Silas sat behind the wheel of the black Audi the Teacher had arranged for him and gazed out at the great Church of Saint-Sulpice. Lit from beneath by banks of floodlights, the church's two bell towers rose like stalwart sentinels above the building's long body. On either flank, a shadowy row of sleek1 buttresses2 jutted3 out like the ribs4 of a beautiful beast.
The heathens used a house of God to conceal5 their keystone. Again the brotherhood6 had confirmed their legendary7 reputation for illusion and deceit. Silas was looking forward to finding the keystone and giving it to the Teacher so they could recover what the brotherhood had long ago stolen from the faithful.
How powerful that will make Opus Dei.
Parking the Audi on the deserted8 Place Saint-Sulpice, Silas exhaled9, telling himself to clear his mind for the task at hand. His broad back still ached from the corporal mortification10 he had endured earlier today, and yet the pain was inconsequential compared with the anguish11 of his life before Opus Dei had saved him.
Still, the memories haunted his soul.
Release your hatred12, Silas commanded himself. Forgive those who trespassed13 against you.
Looking up at the stone towers of Saint-Sulpice, Silas fought that familiar undertow... that force that often dragged his mind back in time, locking him once again in the prison that had been his world as a young man. The memories of purgatory14 came as they always did, like a tempest to his senses... the reek15 of rotting cabbage, the stench of death, human urine and feces. The cries of hopelessness against the howling wind of the Pyrenees and the soft sobs16 of forgotten men.
Andorra, he thought, feeling his muscles tighten17.
Incredibly, it was in that barren and forsaken18 suzerain between Spain and France, shivering in his stone cell, wanting only to die, that Silas had been saved.
He had not realized it at the time.
The light came long after the thunder.
His name was not Silas then, although he didn't recall the name his parents had given him. He had left home when he was seven. His drunken father, a burly dockworker, enraged19 by the arrival of an albino son, beat his mother regularly, blaming her for the boy's embarrassing condition. When the boy tried to defend her, he too was badly beaten.
One night, there was a horrific fight, and his mother never got up. The boy stood over his lifeless mother and felt an unbearable20 up-welling of guilt21 for permitting it to happen.
This is my fault!
As if some kind of demon22 were controlling his body, the boy walked to the kitchen and grasped a butcher knife. Hypnotically, he moved to the bedroom where his father lay on the bed in a drunken stupor23. Without a word, the boy stabbed him in the back. His father cried out in pain and tried to roll over, but his son stabbed him again, over and over until the apartment fell quiet.
The boy fled home but found the streets of Marseilles equally unfriendly. His strange appearance made him an outcast among the other young runaways24, and he was forced to live alone in the basement of a dilapidated factory, eating stolen fruit and raw fish from the dock. His only companions were tattered25 magazines he found in the trash, and he taught himself to read them. Over time, he grew strong. When he was twelve, another drifter—a girl twice his age—mocked him on the streets and attempted to steal his food. The girl found herself pummeled to within inches of her life. When the authorities pulled the boy off her, they gave him an ultimatum—leave Marseilles or go to juvenile26 prison.
The boy moved down the coast to Toulon. Over time, the looks of pity on the streets turned to looks of fear. The boy had grown to a powerful young man. When people passed by, he could hear them whispering to one another. A ghost, they would say, their eyes wide with fright as they stared at his white skin. A ghost with the eyes of a devil!
And he felt like a ghost... transparent27... floating from seaport28 to seaport.
People seemed to look right through him.
At eighteen, in a port town, while attempting to steal a case of cured ham from a cargo30 ship, he was caught by a pair of crewmen. The two sailors who began to beat him smelled of beer, just as his father had. The memories of fear and hatred surfaced like a monster from the deep. The young man broke the first sailor's neck with his bare hands, and only the arrival of the police saved the second sailor from a similar fate.
Two months later, in shackles31, he arrived at a prison in Andorra.
You are as white as a ghost, the inmates32 ridiculed33 as the guards marched him in, naked and cold. Mira el espectro! Perhaps the ghost will pass right through these walls!
Over the course of twelve years, his flesh and soul withered34 until he knew he had become transparent.
I am a ghost.
I am weightless.
Yo soy un espectro... palido coma35 una fantasma... caminando este mundo a solas.
One night the ghost awoke to the screams of other inmates. He didn't know what invisible force was shaking the floor on which he slept, nor what mighty36 hand was trembling the mortar37 of his stone cell, but as he jumped to his feet, a large boulder38 toppled onto the very spot where he had been sleeping. Looking up to see where the stone had come from, he saw a hole in the trembling wall, and beyond it, a vision he had not seen in over ten years. The moon.
Even while the earth still shook, the ghost found himself scrambling39 through a narrow tunnel, staggering out into an expansive vista40, and tumbling down a barren mountainside into the woods. He ran all night, always downward, delirious41 with hunger and exhaustion42.
Skirting the edges of consciousness, he found himself at dawn in a clearing where train tracks cut a swath across the forest. Following the rails, he moved on as if dreaming. Seeing an empty freight car, he crawled in for shelter and rest. When he awoke the train was moving. How long? How far? A pain was growing in his gut43. Am I dying? He slept again. This time he awoke to someone yelling, beating him, throwing him out of the freight car. Bloody44, he wandered the outskirts45 of a small village looking in vain for food. Finally, his body too weak to take another step, he lay down by the side of the road and slipped into unconsciousness.
The light came slowly, and the ghost wondered how long he had been dead. A day? Three days? It didn't matter. His bed was soft like a cloud, and the air around him smelled sweet with candles. Jesus was there, staring down at him. I am here, Jesus said. The stone has been rolled aside, and you are born again.
He slept and awoke. Fog shrouded46 his thoughts. He had never believed in heaven, and yet Jesus was watching over him. Food appeared beside his bed, and the ghost ate it, almost able to feel the flesh materializing on his bones. He slept again. When he awoke, Jesus was still smiling down, speaking. You are saved, my son. Blessed are those who follow my path.
Again, he slept.
It was a scream of anguish that startled the ghost from his slumber47. His body leapt out of bed, staggered down a hallway toward the sounds of shouting. He entered into a kitchen and saw a large man beating a smaller man. Without knowing why, the ghost grabbed the large man and hurled48 him backward against a wall. The man fled, leaving the ghost standing49 over the body of a young man in priest's robes. The priest had a badly shattered nose. Lifting the bloody priest, the ghost carried him to a couch.
"Thank you, my friend," the priest said in awkward French. "The offertory money is tempting29 for thieves. You speak French in your sleep. Do you also speak Spanish?"
The ghost shook his head.
"What is your name?" he continued in broken French.
The ghost could not remember the name his parents had given him. All he heard were the taunting50 gibes51 of the prison guards.
The priest smiled. "No hay problema. My name is Manuel Aringarosa. I am a missionary52 from Madrid. I was sent here to build a church for the Obra de Dios."
"Where am I?" His voice sounded hollow.
"Oviedo. In the north of Spain."
"How did I get here?"
"Someone left you on my doorstep. You were ill. I fed you. You've been here many days."
The ghost studied his young caretaker. Years had passed since anyone had shown any kindness. "Thank you, Father."
The priest touched his bloody lip. "It is I who am thankful, my friend."
When the ghost awoke in the morning, his world felt clearer. He gazed up at the crucifix on the wall above his bed. Although it no longer spoke53 to him, he felt a comforting aura in its presence. Sitting up, he was surprised to find a newspaper clipping on his bedside table. The article was in French, a week old. When he read the story, he filled with fear. It told of an earthquake in the mountains that had destroyed a prison and freed many dangerous criminals.
His heart began pounding. The priest knows who I am! The emotion he felt was one he had not felt for some time. Shame. Guilt. It was accompanied by the fear of being caught. He jumped from his bed. Where do I run?
"The Book of Acts," a voice said from the door.
The ghost turned, frightened.
The young priest was smiling as he entered. His nose was awkwardly bandaged, and he was holding out an old Bible. "I found one in French for you. The chapter is marked."
Uncertain, the ghost took the Bible and looked at the chapter the priest had marked.
Acts 16.
The verses told of a prisoner named Silas who lay naked and beaten in his cell, singing hymns54 to God. When the ghost reached Verse 26, he gasped55 in shock.
"...And suddenly, there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken, and all the doors fell open."
His eyes shot up at the priest.
The priest smiled warmly. "From now on, my friend, if you have no other name, I shall call you Silas."
The ghost nodded blankly. Silas. He had been given flesh. My name is Silas.
"It's time for breakfast," the priest said. "You will need your strength if you are to help me build this church."
Twenty thousand feet above the Mediterranean56, Alitalia flight 1618 bounced in turbulence57, causing passengers to shift nervously58. Bishop59 Aringarosa barely noticed. His thoughts were with the future of Opus Dei. Eager to know how plans in Paris were progressing, he wished he could phone Silas. But he could not. The Teacher had seen to that.
"It is for your own safety," the Teacher had explained, speaking in English with a French accent. "I am familiar enough with electronic communications to know they can be intercepted60. The results could be disastrous61 for you."
Aringarosa knew he was right. The Teacher seemed an exceptionally careful man. He had not revealed his own identity to Aringarosa, and yet he had proven himself a man well worth obeying. After all, he had somehow obtained very secret information. The names of the brotherhood's four top members! This had been one of the coups62 that convinced the bishop the Teacher was truly capable of delivering the astonishing prize he claimed he could unearth63.
"Bishop," the Teacher had told him, "I have made all the arrangements. For my plan to succeed, you must allow Silas to answer only to me for several days. The two of you will not speak. I will communicate with him through secure channels."
"You will treat him with respect?"
"A man of faith deserves the highest."
"Excellent. Then I understand. Silas and I shall not speak until this is over."
"I do this to protect your identity, Silas's identity, and my investment."
"Your investment?"
"Bishop, if your own eagerness to keep abreast64 of progress puts you in jail, then you will be unable to pay me my fee."
The bishop smiled. "A fine point. Our desires are in accord. Godspeed."
Twenty million euro, the bishop thought, now gazing out the plane's window. The sum was approximately the same number of U.S. dollars. A pittance65 for something so powerful.
He felt a renewed confidence that the Teacher and Silas would not fail. Money and faith were powerful motivators.
塞拉斯坐在导师早已为他安排好的黑色奥迪轿车的驾驶座上，看着窗外的圣叙尔皮斯教堂。几排泛光灯从下面照射上去，教堂的两个钟楼像两个威武高大的哨兵矗立在教堂长长的躯体之上。两翼阴影处各有一排光滑的扶垛突出出来，像一个漂亮的胸脯上的根根肋骨。
异教徒利用上帝的圣所来藏匿他们的拱顶石。他们的"兄弟会"再次证实了他们的确如人们盛传的那样欺世盗名。塞拉斯期待着找到拱顶石并把它交给导师，以便他们可以重新找到兄弟会很早以前从信徒那里偷走的东西。那会使天主事工会多么强大啊！
塞拉斯把奥迪车停在空无一人的圣叙尔皮斯教堂的广场上，喘了口气，并告诫自己要清除杂念，一心一意地完成手头上的这个任务。由于他今天早些时候承受的"肉体惩罚"，所以他宽大的后背现在还在痛，但这与他未被天主教工会拯救之前所受的煎熬相比太微不足道了。
在他灵魂深处依然有挥之不去的记忆。
放下你的仇恨，塞拉斯命令自己，宽恕那些冒犯你的人。
仰望着圣叙尔皮斯教堂的石塔，此时他又在和那股回头浪抗争，那是一股把他的思绪拉回过去的力量，使他想起曾被关进的监牢---他年轻时的世界。痛苦的记忆总是像暴风雨一样冲击着他的思想……腐烂的大白菜的臭气，死尸、人尿和粪便的恶臭，无望的哭泣和着比利牛斯山脉咆哮的狂风，还有被遗忘的男人的抽泣声。
安道尔，他想起来了，感到肌肉也绷紧了。
塞拉斯当时整日在一个石头牢房里颤栗，唯一的念头就是死。令人难以置信的是，正是在这个介于西班牙和法国之间的荒凉的、无人关注的大公国里，塞拉斯被拯救了。
当时他并没有认识到这一点。
雷声过后很久才来了闪电。
他的名字当时还不叫塞拉斯，虽然他也记不起父母给他起的名字。他的醉鬼父亲，一个粗壮的码头工人，看到这个白化病儿子的降生很恼火，经常打孩子母亲，埋怨她使儿子处于窘境。当儿子试图保护她时，他连儿子一起打。
一天夜里，家里的架打得很凶。母亲永久地躺下了。他站在死去的母亲旁边，感到一种无法遏制的内疚感升腾起来，因为他觉得自己没能阻止这一切发生。
都是我的罪过。
好像有个恶魔在他体内控制着他。他走到厨房抄起一把切肉刀，精神恍惚地走到醉得不省人事的父亲床边，一句话也没说，照着父亲的背部捅去。他父亲痛得大叫，想转过身下床，但儿子一刀一刀地捅过去，直到房内寂静无声。
这孩子逃离了家，但发现马赛的街头同样不友好。其他流浪的孩子嫌弃他奇怪的外表，因此把他摞在一边。他被迫住在一个工厂破旧的地下室里，用偷来的水果和从码头偷来的生鱼果腹。他唯一的伙伴就是那些从垃圾堆里捡来的破烂杂志。他通过自学来阅读这些杂志。时间一天天过去，他长得越来越壮实。十二岁那年，另一个流浪者--一个二十四岁的女孩子取笑他并想偷她的食物。结果这女孩子差点被打死。有关当局把他从那个女孩子身上拉起来，给他下了最后通牒--要么离开马赛，要么进少年犯监狱。
这孩子转移到沿海的土伦市。久而久之，人们脸上的怜悯变成了恐惧。他已长成了一个彪形大汉。人们从他身旁走过时，他能听到他们彼此小声嘀咕。鬼！他们会说，而且当他们看着他那浑身发白的皮肤时，他们会吓得眼睛睁得老大。一个长着妖魔眼睛的鬼魂！
而且他自己也感觉自己像个鬼……一个很易被觉察的鬼魂，从一个港口游荡到另一个港口。
人们似乎看穿了他。
十八岁那年，在一个港口小城，他在从一艘货船上偷一箱腌火腿时，被两个船员当场拿获，那两个喷着酒气的海员开始打他，就像他父亲当年一样。恐惧和仇恨的记忆像海怪一样从海底浮现出来。年轻人赤手空拳就扭断了一个海员的脖子。幸亏警察及时赶到，第二名海员才免遭类似的厄运。
两个月以后，他拖着脚镣手铐来到了安道尔的一座监狱。
当狱卒将冷得哆哆嗦嗦、赤身裸体的他推进牢房时，他同狱房的犯人对他说，你白得像个鬼。看这个鬼魂啊！或许他能钻过这些墙！
十二年过去了，他终于发现他是这么惹眼，他的灵魂和肉体都要枯萎了。
我是一个鬼魂。
我没有份量。
我是幽灵……如鬼一样面无血色……走向东方太阳的世界。
一天夜里。"鬼"被同牢犯人的惊叫声惊醒。他不知道到底是什么无形的力量在摇晃着他睡觉的地板，也不知道是怎样的一双有力的大手在抖动他石头牢房的泥灰板，但当他站起来时，一块巨石正好落在他原来睡觉的那个地方。他抬头看看石头是从哪里落下的，结果看到抖动的墙上有个洞，洞外有一个他十多年都没看到的东西--月亮。
当地还在摇动时。"鬼"挤出一个窄窄的地道，跌跌撞撞地进入了开阔地带，然后他又沿着光秃秃的山坡滚进了森林。他一直往下跑了一整夜，又饿又累，精神恍惚。
黎明时，就在他差不多要失去知觉时，他发现自己到了铁路旁的空地上。他梦游似地沿着铁轨方向走下去。他看到一节空的货车车厢便爬进去避避风，休息一下。他醒来时，火车正在运行中。过了多长时间？走了多远？他肚子开始疼了起来。我会死吗？他跳下了货车。他浑身是血，走到了一个小村边，希望能找点吃的，可是没找到。最后，他身体太虚弱了，一步也走不动了，在路边倒下，失去了知觉。
光慢慢地来了。"鬼"在想他已死了多久。一天？三天？这都不重要。他的床像云朵一般柔软，周围的空气散发出蜡烛的甜香味。耶稣在此，正凝望着他。我在你身边，耶稣说。
石头已被推滚到一边了，你再生了。
他醒了睡，睡了醒。他的知觉被一团雾裹着。他从未相信过上帝，然而耶稣一直在天上看着他。食物出现在他旁边。"鬼"把它吃掉，几乎能感到骨头上在长肉。他又睡着了。他再次醒来时，耶稣还在微笑着看着他，正对他说话。孩子，你得救了。保佑那些跟随我的人们。
他又睡着了。
是一阵痛苦的尖叫声把"鬼"从沉睡中惊醒。他跳下床，沿着走廊踉踉跄跄地朝有喊叫声传来的地方走去。走进厨房，发现一个大块头在打一个小个子。"鬼"不分青红皂白地抓住大个子，使劲把他向后推，抵住墙。那人逃跑了，留下"鬼"站在穿着牧师服的年轻人的躯体旁。牧师的鼻子被打伤得非常严重。"鬼"抱起浑身是血的牧师，把他放在一个长沙发上。
"谢谢你，朋友。"牧师用不熟练的法语说。"做礼拜时得的捐款很招引贼。你睡梦中说法语。你也会说西班牙语吗？"
"鬼"摇摇头。
"你叫什么名字？"他还继续用不连贯的法语问。
"鬼"已记不住父母给他起的名字。他所听到的都是狱卒的嘲骂声。
牧师笑了。"别担心。我叫曼努埃尔。阿林加洛沙。我是来自马德里的一名传教士。我被派到这里为奥卜拉德迪奥斯建一座教堂。""我这是在哪儿？"他声音低沉地问。
"奥维尼德。在西班牙南部。"
"我怎么到这里的？"
"有人把你放在我门口。你病了，我喂你食物。你到我这儿好多天了。"
"鬼"认真打量着这位照顾他的年轻人。已好多年没有人这样关爱过他了。"谢谢您，神父。"
牧师摸了摸自己满是血迹的嘴。"该道谢的是我，朋友。"
当"鬼"翌日醒来时，他的世界变得清朗了许多。他凝望着床上方墙上的十字架，虽然十字架是无声的，但它的出现却让他感到一种慰藉。他起身坐起来，吃惊地发现床头柜上有一张剪报。是一周以前的报纸，文章是用法语写的。他读了那个故事，心里恐惧得要死。它讲的是山区的一场地震震坏了监狱，跑了许多危险的犯人的事。
他的心怦怦直跳。牧师知道我是谁！他有一种许久不曾有过的感觉。羞耻。内疚。羞耻、内疚和怕被抓的恐惧伴着他。他从床上跳了下来。我逃往何处？
"《使徒行传》。"一个声音从门口传来。
"鬼"转过身来，吓坏了。
年轻的牧师微笑着走进来。他的鼻子包扎得很难看。他手里捧着一本旧的《圣经》。"我为你找到一本法文版的。那一章已做好记号。""鬼"将信将疑拿起《圣经》，开始寻找牧师作过记号的那一章。
第16 章
这一章讲的是一个名叫塞拉斯的囚犯被剥光了衣服遭毒打后躺在牢房里向上帝唱着赞美诗的故事。
当"鬼"读到第26 句时，他惊得倒吸一口凉气。
"……突然有大地震，监牢的地基都摇动了，牢门立即全开。"
他往上瞟了一眼牧师。
牧师温和地笑了。"朋友，从今往后，如果你没有别的名字，我就叫你塞拉斯。"
"鬼"茫然地点了点头。塞拉斯。他有了肉体。我名叫塞拉斯。
"该吃早饭了。"牧师说。"你要是帮我建教堂，可得恢复气力啊。"
在地中海上空两千英尺，阿利塔利亚航空公司1618 号航班因空气湍流的出现而上下颠簸。乘客都紧张不停地抖动着。但阿林加洛沙主教几乎没注意到这些。他始终在考虑着天主事工会的未来。他非常想知道巴黎的计划进展如何了。他非常想给塞拉斯打个电话。
但他不能，因为导师负责这事。
"这是为你的安全考虑。"导师曾用带法国口音的英语解释道。"我很了解电子通讯设备，我知道他们是可以被截获的，那样的结果对你而言可是灾难性的。"阿林加洛沙知道导师是正确的。导师似乎是一个极为谨慎的人。他没有向阿林加洛沙透露自己的身份，但事实证明他的命令是值得遵守的。不管怎么说，正是他获得了这个秘密情报。兄弟会四个上层人物。这次行动只是导师的许多干得干脆利落的漂亮行动之一。
这使主教深信导师的确能得到那个他宣称能找到的、令人震惊的战利品。
导师曾告诉他。"主教，我已一切安排就绪。为了使我的计划成功，你必须允许塞拉斯这几天只和我联系，听我调遣。你们两个不许交谈。我将通过安全讯道和他联系。""你会尊重他，善待他吗？"
"一个诚信的人应该得到最高的敬重。"
"好极了，我明白了。这次行动不结束，我和塞拉斯就不相互交谈。"
"我这样做是为了掩护你的身份，还有塞拉斯的身份和我的投资。"
"你的投资？"
"主教，如果你因太急于同步了解事情的进展而进了监狱，那么你就没法付给我费用。"
主教笑了。"正是。我们的愿望是一致的，愿我们成功。"
两千万欧元。主教望着机窗外，思忖着。这个数目和美元数目差不多。
想弄点钱的动力真大。
他又一次确信导师和塞拉斯不会失败。金钱和信仰是强有力的动因。
收听单词发音 |
1
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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buttresses
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| n.扶壁，扶垛( buttress的名词复数 )v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的第三人称单数 ) | |
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jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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trespassed
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| （trespass的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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18
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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runaways
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| （轻而易举的）胜利( runaway的名词复数 ) | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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seaport
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| n.海港，港口，港市 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
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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coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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mortar
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| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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40
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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42
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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43
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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44
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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46
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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47
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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48
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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49
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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50
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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51
gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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52
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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53
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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54
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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55
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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56
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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60
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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61
disastrous
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| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
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62
coups
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| n.意外而成功的行动( coup的名词复数 )；政变；努力办到难办的事 | |
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63
unearth
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| v.发掘，掘出，从洞中赶出 | |
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64
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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65
pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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