Section 1
As the train carried me on from Birmingham to Monkshampton, it carried me not only into a country where I had never been before, but out of the commonplace daylight and the touch and quality of ordinary things, into the strange unprecedented1 night that was ruled by the giant meteor of the last days.
There was at that time a curious accentuation of the common alternation of night and day. They became separated with a widening difference of value in regard to all mundane2 affairs. During the day, the comet was an item in the newspapers, it was jostled by a thousand more living interests, it was as nothing in the skirts of the war storm that was now upon us. It was an astronomical3 phenomenon, somewhere away over China, millions of miles away in the deeps. We forgot it. But directly the sun sank one turned ever and again toward the east, and the meteor resumed its sway over us.
One waited for its rising, and yet each night it came as a surprise. Always it rose brighter than one had dared to think, always larger and with some wonderful change in its outline, and now with a strange, less luminous4, greener disk upon it that grew with its growth, the umbra of the earth. It shone also with its own light, so that this shadow was not hard or black, but it shone phosphorescently and with a diminishing intensity5 where the stimulus6 of the sun’s rays was withdrawn7. As it ascended9 toward the zenith, as the last trailing daylight went after the abdicating10 sun, its greenish white illumination banished11 the realities of day, diffused12 a bright ghostliness over all things. It changed the starless sky about it to an extraordinary deep blue, the profoundest color in the world, such as I have never seen before or since. I remember, too, that as I peered from the train that was rattling13 me along to Monkshampton, I perceived and was puzzled by a coppery red light that mingled15 with all the shadows that were cast by it.
It turned our ugly English industrial towns to phantom16 cities. Everywhere the local authorities discontinued street lighting17 — one could read small print in the glare,— and so at Monkshampton I went about through pale, white, unfamiliar18 streets, whose electric globes had shadows on the path. Lit windows here and there burnt ruddy orange, like holes cut in some dream curtain that hung before a furnace. A policeman with noiseless feet showed me an inn woven of moonshine, a green-faced man opened to us, and there I abode19 the night. And the next morning it opened with a mighty20 clatter21, and was a dirty little beerhouse that stank22 of beer, and there was a fat and grimy landlord with red spots upon his neck, and much noisy traffic going by on the cobbles outside.
I came out, after I had paid my bill, into a street that echoed to the bawlings of two newsvendors and to the noisy yappings of a dog they had raised to emulation24. They were shouting: “Great British disaster in the North Sea. A battleship lost with all hands!”
I bought a paper, went on to the railway station reading such details as were given of this triumph of the old civilization, of the blowing up of this great iron ship, full of guns and explosives and the most costly25 and beautiful machinery26 of which that time was capable, together with nine hundred able-bodied men, all of them above the average, by a contact mine towed by a German submarine. I read myself into a fever of warlike emotions. Not only did I forget the meteor, but for a time I forgot even the purpose that took me on to the railway station, bought my ticket, and was now carrying me onward27 to Shaphambury.
So the hot day came to its own again, and people forgot the night.
Each night, there shone upon us more and more insistently28, beauty, wonder, the promise of the deeps, and we were hushed, and marveled for a space. And at the first gray sounds of dawn again, at the shooting of bolts and the noise of milk-carts, we forgot, and the dusty habitual30 day came yawning and stretching back again. The stains of coal smoke crept across the heavens, and we rose to the soiled disorderly routine of life.
“Thus life has always been,” we said; “thus it will always be.”
The glory of those nights was almost universally regarded as spectacular merely. It signified nothing to us. So far as western Europe went, it was only a small and ignorant section of the lower classes who regarded the comet as a portent31 of the end of the world. Abroad, where there were peasantries, it was different, but in England the peasantry had already disappeared. Every one read. The newspaper, in the quiet days before our swift quarrel with Germany rushed to its climax32, had absolutely dispelled33 all possibilities of a panic in this matter. The very tramps upon the high-roads, the children in the nursery, had learnt that at the utmost the whole of that shining cloud could weigh but a few score tons. This fact had been shown quite conclusively34 by the enormous deflections that had at last swung it round squarely at our world. It had passed near three of the smallest asteroids35 without producing the minutest perceptible deflection in their course; while, on its own part, it had described a course through nearly three degrees. When it struck our earth there was to be a magnificent spectacle, no doubt, for those who were on the right side of our planet to see, but beyond that nothing. It was doubtful whether we were on the right side. The meteor would loom36 larger and larger in the sky, but with the umbra of our earth eating its heart of brightness out, and at last it would be the whole sky, a sky of luminous green clouds, with a white brightness about the horizon, west and east. Then a pause — a pause of not very exactly definite duration — and then, no doubt, a great blaze of shooting stars. They might be of some unwonted color because of the unknown element that line in the green revealed. For a little while the zenith would spout37 shooting stars. Some, it was hoped, would reach the earth and be available for analysis.
That, science said, would be all. The green clouds would whirl and vanish, and there might be thunderstorms. But through the attenuated38 wisps of comet shine, the old sky, the old stars, would reappear, and all would be as it had been before. And since this was to happen between one and eleven in the morning of the approaching Tuesday — I slept at Monkshampton on Saturday night,— it would be only partially39 visible, if visible at all, on our side of the earth. Perhaps, if it came late, one would see no more than a shooting star low down in the sky. All this we had with the utmost assurances of science. Still it did not prevent the last nights being the most beautiful and memorable40 of human experiences.
The nights had become very warm, and when next day I had ranged Shaphambury in vain, I was greatly tormented41, as that unparalleled glory of the night returned, to think that under its splendid benediction42 young Verrall and Nettie made love to one another.
I walked backward and forward, backward and forward, along the sea front, peering into the faces of the young couples who promenaded43, with my hand in my pocket ready, and a curious ache in my heart that had no kindred with rage. Until at last all the promenaders had gone home to bed, and I was alone with the star.
My train from Wyvern to Shaphambury that morning was a whole hour late; they said it was on account of the movement of troops to meet a possible raid from the Elbe.
Section 2
Shaphambury seemed an odd place to me even then. But something was quickening in me at that time to feel the oddness of many accepted things. Now in the retrospect44 I see it as intensely queer. The whole place was strange to my untraveled eyes; the sea even was strange. Only twice in my life had I been at the seaside before, and then I had gone by excursion to places on the Welsh coast whose great cliffs of rock and mountain backgrounds made the effect of the horizon very different from what it is upon the East Anglian seaboard. Here what they call a cliff was a crumbling45 bank of whitey-brown earth not fifty feet high.
So soon as I arrived I made a systematic46 exploration of Shaphambury. To this day I retain the clearest memories of the plan I shaped out then, and how my inquiries47 were incommoded by the overpowering desire of every one to talk of the chances of a German raid, before the Channel Fleet got round to us. I slept at a small public-house in a Shaphambury back street on Sunday night. I did not get on to Shaphambury from Wyvern until two in the afternoon, because of the infrequency of Sunday trains, and I got no clue whatever until late in the afternoon of Monday. As the little local train bumped into sight of the place round the curve of a swelling48 hill, one saw a series of undulating grassy49 spaces, amidst which a number of conspicuous50 notice-boards appealed to the eye and cut up the distant sea horizon. Most of these referred to comestibles or to remedies to follow the comestibles; and they were colored with a view to be memorable rather than beautiful, to “stand out” amidst the gentle grayish tones of the east coast scenery. The greater number, I may remark, of the advertisements that were so conspicuous a factor in the life of those days, and which rendered our vast tree-pulp newspapers possible, referred to foods, drinks, tobacco, and the drugs that promised a restoration of the equanimity51 these other articles had destroyed. Wherever one went one was reminded in glaring letters that, after all, man was little better than a worm, that eyeless, earless thing that burrows52 and lives uncomplainingly amidst nutritious53 dirt, “an alimentary54 canal with the subservient55 appendages56 thereto.” But in addition to such boards there were also the big black and white boards of various grandiloquently57 named “estates.” The individualistic enterprise of that time had led to the plotting out of nearly all the country round the seaside towns into roads and building-plots — all but a small portion of the south and east coast was in this condition, and had the promises of those schemes been realized the entire population of the island might have been accommodated upon the sea frontiers. Nothing of the sort happened, of course; the whole of this uglification of the coast-line was done to stimulate58 a little foolish gambling59 in plots, and one saw everywhere agents’ boards in every state of freshness and decay, ill-made exploitation roads overgrown with grass, and here and there, at a corner, a label, “Trafalgar Avenue,” or “Sea View Road.” Here and there, too, some small investor60, some shopman with “savings,” had delivered his soul to the local builders and built himself a house, and there it stood, ill-designed, mean-looking, isolated61, ill-placed on a cheaply fenced plot, athwart which his domestic washing fluttered in the breeze amidst a bleak62 desolation of enterprise. Then presently our railway crossed a high road, and a row of mean yellow brick houses — workmen’s cottages, and the filthy63 black sheds that made the “allotments” of that time a universal eyesore, marked our approach to the more central areas of — I quote the local guidebook —“one of the most delightful64 resorts in the East Anglian poppy-land.” Then more mean houses, the gaunt ungainliness of the electric force station — it had a huge chimney, because no one understood how to make combustion65 of coal complete — and then we were in the railway station, and barely three-quarters of a mile from the center of this haunt of health and pleasure.
I inspected the town thoroughly66 before I made my inquiries. The road began badly with a row of cheap, pretentious67, insolvent-looking shops, a public-house, and a cab-stand, but, after an interval68 of little red villas69 that were partly hidden amidst shrubbery gardens, broke into a confusedly bright but not unpleasing High Street, shuttered that afternoon and sabbatically still. Somewhere in the background a church bell jangled, and children in bright, new-looking clothes were going to Sunday-school. Thence through a square of stuccoed lodging-houses, that seemed a finer and cleaner version of my native square, I came to a garden of asphalt and euonymus — the Sea Front. I sat down on a cast-iron seat, and surveyed first of all the broad stretches of muddy, sandy beach, with its queer wheeled bathing machines, painted with the advertisements of somebody’s pills — and then at the house fronts that stared out upon these visceral counsels. Boarding-houses, private hotels, and lodging-houses in terraces clustered closely right and left of me, and then came to an end; in one direction scaffolding marked a building enterprise in progress, in the other, after a waste interval, rose a monstrous70 bulging71 red shape, a huge hotel, that dwarfed72 all other things. Northward73 were low pale cliffs with white denticulations of tents, where the local volunteers, all under arms, lay encamped, and southward, a spreading waste of sandy dunes74, with occasional bushes and clumps75 of stunted76 pine and an advertisement board or so. A hard blue sky hung over all this prospect77, the sunshine cast inky shadows, and eastward78 was a whitish sea. It was Sunday, and the midday meal still held people indoors.
A queer world! thought I even then — to you now it must seem impossibly queer,— and after an interval I forced myself back to my own affair.
How was I to ask? What was I to ask for? I puzzled for a long time over that — at first I was a little tired and indolent — and then presently I had a flow of ideas.
My solution was fairly ingenious. I invented the following story. I happened to be taking a holiday in Shaphambury, and I was making use of the opportunity to seek the owner of a valuable feather boa, which had been left behind in the hotel of my uncle at Wyvern by a young lady, traveling with a young gentleman — no doubt a youthful married couple. They had reached Shaphambury somewhen on Thursday. I went over the story many times, and gave my imaginary uncle and his hotel plausible79 names. At any rate this yarn80 would serve as a complete justification81 for all the questions I might wish to ask.
I settled that, but I still sat for a time, wanting the energy to begin. Then I turned toward the big hotel. Its gorgeous magnificence seemed to my inexpert judgment82 to indicate the very place a rich young man of good family would select.
Huge draught-proof doors were swung round for me by an ironically polite under-porter in a magnificent green uniform, who looked at my clothes as he listened to my question and then with a German accent referred me to a gorgeous head porter, who directed me to a princely young man behind a counter of brass83 and polish, like a bank — like several banks. This young man, while he answered me, kept his eye on my collar and tie — and I knew that they were abominable84.
“I want to find a lady and gentleman who came to Shaphambury on Tuesday,” I said.
“Friends of yours?” he asked with a terrible fineness of irony85.
I made out at last that here at any rate the young people had not been. They might have lunched there, but they had had no room. But I went out — door opened again for me obsequiously86 — in a state of social discomfiture87, and did not attack any other establishment that afternoon.
My resolution had come to a sort of ebb88. More people were promenading89, and their Sunday smartness abashed90 me. I forgot my purpose in an acute sense of myself. I felt that the bulge91 of my pocket caused by the revolver was conspicuous, and I was ashamed. I went along the sea front away from the town, and presently lay down among pebbles92 and sea poppies. This mood of reaction prevailed with me all that afternoon. In the evening, about sundown, I went to the station and asked questions of the outporters there. But outporters, I found, were a class of men who remembered luggage rather than people, and I had no sort of idea what luggage young Verrall and Nettie were likely to have with them.
Then I fell into conversation with a salacious wooden-legged old man with a silver ring, who swept the steps that went down to the beach from the parade. He knew much about young couples, but only in general terms, and nothing of the particular young couple I sought. He reminded me in the most disagreeable way of the sensuous93 aspects of life, and I was not sorry when presently a gunboat appeared in the offing signalling the coastguard and the camp, and cut short his observations upon holidays, beaches, and morals.
I went, and now I was past my ebb, and sat in a seat upon the parade, and watched the brightening of those rising clouds of chilly94 fire that made the ruddy west seem tame. My midday lassitude was going, my blood was running warmer again. And as the twilight95 and that filmy brightness replaced the dusty sunlight and robbed this unfamiliar place of all its matter-of-fact queerness, its sense of aimless materialism96, romance returned to me, and passion, and my thoughts of honor and revenge. I remember that change of mood as occurring very vividly97 on this occasion, but I fancy that less distinctly I had felt this before many times. In the old times, night and the starlight had an effect of intimate reality the daytime did not possess. The daytime — as one saw it in towns and populous98 places — had hold of one, no doubt, but only as an uproar99 might, it was distracting, conflicting, insistent29. Darkness veiled the more salient aspects of those agglomerations100 of human absurdity101, and one could exist — one could imagine.
I had a queer illusion that night, that Nettie and her lover were close at hand, that suddenly I should come on them. I have already told how I went through the dusk seeking them in every couple that drew near. And I dropped asleep at last in an unfamiliar bedroom hung with gaudily102 decorated texts, cursing myself for having wasted a day.
Section 3
I sought them in vain the next morning, but after midday I came in quick succession on a perplexing multitude of clues. After failing to find any young couple that corresponded to young Verrall and Nettie, I presently discovered an unsatisfactory quartette of couples.
Any of these four couples might have been the one I sought; with regard to none of them was there conviction. They had all arrived either on Wednesday or Thursday. Two couples were still in occupation of their rooms, but neither of these were at home. Late in the afternoon I reduced my list by eliminating a young man in drab, with side whiskers and long cuffs103, accompanied by a lady, of thirty or more, of consciously ladylike type. I was disgusted at the sight of them; the other two young people had gone for a long walk, and though I watched their boarding-house until the fiery104 cloud shone out above, sharing and mingling105 in an unusually splendid sunset, I missed them. Then I discovered them dining at a separate table in the bow window, with red-shaded candles between them, peering out ever and again at this splendor106 that was neither night nor day. The girl in her pink evening dress looked very light and pretty to me — pretty enough to enrage107 me,— she had well shaped arms and white, well-modeled shoulders, and the turn of her cheek and the fair hair about her ears was full of subtle delights; but she was not Nettie, and the happy man with her was that odd degenerate108 type our old aristocracy produced with such odd frequency, chinless, large bony nose, small fair head, languid expression, and a neck that had demanded and received a veritable sleeve of collar. I stood outside in the meteor’s livid light, hating them and cursing them for having delayed me so long. I stood until it was evident they remarked me, a black shape of envy, silhouetted109 against the glare.
That finished Shaphambury. The question I now had to debate was which of the remaining couples I had to pursue.
I walked back to the parade trying to reason my next step out, and muttering to myself, because there was something in that luminous wonderfulness that touched one’s brain, and made one feel a little light-headed.
One couple had gone to London; the other had gone to the Bungalow110 village at Bone Cliff. Where, I wondered, was Bone Cliff?
I came upon my wooden-legged man at the top of his steps.
“Hullo,” said I.
He pointed111 seaward with his pipe, his silver ring shone in the sky light.
“Rum,” he said.
“What is?” I asked.
“Search-lights! Smoke! Ships going north! If it wasn’t for this blasted Milky112 Way gone green up there, we might see.”
He was too intent to heed113 my questions for a time. Then he vouchsafed114 over his shoulder —
“Know Bungalow village?— rather. Artis’ and such. Nice goings on! Mixed bathing — something scandalous. Yes.”
“But where is it?” I said, suddenly exasperated115.
“There!” he said. “What’s that flicker116? A gunflash — or I’m a lost soul!”
“You’d hear,” I said, “long before it was near enough to see a flash.”
He didn’t answer. Only by making it clear I would distract him until he told me what I wanted to know could I get him to turn from his absorbed contemplation of that phantom dance between the sea rim23 and the shine. Indeed I gripped his arm and shook him. Then he turned upon me cursing.
“Seven miles,” he said, “along this road. And now go to ‘ell with yer!”
I answered with some foul117 insult by way of thanks, and so we parted, and I set off towards the bungalow village.
I found a policeman, standing118 star-gazing, a little way beyond the end of the parade, and verified the wooden-legged man’s directions.
“It’s a lonely road, you know,” he called after me . . . .
I had an odd intuition that now at last I was on the right track. I left the dark masses of Shaphambury behind me, and pushed out into the dim pallor of that night, with the quiet assurance of a traveler who nears his end.
The incidents of that long tramp I do not recall in any orderly succession, the one progressive thing is my memory of a growing fatigue119. The sea was for the most part smooth and shining like a mirror, a great expanse of reflecting silver, barred by slow broad undulations, but at one time a little breeze breathed like a faint sigh and ruffled120 their long bodies into faint scaly121 ripples122 that never completely died out again. The way was sometimes sandy, thick with silvery colorless sand, and sometimes chalky and lumpy, with lumps that had shining facets123; a black scrub was scattered124, sometimes in thickets125, sometimes in single bunches, among the somnolent126 hummocks127 of sand. At one place came grass, and ghostly great sheep looming128 up among the gray. After a time black pinewoods intervened, and made sustained darknesses along the road, woods that frayed129 out at the edges to weirdly130 warped131 and stunted trees. Then isolated pine witches would appear, and make their rigid132 gestures at me as I passed. Grotesquely133 incongruous amidst these forms, I presently came on estate boards, appealing, “Houses can be built to suit purchaser,” to the silence, to the shadows, and the glare.
Once I remember the persistent134 barking of a dog from somewhere inland of me, and several times I took out and examined my revolver very carefully. I must, of course, have been full of my intention when I did that, I must have been thinking of Nettie and revenge, but I cannot now recall those emotions at all. Only I see again very distinctly the greenish gleams that ran over lock and barrel as I turned the weapon in my hand.
Then there was the sky, the wonderful, luminous, starless, moonless sky, and the empty blue deeps of the edge of it, between the meteor and the sea. And once — strange phantoms135!— I saw far out upon the shine, and very small and distant, three long black warships136, without masts, or sails, or smoke, or any lights, dark, deadly, furtive138 things, traveling very swiftly and keeping an equal distance. And when I looked again they were very small, and then the shine had swallowed them up.
Then once a flash and what I thought was a gun, until I looked up and saw a fading trail of greenish light still hanging in the sky. And after that there was a shiver and whispering in the air, a stronger throbbing139 in one’s arteries141, a sense of refreshment142, a renewal143 of purpose . . . .
Somewhere upon my way the road forked, but I do not remember whether that was near Shaphambury or near the end of my walk. The hesitation144 between two rutted unmade roads alone remains145 clear in my mind.
At last I grew weary. I came to piled heaps of decaying seaweed and cart tracks running this way and that, and then I had missed the road and was stumbling among sand hummocks quite close to the sea. I came out on the edge of the dimly glittering sandy beach, and something phosphorescent drew me to the water’s edge. I bent146 down and peered at the little luminous specks147 that floated in the ripples.
Presently with a sigh I stood erect148, and contemplated149 the lonely peace of that last wonderful night. The meteor had now trailed its shining nets across the whole space of the sky and was beginning to set; in the east the blue was coming to its own again; the sea was an intense edge of blackness, and now, escaped from that great shine, and faint and still tremulously valiant150, one weak elusive151 star could just be seen, hovering152 on the verge153 of the invisible.
How beautiful it was! how still and beautiful! Peace! peace!— the peace that passeth understanding, robed in light descending154! . . .
My heart swelled155, and suddenly I was weeping.
There was something new and strange in my blood. It came to me that indeed I did not want to kill.
I did not want to kill. I did not want to be the servant of my passions any more. A great desire had come to me to escape from life, from the daylight which is heat and conflict and desire, into that cool night of eternity156 — and rest. I had played — I had done.
I stood upon the edge of the great ocean, and I was filled with an inarticulate spirit of prayer, and I desired greatly — peace from myself.
And presently, there in the east, would come again the red discoloring curtain over these mysteries, the finite world again, the gray and growing harsh certainties of dawn. My resolve I knew would take up with me again. This was a rest for me, an interlude, but to-morrow I should be William Leadford once more, ill-nourished, ill-dressed, ill-equipped and clumsy, a thief and shamed, a wound upon the face of life, a source of trouble and sorrow even to the mother I loved; no hope in life left for me now but revenge before my death.
Why this paltry157 thing, revenge? It entered into my thoughts that I might end the matter now and let these others go.
To wade158 out into the sea, into this warm lapping that mingled the natures of water and light, to stand there breast-high, to thrust my revolver barrel into my mouth ———?
Why not?
I swung about with an effort. I walked slowly up the beach thinking . . . .
I turned and looked back at the sea. No! Something within me said, “No!”
I must think.
It was troublesome to go further because the hummocks and the tangled159 bushes began. I sat down amidst a black cluster of shrubs160, and rested, chin on hand. I drew my revolver from my pocket and looked at it, and held it in my hand. Life? Or Death? . . .
I seemed to be probing the very deeps of being, but indeed imperceptibly I fell asleep, and sat dreaming.
Section 4
Two people were bathing in the sea.
I had awakened161. It was still that white and wonderful night, and the blue band of clear sky was no wider than before. These people must have come into sight as I fell asleep, and awakened me almost at once. They waded162 breast-deep in the water, emerging, coming shoreward, a woman, with her hair coiled about her head, and in pursuit of her a man, graceful163 figures of black and silver, with a bright green surge flowing off from them, a pattering of flashing wavelets about them. He smote164 the water and splashed it toward her, she retaliated165, and then they were knee-deep, and then for an instant their feet broke the long silver margin166 of the sea.
Each wore a tightly fitting bathing dress that hid nothing of the shining, dripping beauty of their youthful forms.
She glanced over her shoulder and found him nearer than she thought, started, gesticulated, gave a little cry that pierced me to the heart, and fled up the beach obliquely167 toward me, running like the wind, and passed me, vanished amidst the black distorted bushes, and was gone — she and her pursuer, in a moment, over the ridge168 of sand.
I heard him shout between exhaustion169 and laughter . . . .
And suddenly I was a thing of bestial170 fury, standing up with hands held up and clenched171, rigid in gesture of impotent threatening, against the sky . . . .
For this striving, swift thing of light and beauty was Nettie — and this was the man for whom I had been betrayed!
And, it blazed upon me, I might have died there by the sheer ebbing172 of my will — unavenged!
In another moment I was running and stumbling, revolver in hand, in quiet unsuspected pursuit of them, through the soft and noiseless sand.
Section 5
I came up over the little ridge and discovered the bungalow village I had been seeking, nestling in a crescent lap of dunes. A door slammed, the two runners had vanished, and I halted staring.
There was a group of three bungalows173 nearer to me than the others. Into one of these three they had gone, and I was too late to see which. All had doors and windows carelessly open, and none showed a light.
This place, upon which I had at last happened, was a fruit of the reaction of artistic-minded and carelessly living people against the costly and uncomfortable social stiffness of the more formal seaside resorts of that time. It was, you must understand, the custom of the steam-railway companies to sell their carriages after they had been obsolete174 for a sufficient length of years, and some genius had hit upon the possibility of turning these into little habitable cabins for the summer holiday. The thing had become a fashion with a certain Bohemian-spirited class; they added cabin to cabin, and these little improvised175 homes, gaily176 painted and with broad verandas177 and supplementary178 leantos added to their accommodation, made the brightest contrast conceivable to the dull rigidities of the decorous resorts. Of course there were many discomforts179 in such camping that had to be faced cheerfully, and so this broad sandy beach was sacred to high spirits and the young. Art muslin and banjoes, Chinese lanterns and frying, are leading “notes,” I find, in the impression of those who once knew such places well. But so far as I was concerned this odd settlement of pleasure-squatters was a mystery as well as a surprise, enhanced rather than mitigated180 by an imaginative suggestion or so I had received from the wooden-legged man at Shaphambury. I saw the thing as no gathering181 of light hearts and gay idleness, but grimly — after the manner of poor men poisoned by the suppression of all their cravings after joy. To the poor man, to the grimy workers, beauty and cleanness were absolutely denied; out of a life of greasy182 dirt, of muddied desires, they watched their happier fellows with a bitter envy and foul, tormenting183 suspicions. Fancy a world in which the common people held love to be a sort of beastliness, own sister to being drunk! . . .
There was in the old time always something cruel at the bottom of this business of sexual love. At least that is the impression I have brought with me across the gulf184 of the great Change. To succeed in love seemed such triumph as no other success could give, but to fail was as if one was tainted185 . . . .
I felt no sense of singularity that this thread of savagery186 should run through these emotions of mine and become now the whole strand187 of these emotions. I believed, and I think I was right in believing, that the love of all true lovers was a sort of defiance188 then, that they closed a system in each other’s arms and mocked the world without. You loved against the world, and these two loved AT me. They had their business with one another, under the threat of a watchful189 fierceness. A sword, a sharp sword, the keenest edge in life, lay among their roses.
Whatever may be true of this for others, for me and my imagination, at any rate, it was altogether true. I was never for dalliance, I was never a jesting lover. I wanted fiercely; I made love impatiently. Perhaps I had written irrelevant190 love-letters for that very reason; because with this stark191 theme I could not play. . .
The thought of Nettie’s shining form, of her shrinking bold abandon to her easy conqueror192, gave me now a body of rage that was nearly too strong for my heart and nerves and the tense powers of my merely physical being. I came down among the pale sand-heaps slowly toward that queer village of careless sensuality, and now within my puny193 body I was coldly sharpset for pain and death, a darkly gleaming hate, a sword of evil, drawn8.
Section 6
I halted, and stood planning what I had to do.
Should I go to bungalow after bungalow until one of the two I sought answered to my rap? But suppose some servant intervened!
Should I wait where I was — perhaps until morning — watching? And meanwhile ———
All the nearer bungalows were very still now. If I walked softly to them, from open windows, from something seen or overheard, I might get a clue to guide me. Should I advance circuitously194, creeping upon them, or should I walk straight to the door? It was bright enough for her to recognize me clearly at a distance of many paces.
The difficulty to my mind lay in this, that if I involved other people by questions, I might at last confront my betrayers with these others close about me, ready to snatch my weapon and seize my hands. Besides, what names might they bear here?
“Boom!” the sound crept upon my senses, and then again it came.
I turned impatiently as one turns upon an impertinence, and beheld195 a great ironclad not four miles out, steaming fast across the dappled silver, and from its funnels196 sparks, intensely red, poured out into the night. As I turned, came the hot flash of its guns, firing seaward, and answering this, red flashes and a streaming smoke in the line between sea and sky. So I remembered it, and I remember myself staring at it — in a state of stupid arrest. It was an irrelevance197. What had these things to do with me?
With a shuddering198 hiss199, a rocket from a headland beyond the village leapt up and burst hot gold against the glare, and the sound of the third and fourth guns reached me.
The windows of the dark bungalows, one after another, leapt out, squares of ruddy brightness that flared200 and flickered201 and became steadily202 bright. Dark heads appeared looking seaward, a door opened, and sent out a brief lane of yellow to mingle14 and be lost in the comet’s brightness. That brought me back to the business in hand.
“Boom! boom!” and when I looked again at the great ironclad, a little torchlike spurt203 of flame wavered behind her funnels. I could hear the throb140 and clangor of her straining engines . . . .
I became aware of the voices of people calling to one another in the village. A white-robed, hooded204 figure, some man in a bathing wrap, absurdly suggestive of an Arab in his burnous, came out from one of the nearer bungalows, and stood clear and still and shadowless in the glare.
He put his hands to shade his seaward eyes, and shouted to people within.
The people within — MY people! My fingers tightened205 on my revolver. What was this war nonsense to me? I would go round among the hummocks with the idea of approaching the three bungalows inconspicuously from the flank. This fight at sea might serve my purpose — except for that, it had no interest for me at all. Boom! boom! The huge voluminous concussions206 rushed past me, beat at my heart and passed. In a moment Nettie would come out to see.
First one and then two other wrappered figures came out of the bungalows to join the first. His arm pointed seaward, and his voice, a full tenor207, rose in explanation. I could hear some of the words. “It’s a German!” he said. “She’s caught.”
Some one disputed that, and there followed a little indistinct babble208 of argument. I went on slowly in the circuit I had marked out, watching these people as I went.
They shouted together with such a common intensity of direction that I halted and looked seaward. I saw the tall fountain flung by a shot that had just missed the great warship137. A second rose still nearer us, a third, and a fourth, and then a great uprush of dust, a whirling cloud, leapt out of the headland whence the rocket had come, and spread with a slow deliberation right and left. Hard on that an enormous crash, and the man with the full voice leapt and cried, “Hit!”
Let me see! Of course, I had to go round beyond the bungalows, and then come up towards the group from behind.
A high-pitched woman’s voice called, “Honeymooners! honeymooners! Come out and see!”
Something gleamed in the shadow of the nearer bungalow, and a man’s voice answered from within. What he said I did not catch, but suddenly I heard Nettie calling very distinctly, “We’ve been bathing.”
The man who had first come out shouted, “Don’t you hear the guns? They’re fighting — not five miles from shore.”
“Eh?” answered the bungalow, and a window opened.
“Out there!”
I did not hear the reply, because of the faint rustle209 of my own movements. Clearly these people were all too much occupied by the battle to look in my direction, and so I walked now straight toward the darkness that held Nettie and the black desire of my heart.
“Look!” cried some one, and pointed skyward.
I glanced up, and behold210! The sky was streaked211 with bright green trails. They radiated from a point halfway212 between the western horizon and the zenith, and within the shining clouds of the meteor a streaming movement had begun, so that it seemed to be pouring both westwardly213 and back toward the east, with a crackling sound, as though the whole heaven was stippled214 over with phantom pistol-shots. It seemed to me then as if the meteor was coming to help me, descending with those thousand pistols like a curtain to fend215 off this unmeaning foolishness of the sea.
“Boom!” went a gun on the big ironclad, and “boom!” and the guns of the pursuing cruisers flashed in reply.
To glance up at that streaky, stirring light scum of the sky made one’s head swim. I stood for a moment dazed, and more than a little giddy. I had a curious instant of purely216 speculative217 thought. Suppose, after all, the fanatics218 were right, and the world WAS coming to an end! What a score that would be for Parload!
Then it came into my head that all these things were happening to consecrate219 my revenge! The war below, the heavens above, were the thunderous garment of my deed. I heard Nettie’s voice cry out not fifty yards away, and my passion surged again. I was to return to her amid these terrors bearing unanticipated death. I was to possess her, with a bullet, amidst thunderings and fear. At the thought I lifted up my voice to a shout that went unheard, and advanced now recklessly, revolver displayed in my hand.
It was fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards — the little group of people, still heedless of me, was larger and more important now, the green-shot sky and the fighting ships remoter. Some one darted220 out from the bungalow, with an interrupted question, and stopped, suddenly aware of me. It was Nettie, with some coquettish dark wrap about her, and the green glare shining on her sweet face and white throat. I could see her expression, stricken with dismay and terror, at my advance, as though something had seized her by the heart and held her still — a target for my shots.
“Boom!” came the ironclad’s gunshot like a command. “Bang!” the bullet leapt from my hand. Do you know, I did not want to shoot her then. Indeed I did not want to shoot her then! Bang! and I had fired again, still striding on, and — each time it seemed I had missed.
She moved a step or so toward me, still staring, and then someone intervened, and near beside her I saw young Verrall.
A heavy stranger, the man in the hooded bath-gown, a fat, foreign-looking man, came out of nowhere like a shield before them. He seemed a preposterous221 interruption. His face was full of astonishment222 and terror. He rushed across my path with arms extended and open hands, as one might try to stop a runaway223 horse. He shouted some nonsense. He seemed to want to dissuade224 me, as though dissuasion225 had anything to do with it now.
“Not you, you fool!” I said hoarsely226. “Not you!” But he hid Nettie nevertheless.
By an enormous effort I resisted a mechanical impulse to shoot through his fat body. Anyhow, I knew I mustn’t shoot him. For a moment I was in doubt, then I became very active, turned aside abruptly227 and dodged228 his pawing arm to the left, and so found two others irresolutely229 in my way. I fired a third shot in the air, just over their heads, and ran at them. They hastened left and right; I pulled up and faced about within a yard of a foxy-faced young man coming sideways, who seemed about to grapple me. At my resolute230 halt he fell back a pace, ducked, and threw up a defensive231 arm, and then I perceived the course was clear, and ahead of me, young Verrall and Nettie — he was holding her arm to help her — running away. “Of course!” said I.
I fired a fourth ineffectual shot, and then in an access of fury at my misses, started out to run them down and shoot them barrel to backbone232. “These people!” I said, dismissing all these interferences . . . .“A yard,” I panted, speaking aloud to myself, “a yard! Till then, take care, you mustn’t — mustn’t shoot again.”
Some one pursued me, perhaps several people — I do not know, we left them all behind . . . .
We ran. For a space I was altogether intent upon the swift monotony of flight and pursuit. The sands were changed to a whirl of green moonshine, the air was thunder. A luminous green haze233 rolled about us. What did such things matter? We ran. Did I gain or lose? that was the question. They ran through a gap in a broken fence that sprang up abruptly out of nothingness and turned to the right. I noted234 we were in a road. But this green mist! One seemed to plough through it. They were fading into it, and at that thought I made a spurt that won a dozen feet or more.
She staggered. He gripped her arm, and dragged her forward. They doubled to the left. We were off the road again and on turf. It felt like turf. I tripped and fell at a ditch that was somehow full of smoke, and was up again, but now they were phantoms half gone into the livid swirls235 about me . . . .
Still I ran.
On, on! I groaned236 with the violence of my effort. I staggered again and swore. I felt the concussions of great guns tear past me through the murk.
They were gone! Everything was going, but I kept on running. Once more I stumbled. There was something about my feet that impeded237 me, tall grass or heather, but I could not see what it was, only this smoke that eddied238 about my knees. There was a noise and spinning in my brain, a vain resistance to a dark green curtain that was falling, falling, falling, fold upon fold. Everything grew darker and darker.
I made one last frantic239 effort, and raised my revolver, fired my penultimate shot at a venture, and fell headlong to the ground. And behold! the green curtain was a black one, and the earth and I and all things ceased to be.
收听单词发音 |
1
unprecedented
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| adj.无前例的，新奇的 | |
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mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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3
astronomical
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| adj.天文学的，（数字）极大的 | |
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4
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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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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7
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abdicating
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| 放弃（职责、权力等）( abdicate的现在分词 )； 退位，逊位 | |
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11
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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13
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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14
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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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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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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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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18
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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19
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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20
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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21
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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22
stank
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| n. (英)坝，堰，池塘 动词stink的过去式 | |
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23
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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24
emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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25
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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26
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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27
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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28
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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29
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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30
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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31
portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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32
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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33
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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35
asteroids
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| n.小行星( asteroid的名词复数 )；海盘车，海星 | |
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36
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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37
spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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38
attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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39
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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41
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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42
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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43
promenaded
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| v.兜风( promenade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
retrospect
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| n.回顾，追溯；v.回顾，回想，追溯 | |
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45
crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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46
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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47
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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48
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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49
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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50
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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51
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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52
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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53
nutritious
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| adj.有营养的，营养价值高的 | |
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54
alimentary
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| adj.饮食的，营养的 | |
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55
subservient
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| adj.卑屈的，阿谀的 | |
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56
appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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57
grandiloquently
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58
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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59
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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60
investor
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| n.投资者，投资人 | |
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61
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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62
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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63
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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64
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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65
combustion
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| n.燃烧；氧化；骚动 | |
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66
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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67
pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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68
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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69
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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70
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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71
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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72
dwarfed
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| vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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74
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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75
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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76
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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77
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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78
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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79
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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80
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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81
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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82
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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83
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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84
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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85
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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86
obsequiously
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87
discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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88
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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89
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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90
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
bulge
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| n.突出，膨胀，激增；vt.突出，膨胀 | |
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92
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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93
sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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94
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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95
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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96
materialism
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| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
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97
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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98
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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99
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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100
agglomerations
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| n.成团，结块（agglomeration的复数形式） | |
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101
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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102
gaudily
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| adv.俗丽地 | |
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103
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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104
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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105
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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106
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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107
enrage
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| v.触怒，激怒 | |
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108
degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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109
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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110
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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111
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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112
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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113
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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114
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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115
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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116
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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117
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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118
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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119
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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120
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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121
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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122
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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123
facets
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| n.（宝石或首饰的）小平面( facet的名词复数 )；（事物的）面；方面 | |
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124
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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125
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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126
somnolent
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| adj.想睡的，催眠的；adv.瞌睡地；昏昏欲睡地；使人瞌睡地 | |
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127
hummocks
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| n.小丘，岗( hummock的名词复数 ) | |
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128
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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129
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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130
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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131
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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132
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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133
grotesquely
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| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
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134
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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135
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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136
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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137
warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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138
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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139
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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140
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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141
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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142
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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143
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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144
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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145
remains
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|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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146
bent
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|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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147
specks
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| n.眼镜；斑点，微粒，污点( speck的名词复数 ) | |
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148
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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149
contemplated
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|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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150
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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151
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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152
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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153
verge
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|
| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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154
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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155
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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156
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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157
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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158
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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159
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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160
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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161
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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162
waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
graceful
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|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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164
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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165
retaliated
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| v.报复，反击( retaliate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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166
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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167
obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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168
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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169
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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170
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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171
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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172
ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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173
bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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174
obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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175
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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176
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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177
verandas
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| 阳台，走廊( veranda的名词复数 ) | |
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178
supplementary
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| adj.补充的，附加的 | |
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179
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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180
mitigated
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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182
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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183
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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184
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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185
tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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186
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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187
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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188
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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189
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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190
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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191
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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192
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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193
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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194
circuitously
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| 曲折地 | |
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195
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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196
funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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197
irrelevance
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| n.无关紧要；不相关；不相关的事物 | |
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198
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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199
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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200
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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201
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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202
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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203
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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204
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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205
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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206
concussions
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| n.震荡( concussion的名词复数 )；脑震荡；冲击；震动 | |
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207
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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208
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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209
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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210
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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211
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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212
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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213
westwardly
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| 向西，自西 | |
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214
stippled
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| v.加点、绘斑，加粒( stipple的过去式和过去分词 )；（把油漆、水泥等的表面）弄粗糙 | |
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215
fend
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| v.照料（自己），（自己）谋生，挡开，避开 | |
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216
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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217
speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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218
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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219
consecrate
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| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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220
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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221
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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222
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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223
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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224
dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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225
dissuasion
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| n.劝止；谏言 | |
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226
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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227
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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228
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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229
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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230
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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231
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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232
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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233
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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234
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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235
swirls
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| n.旋转( swirl的名词复数 )；卷状物；漩涡；尘旋v.旋转，打旋( swirl的第三人称单数 ) | |
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236
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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237
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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238
eddied
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| 起漩涡，旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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239
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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