' "So you see me -- so," he said. His hand hovered8 over the case where a butterfly in solitary9 grandeur10 spread out dark bronze wings, seven inches or more across, with exquisite11 white veinings and a gorgeous border of yellow spots. "Only one specimen12 like this they have in your London, and then -- no more. To my small native town this my collection I shall bequeath. Something of me. The best."
'He bent13 forward in the chair and gazed intently, his chin over the front of the case. I stood at his back. "Marvellous," he whispered, and seemed to forget my presence. His history was curious. He had been born in Bavaria, and when a youth of twenty-two had taken an active part in the revolutionary movement of 1848. Heavily compromised, he managed to make his escape, and at first found a refuge with a poor republican watchmaker in Trieste. From there he made his way to Tripoli with a stock of cheap watches to hawk14 about, -- not a very great opening truly, but it turned out lucky enough, because it was there he came upon a Dutch traveller -- a rather famous man, I believe, but I don't remember his name. It was that naturalist15 who, engaging him as a sort of assistant, took him to the East. They travelled in the Archipelago together and separately, collecting insects and birds, for four years or more. Then the naturalist went home, and Stein, having no home to go to, remained with an old trader he had come across in his journeys in the interior of Celebes -- if Celebes may be said to have an interior. This old Scotsman, the only white man allowed to reside in the country at the time, was a privileged friend of the chief ruler of Wajo States, who was a woman. I often heard Stein relate how that chap, who was slightly paralysed on one side, had introduced him to the native court a short time before another stroke carried him off. He was a heavy man with a patriarchal white beard, and of imposing stature16. He came into the council-hall where all the rajahs, pangerans, and headmen were assembled, with the queen, a fat wrinkled woman (very free in her speech, Stein said), reclining on a high couch under a canopy17. He dragged his leg, thumping18 with his stick, and grasped Stein's arm, leading him right up to the couch. "Look, queen, and you rajahs, this is my son," he proclaimed in a stentorian19 voice. "I have traded with your fathers, and when I die he shall trade with you and your sons."
'By means of this simple formality Stein inherited the Scotsman's privileged position and all his stock-in-trade, together with a fortified20 house on the banks of the only navigable river in the country. Shortly afterwards the old queen, who was so free in her speech, died, and the country became disturbed by various pretenders to the throne. Stein joined the party of a younger son, the one of whom thirty years later he never sppke otherwise but as "my poor Mohammed Bonso." They both became the heroes of innumerable exploits; they had wonderful adventures, and once stood a siege in the Scotsman's house for a month, with only a score of followers21 against a whole army. I believe the natives talk of that war to this day. Meantime, it seems, Stein never failed to annex22 on his own account every butterfly or beetle6 he could lay hands on. After some eight years of war, negotiations23, false truces24, sudden outbreaks, reconciliation25, treachery, and so on, and just as peace seemed at last permanently26 established, his "poor Mohammed Bonso" was assassinated27 at the gate of his own royal residence while dismounting in the highest spirits on his return from a successful deer-hunt. This event rendered Stein's position extremely insecure, but he would have stayed perhaps had it not been that a short time afterwards he lost Mohammed's sister ("my dear wife the princess," he used to say solemnly), by whom he had had a daughter -- mother and child both dying within three days of each other from some infectious fever. He left the country, which this cruel loss had made unbearable28 to him. Thus ended the first and adventurous29 part of his existence. What followed was so different that, but for the reality of sorrow which remained with him, this strang past must have resembled a dream. He had a little money; he started life afresh, and in the course of years acquired a considerable fortune. At first he had travelled a good deal amongst the islands, but age had stolen upon him, and of late he seldom left his spacious house three miles ou
t of town, with an extensive garden, and surrounded by stables, offices, and bamboo cottages for his servants and dependants30, of whom he had many. He drove in his buggy every morning to town, where he had an office with white and Chinese clerks. He owned a small fleet of schooners31 and native craft, and dealt in island produce on a large scale. For the rest he lived solitary, but not misanthropic32, with his books and his collection, classing and arranging specimens33, corresponding with entomologists in Europe, writing up a descriptive catalogue of his treasures. Such was the history of the man whom I had come to consult upon Jim's case without any definite hope. Simply to hear what he would have to say would have been a relief. I was very anxious, but I respected the intense, almost passionate34, absorption with which he looked at a butterfly, as though on the bronze sheen of these frail35 wings, in the white tracings, in the gorgeous markings, he could see other things, an image of something as perishable36 and defying destruction as these delicate and lifeless tissues displaying a splendour unmarred by death.
' "Marvellious!" he repeated, looking up at me. "Look! The beauty -- but that is nothing -- look at the accuracy, the harmony. And so fragile! And so strong! And so exact! This is Nature -- the balance of colossal37 forces. Every star is so -- and every blade of grass stands so -- and the mighty38 Kosmos il perfect equilibrium39 produces -- this. This wonder; this masterpiece of Nature -- the great artist."
' "Never heard an entomologist go on like this," I observed cheerfully. "Masterpiece! And what of man?'
' "Man is amazing, but he is not a masterpiece," he said, keeping his eyes fixed40 on the glass case. "Perhaps the artist was a little mad. Eh? What do you think? Sometimes it seems to me that man is come where he is not wanted, where there is no place for him; for if not, why should he want all the place? Why should he run about here and there making a great noise about himself, talking about the stars, disturbing the blades of grass? . . ."
' "Catching41 butterflies," I chimed in.
'He smiled, threw himself back in his chair, and stretched his legs. "Sit down," he said. "I captured this rare specimen myself one very fine morning. And I had a very big emotion. You don't know what it is for a collector to capture such a rare specimen. You can't know."
'I smiled at my ease in a rocking-chair. His eyes seemed to look far beyond the wall at which they stared; and he narrated42 how, one night, a messenger arrived from his "poor Mohammed," requiring his presence at the "residenz" -- as he called it -- which was distant some nine or ten miles by a bridle-path over a cultivated plain, with patches of forest here and there. Early in the morning he started from his fortified house, after embracing his little Emma, and leaving the "princess," his wife, in command. He described how she came with him as far as the gate, walking with one hand on the neck of his horse; she had on a white jacket, gold pins in her hair, and a brown leather belt over her left shoulder with a revolver in it. "She talked as women will talk," he said, "telling me to be careful, and to try to get back before dark, and what a great wikedness it was for me to go alone. We were at war, and the country was not safe; my men were putting up bullet-proof shutters43 to the house and loading their rifles, and she begged me to have no fear for her. She could defend the house against anybody till I returned. And I laughed with pleasure a little. I liked to see her so brave and young and strong. I too was young then. At the gate she caught hold of my hand and gave it one squeeze and fell back. I made my horse stand still outside till I heard the bars of the gate put up behind me. There was a great enemy of mine, a great noble -- and a great rascal44 too -- roaming with a band in the neighbourhood. I cantered for four or five miles; there had been rain in the night, but the musts had gone up, up -- and the face of the earth was clean; it lay smiling to me, so fresh and innocent -- like a little chilid. Suddenliy somebody fires a volley -- twenty shots at least it seemed to me. I hear bullets sing in my ear, and my hat jumps to the back of my head. It was a little intrigue45, you understand. They got my poor Mohammed to send for me and then laid that ambush46. I see it all in a minute, and I think -- This wants a lit
tle management. My pony47 snort, jump, and stand, and I fall slowly forward with my head on his mane. He begins to walk, and with one eye I could see over his neck a faint cloud of smoke hanging in front of a clump48 of bamboos to my left. I think -- Aha! my friends, why you not wait long enough before you shoot? This is not yet gelungen. Oh no! I get hold of my revolver with my right hand -- quiet -- quiet. After all, there were only seven of these rascals49. They get up from the grass and start running with their sarongs tucked up, waving spears above their heads, and yelling to each other to look out and catch the horse, because I was dead. I let them come as close as the door here, and then bang, bang, bang -- take aim each time too. One more shot I fire at a man's back, but I miss. Too far already. And then I sit alone on my horse with the clean earth smiling at me, and there are the bodies of three men lying on the ground. One was curled up like a dog, another on his back had an arm over his eyes as if to keep off the sun, and the third man he draws up his leg very slowly and makes it with one kick straight again. I watch him very carefully from my horse, but there is no more -- bleibt ganz ruhig -- keep still, so. And as I looked at his face for some sign of life I observed something like a faint shadow pass over his forehead. It was the shadow of this butterfly. Look at the form of the wing. This species fly high with a strong flight. I raised my eyes and I saw him fluttering away. I think -- Can it be possible? And then I lost him. I dismounted and went on very slow, leading my horse and holding my revolver with one hand and my eyes darting50 up and down and right and left, everywhere! At last I saw him sitting on a small heap of dirt ten feet away. At once my heart began to beat quick. I let go my horse, keep my revolver in one hand, and with the other snatch my soft felt hat off my head. One step. Steady. Another s tep. Flop51! I got him! When I got up I shook like a leaf with excitement, and when I opened these
beautiful wings and made sure what a rare and so extraordinary perfect specimen I had, my head went round and my legs became so weak with emotion that I had to sit on the ground. I had greatly desired to possess myself of a specimen of that species when collecting for the professor. I took long journeys and underwent great privations; I had dreamed of him in my sleep, and here suddenly I had him in my fingers -- for myself! In the words of the poet" (he pronounced it "boet")
" 'So halt' ich's endlich denn in meinen Handen,
Und nenn' es in gewissem Sinne mein.' "
He gave to the last word the emphasis of a suddenly lowered voice, and withdrew his eyes slowly from my face. He began to charge a long-stemmed pipe busily and in silence, then, pausing with his thumb on the orifice of the bowl, looked again at me significantly.
' "Yes, my good friend. On that day I had nothing to desire; I had greatly annoyed my principal enemy; I was young, strong; I had friendship; I had the love" (he said "lof') "of woman, a child I had, to make my heart very full -- and even what I had once dreamed in my sleep had come into my hand too!"
'He struck a match, which flared52 violently. His thoughtful placid53 face twitched54 once.
' "Friend, wife, child," he said slowly, gazing at the small flame -"phoo!" The match was blown out. He sighed and turned again to the glass case. The frail and beautiful wings quivered faintly, as if his breath had for an instant called back to life that gorgeous object of his dreams.
' "The work," he began suddenly, pointing to the scattered55 slips, and in his usual gentle and cheery tone, "is making great progress. I have been this rare specimen describing.... Na! And what is your good news?"
' "To tell you the truth, Stein," I said with an effort that surprised me, "I came here to describe a specimen...."
' "Butterfly?" he asked, with an unbelieving and humorous eagerness.
' "Nothing so perfect," I answered, feeling suddenly dispirited with all sorts of doubts. "A man!"
' "Ach so!" he murmured, and his smiling countenance56, turned to me, became grave. Then after looking at me for a while he said slowly, "Well -- I am a man too."
'Here you have him as he was; he knew how to be so generously encouraging as to make a scrupulous57 man hesitate on the brink58 of confidence; but if I did hesitate it was not for long.
'He heard me out, sitting with crossed legs. Sometimes his head would disappear completely in a great eruption59 of smoke, and a sympathetic growl60 would come out from the cloud. When I finished he uncrossed his legs, laid down his pipe, leaned forward towards me earnestly with his elbows on the arms of his chair, the tips of his fingers together.
' "I understand very well. He is romantic."
'He had diagnosed the case for me, and at first I was quite startled to find how simple it was; and indeed our conference resembled so much a medical consultation61 -- Stein, of learned aspect, sitting in an arm-chair before his desk; I, anxious, in another, facing him, but a little to one side -- that it seemed natural to ask
' "What's good for it?"
'He lifted up a long forefinger62.
' "There is only one remedy! One thing alone can us from being ourselves cure!" The finger came down on the desk with a smart rap. The case which he had made to look so simple before became if possible still simpler -- and altogether hopeless. There was a pause. "Yes," said I, "strictly63 speaking, the question is not how to get cured, but how to live."
'He approved with his head, a little sadly as it seemed. "Ja! ja! In general, adapting the words of your great poet: That is the question...." He went on nodding sympathetically.... "How to be! Ach! How to be."
'He stood up with the tips of his fingers resting on the desk.
' "We want in so many different ways to be," he began again. "This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man he will never on his heap of mud keep still. He want to be so, and again he want to be so...." He moved his hand up, then down.... "He wants to be a saint, and he wants to be a devil -- and every time he shuts his eyes he sees himself as a very fine fellow -- so fine as he can never be.... In a dream...."
'He lowered the glass lid, the automatic lock clicked sharply, and taking up the case in both hands he bore it religiously away to its place, passing out of the bright circle of the lamp into the ring of fainter light -- into shapeless dusk at last. It had an odd effect -- as if these few steps had carried him out of this concrete and perplexed64 world. His tall form, as though robbed of its substance, hovered noiselessly over invisible things with stooping and indefinite movements; his voice, heard in that remoteness where he could be glimpsed mysteriously busy with immaterial cares, was no longer incisive65, seemed to roll voluminous and grave -- mellowed66 by distance.
' "And because you not always can keep your eyes shut there comes the real trouble -- the heart pain -- the world pain. I tell you, my friend, it is not good for you to find you cannot make your dream come true, for the reason that you not strong enough are, or not clever enough. .Ja! . . . And all the time you are such a fine fellow too! Wie? Was? Gott im Himmel! How can that be? Ha! ha! ha!"
'The shadow prowling amongst the graves of butterflies laughed boisterously67.
' "Yes! Very funny this terrible thing is. A man that is born falls into a dream like a man who falls into the sea. If he tries to climb out into the air as inexperienced people endeavour to do, he drowns -- nicht wahr? . . . No! I tell you! The way is to the destructive element submit yourself, and with the exertions68 of your hands and feet in the water make the deep, deep sea keep you up. So if you ask me -- how to be?"
'His voice leaped up extraordinarily69 strong, as though away there in the dusk he had been inspired by some whisper of knowledge. "I will tell you! For that too there is only one way."
'With a hasty swish-swish of his slippers70 he loomed71 up in the ring of faint light, and suddenly appeared in the bright circle of the lamp. His extended hand aimed at my breast like a pistol; his deepset eyes seemed to pierce through me, but his twitching72 lips uttered no word, and the austere73 exaltation of a certitude seen in the dusk vanished from his face. The hand that had been pointing at my breast fell, and by-and-by, coming a step nearer, he laid it gently on my shoulder. There were things, he said mournfully, that perhaps could never be told, only he had lived so much alone that sometimes he forgot -- he forgot. The light had destroyed the assurance which had inspired him in the distant shadows. He sat down and, with both elbows on the desk, rubbed his forehead. "And yet it is true -- it is true. In the destructive element immerse." . . . He spoke74 in a subdued75 tone, without looking at me, one hand on each side of his face. "That was the way. To follow the dream, and again to follow the dream -- and so -- ewig -- usque ad finem...." The whisper of his conviction seemed to open before me a vast and uncertain expanse, as of a crepuscular76 horizon on a plain at dawn -or was it, perchance, at the coming of the night? One had not the courage to decide; but it was a charming and deceptive77 light, throwing the impalpable poesy of its dimness over pitfalls78 -- over graves. His life had begun in sacrifice, in enthusiasm for generous ideas; he had travelled very far, on various ways, on strange paths, and whatever he followed it had been without faltering79, and therefore without shame and without regret. In so far he was right. That was the way, no doubt. Yet for all that, the great plain on which men wander amongst graves and pitfalls remained very desolate80 under the impalpable poesy of its crepuscular light, overshadowed in the centre, circled with a bright edge as if surrounded by an abyss full of flames. When at last I broke the silence it was to express the opinion that no one could be more romantic than himself.
'He shook his head slowly, and afterwards looked at me with a patient and inquiring glance. It was a shame, he said. There we were sitting and talking like two boys, instead of putting our heads together to find something practical -- a practical remedy -- for the evil -- for the great evil -- he repeated, with a humorous and indulgent smile. For all that, our talk did not grow more practical. We avoided pronouncing Jim's name as though we had tried to keep flesh and blood out of our discussion, or he were nothing but an erring81 spirit, a suffering and nameless shade. "Na!" said Stein, rising. "To-night you sleep here, and in the morning we shall do something practical -practical...." He lit a two-branched candlestick and led the way. We passed through empty dark rooms, escorted by gleams from the lights Stein carried. They glided82 along the waxed floors, sweeping83 here and there over the polished surface of a table, leaped upon a fragmentary curve of a piece of furniture, or flashed perpendicularly84 in and out of distant mirrors, while the forms of two men and the flicker85 of two flames could be seen for a moment stealing silently across the depths of a crystalline void. He walked slowly a pace in advance with stooping courtesy; there was a profound, as it were a listening, quietude on his face; the long flaxen locks mixed with white threads were scattered thinly upon his slightly bowed neck.
' "He is romantic -- romantic," he repeated. "And that is very bad -- very bad.... Very good, too," he added. "But is he?" I queried86.
' "Gewiss," he said, and stood still holding up the candelabrum, but without looking at me. "Evident! What is it that by inward pain makes him know himself? What is it that for you and me makes him -- exist?"
'At that moment it was difficult to believe in Jim's existence -starting from a country parsonage, blurred87 by crowds of men as by clouds of dust, silenced by the clashing claims of life and death in a material world -- but his imperishable reality came to me with a convincing, with an irresistible88 force! I saw it vividly89, as though in our progress through the lofty silent rooms amongst fleeting90 gleams of light and the sudden revelations of human figures stealing with flickering91 flames within unfathomable and pellucid92 depths, we had approached nearer to absolute Truth, which, like Beauty itself, floats elusive93, obscure, half submerged, in the silent still waters of mystery. "Perhaps he is," I admitted with a slight laugh, whose unexpectedly loud reverberation94 made me lower my voice directly; "but I am sure you are." With his head dropping on his breast and the light held high he began to walk again. "Well -- I exist too," he said.
'He preceded me. My eyes followed his movements, but what I did see was not the head of the firm, the welcome guest at afternoon receptions, the correspondent of learned societies, the entertainer of stray naturalists95; I saw only the reality of his destiny, which he had known how to follow with unfaltering footsteps, that life begun in humble96 surroundings, rich in generous enthusiasms, in friendship, love, war -- in all the exalted97 elements of romance. At the door of my room he faced me. "Yes," I said, as though carrying on a discussion, "and amongst other things you dreamed foolishly of a certain butterfly; but when one fine morning your dream came in your way you did not let the splendid opportunity escape. Did you? Whereas he . . ." Stein lifted his hand. "And do you know how many opportunities I let escape; how many dreams I had lost that had come in my way?" He shook his head regretfully. "It seems to me that some would have been very fine -- if I had made them come true. Do you know how many? Perhaps I myself don't know. " "Whether his were fine or not," I said, "he knows of one which he certainly did not catch." "Everybody knows of one or two like that," said Stein; "and that is the trouble -- the great trouble...."
'He shook hands on the threshold, peered into my room under his raised arm. "Sleep well. And to-morrow we must do something practical -- practical...."
'Though his own room was beyond mine I saw him return the way he came. He was going back to his butterflies.'
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1
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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7
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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8
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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thumping
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| adj.重大的，巨大的；重击的；尺码大的；极好的adv.极端地；非常地v.重击(thump的现在分词)；狠打；怦怦地跳；全力支持 | |
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stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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truces
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| 休战( truce的名词复数 )； 停战（协定）； 停止争辩（的协议）； 中止 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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misanthropic
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| adj.厌恶人类的，憎恶（或蔑视）世人的；愤世嫉俗 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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40
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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41
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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42
narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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44
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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46
ambush
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| n.埋伏(地点)；伏兵；v.埋伏；伏击 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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48
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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49
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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50
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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51
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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52
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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53
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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54
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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58
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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59
eruption
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| n.火山爆发；（战争等）爆发；（疾病等）发作 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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61
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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62
forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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mellowed
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| （使）成熟( mellow的过去式和过去分词 )； 使色彩更加柔和，使酒更加醇香 | |
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boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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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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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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crepuscular
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| adj.晨曦的；黄昏的；昏暗的 | |
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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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82
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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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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perpendicularly
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| adv. 垂直地, 笔直地, 纵向地 | |
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85
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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86
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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88
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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90
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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91
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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92
pellucid
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| adj.透明的，简单的 | |
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93
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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94
reverberation
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| 反响； 回响； 反射； 反射物 | |
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95
naturalists
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| n.博物学家( naturalist的名词复数 )；（文学艺术的）自然主义者 | |
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96
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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