Often when he stayed in his room to read, or else when sitting of an evening under the lime-trees of the Luxembourg, he let his Code fall to the ground, and the memory of Emma came back to him. But gradually this feeling grew weaker, and other desires gathered over it, although it still persisted through them all. For Leon did not lose all hope; there was for him, as it were, a vague promise floating in the future, like a golden fruit suspended from some fantastic tree.
Then, seeing her again after three years of absence his passion reawakened. He must, he thought, at last make up his mind to possess her. Moreover, his timidity had worn off by contact with his gay companions, and he returned to the provinces despising everyone who had not with varnished6 shoes trodden the asphalt of the boulevards. By the side of a Parisienne in her laces, in the drawing-room of some illustrious physician, a person driving his carriage and wearing many orders, the poor clerk would no doubt have trembled like a child; but here, at Rouen, on the harbour, with the wife of this small doctor he felt at his ease, sure beforehand he would shine. Self-possession depends on its environment. We don’t speak on the first floor as on the fourth; and the wealthy woman seems to have, about her, to guard her virtue7, all her banknotes, like a cuirass in the lining8 of her corset.
On leaving the Bovarys the night before, Leon had followed them through the streets at a distance; then having seen them stop at the “Croix-Rouge,” he turned on his heel, and spent the night meditating9 a plan.
So the next day about five o’clock he walked into the kitchen of the inn, with a choking sensation in his throat, pale cheeks, and that resolution of cowards that stops at nothing.
“The gentleman isn’t in,” answered a servant.
This seemed to him a good omen10. He went upstairs.
She was not disturbed at his approach; on the contrary, she apologised for having neglected to tell him where they were staying.
“Oh, I divined it!” said Leon.
He pretended he had been guided towards her by chance, by, instinct. She began to smile; and at once, to repair his folly11, Leon told her that he had spent his morning in looking for her in all the hotels in the town one after the other.
“So you have made up your mind to stay?” he added.
“Yes,” she said, “and I am wrong. One ought not to accustom12 oneself to impossible pleasures when there are a thousand demands upon one.”
“Oh, I can imagine!”
“Ah! no; for you, you are a man!”
But men too had had their trials, and the conversation went off into certain philosophical13 reflections. Emma expatiated14 much on the misery15 of earthly affections, and the eternal isolation16 in which the heart remains17 entombed.
To show off, or from a naive18 imitation of this melancholy19 which called forth20 his, the young man declared that he had been awfully21 bored during the whole course of his studies. The law irritated him, other vocations23 attracted him, and his mother never ceased worrying him in every one of her letters. As they talked they explained more and more fully22 the motives24 of their sadness, working themselves up in their progressive confidence. But they sometimes stopped short of the complete exposition of their thought, and then sought to invent a phrase that might express it all the same. She did not confess her passion for another; he did not say that he had forgotten her.
Perhaps he no longer remembered his suppers with girls after masked balls; and no doubt she did not recollect25 the rendezvous26 of old when she ran across the fields in the morning to her lover’s house. The noises of the town hardly reached them, and the room seemed small, as if on purpose to hem3 in their solitude27 more closely. Emma, in a dimity dressing-gown, leant her head against the back of the old arm-chair; the yellow wall-paper formed, as it were, a golden background behind her, and her bare head was mirrored in the glass with the white parting in the middle, and the tip of her ears peeping out from the folds of her hair.
“But pardon me!” she said. “It is wrong of me. I weary you with my eternal complaints.”
“No, never, never!”
“If you knew,” she went on, raising to the ceiling her beautiful eyes, in which a tear was trembling, “all that I had dreamed!”
“And I! Oh, I too have suffered! Often I went out; I went away. I dragged myself along the quays28, seeking distraction29 amid the din30 of the crowd without being able to banish31 the heaviness that weighed upon me. In an engraver’s shop on the boulevard there is an Italian print of one of the Muses32. She is draped in a tunic33, and she is looking at the moon, with forget-me-nots in her flowing hair. Something drove me there continually; I stayed there hours together.” Then in a trembling voice, “She resembled you a little.”
Madame Bovary turned away her head that he might not see the irrepressible smile she felt rising to her lips.
“Often,” he went on, “I wrote you letters that I tore up.”
She did not answer. He continued —
“I sometimes fancied that some chance would bring you. I thought I recognised you at street-corners, and I ran after all the carriages through whose windows I saw a shawl fluttering, a veil like yours.”
She seemed resolved to let him go on speaking without interruption. Crossing her arms and bending down her face, she looked at the rosettes on her slippers35, and at intervals36 made little movements inside the satin of them with her toes.
At last she sighed.
“But the most wretched thing, is it not — is to drag out, as I do, a useless existence. If our pains were only of some use to someone, we should find consolation37 in the thought of the sacrifice.”
He started off in praise of virtue, duty, and silent immolation38, having himself an incredible longing39 for self-sacrifice that he could not satisfy.
“I should much like,” she said, “to be a nurse at a hospital.”
“Alas! men have none of these holy missions, and I see nowhere any calling — unless perhaps that of a doctor.”
With a slight shrug40 of her shoulders, Emma interrupted him to speak of her illness, which had almost killed her. What a pity! She should not be suffering now! Leon at once envied the calm of the tomb, and one evening he had even made his will, asking to be buried in that beautiful rug with velvet41 stripes he had received from her. For this was how they would have wished to be, each setting up an ideal to which they were now adapting their past life. Besides, speech is a rolling-mill that always thins out the sentiment.
But at this invention of the rug she asked, “But why?”
“Why?” He hesitated. “Because I loved you so!” And congratulating himself at having surmounted42 the difficulty, Leon watched her face out of the corner of his eyes.
It was like the sky when a gust43 of wind drives the clouds across. The mass of sad thoughts that darkened them seemed to be lifted from her blue eyes; her whole face shone. He waited. At last she replied —
“I always suspected it.”
Then they went over all the trifling44 events of that far-off existence, whose joys and sorrows they had just summed up in one word. They recalled the arbour with clematis, the dresses she had worn, the furniture of her room, the whole of her house.
“And our poor cactuses, where are they?”
“The cold killed them this winter.”
“Ah! how I have thought of them, do you know? I often saw them again as of yore, when on the summer mornings the sun beat down upon your blinds, and I saw your two bare arms passing out amongst the flowers.”
“Poor friend!” she said, holding out her hand to him.
Leon swiftly pressed his lips to it. Then, when he had taken a deep breath —
“At that time you were to me I know not what incomprehensible force that took captive my life. Once, for instance, I went to see you; but you, no doubt, do not remember it.”
“I do,” she said; “go on.”
“You were downstairs in the ante-room, ready to go out, standing45 on the last stair; you were wearing a bonnet46 with small blue flowers; and without any invitation from you, in spite of myself, I went with you. Every moment, however, I grew more and more conscious of my folly, and I went on walking by you, not daring to follow you completely, and unwilling47 to leave you. When you went into a shop, I waited in the street, and I watched you through the window taking off your gloves and counting the change on the counter. Then you rang at Madame Tuvache’s; you were let in, and I stood like an idiot in front of the great heavy door that had closed after you.”
Madame Bovary, as she listened to him, wondered that she was so old. All these things reappearing before her seemed to widen out her life; it was like some sentimental48 immensity to which she returned; and from time to time she said in a low voice, her eyes half closed —
“Yes, it is true — true — true!”
They heard eight strike on the different clocks of the Beauvoisine quarter, which is full of schools, churches, and large empty hotels. They no longer spoke50, but they felt as they looked upon each other a buzzing in their heads, as if something sonorous51 had escaped from the fixed52 eyes of each of them. They were hand in hand now, and the past, the future, reminiscences and dreams, all were confounded in the sweetness of this ecstasy53. Night was darkening over the walls, on which still shone, half hidden in the shade, the coarse colours of four bills representing four scenes from the “Tour de Nesle,” with a motto in Spanish and French at the bottom. Through the sash-window a patch of dark sky was seen between the pointed54 roofs.
She rose to light two wax-candles on the drawers, then she sat down again.
“Well!” said Leon.
“Well!” she replied.
He was thinking how to resume the interrupted conversation, when she said to him —
“How is it that no one until now has ever expressed such sentiments to me?”
The clerk said that ideal natures were difficult to understand. He from the first moment had loved her, and he despaired when he thought of the happiness that would have been theirs, if thanks to fortune, meeting her earlier, they had been indissolubly bound to one another.
“I have sometimes thought of it,” she went on.
“What a dream!” murmured Leon. And fingering gently the blue binding55 of her long white sash, he added, “And who prevents us from beginning now?”
“No, my friend,” she replied; “I am too old; you are too young. Forget me! Others will love you; you will love them.”
“Not as you!” he cried.
“What a child you are! Come, let us be sensible. I wish it.”
She showed him the impossibility of their love, and that they must remain, as formerly56, on the simple terms of a fraternal friendship.
Was she speaking thus seriously? No doubt Emma did not herself know, quite absorbed as she was by the charm of the seduction, and the necessity of defending herself from it; and contemplating57 the young man with a moved look, she gently repulsed58 the timid caresses59 that his trembling hands attempted.
“Ah! forgive me!” he cried, drawing back.
Emma was seized with a vague fear at this shyness, more dangerous to her than the boldness of Rodolphe when he advanced to her open-armed. No man had ever seemed to her so beautiful. An exquisite60 candour emanated61 from his being. He lowered his long fine eyelashes, that curled upwards62. His cheek, with the soft skin reddened, she thought, with desire of her person, and Emma felt an invincible63 longing to press her lips to it. Then, leaning towards the clock as if to see the time —
“Ah! how late it is!” she said; “how we do chatter64!”
He understood the hint and took up his hat.
“It has even made me forget the theatre. And poor Bovary has left me here especially for that. Monsieur Lormeaux, of the Rue49 Grand-Pont, was to take me and his wife.”
And the opportunity was lost, as she was to leave the next day.
“Really!” said Leon.
“Yes.”
“But I must see you again,” he went on. “I wanted to tell you —”
“What?”
“Something — important — serious. Oh, no! Besides, you will not go; it is impossible. If you should — listen to me. Then you have not understood me; you have not guessed —”
“Yet you speak plainly,” said Emma.
“Ah! you can jest. Enough! enough! Oh, for pity’s sake, let me see you once — only once!”
“Well —“She stopped; then, as if thinking better of it, “Oh, not here!”
“Where you will.”
“Will you —“She seemed to reflect; then abruptly65, “To-morrow at eleven o’clock in the cathedral.”
“I shall be there,” he cried, seizing her hands, which she disengaged.
And as they were both standing up, he behind her, and Emma with her head bent66, he stooped over her and pressed long kisses on her neck.
“You are mad! Ah! you are mad!” she said, with sounding little laughs, while the kisses multiplied.
Then bending his head over her shoulder, he seemed to beg the consent of her eyes. They fell upon him full of an icy dignity.
Leon stepped back to go out. He stopped on the threshold; then he whispered with a trembling voice, “Tomorrow!”
She answered with a nod, and disappeared like a bird into the next room.
In the evening Emma wrote the clerk an interminable letter, in which she cancelled the rendezvous; all was over; they must not, for the sake of their happiness, meet again. But when the letter was finished, as she did not know Leon’s address, she was puzzled.
“I’ll give it to him myself,” she said; “he will come.”
The next morning, at the open window, and humming on his balcony, Leon himself varnished his pumps with several coatings. He put on white trousers, fine socks, a green coat, emptied all the scent67 he had into his handkerchief, then having had his hair curled, he uncurled it again, in order to give it a more natural elegance68.
“It is still too early,” he thought, looking at the hairdresser’s cuckoo-clock, that pointed to the hour of nine. He read an old fashion journal, went out, smoked a cigar, walked up three streets, thought it was time, and went slowly towards the porch of Notre Dame34.
It was a beautiful summer morning. Silver plate sparkled in the jeweller’s windows, and the light falling obliquely69 on the cathedral made mirrors of the corners of the grey stones; a flock of birds fluttered in the grey sky round the trefoil bell-turrets; the square, resounding71 with cries, was fragrant72 with the flowers that bordered its pavement, roses, jasmines, pinks, narcissi, and tube-roses, unevenly73 spaced out between moist grasses, catmint, and chickweed for the birds; the fountains gurgled in the centre, and under large umbrellas, amidst melons, piled up in heaps, flower-women, bare-headed, were twisting paper round bunches of violets.
The young man took one. It was the first time that he had bought flowers for a woman, and his breast, as he smelt74 them, swelled75 with pride, as if this homage76 that he meant for another had recoiled77 upon himself.
But he was afraid of being seen; he resolutely78 entered the church. The beadle, who was just then standing on the threshold in the middle of the left doorway79, under the “Dancing Marianne,” with feather cap, and rapier dangling80 against his calves81, came in, more majestic82 than a cardinal83, and as shining as a saint on a holy pyx.
He came towards Leon, and, with that smile of wheedling84 benignity85 assumed by ecclesiastics86 when they question children —
“The gentleman, no doubt, does not belong to these parts? The gentleman would like to see the curiosities of the church?”
“No!” said the other.
And he first went round the lower aisles87. Then he went out to look at the Place. Emma was not coming yet. He went up again to the choir89.
The nave90 was reflected in the full fonts with the beginning of the arches and some portions of the glass windows. But the reflections of the paintings, broken by the marble rim91, were continued farther on upon the flag-stones, like a many-coloured carpet. The broad daylight from without streamed into the church in three enormous rays from the three opened portals. From time to time at the upper end a sacristan passed, making the oblique70 genuflexion of devout92 persons in a hurry. The crystal lustres hung motionless. In the choir a silver lamp was burning, and from the side chapels93 and dark places of the church sometimes rose sounds like sighs, with the clang of a closing grating, its echo reverberating95 under the lofty vault96.
Leon with solemn steps walked along by the walls. Life had never seemed so good to him. She would come directly, charming, agitated97, looking back at the glances that followed her, and with her flounced dress, her gold eyeglass, her thin shoes, with all sorts of elegant trifles that he had never enjoyed, and with the ineffable98 seduction of yielding virtue. The church like a huge boudoir spread around her; the arches bent down to gather in the shade the confession99 of her love; the windows shone resplendent to illumine her face, and the censers would burn that she might appear like an angel amid the fumes100 of the sweet-smelling odours.
But she did not come. He sat down on a chair, and his eyes fell upon a blue stained window representing boatmen carrying baskets. He looked at it long, attentively101, and he counted the scales of the fishes and the button-holes of the doublets, while his thoughts wandered off towards Emma.
The beadle, standing aloof102, was inwardly angry at this individual who took the liberty of admiring the cathedral by himself. He seemed to him to be conducting himself in a monstrous103 fashion, to be robbing him in a sort, and almost committing sacrilege.
But a rustle104 of silk on the flags, the tip of a bonnet, a lined cloak — it was she! Leon rose and ran to meet her.
Emma was pale. She walked fast.
“Read!” she said, holding out a paper to him. “Oh, no!”
And she abruptly withdrew her hand to enter the chapel94 of the Virgin105, where, kneeling on a chair, she began to pray.
The young man was irritated at this bigot fancy; then he nevertheless experienced a certain charm in seeing her, in the middle of a rendezvous, thus lost in her devotions, like an Andalusian marchioness; then he grew bored, for she seemed never coming to an end.
Emma prayed, or rather strove to pray, hoping that some sudden resolution might descend106 to her from heaven; and to draw down divine aid she filled full her eyes with the splendours of the tabernacle. She breathed in the perfumes of the full-blown flowers in the large vases, and listened to the stillness of the church, that only heightened the tumult107 of her heart.
She rose, and they were about to leave, when the beadle came forward, hurriedly saying —
“Madame, no doubt, does not belong to these parts? Madame would like to see the curiosities of the church?”
“Oh, no!” cried the clerk.
“Why not?” said she. For she clung with her expiring virtue to the Virgin, the sculptures, the tombs — anything.
Then, in order to proceed “by rule,” the beadle conducted them right to the entrance near the square, where, pointing out with his cane108 a large circle of block-stones without inscription109 or carving110 —
“This,” he said majestically111, “is the circumference112 of the beautiful bell of Ambroise. It weighed forty thousand pounds. There was not its equal in all Europe. The workman who cast it died of the joy —”
“Let us go on,” said Leon.
The old fellow started off again; then, having got back to the chapel of the Virgin, he stretched forth his arm with an all-embracing gesture of demonstration113, and, prouder than a country squire114 showing you his espaliers, went on —
“This simple stone covers Pierre de Breze, lord of Varenne and of Brissac, grand marshal of Poitou, and governor of Normandy, who died at the battle of Montlhery on the 16th of July, 1465.”
Leon bit his lips, fuming115.
“And on the right, this gentleman all encased in iron, on the prancing116 horse, is his grandson, Louis de Breze, lord of Breval and of Montchauvet, Count de Maulevrier, Baron117 de Mauny, chamberlain to the king, Knight118 of the Order, and also governor of Normandy; died on the 23rd of July, 1531 — a Sunday, as the inscription specifies119; and below, this figure, about to descend into the tomb, portrays120 the same person. It is not possible, is it, to see a more perfect representation of annihilation?”
Madame Bovary put up her eyeglasses. Leon, motionless, looked at her, no longer even attempting to speak a single word, to make a gesture, so discouraged was he at this two-fold obstinacy121 of gossip and indifference122.
The everlasting123 guide went on —
“Near him, this kneeling woman who weeps is his spouse124, Diane de Poitiers, Countess de Breze, Duchess de Valentinois, born in 1499, died in 1566, and to the left, the one with the child is the Holy Virgin. Now turn to this side; here are the tombs of the Ambroise. They were both cardinals125 and archbishops of Rouen. That one was minister under Louis XII. He did a great deal for the cathedral. In his will he left thirty thousand gold crowns for the poor.”
And without stopping, still talking, he pushed them into a chapel full of balustrades, some put away, and disclosed a kind of block that certainly might once have been an ill-made statue.
“Truly,” he said with a groan126, “it adorned127 the tomb of Richard Coeur de Lion, King of England and Duke of Normandy. It was the Calvinists, sir, who reduced it to this condition. They had buried it for spite in the earth, under the episcopal seat of Monsignor. See! this is the door by which Monsignor passes to his house. Let us pass on quickly to see the gargoyle128 windows.”
But Leon hastily took some silver from his pocket and seized Emma’s arm. The beadle stood dumfounded, not able to understand this untimely munificence129 when there were still so many things for the stranger to see. So calling him back, he cried —
“Sir! sir! The steeple! the steeple!”
“No, thank you!” said Leon.
“You are wrong, sir! It is four hundred and forty feet high, nine less than the great pyramid of Egypt. It is all cast; it —”
Leon was fleeing, for it seemed to him that his love, that for nearly two hours now had become petrified130 in the church like the stones, would vanish like a vapour through that sort of truncated131 funnel132, of oblong cage, of open chimney that rises so grotesquely133 from the cathedral like the extravagant134 attempt of some fantastic brazier.
“But where are we going?” she said.
Making no answer, he walked on with a rapid step; and Madame Bovary was already, dipping her finger in the holy water when behind them they heard a panting breath interrupted by the regular sound of a cane. Leon turned back.
“Sir!”
“What is it?”
And he recognised the beadle, holding under his arms and balancing against his stomach some twenty large sewn volumes. They were works “which treated of the cathedral.”
“Idiot!” growled135 Leon, rushing out of the church.
A lad was playing about the close.
“Go and get me a cab!”
The child bounded off like a ball by the Rue Quatre-Vents; then they were alone a few minutes, face to face, and a little embarrassed.
“Ah! Leon! Really — I don’t know — if I ought,” she whispered. Then with a more serious air, “Do you know, it is very improper136 —”
“How so?” replied the clerk. “It is done at Paris.”
And that, as an irresistible137 argument, decided138 her.
Still the cab did not come. Leon was afraid she might go back into the church. At last the cab appeared.
“At all events, go out by the north porch,” cried the beadle, who was left alone on the threshold, “so as to see the Resurrection, the Last Judgment139, Paradise, King David, and the Condemned140 in Hell-flames.”
“Where to, sir?” asked the coachman.
“Where you like,” said Leon, forcing Emma into the cab.
And the lumbering141 machine set out. It went down the Rue Grand-Pont, crossed the Place des Arts, the Quai Napoleon, the Pont Neuf, and stopped short before the statue of Pierre Corneille.
“Go on,” cried a voice that came from within.
The cab went on again, and as soon as it reached the Carrefour Lafayette, set off down-hill, and entered the station at a gallop142.
“No, straight on!” cried the same voice.
The cab came out by the gate, and soon having reached the Cours, trotted143 quietly beneath the elm-trees. The coachman wiped his brow, put his leather hat between his knees, and drove his carriage beyond the side alley144 by the meadow to the margin145 of the waters.
It went along by the river, along the towing-path paved with sharp pebbles146, and for a long while in the direction of Oyssel, beyond the isles88.
But suddenly it turned with a dash across Quatremares, Sotteville, La Grande-Chaussee, the Rue d’Elbeuf, and made its third halt in front of the Jardin des Plantes.
“Get on, will you?” cried the voice more furiously.
And at once resuming its course, it passed by Saint-Sever, by the Quai’des Curandiers, the Quai aux Meules, once more over the bridge, by the Place du Champ de Mars, and behind the hospital gardens, where old men in black coats were walking in the sun along the terrace all green with ivy147. It went up the Boulevard Bouvreuil, along the Boulevard Cauchoise, then the whole of Mont-Riboudet to the Deville hills.
It came back; and then, without any fixed plan or direction, wandered about at hazard. The cab was seen at Saint-Pol, at Lescure, at Mont Gargan, at La Rougue-Marc and Place du Gaillardbois; in the Rue Maladrerie, Rue Dinanderie, before Saint-Romain, Saint-Vivien, Saint-Maclou, Saint-Nicaise — in front of the Customs, at the “Vieille Tour,” the “Trois Pipes,” and the Monumental Cemetery148. From time to time the coachman, on his box cast despairing eyes at the public-houses. He could not understand what furious desire for locomotion149 urged these individuals never to wish to stop. He tried to now and then, and at once exclamations150 of anger burst forth behind him. Then he lashed151 his perspiring152 jades153 afresh, but indifferent to their jolting154, running up against things here and there, not caring if he did, demoralised, and almost weeping with thirst, fatigue155, and depression.
And on the harbour, in the midst of the drays and casks, and in the streets, at the corners, the good folk opened large wonder-stricken eyes at this sight, so extraordinary in the provinces, a cab with blinds drawn156, and which appeared thus constantly shut more closely than a tomb, and tossing about like a vessel157.
Once in the middle of the day, in the open country, just as the sun beat most fiercely against the old plated lanterns, a bared hand passed beneath the small blinds of yellow canvas, and threw out some scraps158 of paper that scattered159 in the wind, and farther off lighted like white butterflies on a field of red clover all in bloom.
At about six o’clock the carriage stopped in a back street of the Beauvoisine Quarter, and a woman got out, who walked with her veil down, and without turning her head.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
cowardice
|
|
| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
refinement
|
|
| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
varnished
|
|
| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
omen
|
|
| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
accustom
|
|
| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
philosophical
|
|
| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
expatiated
|
|
| v.详述，细说( expatiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
isolation
|
|
| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
naive
|
|
| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
vocations
|
|
| n.（认为特别适合自己的）职业( vocation的名词复数 )；使命；神召；（认为某种工作或生活方式特别适合自己的）信心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
motives
|
|
| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
quays
|
|
| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
banish
|
|
| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
muses
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
tunic
|
|
| n.束腰外衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
intervals
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
immolation
|
|
| n.牺牲品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
shrug
|
|
| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
surmounted
|
|
| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
trifling
|
|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
sentimental
|
|
| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
sonorous
|
|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
contemplating
|
|
| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
repulsed
|
|
| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
caresses
|
|
| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
emanated
|
|
| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
invincible
|
|
| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
chatter
|
|
| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
obliquely
|
|
| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
oblique
|
|
| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
resounding
|
|
| adj. 响亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
unevenly
|
|
| adv.不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
smelt
|
|
| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
homage
|
|
| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
recoiled
|
|
| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
resolutely
|
|
| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
calves
|
|
| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
majestic
|
|
| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
cardinal
|
|
| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
wheedling
|
|
| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
benignity
|
|
| n.仁慈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
ecclesiastics
|
|
| n.神职者，教会，牧师( ecclesiastic的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
87
aisles
|
|
| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
choir
|
|
| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
nave
|
|
| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
devout
|
|
| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
chapels
|
|
| n.小教堂， （医院、监狱等的）附属礼拜堂( chapel的名词复数 )；（在小教堂和附属礼拜堂举行的）礼拜仪式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
reverberating
|
|
| 回响，回荡( reverberate的现在分词 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
ineffable
|
|
| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
fumes
|
|
| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
attentively
|
|
| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
virgin
|
|
| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
descend
|
|
| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
cane
|
|
| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
carving
|
|
| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
majestically
|
|
| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
circumference
|
|
| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
demonstration
|
|
| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
squire
|
|
| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
fuming
|
|
| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
prancing
|
|
| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
baron
|
|
| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
specifies
|
|
| v.指定( specify的第三人称单数 )；详述；提出…的条件；使具有特性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
portrays
|
|
| v.画像( portray的第三人称单数 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
obstinacy
|
|
| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
spouse
|
|
| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
cardinals
|
|
| 红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 )； 红衣凤头鸟（见于北美，雄鸟为鲜红色）； 基数 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
gargoyle
|
|
| n.笕嘴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
munificence
|
|
| n.宽宏大量，慷慨给与 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
petrified
|
|
| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
truncated
|
|
| adj.切去顶端的，缩短了的，被删节的v.截面的( truncate的过去式和过去分词 )；截头的；缩短了的；截去顶端或末端 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
funnel
|
|
| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
grotesquely
|
|
| adv. 奇异地,荒诞地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
extravagant
|
|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
growled
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
improper
|
|
| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
lumbering
|
|
| n.采伐林木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
gallop
|
|
| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
pebbles
|
|
| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
ivy
|
|
| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
cemetery
|
|
| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
locomotion
|
|
| n.运动，移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
lashed
|
|
| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
perspiring
|
|
| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
jades
|
|
| n.玉，翡翠（jade的复数形式）v.（使）疲（jade的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
jolting
|
|
| adj.令人震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
vessel
|
|
| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
scraps
|
|
| 油渣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |