clean wind that would sweep away cobwebs and flowers together.
“Go forward, go deeper, go forward!” murmured a sweet, clear voice. To Drayton it seemed to be Viola’s, though with a distant sound, like a far-off silver bell. “Your feet are in the web!” cried the voice. “In the Web of the Weaver of Years. And why linger in the shallows of Ulithia? Go forward—go deeper!”
“Why linger?” echoed Drayton softly.
His feet were in the shallows of a wide, white sea that was carrying him outward—onward.
收听单词发音 |
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marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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contingencies
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| n.偶然发生的事故，意外事故( contingency的名词复数 )；以备万一 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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geographic
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| adj.地理学的，地理的 | |
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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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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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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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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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emanate
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| v.发自，来自，出自 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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periphery
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| n.(圆体的)外面；周围 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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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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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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constellations
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| n.星座( constellation的名词复数 )；一群杰出人物；一系列（相关的想法、事物）；一群（相关的人） | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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latitude
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| n.纬度，行动或言论的自由(范围)，(pl.)地区 | |
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astronomical
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| adj.天文学的，（数字）极大的 | |
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pertinence
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| n.中肯 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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37
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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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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39
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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40
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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41
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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42
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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43
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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44
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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45
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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46
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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47
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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48
lichenous
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| adj.青苔的 | |
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49
animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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50
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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52
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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54
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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pennant
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| n.三角旗；锦标旗 | |
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drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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shimmered
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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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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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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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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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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81
hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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82
silhouettes
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| 轮廓( silhouette的名词复数 )； （人的）体形； （事物的）形状； 剪影 | |
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hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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84
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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86
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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87
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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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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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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92
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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96
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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97
weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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98
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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99
murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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100
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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101
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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102
sere
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| adj.干枯的；n.演替系列 | |
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103
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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104
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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105
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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106
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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107
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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108
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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109
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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110
moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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111
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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112
writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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