HOWEVER, I did run away in the spring. One morning when I went to the shop for bread the shopkeeper, continuing in my presence a quarrel with his wife, struck her on the forehead with a weight. She ran into the street, and there fell down. People began to gather round at once. The woman was laid on a stretcher and carried to the hospital, and I ran behind the cab which took her there without noticing where I was going till I found myself on the banks of the Volga, with two gr evens in my hand.
The spring sun shone caressingly1, the broad expanse of the Volga flowed before me, the earth was full of sound and spacious2, and I had been living like a mouse in a trap. So I made up my mind that I would not return to my master, nor would I go to grandmother at Kunavin; for as I had not kept my word to her, I was ashamed to go and see her, and grandfather would only gloat over my misfortunes.
For two or three days I wandered by the river-side, being fed by kind-hearted porters, and sleeping with them in their shelters. At length one of them said to me:
“It is no use for you to hang about here, my boy. I can see that. Go over to the boat which is called The Good. They want a washer-up.”
I went. The tall, bearded steward3 in a black silk skullcap looked at me through his glasses with his dim eyes, and said quietly:
“Two rubles a month. Your passport?”
I had no passport. The steward pondered and then said:
“Bring your mother to see me.”
I rushed to grandmother. She approved the course I had taken, told grandfather to go to the workman’s court and get me a passport, and she herself accompanied me to the boat.
“Good!” said the steward, looking at us. “Come along.”
He then took me to the stern of the boat, where sat at a small table, drinking tea and smoking a fat cigar at the same time, an enormous cook in white overalls5 and a white cap. The steward pushed me toward him.
“The washer-up.”
Then he went away, and the cook, snorting, and with his black mustache bristling6, called after him:
“‘You engage any sort of devil as long as he is cheap.”
Angrily tossing his head of closely cropped hair, he opened his dark eyes very wide, stretched himself, puffed7, and cried shrilly8:
“And who may you be?”
I did not like the appearance of this man at all. Although he was all in white, he looked dirty. There was a sort of wool growing on his fingers, and hairs stuck out of his great ears.
“I am hungry,” was my reply to him.
He blinked, and suddenly his ferocious9 countenance10 was transformed by a broad smile. His fat, brick-red cheeks widened to his very ears; he displayed his large, equine teeth; his mustache drooped11, and all at once he had assumed the appearance of a kind, fat woman.
Throwing the tea overboard out of his glass, he poured out a fresh lot for me, and pushed a French roll and a large piece of sausage toward me.
“Peg away! Are your parents living? Can you steal? You needn’t be afraid; they are all thieves here. You will soon learn.”
He talked as if he were barking. His enormous, blue, clean-shaven face was covered all round the nose with red veins12 closely set together, his swollen13, purple nose hung over his mustache. His lower lip was disiiguringly pendulous14. In the corner of his mouth was stuck a smoking cigarette. Apparently15 he had only just come from the bath. He smelt16 of birch twigs17, and a profuse18 sweat glistened19 on his temples and neck.
After I had drunk my tea, he gave me a ruble-note.
“Run along and buy yourself two aprons20 with this. Wait! I will buy them for you myself.”
He set his cap straight and came with me, swaying ponderously21, his feet pattering on the deck like those of a bear.
At night the moon shone brightly as it glided22 away from the boat to the meadows on the left. The old red boat, with its streaked23 funnel24, did not hurry, and her propeller25 splashed unevenly28 in the silvery water. The dark shore gently floated to meet her, casting its shadow. on the water, and beyond, the windows of the peasant huts gleamed charmingly. They were singing in the village. The girls were merry-making and singing — and when they sang “Aie Ludi,” it sounded like “Alleluia.”
In the wake of the steamer a large barge29, also red, was being towed by a long rope. The deck was railed in like an iron cage, and in this cage were convicts condemned30 to deportation31 or prison. On the prow32 of the barge the bayonet of a sentry33 shone like a candle. It was quiet on the barge itself. The moon bathed it in a rich light while behind the black iron grating could be seen dimly gray patches. These were the convicts looking out on the Volga. The water sobbed34, now weeping, now laughing timidly. It was as quiet here as in church, and there was the same smell of oil.
As I looked at the barge I remembered my early childhood; the journey from Astrakhan to Nijni, the iron faces of mother and grandmother, the person who had introduced me to this interesting, though hard, life, in the world. And when I thought of grandmother, all that I found so bad and repulsive35 in life seemed to leave me; everything was transformed and became more interesting, pleasanter; people seemed to be better and nicer altogether.
The beauty of the nights moved me almost to tears, and especially the barge, which looked so like a coffin36, and so solitary37 on the broad expanse of the flowing river in the pensive38 quietness of the warm night. The uneven27 lines of the shore, now rising, now falling, stirred the imagination pleasantly. I longed to be good, and to be of use to others.
The people on our steamboat had a peculiar39 stamp. They seemed to me to be all alike, young and old, men and women. The boat traveled slowly. The busy folk traveled by fast boat, and all the lazy rascals40 came on our boat. They sang and ate, and soiled any amount of cups and plates, knives and forks and spoons from morning to night. My work was to wash up and clean the knives and forks, and I was busy with this work from six in the morning till close on midnight. During the day, from two till six o’clock, and in the evening, from ten till midnight, I had less work to do; for at those times the passengers took a rest from eating, and only drank, tea, beer, and vodka. All the buffet41 attendants, my chiefs, were free at that time, too. The cook, Smouri, drank tea at a table near the hatchway with his assistant, Jaakov Ivanich; the kitchen-man, Maxim42; and Sergei, the saloon steward, a humpback with high cheek-bones, a face pitted with smallpox43, and oily eyes. Jaakov told all sorts of nasty stories, bursting out into sobbing44 laughs and showing his long, discolored teeth. Sergei stretched his frog-like mouth to his ears. Frowning Maxim was silent, gazing at them with stern, colorless eyes.
“Asiatic! Mordovan!” said the old cook now and again in his deep voice.
I did not like these people. Fat, bald Jaakov Ivanich spoke45 of nothing but women, and that always filth46 — ily. He had a vacant-looking face covered with bluish pimples47., On one cheek he had a mole48 with a tuft of red hair growing from it. He used to pull out these hairs by twisting them round a needle. Whenever an amiable49, sprightly50 passenger of the female sex appeared on the boat, he waited upon her in a peculiar, timid manner like a beggar. He spoke to her sweetly and plaintively51, he licked her, as it were, with the swift movements of his tongue. For some reason I used to think that such great fat creatures ought to be hangmen.
“One should know how to get round women,” he would teach Sergei and Maxim, who would listen to him much impressed, pouting52 their lips and turning red.
“Asiatics!” Smouri would roar in accents of disgust, and standing53 up heavily, he gave the order, “Pyeshkov, march!”
In his cabin he would hand me a little book bound in leather, and lie down in his hammock by the wall of the ice-house.
“Read!” he would say.
I sat on a box and read conscientiously54:
“ The umbra projected by the stars means that one is on good terms with heaven and free from profanity and vice55.’ ”
Smouri, smoking a cigarette, puffed out the smoke and growled56:
“Camels! They wrote — ”
“ ‘Baring the left bosom57 means innocence58 of heart.’ ”
“Whose bosom?”
“It does not say.”
“A woman’s, it means. Eh, and a loose woman.”
He closed his eyes and lay with his arms behind his head. His cigarette, hardly alight, stuck in the corner of his mouth. He set it straight with his tongue, stretched so that something whistled in his chest, and his enormous face was enveloped59 in a cloud of smoke. Sometimes I thought he had fallen asleep and I left off reading to examine the accursed book, which bored me to nauseation. But he said hoarsely60:
“Go on reading!”
“The venerable one answered, “Look! My dear brother Suvyerin — “ ‘ ”
“Syevyeverin — ”
“It is written Suvyerin.”
“Well, that’s witchcraft61. There is some poetry at the end. Run on from there.”
I ran on.
“Profane ones, curious to know our business, Never will your weak eyes spy it out, Nor will you learn how the fairies sing.”
“Wait!” said Smouri. “That is not poetry. Give me the book.”
He angrily turned over the thick, blue leaves, and then put the book under the mattress62.
“Get me another one.”
To my grief there were many books in his black trunk clamped with iron. There were “Precepts of Peace,” “Memories of the Artillery,” “Letters of Lord Sydanhall,” “Concerning Noxious63 Insects and their Extinction64, with Advice against the Pest,” books which seemed to have no beginning and no end. Sometimes the cook set me to turn over all his books and read out their titles to him, but as soon as I had begun he called out angrily:
“What is it all about? Why do you speak through your teeth? It is impossible to understand you. What the devil has Gervase to do with me? Gervase! Umbra indeed!”
Terrible words, incomprehensible names were wearily remembered, and they tickled65 my tongue. I had an incessant66 desire to repeat them, thinking that perhaps by pronouncing them I might discover their meaning. And outside the porthole the water unweariedly sang and splashed. It would have been pleasant to go to the stern, where the sailors and stokers were gathered together among the chests, where the passengers played cards, sang songs, and told interesting stories. It would have been pleasant to sit among them and listen to simple, intelligible67 conversation, to gaze on the banks of the Kama, at the fir-trees drawn68 out like brass69 wires, at the meadows, wherein small lakes remained from the floods, looking like pieces of broken glass as they reflected the sun.
Our steamer was traveling at some distance from the shore, yet the sound of invisible bells came to us, reminding us of the villages and people. The barks of the fishermen floated on the waves like crusts of bread. There, on the bank a little village appeared, here a crowd of small boys bathed in the river, men in red blouses could be seen passing along a narrow strip of sand. Seen from a distance, from the river, it was a very pleasing sight; everything looked like tiny toys of many colors.
I felt a desire to call out some kind, tender words to the shore and the barge. The latter interested me greatly; I could look at it for an hour at a time as it dipped its blunt nose in the turbid70 water. The boat dragged it along as if it were a pig: the tow-rope, slackening, lashed26 the water, then once more drew taut71 and pulled the barge along by the nose. I wanted very much to see the faces of those people who were kept like wild animals in an iron cage. At Perm, where they were landed, I made my way to the gangway, and past me came, in batches72 of ten, gray people, trampling73 dully, rattling74 their fetters75, bowed down by their heavy knapsacks. There were all sorts, young and old, handsome and ugly, all exactly like ordinary people except that they were differently dressed and were disfiguringly close-shaven. No doubt these were robbers, but grandmother had told me much that was good about robbers. Smouri looked much more like a fierce robber than they as he glanced loweringly at the barge and said loudly:
“Save me, God, from such a fate!”
Once I asked him:
“Why do you say that? You cook, while those others kill and steal.”
“I don’t cook; I only prepare. The women cook,” he said, bursting out laughing; but after thinking a moment he added: “The difference between one person and another lies in stupidity. One man is clever, another not so clever, and a third may be quite a fool. To become clever one must read the right books — black magic and what not. One must read all kinds of books and then one will find the right ones.”
He was continually impressing upon me:
“Read! When you don’t understand a book, read it again and again, as many as seven times; and if you do not understand it then, read it a dozen times.”
To every one on the boat, not excluding the taciturn steward, Smouri spoke roughly. Sticking out his lower lip as if he were disgusted, and, stroking his mustache, he pelted76 them with words as if they were stones. To me he always showed kindness and interest, but there was something about his interest which rather frightened me. Sometimes I thought he was crazy, like grandmother’s sister. At times he said to me:
“Leave off reading.”
And he would lie for a long time with closed eyes, breathing stertorously77, his great stomach shaking. His hairy fingers, folded corpse-like on his chest, moved, knitting invisible socks with invisible needles. Suddenly he would begin growling78:
“Here are you! You have your intelligence. Go and live! But intelligence is given sparingly, and not to all alike. If all were on the same level intellectually — but they are not. One understands, another docs not, and there are some people who do not even wish to understand!”
Stumbling over his words, he related stories of his life as a soldier, the drift of which I could never manage to catch. They seemed very uninteresting to me. Besides, he did not tell them from the beginning, but as he recollected79 them.
“The commander of the regiment80 called this soldier to him and asked: ‘What did the lieutenant81 say to you?’ So he told everything just as it had happened — a soldier is bound to tell the truth — but the lieutenant looked at him as if he had been a wall, and then turned away, hanging his head. Yes — ”
He became indignant, puffed out clouds of smoke, and growled:
“How was I to know what I could say and what I ought not to say? Then the lieutenant was condemned to be shut up in a fortress82, and his mother said — ah, my God! I am not learned in anything.”
It was hot. Everything seemed to be quivering and tinkling83. The water splashed against the iron walls of the cabin, and the wheel of the boat rose and fell. The river flowed in a broad stream between the rows of lights. In the distance could be seen the line of the meadowed bank. The trees drooped. When one’s hearing had become accustomed to all the sounds, it seemed as if all was quiet, although the soldiers in the stem of the boat howled dismally84, “Se-e-even! Se-e-ven!”
I had no desire to take part in anything. I wanted neither to listen nor to work, but only to sit somewhere in the shadows, where there was no greasy85, hot smell of cooking; to sit and gaze, half asleep, at the quiet, sluggish86 life as it slipped away on the water.
“Read!” the cook commanded harshly.
Even the head steward was afraid of him, and that mild man of few words, the dining-room steward, who looked like a sandre, was evidently afraid of Smouri too.
“Ei! You swine!” he would cry to this man. “Come here! Thief! Asiatic!”
The sailors and stokers were very respectful to him, and expectant of favors. He gave them the meat from which soup had been made, and inquired after their homes and their families. The oily and smoke-dried White Russian stokers were counted the lowest people on the boat. They were all called by one name. Yaks88, and they were teased, “Like a Yak87, I amble89 along the shore.”
When Smouri heard this, he bristled90 up, his face became suffused91 with blood, and he roared at the stokers:
“Why do you allow them to laugh at you, you mugs? Throw some sauce in their faces.”
Once the boatswain, a handsome, but ill-natured, man, said to him:
“They are the same as Little Russians; they hold the same faith.”
The cook seized him by the collar and belt, lifted him up in the air, and said, shaking him:
“Shall I knock you to smithereens?”
They quarreled often, these two. Sometimes it even came to a fight, but Smouri was never beaten. He was possessed92 of superhuman strength, and besides this, the captain’s wife, with a masculine face and smooth hair like a boy’s, was on his side.
He drank a terrible amount of vodka, but never became drunk. He began to drink the first thing in the morning, consuming a whole bottle in four gulps93, and after that he sipped94 beer till close on evening. His face gradually grew brown, his eyes widened.
Sometimes in the evening he sat for hours in the hatchway, looking large and white, without breaking his silence, and his eyes were fixed95 gloomily on the distant horizon. At those times they were all more afraid of him than ever, but I was sorry for him. Jaakov Ivanich would come out from the kitchen, perspiring96 and glowing with the heat. Scratching his bald skull4 and waving his arm, he would take cover or say from a distance:
“The fish has gone off.”
“Well, there is the salted cabbage.”
“But if they ask for fish-soup or boiled fish?”
“It is ready. They can begin gobbling.”
Sometimes I plucked up courage to go to him. He looked at me heavily.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
On one of these occasions, however, I asked him:
“Why is every one afraid of you? For you are good.”
Contrary to my expectations, he did not get angry.
“I am only good to you.”
But he added distinctly, simply, and thoughtfully:
“Yes, it is true that I am good to every one, only I do not show it. It does not do to show that to people, or they will be all over you. They will crawl over those who are kind as if they were mounds97 in a morass98, and trample99 on them. Go and get me some beer.”
Having drunk the bottle, he sucked his mustache and said:
“If you were older, my bird, I could teach you a lot. I have something to say to a man. I am no fool. But you must read books. In them you will find all you need. They are not rubbish — books. Would you like some beer?”
“I don’t care for it.”
“Good boy! And you do well not to drink it. Drunkenness is a misfortune. Vodka is the devil’s own business. If I were rich, I would spur you on to study. An uninstructed man is an ox, fit for nothing but the yoke100 or to serve as meat. All he can do is to wave his tail.”
The captain’s wife gave him a volume of Gogol. I read “The Terrible Vengeance” and was delighted with it, but Smouri cried angrily:
“Rubbish! A fairy-tale! I know. There are other books.”
He took the book away from me, obtained another one from the captain’s wife, and ordered me harshly:
“Read Tarass’ — what do you call it? Find it! She says it is good; good for whom? It may be good for her, but not for me, eh? She cuts her hair short. It is a pity her ears were not cut off too.”
When Tarass called upon Ostap to fight, the cook laughed loudly.
“That’s the way! Of course! You have learning, but I have strength. What do they say about it? Camels!”
He listened with great attention, but often grumbled101:
“Rubbish! You couldn’t cut a man in half from his shoulders to his haunches; it can’t be done. And you can’t thrust a pike upward; it would break it. I have been a soldier myself.”
Andrei’s treachery aroused his disgust.
“There’s a mean creature, eh? Like women! Tfoor
But when Tarass killed his son, the cook let his feet slip from the hammock, bent102 himself double, and wept. The tears trickled103 down his cheeks, splashed upon the deck as he breathed stertorously and muttered:
“Oh, my God! my God!”
And suddenly he shouted to me:
“Go on reading, you bone of the devil!”
Again he wept, with even more violence and bitterness, when I read how Ostaf cried out before his death, “Father, dost thou hear?’
“Ruined utterly104!” exclaimed Smouri. “Utterly! Is that the end? EM/ What an accursed business! He was a man, that Tarass. What do you think? Yes, he was a man.”
He took the book out of my hands and looked at it with attention, letting his tears fall on its binding105.
“It is a fine book, a regular treat.”
After this we read “Ivanhoe.” Smouri was very pleased with Richard Plantagenet.
“That was a real king,’ he said impressively.
To me the book had appeared dry. In fact, our tastes did not agree at all. I had a great liking106 for “The Story of Thomas Jones,” an old translation of “The History of Tom Jones, Foundling,” but Smouri grumbled:
“Rubbish! What do I care about your Thomas? Of what use is he to me? There must be some other books.”
One day I told him that I knew that there were other books, forbidden books. One could read them only at night, in underground rooms. He opened his eyes wide.
“Wha-a-t’s that? Why do you tell me these lies?”
“I am not telling lies. The priest asked me about them when I went to confession107, and, for that matter,
I myself have seen people reading them and crying over them.”
The cook looked sternly in my face and asked:
“Who was crying?”
“The lady who was listening, and the other actually ran away because she was frightened.”
“You were asleep. You were dreaming,” said Smouri, slowly covering his eyes, and after a silence he muttered: “But of course there must be something hidden from me somewhere. I am not so old as all that, and with my character — well, however that may be —”
He spoke to me eloquently108 for a whole hour.
Imperceptibly I acquired the habit of reading, and took up a book with pleasure. What I read therein was pleasantly different from life, which was becoming harder and harder for me.
Smouri also recreated himself by reading, and often took me from my work.
“Pyeshkov, come and read.”
“I have a lot of washing up to do.”
“Let Maxim wash up.”
He coarsely ordered the senior kitchen-helper to do my work, and this man would break the glasses out of spite, while the chief steward told me quietly:
“I shall have you put off the boat.”
One day Maxim on purpose placed several glasses in a bowl of dirty water and tea-leaves. I emptied the water overboard, and the glasses went flying with it.
“It is my fault,” said Smouri to the head steward. “Put it down to my account.”
The dining-room attendants began to look at me with lowering brows, and they used to say:
“Eil you bookworm! What are you paid for?”
And they used to try and make as much work as they could for me, soiling plates needlessly. I was sure that this would end badly for me, and I was not mistaken.
One evening, in a little shelter on the boat, there sat a red-faced woman with a girl in a yellow coat and a new pink blouse. Both had been drinking. The woman smiled, bowed to every one, and said on the note O, like a church clerk:
“Forgive me, my friends; I have had a little too much to drink. I have been tried and acquitted109, and I have been drinking for joy.”
The girl laughed, too, gazing at the other passengers with glazed110 eyes. Pushing the woman away, she said:
“But you, you plaguy creature — we know you.”
They had berths111 in the second-class cabin, opposite the cabin in which Jaakov Ivanich and Sergei slept.
The woman soon disappeared somewhere or other, and Sergei took her place near the girl, greedily stretching his frog-like mouth.
That night, when I had finished my work and had laid myself down to sleep on the table, Sergei came to me, and seizing me by the arm, said:
“Come along! We are going to marry you.”
He was drunk. I tried to tear my arm away from him, but he struck me.
“Come along!”
Maxim came running in, also drunk, and the two dragged me along the deck to their cabin, past the sleeping passengers. But by the door of the cabin stood Smouri, and in the doorway112, holding on to the jamb, Jaakov Ivanich. The girl stuck her elbow in his back, and cried in a drunken voice:
“Make way!”
Smouri got me out of the hands of Sergei and Maxim, seized them by the hair, and, knocking their heads together, moved away. They both fell down.
“Asiatic!” he said to Jaakov, slamming the door on him. Then he roared as he pushed me along:
“Get out of this!”
I ran to the stern. The night was cloudy, the river black. In the wake of the boat seethed113 two gray lines of water leading to the invisible shore; between these two lines the barge dragged on its way. Now on the right, now on the left appeared red patches of light, without illuminating114 anything. They disappeared, hidden by the sudden winding115 of the shore. After this it became still darker and more gruesome.
The cook came and sat beside me, sighed deeply, and pulled at his cigarette.
“So they were taking you to that creature? Ekh! Dirty beasts! I heard them trying.”
“Did you take her away from them?”
“Her?” He abused the girl coarsely, and continued in a sad tone:
“It is all nastiness here. This boat is worse than a village. Have you ever lived in a village?”
“No.”
“In a village there is nothing but misery116, especially in the winter.”
Throwing his cigarette overboard, he was silent. Then he spoke again.
“You have fallen among a herd117 of swine, and I am sorry for you, my little one. I am sorry for all of them, too. Another time I do not know what I should have done. Gone on my knees and prayed. What are you doing, sons of? What are you doing, blind creatures? Camels!”
The steamer gave a long-drawn-out hoot118, the tow-rope splashed in the water, the lights of lanterns jumped up and down, showing where the harbor was. Out of the darkness more lights appeared.
“Pyani Bor [a certain pine forest]. Drunk,” growled the cook. “And there is a river called Pyanaia, and there was a captain called Pyenkov, and a writer called Zapivokhin, and yet another captain called Nepeipivo.3 I am going on shore.”
3 Pyanaia means “drunk,” and the other names mentioned come from the same root. Nepeipivo means, “Do not drink beer.”
The coarse-grained women and girls of Kamska dragged logs of wood from the shore in long trucks. Bending under their load-straps, with pliable119 tread, they arrived in pairs at the stoker’s hold, and, emptying their sooty loads into the black hole, cried ringingly:
“Logs!”
When they brought the wood the sailors would take hold of them by the breasts or the legs. The women squealed120, spat121 at the men, turned back, and defended themselves against pinches and blows with their trucks. I saw this a hundred times, on every voyage and at every land-stage where they took in wood, and it was always the same thing.
I felt as if I were old, as if I had lived on that boat for many years, and knew what would happen in a week’s time, in the autumn, in a year.
It was daylight now. On a sandy promontory122 above the harbor stood out a forest of fir-trees. On the hills and through the forests women went laughing and singing. They looked like soldiers as they pushed their long trucks.
I wanted to weep. The tears seethed in my breast; my heart was overflowing123 with them. It was painful. But it would be shameful124 to cry, and I went to help the sailor Blyakhin wash the deck.
Blyakhin was an insignificant-looking man. He had a withered125, faded look about him, and always stowed himself away in corners, whence his small, bright eyes shone.
“My proper surname is not Blyakhin, but because, you see, my mother was a loose woman. I have a sister, and she also. That happened to be their destiny. Destiny, my brother, is an anchor for all of us. You want to go in one direction, but wait!”
And now, as he swabbed the deck, he said softly to me:
“You see what a lot of harm women do! There it is. Damp wood smolders126 for a long time and then bursts into flame. I don’t care for that sort of thing myself; it does not interest me. And if I had been born a woman, I should have drowned myself in a black pool. I should have been safe then with Holy Christ, and could do no one any harm. But while one is here there is always the chance of kindling127 a fire. Eunuchs are no fools, I assure you. They are clever people, they are good at divination128, they put aside all small things and serve God alone — cleanly.”
The captain’s wife passed us, holding her skirts high as she came through the pools of water. Tall and well built, she had a simple, bright face. I wanted to run after her and beg her from my heart:
“Say something to me! Say something!”
The boat drew slowly away from the pier129. Blyakhin crossed himself and said:
“We are off!”
收听单词发音 |
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caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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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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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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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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13
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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14
pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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15
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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16
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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17
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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18
profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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19
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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21
ponderously
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22
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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23
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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24
funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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25
propeller
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| n.螺旋桨，推进器 | |
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26
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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27
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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28
unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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29
barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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30
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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31
deportation
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| n.驱逐，放逐 | |
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32
prow
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| n.(飞机)机头，船头 | |
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33
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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34
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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35
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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36
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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37
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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38
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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39
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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40
rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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41
buffet
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| n.自助餐；饮食柜台；餐台 | |
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42
maxim
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| n.格言，箴言 | |
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43
smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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44
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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45
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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46
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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47
pimples
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| n.丘疹，粉刺，小脓疱( pimple的名词复数 ) | |
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48
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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49
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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50
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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51
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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52
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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53
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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54
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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55
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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56
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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57
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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58
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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59
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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61
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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62
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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63
noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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64
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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65
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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66
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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67
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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68
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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69
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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70
turbid
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| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
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71
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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72
batches
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| 一批( batch的名词复数 )； 一炉； （食物、药物等的）一批生产的量； 成批作业 | |
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73
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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74
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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75
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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76
pelted
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| （连续地）投掷( pelt的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续抨击； 攻击； 剥去…的皮 | |
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77
stertorously
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78
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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79
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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81
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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82
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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83
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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84
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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85
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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86
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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87
yak
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| n.牦牛 | |
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88
yaks
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| 牦牛( yak的名词复数 )； 笑话 | |
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89
amble
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| vi.缓行，漫步 | |
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90
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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91
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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92
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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93
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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94
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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96
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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97
mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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98
morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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99
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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100
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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101
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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102
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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103
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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104
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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105
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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106
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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107
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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108
eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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109
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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110
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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111
berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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112
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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113
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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114
illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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115
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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116
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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117
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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118
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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119
pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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120
squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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122
promontory
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| n.海角；岬 | |
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123
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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124
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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125
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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126
smolders
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| n.焖烧，文火，冒烟( smolder的名词复数 )v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的第三人称单数 ) | |
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127
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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128
divination
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| n.占卜，预测 | |
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129
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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