Through joy and through torment1, through glory and shame!
I know not, I ask not, what guilt’s in thine heart,
I but know I must love thee, whatever thou art.
MOORE
‘The next day, the young female who had excited so much interest the preceding evening, was to quit Madrid, to pass a few weeks at a villa2 belonging to her family, at a short distance from the city. That family, including all the company, consisted of her mother Donna Clara di Aliaga, the wife of a wealthy merchant, who was monthly expected to return from the Indies; her brother Don Fernan di Aliaga, and several servants; for these wealthy citizens, conscious of their opulence3 and formerly4 high descent, piqued6 themselves upon travelling with no less ceremony and pompous8 tardiness9 than accompanied the progress of a grandee10. So the old square-built, lumbering11 carriage, moved on like a hearse; the coachman sat fast asleep on the box; and the six black horses crawled at a pace like the progress of time when he visits affliction. Beside the carriage rode Fernan di Aliaga and his servants, with umbrellas and huge spectacles; and within it were placed Donna Clara and her daughter. The interior of this arrangement was the counterpart of its external appearance, — all announced dullness, formality, and withering13 monotony.
‘Donna Clara was a woman of a cold and grave temper, with all the solemnity of a Spaniard, and all the austerity of a bigot. Don Fernan presented that union of fiery14 passion and saturnic manners not unusual among Spaniards. His dull and selfish pride was wounded by the recollection of his family having been in trade; and, looking on the unrivalled beauty of his sister as a possible means of his obtaining an alliance with a family of rank, he viewed her with that kind of selfish partiality as little honourable16 to him who feels it, as to her who was its object.
‘And it was amid such beings that the vivid and susceptible17 Immalee, the daughter of nature, ‘the gay creature of the elements,’ was doomed18 to wither12 away the richly-coloured and exquisitely-scented flower of an existence so ungenially transplanted. Her singular destiny seemed to have removed her from a physical wilderness20, to place her in a moral one. And, perhaps, her last state was worse than her first.
‘It is certain that the gloomiest prospect21 presents nothing so chilling as the aspect of human faces, in which we try in vain to trace one corresponding expression; and the sterility22 of nature itself is luxury compared to the sterility of human hearts, which communicate all the desolation they feel.
‘They had been some time on their way, when Donna Clara, who never spoke23 till after a long preface of silence, perhaps to give what she said a weight it might otherwise have wanted, said, with oracular deliberation, ‘Daughter, I hear you fainted in the public walks last night — did you meet with any thing that surprised or terrified you?’ — ‘No, Madam,’ — ‘What, then, could be the cause of the emotion you betrayed at the sight, as I am told — I know nothing — of a personage of extraordinary demeanour?’ — ‘Oh, I cannot, dare not tell!’ said Isidora, dropping her veil over her burning cheek. Then the irrepressible ingenuousness26 of her former nature, rushing over her heart and frame like a flood, she sunk from the cushion on which she sat at Donna Clara’s feet, exclaiming, ‘Oh, mother, I will tell you all!’ — ‘No!’ said Donna Clara, repelling27 her with a cold feeling of offended pride; ‘no! — there is no occasion. I seek no confidence withheld28 and bestowed29 in the same breath; nor do I like these violent emotions — they are unmaidenly. Your duties as a child are easily understood — they are merely perfect obedience31, profound submission32, and unbroken silence, except when you are addressed by me, your brother, or Father Jose. Surely no duties were ever more easily performed — rise, then, and cease to weep. If your conscience disturbs you, accuse yourself to Father Jose, who will, no doubt, inflict33 a penance34 proportioned to the enormity of your offence. I trust only he will not err24 on the side of indulgence.’ And so saying, Donna Clara, who had never uttered so long a speech before, reclined back on her cushion, and began to tell her beads35 with much devotion, till the arrival of the carriage at its destination awoke her from a profound and peaceful sleep.
‘It was near noon, and dinner in a cool low apartment near the garden awaited only the approach of Father Jose, the confessor. He arrived at length. He was a man of an imposing36 figure, mounted on a stately mule37. His features, at first view, bore strong traces of thought; but, on closer examination, those traces seemed rather the result of physical conformation, than of any intellectual exercise. The channel was open, but the stream had not been directed there. However, though defective38 in education, and somewhat narrow in mind, Father Jose was a good man, and meant well. He loved power, and he was devoted39 to the interests of the Catholic church; but he had frequently doubts, (which he kept to himself), of the absolute necessity of celibacy41, and he felt (strange effect!) a chill all over him when he heard of the fires of an auto42 da fe. Dinner was concluded; the fruit and wine, the latter untasted by the females, were on the table, — the choicest of them placed before Father Jose, — when Isidora, after a profound reverence44 to her mother and the priest, retired45, as usual, to her apartment. Donna Clara turned to the confessor with a look that demanded to be answered. ‘It is her hour for siesta46,’ said the priest, helping47 himself to a bunch of grapes. ‘No, Father, no!’ said Donna Clara sadly; ‘her maid informs me she does not retire to sleep. She was, alas48! too well accustomed to that burning climate where she was lost in her infancy49, to feel the heat as a Christian50 should. No, she retires neither to pray or sleep, after the devout51 custom of Spanish women, but, I fear, to’ — -‘To do what?’ said the priest, with horror in his voice — ‘To think, I fear,’ said Donna Clara; ‘for often I observe, on her return, the traces of tears on her face. I tremble, Father, lest those tears be shed for that heathen land, that region of Satan, where her youth was past.’ — ‘I’ll give her a penance,’ said Father Jose, ‘that will save her the trouble of shedding tears on the score of memory at least — these grapes are delicious.’ — ‘But, Father,’ pursued Donna Clara, with all the weak but restless anxiety of a superstitious52 mind, ‘though you have made me easy on that subject, I still am wretched. Oh, Father, how she will talk sometimes! — like a creature self-taught, that needed neither director or confessor but her own heart.’ — ‘How!’ exclaimed Father Jose, ‘need neither confessor or director! — she must be beside herself.’ — ‘Oh, Father,’ continued Donna Clara, ‘she will say things in her mild and unanswerable manner, that, armed with all my authority, I’ — ‘How — how is that?’ said the priest, in a tone of severity — ‘does she deny any of the tenets of the holy Catholic church?’ — ‘No! no! no!’ said the terrified Donna Clara crossing herself. ‘How then?’ — ‘Why, she speaks in a manner in which I never heard you, reverend Father, or any of the reverend brethren, whom my devotion to the holy church has led me to hear, speak before. It is in vain I tell her that true religion consists in hearing mass — in going to confession53 — in performing penance — in observing the fasts and vigils — in undergoing mortification54 and abstinence — in believing all that the holy church teaches — and hating, detesting55, abhorring56, and execrating57 — ‘ ‘Enough, daughter — enough,’ said Father Jose; ‘there can be no doubt of the orthodoxy of your creed58?’ — ‘I trust not, holy Father,’ said the anxious Donna Clara. ‘I were an infidel to doubt it,’ interposed the priest; ‘I might as well deny this fruit to be exquisite19, or this glass of Malaga to be worthy59 the table of his Holiness the Pope, if he feasted all the Cardinals60. But how, daughter, as touching61 the supposed or apprehended62 defalcations in Donna Isidora’s creed?’ — ‘Holy Father, I have already explained my own religious sentiments.’ — ‘Yes — yes — we have had enough of them; now for your daughter’s .’ — ‘She will sometimes say,’ said Donna Clara, bursting into tears — ‘she will say, but never till greatly urged, that religion ought to be a system whose spirit was universal love. Do you understand any thing of that, Father?’ ‘Humph — humph!’ — ‘That it must be something that bound all who professed63 it to habits of benevolence64, gentleness, and humility65, under every difference of creed and of form.’ — ‘Humph — humph!’ — ‘Father,’ said Donna Clara, a little piqued at the apparent indifference66 with which Father Jose listened to her communications, and resolved to rouse him by some terrific evidence of the truth of her suspicions, ‘Father, I have heard her dare to express a hope that the heretics in the train of the English ambassador might not be everlastingly69’ — ‘Hush70! — I must not hear such sounds, or it might be my duty to take severer notice of these lapses71. However, daughter,’ continued Father Jose, ‘thus far I will venture for your consolation72. As sure as this fine peach is in my hand — another, if you please — and as sure as I shall finish this other glass of Malaga’ — here a long pause attested73 the fulfilment of the pledge — ‘so sure’ — and Father Jose turned the inverted74 glass on the table — ‘Madonna Isidora has — has the elements of a Christian in her, however improbable it may seem to you — I swear it to you by the habit I wear; — for the rest, a little penance — a — I shall consider of it. And now, daughter, when your son Don Fernan has finished his siesta, — as there is no reason to suspect him of retiring to think, — please to inform him I am ready to continue the game of chess which we commenced four months ago. I have pushed my pawn75 to the last square but one, and the next step gives me a queen.’ — ‘Has the game continued so long?’ said Donna Clara. ‘Long!’ repeated the priest, ‘Aye, and may continue much longer — we have never played more than three hours a-day on an average.’
‘He then retired to sleep, and the evening was passed by the priest and Don Fernan, in profound silence at their chess — by Donna Clara, in silence equally profound, at her tapestry76 — and by Isidora at the casement77, which the intolerable heat had compelled them to leave open, in gazing at the lustre78 of the moon, and inhaling79 the odour of the tube-rose, and watching the expanding leaves of the night-blowing cereus. The physical luxuries of her former existence seemed renewed by these objects. The intense blue of the heavens, and the burning planet that stood in sole glory in their centre, might have vied with all that lavish80 and refulgent81 opulence of light in which nature arrays an Indian night. Below, too, there were flowers and fragrance82; colours, like veiled beauty, mellowed83, not hid; and dews that hung on every leaf, trembling and sparkling like the tears of spirits, that wept to take leave of the flowers.
‘The breeze, indeed, though redolent of the breath of the orange blossom, the jasmine, and the rose, had not the rich and balmy odour that scents85 the Indian air by night.
Ενθα νησον μακαρων Αυραι περιπνε?σιν
‘Except this, what was not there that might not renew the delicious dream of her former existence, and make her believe herself again the queen of that fairy isle86? — One image was wanting — an image whose absence made that paradise of islands, and all the odorous and flowery luxury of a moonlight garden in Spain, alike deserts to her. In her heart alone could she hope to meet that image, — to herself alone did she dare to repeat his name, and those wild and sweet songs of his country1 which he had taught her in his happier moods. And so strange was the contrast between her former and present existence, — so subdued87 was she by constraint88 and coldness, — so often had she been told that every thing she did, said, or thought, was wrong, — that she began to yield up the evidences of her senses, to avoid the perpetual persecutions of teazing and imperious mediocrity, and considered the appearance of the stranger as one of those visions that formed the trouble and joy of her dreamy and illusive89 existence.
1 Ireland.
‘I am surprised, sister,’ said Fernan, whom Father Jose’s gaining his queen had put in unusually bad humour — ‘I am surprised that you never busy yourself, as young maidens90 use, at your needle, or in some quaint91 niceties of your sex.’ — ‘Or in reading some devout book,’ said Donna Clara, raising her eyes one moment from her tapestry, and then dropping them again; ‘there is the legend of that Polish saint,1 born, like her, in a land of darkness, yet chosen to be a vessel92 — I have forgot his name, reverend Father.’ — ‘Check to the king,’ said Father Jose in reply. ‘You regard nothing but watching a few flowers, or hanging over your lute40, or gazing at the moon,’ continued Fernan, vexed93 alike at the success of his antagonist94 and the silence of Isidora. ‘She is eminent95 in alms-deeds and works of charity,’ said the good-natured priest. ‘I was summoned to a miserable96 hovel near your villa, Madonna Clara, to a dying sinner, a beggar rotting on rotten straw!’ — ‘Jesu!’ cried Donna Clara with involuntary horror, ‘I washed the feet of thirteen beggars, on my knees in my father’s hall, the week before my marriage with her honoured father, and I never could abide97 the sight of a beggar since.’ — ‘Associations are sometimes indelibly strong,’ said the priest drily; — then he added, ‘I went as was my duty, but your daughter was there before me. She had gone uncalled, and was uttering the sweetest words of consolation from a homily, which a certain poor priest, who shall be nameless, had lent her from his humble98 store.’
1 I have read the legend of this Polish saint, which is circulated in Dublin, and find recorded among the indisputable proofs of his vocation99, that he infallibly swooned if an indecent expression was uttered in his presence — when in his nurse’s arms!
‘Isidora blushed at this anonymous100 vanity, while she mildly smiled or wept at the harassings of Don Fernan, and the heartless austerity of her mother. ‘I heard her as I entered the hovel; and, by the habit I wear, I paused on the threshold with delight. Her first words were — Check-mate!’ he exclaimed, forgetting his homily in his triumph, and pointing, with appealing eye, and emphatic101 finger, to the desperate state of his adversary’s king. ‘That was a very extraordinary exclamation102!’ said the literal Donna Clara, who had never raised her eyes from her work. — ‘I did not think my daughter was so fond of chess as to burst into the house of a dying beggar with such a phrase in her mouth.’ — ‘It was I said it, Madonna,’ said the priest, reverting103 to his game, on which he hung with soul and eye intent on his recent victory. ‘Holy saints!’ said Donna Clara, still more and more perplexed104, ‘I thought the usual phrase on such occasions was pax vobiscum, or’ — Before Father Jose could reply, a shriek105 from Isidora pierced the ears of every one. All gathered round her in a moment, reinforced by four female attendants and two pages, whom the unusual sound had summoned from the antichamber. Isidora had not fainted; she still stood among them pale as death, speechless, her eye wandering round the groupe that encircled her, without seeming to distinguish them. But she retained that presence of mind which never deserts woman where a secret is to be guarded, and she neither pointed107 with finger, or glanced with eye, towards the casement, where the cause of her alarm had presented itself. Pressed with a thousand questions, she appeared incapable108 of answering them, and, declining assistance, leaned against the casement for support.
‘Donna Clara was now advancing with measured step to proffer109 a bottle of curious essences, which she drew from a pocket of a depth beyond calculation, when one of the female attendants, aware of her favourite habits, proposed reviving her by the scent5 of the flowers that clustered round the frame of the casement; and collecting a handful of roses, offered them to Isidora. The sight and scent of these beautiful flowers, revived the former associations of Isidora; and, waving away her attendant, she exclaimed, ‘There are no roses like those which surrounded me when he beheld111 me first!’ — ‘He! — who, daughter?’ said the alarmed Donna Clara. ‘Speak, I charge you, sister,’ said the irritable112 Fernan, ‘to whom do you allude113?’ — ‘She raves114,’ said the priest, whose habitual115 penetration116 discovered there was a secret, — and whose professional jealousy117 decided118 that no one, not mother or brother, should share it with him; ‘she raves — ye are to blame — forbear to hang round and to question her. Madonna, retire to rest, and the saints watch round your bed!’ Isidora, bending thankfully for this permission, retired to her apartment; and father Jose for an hour appeared to contend with the suspicious fears of Donna Clara, and the sullen119 irritability120 of Fernan, merely that he might induce them, in the heat of controversy121, to betray all they knew or dreaded122, that he might strengthen his own conjectures123, and establish his own power by the discovery.
Scire volunt secreta domus, et inde timeri.
And this desire is not only natural but necessary, in a being from whose heart his profession has torn every tie of nature and of passion; and if it generates malignity124, ambition, and the wish for mischief125, it is the system, not the individual, we must blame.
‘Madonna,’ said the Father, ‘you are always urging your zeal126 for the Catholic church — and you, Senhor, are always reminding me of the honour of your family — I am anxious for both — and how can the interests of both be better secured than by Donna Isidora taking the veil?’ — ‘The wish of my soul!’ cried Donna Clara, clasping her hands, and closing her eyes, as if she witnessed her daughter’s apotheosis127. ‘I will never hear of it, Father,’ said Fernan; ‘my sister’s beauty and wealth entitle me to claim alliance with the first families in Spain — their baboon128 shapes and copper-coloured visages might be redeemed129 for a century by such a graft130 on the stock, and the blood of which they boast would not be impoverished131 by a transfusion132 of the aurum potabile of ours into it.’ — ‘You forget, son,’ said the priest, ‘the extraordinary circumstances attendant on the early part of your sister’s life. There are many of our Catholic nobility who would rather see the black blood of the banished134 Moors135, or the proscribed136 Jews, flow in the veins137 of their descendants, that that of one who’ — Here a mysterious whisper drew from Donna Clara a shudder139 of distress140 and consternation141, and from her son an impatient motion of angry incredulity. ‘I do not credit a word of it,’ said the latter; ‘you wish that my sister should take the veil, and therefore you credit and circulate the monstrous142 invention.’ — ‘Take heed143, son, I conjure144 you,’ said the trembling Donna Clara. ‘Take you heed, Madam, that you do not sacrifice your daughter to an unfounded and incredible fiction.’ — ‘Fiction!’ repeated Father Jose — ‘Senhor, I forgive your illiberal145 reflections on me, — but let me remind you, that the same immunity146 will not be extended to the insult you offer to the Catholic faith.’ — ‘Reverend Father,’ said the terrified Fernan, ‘the Catholic church has not a more devoted and unworthy professor on earth than myself.’ — ‘I do believe the latter,’ said the priest. ‘You admit all that the holy church teaches to be irrefragably true?’ — ‘To be sure I do.’ — ‘Then you must admit that the islands in the Indian seas are particularly under the influence of the devil?’ — ‘I do, if the church requires me so to believe.’ — ‘And that he possessed147 a peculiar148 sway over that island where your sister was lost in her infancy?’ — ‘I do not see how that follows,’ said Fernan, making a sudden stand at this premise149 of the Sorites. ‘Not see how that follows!’ repeated Father Jose, crossing himself;
Exc?cavit oculos corum ne viderent.
But why waste I my Latin and logic151 on thee, who art incapable of both? Mark me, I will use but one unanswerable argument, the which whoso gainsayeth is a — gainsayer152 — that’s all. The Inquisition at Goa knows the truth of what I have asserted, and who will dare deny it now?’ — ‘Not I! — not I!’ exclaimed Donna Clara; ‘nor, I am sure, will this stubborn boy. Son, I adjure153 you, make haste to believe what the reverend Father has told you.’ — ‘I am believing as fast as I can,’ answered Don Fernan, in the tone of one who is reluctantly swallowing a distasteful mess; ‘but my faith will be choaked if you don’t allow it time to swallow. As for digestion,’ he muttered, ‘let that come when it pleases God.’ — ‘Daughter,’ said the priest, who well knew the mollia tempora fandi, and saw that the sullen and angry Fernan could not well bear more at present; ‘daughter, it is enough — we must lead with gentleness those whose steps find stumbling-blocks in the paths of grace. Pray with me, daughter, that your son’s eyes may yet be opened to the glory and felicity of his sister’s vocation to a state where the exhaustless copiousness154 of divine benignity156 places the happy inmates157 above all those mean and mundane158 anxieties, those petty and local wants, which — Ah! — hem7 — verily I feel some of those wants myself at this moment. I am hoarse159 with speaking; and the intense heat of this night hath so exhausted160 my strength, that methinks the wing of a partridge would be no unseasonable refreshment161.’
‘At a sign from Donna Clara, a salver with wine appeared, and a partridge that might have provoked the French prelate to renew his meal once more, spite of his horror of toujours perdrix. ‘See, daughter, see how much I am exhausted in this distressing162 controversy — well may I say, the zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.’ — ‘Then you and the zeal of the house will soon be quit,’ muttered Fernan as he retired. And drawing the folds of his mantle163 over his shoulder, he threw a glance of wonder at the happy facility with which the priest discussed the wings and breast of his favourite bird, — whispering alternately words of admonition to Donna Clara, and muttering something about the omission164 of pimento and lemon.
‘Father,’ said Don Fernan, stalking back from the door, and fronting the priest — ‘Father, I have a favour to ask of you.’ — ‘Glad, were it in my power to comply with it,’ said Father Jose, turning over the skeleton of the fowl165; ‘but you see here is only the thigh166, and that somewhat bare.’ — ‘It is not of that I speak or think, reverend Father,’ said Fernan, with a smile; ‘I have but to request, that you will not renew the subject of my sister’s vocation till the return of my father.’ — ‘Certainly not, son, certainly not. Ah! you know the time to ask a favour — you know I never could refuse you at a moment like this, when my heart is warmed, and softened167, and expanded, by — by — by the evidences of your contrition168 and humiliation169, and all that your devout mother, and your zealous170 spiritual friend, could hope or wish for. In truth, it overcomes me — these tears — I do not often weep but on occasions like these, and then I weep abundantly, and am compelled to recruit my lack of moisture thus.’ — ‘Fetch more wine,’ said Donna Clara. — The order was obeyed. — ‘Good night, Father,’ said Don Fernan. — ‘The saints watch round you, my son! Oh I am exhausted! — I sink in this struggle! The night is hot, and requires wine to slake171 my thirst — and wine is a provocative172, and requires food to take away its deleterious and damnable qualities — and food, especially partridge, which is a hot and stimulative173 nutritive, requires drink again to absorb or neutralize174 its exciting qualities. Observe me, Donna Clara — I speak as to the learned. There is stimulation175, and there is absorption; the causes of which are manifold, and the effects such as — I am not bound to tell you at present.’ — ‘Reverend Father,’ said the admiring Donna Clara, not guessing, in the least, from what source all this eloquence176 flowed, ‘I trespassed177 on your time merely to ask a favour also.’ — ‘Ask and ’tis granted,’ said Father Jose, with a protrusion178 of his foot as proud as that of Sixtus himself. ‘It is merely to know, will not all the inhabitants of those accursed Indian isles179 be damned everlastingly?’ — ‘Damned everlasting68, and without doubt,’ returned the priest. ‘Now my mind is easy,’ rejoined the lady, ‘and I shall sleep in peace to-night.’
‘Sleep, however, did not visit her so soon as she expected, for an hour after she knocked at Father Jose’s door, repeating, ‘Damned to all eternity180, Father, did you not say?’ — ‘Be damned to all eternity!’ said the priest, tossing on his feverish181 bed, and dreaming, in the intervals182 of his troubled sleep, of Don Fernan coming to confession with a drawn184 sword, and Donna Clara with a bottle of Xeres in her hand, which she swallowed at a draught185, while his parched186 lips were gaping187 for a drop in vain, — and of the Inquisition being established in an island off the coast of Bengal, and a huge partridge seated with a cap on at the end of a table covered with black, as chief Inquisitor, — and various and monstrous chimeras188, the abortive189 births of repletion190 and indigestion.
‘Donna Clara, catching191 only the last words, returned to her apartment with light step and gladdened heart, and, full of pious155 consolation, renewed her devotions before the image of the virgin192 in her apartment, at each side of whose niche193 two wax tapers194 were burning, till the cool morning breeze made it possible for her to retire with some hope of rest.
‘Isidora, in her apartment, was equally sleepless195; and she, too, had prostrated196 herself before the sacred image, but with different thoughts. Her feverish and dreamy existence, composed of wild and irreconcileable contrasts between the forms of the present, and the visions of the past, — the difference between all that she felt within, and all that she saw around her, — between the impassioned life of recollection, and the monotonous197 one of reality, — was becoming too much for a heart bursting with undirected sensibilities, and a head giddy from vicissitudes198 that would have deeply tried much firmer faculties199.
‘She remained for some time repeating the usual number of ave’s, to which she added the litany of the Virgin, without any corresponding impulses of solace200 or illumination, till at length, feeling that her prayers were not the expressions of her heart, and dreading201 this heterodoxy of the heart more than the violation202 of the ritual, she ventured to address the image of the Virgin in language of her own.
‘Mild and beautiful Spirit!’ she cried, prostrating203 herself before the figure — ‘you whose lips alone have smiled on me since I reached your Christian land, — you whose countenance204 I have sometimes imagined to belong to those who dwelt in the stars of my own Indian sky, — hear me, and be not angry with me! Let me lose all feeling of my present existence, or all memory of the past! Why do my former thoughts return? They once made me happy, now they are thorns in my heart! Why do they retain their power since their nature is altered? I cannot be what I was — Oh, let me then no longer remember it! Let me, if possible, see, feel, and think as those around me do! Alas! I feel it is much easier to descend138 to their level than to raise them to mine. Time, constraint, and dullness, may do much for me, but what time could ever operate such a change on them! It would be like looking for the pearls at the bottom of the stagnant205 ponds which art has dug in their gardens. No, mother of the Deity206! divine and mysterious woman, no! — they never shall see another throb207 of my burning heart. Let it consume in its own fires before a drop of their cold compassion208 extinguishes them! Mother divine! are not burning hearts, then, worthiest209 of thee? — and does not the love of nature assimilate itself to the love of God! True, we may love without religion, but can we be religious without love? Yet, mother divine! dry up my heart, since there is no longer a channel for its streams to flow through! — or turn all those streams into the river, narrow and cold, that holds its course on to eternity! Why should I think or feel, since life requires only duties that no feeling suggests, and apathy210 that no reflection disturbs? Here let me rest! — it is indeed the end of enjoyment211, but it is also the end of suffering; and a thousand tears are a price too dear for the single smile which is sold for them in the commerce of life. Alas! it is better to wander in perpetual sterility than to be tortured with the remembrance of flowers that have withered212, and odours that have died for ever.’ Then a gush213 of uncontroulable emotion overwhelming her, she again bowed before the Virgin. ‘Yes, help me to banish133 every image from my soul but his — his alone! Let my heart be like this lonely apartment, consecrated214 by the presence of one sole image, and illuminated215 only by that light which affection kindles217 before the object of its adoration218, and worships it by for ever!’
‘In an agony of enthusiasm she continued to kneel before the image; and when she rose, the silence of her apartment, and the calm smile of the celestial219 figure, seemed at once a contrast and a reproach to this excess of morbid220 indulgence. That smile appeared to her like a frown. It is certain, that in agitation221 we can feel no solace from features that express only profound tranquillity222. We would rather wish corresponding agitation, even hostility225 — any thing but a calm that neutralizes226 and absorbs us. It is the answer of the rock to the wave — we collect, foam228, dash, and disperse229 ourselves against it, and retire broken, shattered, and murmuring to the echoes of our disappointment.
‘From the tranquil223 and hopeless aspect of the divinity, smiling on the misery231 it neither consoles or relieves, and intimating in that smile the profound and pulseless apathy of inaccessible232 elevation233, coldly hinting that humanity must cease to be, before it can cease to suffer — from this the sufferer rushed for consolation to nature, whose ceaseless agitation seems to correspond with the vicissitudes of human destiny and the emotions of the human heart — whose alternation of storms and calms, — of clouds and sun-light, — of terrors and delights — seems to keep a kind of mysterious measure of ineffable234 harmony with that instrument whose chords are doomed alternately to the thrill of agony and rapture235, till the hand of death sweeps over all the strings236, and silences them for ever. — With such a feeling, Isidora leaned against her casement, gasped237 for a breath of air, which the burning night did not grant, and thought how, on such a night in her Indian isle, she could plunge238 into the stream shaded by her beloved tamarind, or even venture amid the still and silvery waves of the ocean, laughing at the broken beams of the moonlight, as her light form dimpled the waters — snatching with smiling delight the brilliant, tortuous239, and enamelled shells that seemed to woo her white footsteps as she turned to the shore. Now all was different. The duties of the bath had been performed, but with a parade of soaps, perfumes, and, above all, attendants, who, though of her own sex, gave Isidora an unspeakable degree of disgust at the operation. The sponges and odours sickened her unsophisticated senses, and the presence of another human being seemed to close up every pore.
‘She had felt no refreshment from the bath, or from her prayers — she sought it at her casement, but there also in vain. The moon was as bright as the sun of colder climates, and the heavens were all in a blaze with her light. She seemed like a gallant240 vessel ploughing the bright and trackless ocean alone, while a thousand stars burned in the wake of her quiet glory, like attendant vessels241 pursuing their course to undiscovered worlds, and pointing them out to the mortal eye that lingered on their course, and loved their light.
‘Such was the scene above, but what a contrast to the scene below! The glorious and unbounded light fell on an inclosure of stiff parterres, cropped myrtles and orange-trees in tubs, and quadrangular ponds, and bowers242 of trellis-work, and nature tortured a thousand ways, and indignant and repulsive243 under her tortures every way.
‘Isidora looked and wept. Tears had now become her language when alone — it was a language she dared not utter before her family. Suddenly she saw one of the moonlight alleys244 darkened by an approaching figure. It advanced — it uttered her name — the name she remembered and loved — the name of Immalee! ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed, leaning from the casement, ‘is there then one who recognizes me by that name?’ — ‘It is only by that name I can address you,’ answered the voice of the stranger — ‘I have not yet the honour of being acquainted with the name your Christian friends have given you.’ — ‘They call me Isidora, but do you still call me Immalee. But how is it,’ she added in a trembling voice, — her fears for his safety overcoming all her sudden and innocent joy at his sight — ‘how is it that you are here? — here, where no human being is ever beheld but the inmates of the mansion245? — how did you cross the garden wall? — how did you come from India? Oh! retire for your own safety! I am among those whom I cannot trust or love. My mother is severe — my brother is violent. Oh! how did you obtain entrance into the garden? — How is it,’ she added in a broken voice, ‘that you risk so much to see one whom you have forgotten so long?’ — ‘Fair Neophyte246, beautiful Christian,’ answered the stranger, with a diabolical247 sneer248, ‘be it known to you that I regard bolts, and bars, and walls, as much as I did the breakers and rocks of your Indian isle — that I can go where, and retire when I please, without leave asked or taken of your brother’s mastiffs, or Toledos, or spring-guns, and in utter defiance249 of your mother’s advanced guard of duennas, armed in spectacles, and flanked with a double ammunition250 of rosaries, with beads as large as — ‘ ‘Hush! — hush! — do not utter such impious sounds — I am taught to revere43 those holy things. But is it you? — and did I indeed see you last night, or was it a thought such as visits me in dreams, and wraps me again in visions of that beautiful and blessed isle where first I— Oh that I never had seen you!’ — ‘Lovely Christian! be reconciled to your horrible destiny. You saw me last night — I crossed your path twice when you were sparkling among the brightest and most beautiful of all Madrid. It was me you saw — I rivetted your eye — I transfixed your slender frame as with a flash of lightning — you fell fainting and withered under my burning glance. It was me you saw — me, the disturber of your angelical existence in that isle of paradise — the hunter of your form and your steps, even amid the complicated and artificial tracks in which you have been concealed251 by the false forms of the existence you have embraced!’ — ‘Embraced! — Oh no! they seized on me — they dragged me here — they made me a Christian. They told me all was for my salvation252, for my happiness here and hereafter — and I trust it will, for I have been so miserable ever since, that I ought to be happy somewhere.’ — ‘Happy,’ repeated the stranger with his withering sneer — ‘and are you not happy now? The delicacy253 of your exquisite frame is no longer exposed to the rage of the elements — the fine and feminine luxury of your taste is solicited255 and indulged by a thousand inventions of art — your bed is of down — your chamber106 hung with tapestry. Whether the moon be bright or dark, six wax tapers burn in your chamber all night. Whether the skies be bright or cloudy, — whether the earth be clothed with flowers, or deformed256 with tempests, — the art of the limner has surrounded you with ‘a new heaven and a new earth;’ and you may bask257 in suns that never set, while the heavens are dark to other eyes, — and luxuriate amid landscapes and flowers, while half your fellow-creatures are perishing amid snows and tempests!’ (Such was the over-flowing acrimony of this being, that he could not speak of the beneficence of nature, or the luxuries of art, without interweaving something that seemed like a satire258 on, or a scorn of both.) ‘You also have intellectual beings to converse259 with instead of the chirpings of loxias, and the chatterings of monkeys.’ — ‘I have not found the conversation I encounter much more intelligible260 or significant,’ murmured Isidora, but the stranger did not appear to hear her. ‘You are surrounded by every thing that can flatter the senses, intoxicate261 the imagination, or expand the heart. All these indulgences must make you forget the voluptuous262 but unrefined liberty of your former existence.’ — ‘The birds in my mother’s cages,’ said Isidora, ‘are for ever pecking at their gilded263 bars, and trampling264 on the clear seeds and limpid265 water they are supplied with — would they not rather rest in the mossy trunk of a doddered oak, and drink of whatever stream they met, and be at liberty, at all the risk of poorer food and fouler266 drink — would they not rather do anything than break their bills against gilded wires?’ — ‘Then you do not feel your new existence in this Christian land so likely to surfeit267 you with delight as you once thought? For shame, Immalee — shame on your ingratitude268 and caprice! Do you remember when from your Indian isle you caught a glimpse of the Christian worship, and were entranced at the sight?’ — ‘I remember all that ever passed in that isle. My life formerly was all anticipation269, — now it is all retrospection. The life of the happy is all hopes, — that of the unfortunate all memory. Yes, I remember catching a glimpse of that religion so beautiful and pure; and when they brought me to a Christian land, I thought I should have found them all Christians270.’ — ‘And what did you find them, then, Immalee?’ — ‘Only Catholics.’ — ‘Are you aware of the danger of the words you utter? Do you know that in this country to hint a doubt of Catholicism and Christianity being the same, would consign271 you to the flames as a heretic incorrigible272? Your mother, so lately known to you as a mother, would bind273 your hands when the covered litter came for its victim; and your father, though he has never yet beheld you, would buy with his last ducat the faggots that were to consume you to ashes; and all your relations in their gala robes would shout their hallelujahs to your dying screams of torture. Do you know that the Christianity of these countries is diametrically opposite to the Christianity of that world of which you caught a gleam, and which you may see recorded in the pages of your Bible, if you are permitted to read it?’
‘Isidora wept, and confessed she had not found Christianity what she had at first believed it; but with her wild and eccentric ingenuousness, she accused herself the next moment of her confession, — and she added, ‘I am so ignorant in this new world, — I have so much to learn, — my senses so often deceive me, — and my habits and perceptions so different from what they ought to be — I mean from what those around me are — that I should not speak or think but as I am taught. Perhaps, after some years of instruction and suffering, I may be able to discover that happiness cannot exist in this new world, and Christianity is not so remote from Catholicism as it appears to me now.’ — ‘And have you not found yourself happy in this new world of intelligence and luxury?’ said Melmoth, in a tone of involuntary softness. ‘I have at times.’ — ‘What times?’ — ‘When the weary day was over, and my dreams bore me back to that island of enchantment274. Sleep is to me like some bark rowed by visionary pilots, that wafts275 me to shores of beauty and blessedness, — and all night long I revel276 in my dreams with spirits. Again I live among flowers and odours — a thousand voices sing to me from the brooks277 and the breezes — the air is all alive and eloquent278 with invisible melodists — I walk amid a breathing atmosphere, and living and loving inanimation — blossoms that shed themselves beneath my steps — and streams that tremble to kiss my feet, and then retire; and then return again, wasting themselves in fondness before me, and touching me, as my lips press the holy images they have taught me to worship here!’ — ‘Does no other image ever visit your dreams, Immalee?’ — ‘I need not tell you,’ said Isidora, with that singular mixture of natural firmness, and partial obscuration of intellect, — the combined result of her original and native character, and extraordinary circumstances of her early existence — ‘I need not tell you — you know you are with me every night!’ — ‘Me?’ — ‘Yes, you; you are for ever in that canoe that bears me to the Indian isle — you gaze on me, but your expression is so changed, that I dare not speak to you — we fly over the seas in a moment, but you are for ever at the helm, though you never land — the moment the paradise isle appears, you disappear; and as we return, the ocean is all dark, and our course is as dark and swift as the storm that sweeps them — you look at me, but never speak — Oh yes! you are with me every night!’ — ‘But, Immalee, these are all dreams — idle dreams. I row you over the Indian seas from Spain! — this is all a vision of your imagination.’ — ‘Is it a dream that I see you now?’ said Isidora — ‘is it a dream that I talk with you? — Tell me, for my senses are bewildered; and it appears to me no less strange, that you should be here in Spain, than that I should be in my native island. Alas! in the life that I now lead, dreams have become realities, and realities seem only like dreams. How is it you are here, if indeed you are here? — how is it that you have wandered so far to see me? How many oceans you must have crossed, how many isles you must have seen, and none like that where I first beheld you! But is it you indeed I behold279? I thought I saw you last night, but I had rather trust even my dreams than my senses. I believed you only a visitor of that isle of visions, and a haunter of the visions that recall it — but are you in truth a living being, and one whom I may hope to behold in this land of cold realities and Christian horrors?’ — ‘Beautiful Immalee, or Isidora, or whatever other name your Indian worshippers, or Christian god-fathers and god-mothers, have called you by, I pray you listen to me, while I expound280 a few mysteries to you.’ And Melmoth, as he spoke, flung himself on a bed of hyacinths and tulips that displayed their glowing flowers, and sent up their odorous breath right under Isidora’s casement. ‘Oh you will destroy my flowers!’ cried she, while a reminiscence of her former picturesque281 existence, when flowers were the companions alike of her imagination and her pure heart, awoke her exclamation. ‘It is my vocation — I pray you pardon me!’ said Melmoth, as he basked282 on the crushed flowers, and darted283 his withering sneer and scowling284 glance at Isidora. ‘I am commissioned to trample285 on and bruise286 every flower in the natural and moral world — hyacinths, hearts, and bagatelles of that kind, just as they occur. And now, Donna Isidora, with as long an et cetera as you or your sponsors could wish, and with no possible offence to the herald288, here I am to-night — and where I shall be to-morrow night, depends on your choice. I would as soon be on the Indian seas, where your dreams send me rowing every night, or crashing through the ice near the Poles, or ploughing with my naked corse, (if corses have feeling), through the billows of that ocean where I must one day (a day that has neither sun or moon, neither commencement or termination), plough forever, and reap despair!’ — ‘Hush! — hush! — Oh forbear such horrid289 sounds! Are you indeed he whom I saw in the isle? Are you he, inwoven ever since that moment with my prayers, my hopes, my heart? Are you that being upon whom hope subsisted290, when life itself was failing? On my passage to this Christian land, I suffered much. I was so ill you would have pitied me — the clothes they put on me — the language they made me speak — the religion they made me believe — the country they brought me to — Oh you! — you alone! — the thought — the image of you, could alone have supported me! I loved, and to love is to live. Amid the disruption of every natural tie, — amid the loss of that delicious existence which seems a dream, and which still fills my dreams, and makes sleep a second existence, — I have thought of you — have dreamt of you — have loved you!’ — ‘Loved me? — no being yet loved me but pledged me in tears.’ — ‘And have I not wept?’ said Isidora — ‘believe these tears — they are not the first I have shed, nor I fear will be the last, since I owe the first to you.’ And she wept as she spoke. ‘Well,’ said the wanderer, with a bitter and self-satirizing laugh, ‘I shall be persuaded at last that I am ‘a marvellous proper man.’ Well, if it must be so, happy man be his dole84! And when shall the auspicious291 day, beautiful Immalee, still beautiful Isidora, in spite of your Christian name, (to which I have a most anti-catholic objection) — when shall that bright day dawn on your long slumbering292 eye-lashes, and waken them with kisses, and beams, and light, and love, and all the paraphernalia293 with which folly294 arrays misery previous to their union — that glittering and empoisoned drapery that well resembles what of old Dejanira sent to her husband — when shall the day of bliss295 be?’ And he laughed with that horrible convulsion that mingles296 the expression of levity297 with that of despair, and leaves the listener no doubt whether there is more despair in laughter, or more laughter in despair. ‘I understand you not,’ said the pure and timid Isidora; ‘and if you would not terrify me to madness, laugh no more — no more, at least, in that fearful way!’ — ‘I cannot weep,’ said Melmoth, fixing on her his dry and burning eyes, strikingly visible in the moonlight; ‘the fountain of tears has been long dried up within me, like that of every other human blessing298.’ — ‘I can weep for both,’ said Isidora, ‘if that be all.’ And her tears flowed fast, as much from memory as from grief — and when those sources are united, God and the sufferer only know how fast and bitterly they fall. ‘Reserve them for our nuptial299 hour, my lovely bride,’ said Melmoth to himself; ‘you will have occasion for them then.’
‘There was a custom then, however indelicate and repulsive it may sound to modern ears, for ladies who were doubtful of the intentions of their lovers to demand of them the proof of their purity and honour, by requiring an appeal to their family, and a solemn union under the sanction of the church. Perhaps there was more genuine spirit of truth and chastity in this, than in all the ambiguous flirtation300 that is carried on with an ill-understood and mysterious dependence301 on principles that have never been defined, and fidelity302 that has never been removed. When the lady in the Italian tragedy asks her lover, almost at their first interview, if his intentions are honourable, and requires, as the proof of their being so, that he shall espouse303 her immediately, does she not utter a language more unsophisticated, more intelligible, more heartedly pure, than all the romantic and incredible reliance that other females are supposed to place in the volatility304 of impulse, — in that wild and extemporaneous305 feeling, — that ‘house on the sands,’ — which never has its foundation in the immoveable depths of the heart. Yielding to this feeling, Isidora, in a voice that faultered at its own accents, murmured, ‘If you love me, seek me no more clandestinely306. My mother is good, though she is austere307 — my brother is kind, though he is passionate308 — my father — I have never seen him! I know not what to say, but if he be my father, he will love you. Meet me in their presence, and I will no longer feel pain and shame mingled309 with the delight of seeing you. Invoke310 the sanction of the church, and then, perhaps,’ — ‘Perhaps!’ retorted Melmoth; ‘You have learned the European ‘perhaps!’ — the art of suspending the meaning of an emphatic word — of affecting to draw the curtain of the heart at the moment you drop its folds closer and closer — of bidding us despair at the moment you intend we should feel hope!’ — ‘Oh no! — no!’ answered the innocent being; ‘I am truth. I am Immalee when I speak to you, — though to all others in this country, which they call Christian, I am Isidora. When I loved you first, I had only one heart to consult, — now there are many, and some who have not hearts like mine. But if you love me, you can bend to them as I have done — you can love their God, their home, their hopes, and their country. Even with you I could not be happy, unless you adored the cross to which your hand first pointed my wandering sight, and the religion which you reluctantly confessed was the most beautiful and beneficent on earth.’ — ‘Did I confess that?’ echoed Melmoth; ‘It must have been reluctantly indeed. Beautiful Immalee! I am a convert to you;’ and he stifled311 a Satanic laugh as he spoke; ‘to your new religion, and your beauty, and your Spanish birth and nomenclature, and every thing that you would wish. I will incontinently wait on your pious mother, and angry brother, and all your relatives, testy312, proud, and ridiculous as they may be. I will encounter the starched313 ruffs, and rustling314 manteaus, and whale-boned fardingales of the females, from your good mother down to the oldest duenna who sits spectacled, and armed with bobbin, on her inaccessible and untempted sopha; and the twirled whiskers, plumed315 hats, and shouldered capas of all your male relatives. And I will drink chocolate, and strut316 among them; and when they refer me to your mustachoed man of law, with his thread-bare cloke of black velvet317 over his shoulder, his long quill224 in his hand, and his soul in three sheets of wide-spread parchment, I will dower you in the most ample territory ever settled on a bride.’ — ‘Oh let it be, then, in that land of music and sunshine where we first met! One spot where I might set my foot amid its flowers, is worth all the cultivated earth of Europe!’ said Isidora. — ‘No! — it shall be in a territory with which your bearded men of law are far better acquainted, and which even your pious mother and proud family must acknowledge my claim to, when they shall hear it asserted and explained. Perchance they may be joint-tenants with me there; and yet (strange to say!) they will never litigate my exclusive title to possession.’ — ‘I understand nothing of this,’ said Isidora; ‘but I feel I am transgressing318 the decorums of a Spanish female and a Christian, in holding this conference with you any longer. If you think as you once thought, — if you feel as I must feel for ever, — there needs not this discussion, which only perplexes and terrifies. What have I to do with this territory of which you speak? That you are its possessor, is its only value in my eyes!’ — ‘What have you to do with it?’ repeated Melmoth; ‘Oh, you know not how much you may have to do with it and me yet! In other cases, the possession of the territory is the security for the man, — but here the man is the security for the everlasting possession of the territory. Mine heirs must inherit it for ever and ever, if they hold by my tenure319. Listen to me, beautiful Immalee, or Christian, or whatever other name you choose to be called by! Nature, your first sponsor, baptized you with the dews of Indian roses — your Christian sponsors, of course, spared not water, salt, or oil, to wash away the stain of nature from your regenerated320 frame — and your last sponsor, if you will submit to the rite110, will anoint you with a new chrism. But of that hereafter. Listen to me while I announce to you the wealth, the population, the magnificence of that region to which I will endower you. The rulers of the earth are there — all of them. There be the heroes, and the sovereigns, and the tyrants321. There are their riches, and pomp, and power — Oh what a glorious accumulation! — and they have thrones, and crowns, and pedestals, and trophies322 of fire, that burn for ever and ever, and the light of their glory blazes eternally. There are all you read of in story, your Alexanders and C?sars, your Ptolemies and Pharaohs. There be the princes of the East, the Nimrods, the Belshazzars, and the Holoferneses of their day. There are the princes of the North, the Odins, the Attilas, (named by your church the scourge323 of God), the Alarics, and all those nameless and name-undeserving barbarians324, who, under various titles and claims, ravaged325 and ruined the earth they came to conquer. There be the sovereigns of the South, and East, and West, the Mahommedans, the Caliphs, the Saracens, the Moors, with all their gorgeous pretensions326 and ornaments327 — the crescent, the Koran, and the horse-tail — the trump328, the gong, and the atabal, (or to suit it to your Christianised ear, lovely Neophyte!) ‘the noise of the captains, and the shoutings.’ There be also those triple-crowned chieftains of the West, who hide their shorn heads under a diadem329, and for every hair they shave, demand the life of a sovereign — who, pretending to humility, trample on power — whose title is, Servant of servants — and whose claim and recognizance is, Lord of lords. Oh! you will not lack company in that bright region, for bright it will be! — and what matter whether its light be borrowed from the gleam of sulphur, or the trembling light of the moon, by which I see you look so pale?’ — ‘I look pale?’ said Isidora gasping330; ‘I feel pale! I know not the meaning of your words, but I know it must be horrible. Speak no more of that region, with its pride, its wickedness, and its splendour! I am willing to follow you to deserts, to solitudes331, which human step never trod but yours, and where mine shall trace, with sole fidelity, the print of yours. Amid loneliness I was born; amid loneliness I could die. Let me but, wherever I live, and whenever I die, be yours! — and for the place, it matters not, let it be even’ — and she shivered involuntarily as she spoke; ‘Let it be even’ — ‘Even — where?’ asked Melmoth, while a wild feeling of triumph in the devotedness332 of this unfortunate female, and of horror at the destination which she was unconsciously imprecating on herself, mingled in the question. ‘Even where you are to be,’ answered the devoted Isidora, ‘Let me be there! and there I must be happy, as in the isle of flowers and sunlight, where I first beheld you. Oh! there are no flowers so balmy and roseate as those that once blew there! There are no waters so musical, or breezes so fragrant333, as those that I listened to and inhaled334, when I thought that they repeated to me the echo of your steps, or the melody of your voice — that human music the first I ever heard, and which, when I cease to hear’ — ‘You will hear much better!’ interrupted Melmoth; ‘the voices often thousand — ten millions of spirits — beings whose tones are immortal335, without cessation, without pause, without interval183!’ — ‘Oh that will be glorious!’ said Isidora, clasping her hands; ‘the only language I have learned in this new world worth speaking, is the language of music. I caught some imperfect sounds from birds in my first world, but in my second world they taught me music; and the misery they have taught me, hardly makes a balance against that new and delicious language.’ — ‘But think,’ rejoined Melmoth, ‘if your taste for music be indeed so exquisite, how it will be indulged, how it will be enlarged, in hearing those voices accompanied and reechoed by the thunders of ten thousand billows of fire, lashing336 against rocks which eternal despair has turned into adamant337! They talk of the music of the spheres! — Dream of the music of those living orbs227 turning on their axis338 of fire for ever and ever, and ever singing as they shine, like your brethren the Christians, who had the honour to illuminate216 Nero’s garden in Rome on a rejoicing night.’ — ‘You make me tremble!’ — ‘Tremble! — a strange effect of fire. Fie! what a coyness is this! I have promised, on your arrival at your new territory, all that is mighty339 and magnificent, — all that is splendid and voluptuous — the sovereign and the sensualist — the inebriated340 monarch341 and the pampered342 slave — the bed of roses and the canopy343 of fire!’ — ‘And is this the home to which you invite me?’ — ‘It is — it is. Come, and be mine! — myriads344 of voices summon you — hear and obey them! Their voices thunder in the echoes of mine — their fires flash from my eyes, and blaze in my heart. Hear me, Isidora, my beloved, hear me! I woo you in earnest, and for ever! Oh how trivial are the ties by which mortal lovers are bound, compared to those in which you and I shall be bound to eternity! Fear not the want of a numerous and splendid society. I have enumerated345 sovereigns, and pontiffs, and heroes, — and if you should condescend346 to remember the trivial amusements of your present sejour, you will have enough to revive its associations. You love music, and doubtless you will have most of the musicians who have chromatized since the first essays of Tubal Cain to Lully, who beat himself to death at one of his own oratorios347, or operas, I don’t know which. They will have a singular accompaniment — the eternal roar of a sea of fire makes a profound bass67 to the chorus of millions of singers in torture!’ — ‘What is the meaning of this horrible description?’ said the trembling Isidora; ‘your words are riddles348 to me. Do you jest with me for the sake of tormenting349, or of laughing at me?’ — ‘Laughing!’ repeated her wild visitor; ‘that is an exquisite hint — vive la bagatelle287! Let us laugh for ever! — we shall have enough to keep us in countenance. There will be all that ever have dared to laugh on earth — the singers, the dancers, the gay, the voluptuous, the brilliant, the beloved — all who have ever dared to mistake their destiny, so far as to imagine that enjoyment was not a crime, or that a smile was not an infringement350 of their duty as sufferers. All such must expiate351 their error under circumstances which will probably compel the most inveterate352 disciple353 of Democritus, the most inextinguishable laugher among them, to allow that there, at least, ‘laughter is madness.’ — ‘I do not understand you,’ said Isidora, listening to him with that sinking of the heart which is produced by a combined and painful feeling of ignorance and terror. ‘Not understand me?’ repeated Melmoth, with that sarcastic354 frigidity355 of countenance which frightfully contrasted the burning intelligence of his eyes, that seemed like the fires of a volcano bursting out amid masses of snow heaped up to its very edge; ‘not understand me! — are you not, then, fond of music?’ — ‘I am.’ — ‘Of dancing, too, my graceful356, beautiful love?’ — ‘I was.’ — ‘What is the meaning of the different emphasis you give to those answers?’ — ‘I love music — I must love it for ever — it is the language of recollection. A single strain of it wafts me back to the dreamy blessedness, the enchanted357 existence, of my own — own isle. Of dancing I cannot say so much. I have learnt dancing — but I felt music. I shall never forget the hour when I heard it for the first time, and imagined it was the language which Christians spoke to each other. I have heard them speak a different language since.’ — ‘Doubtless their language is not always melody, particularly when they address each other on controverted358 points in religion. Indeed, I can conceive nothing less a-kin to harmony than the debate of a Dominican and Franciscan on the respective efficacy of the cowl of the order, to ascertain359 the salvation of him who happens to die in it. But have you no other reason for being fond of music, and for only having been fond of dancing? Nay360, let me have ‘your most exquisite reason.’
1 Alluding361 possibly to ‘Romeo and Juliet.’
‘It seemed as if this unhappy being was impelled362 by his ineffable destiny to deride363 the misery he inflicted364, in proportion to its bitterness. His sarcastic levity bore a direct and fearful proportion to his despair. Perhaps this is also the case in circumstances and characters less atrocious. A mirth which is not gaiety is often the mask which hides the convulsed and distorted features of agony — and laughter, which never yet was the expression of rapture, has often been the only intelligible language of madness and misery. Extacy only smiles, — despair laughs. It seemed, too, as if no keenness of ironical365 insult, no menace of portentous366 darkness, had power to revolt the feelings, or alarm the apprehensions367, of the devoted being to whom they were addressed. Her ‘most exquisite reasons,’ demanded in a tone of ruthless irony368, were given in one whose exquisite and tender melody seemed still to retain the modulation369 on which its first sounds had been formed, — that of the song of birds, mingled with the murmur230 of waters.
‘I love music, because when I hear it I think of you. I have ceased to love dancing, though I was at first intoxicated370 with it, because, when dancing, I have sometimes forgot you. When I listen to music, your image floats on every note, — I hear you in every sound. The most inarticulate murmurs371 that I produce on my guitar (for I am very ignorant) are like a spell of melody that raises a form indescribable — not you, but my idea of you. In your presence, though that seems necessary to my existence, I have never felt that exquisite delight that I have experienced in that of your image, when music has called it up from the recesses372 of my heart. Music seems to me like the voice of religion summoning to remember and worship the God of my heart. Dancing appears like a momentary373 apostasy374, almost a profanation375.’ — ‘That, indeed, is a sweet and subtle reason,’ answered Melmoth, ‘and one that, of course, has but one failure, — that of not being sufficiently376 flattering to the hearer. And so my image floats on the rich and tremulous waves of melody one moment, like a god of the overflowing377 billows of music, triumphing in their swells378, and graceful even in their falls, — and the next moment appears, like the dancing demon379 of your operas, grinning at you between the brilliant movement of your fandangoes, and flinging the withering foam of his black and convulsed lips into the cup where you pledge at your banquetting. Well — dancing — music — let them go together! It seems that my image is equally mischievous380 in both — in one you are tortured by reminiscence, and in the other by remorse381. Suppose that image is withdrawn382 from you for ever, — suppose that it were possible to break the tie that unites us, and whose vision has entered into the soul of both.’ — ‘You may suppose it,’ said Isidora, with maiden30 pride and tender grief blended in her voice; ‘and if you do, believe that I will try to suppose it too; the effort will not cost much, — nothing but — my life!’
‘As Melmoth beheld this blessed and beautiful being, once so refined amid nature, and now so natural amid refinement383, still possessing all the soft luxuriance of her first angelic nature, amid the artificial atmosphere where her sweets were uninhaled, and her brilliant tints384 doomed to wither unappreciated, — where her pure and sublime385 devotedness of heart was doomed to beat like a wave against a rock, — exhaust its murmurs, — and expire; — As he felt this, and gazed on her, he cursed himself; and then, with the selfishness of hopeless misery, he felt that the curse might, by dividing it, be diminished.
‘Isidora!’ he whispered in the softest tones he could assume, approaching the casement, at which his pale and beautiful victim stood; ‘Isidora! will you then be mine?’ — ‘What shall I say?’ said Isidora; ‘if love requires the answer, I have said enough; if only vanity, I have said too much.’ — ‘Vanity! beautiful trifler, you know not what you say; the accusing angel himself might blot386 out that article from the catalogue of my sins. It is one of my prohibited and impossible offences; it is an earthly feeling, and therefore one which I can neither participate or enjoy. Certain it is that I feel some share of human pride at this moment.’ — ‘Pride! at what? Since I have known you, I have felt no pride but that of supreme387 devotedness, — that self-annihilating pride which renders the victim prouder of its wreath, than the sacrificer of his office.’ — ‘But I feel another pride,’ answered Melmoth, and in a proud tone he spoke it, — ‘a pride, which, like that of the storm that visited the ancient cities, whose destruction you may have read of, while it blasts, withers388, and encrusts paintings, gems389, music, and festivity, grasping them in its talons390 of annihilation, exclaims, Perish to all the world, perhaps beyond the period of its existence, but live to me in darkness and in corruption391! Preserve all the exquisite modulation of your forms! all the indestructible brilliancy of your colouring! — but preserve it for me alone! — me, the single, pulseless, eyeless, heartless embracer of an unfertile bride, — the brooder over the dark and unproductive nest of eternal sterility, — the mountain whose lava392 of internal fire has stifled, and indurated, and inclosed for ever, all that was the joy of earth, the felicity of life, and the hope of futurity!’
‘As he spoke, his expression was at once so convulsed and so derisive393, so indicative of malignity and levity, so thrilling to the heart, while it withered every fibre it touched and wrung394, that Isidora, with all her innocent and helpless devotedness, could not avoid shuddering395 before this fearful being, while, in trembling and unappeaseable solicitude396, she demanded, ‘Will you then be mine? Or what am I to understand from your terrible words? Alas! my heart has never enveloped397 itself in mysteries — never has the light of its truth burst forth398 amid the thunderings and burnings in which you have issued the law of my destiny.’ — ‘Will you then be mine, Isidora?’ — ‘Consult my parents. Wed15 me by the rites150, and in the face of the church, of which I am an unworthy member, and I will be yours for ever.’ — ‘For ever!’ repeated Melmoth; ‘well-spoken, my bride. You will then be mine for ever? — will you, Isidora?’ — ‘Yes! — yes! — I have said so. But the sun is about to rise, I feel the increasing perfume of the orange blossoms, and the coolness of the morning air. Begone — I have staid too long here — the domestics may be about, and observe you — begone, I implore399 you.’ — ‘I go — but one word — for to me the rising of the sun, and the appearance of your domestics, and every thing in heaven above, and earth beneath, is equally unimportant. Let the sun stay below the horizon and wait for me. You are mine!’ — ‘Yes, I am yours; but you must solicit254 my family.’ — ‘Oh, doubtless! — solicitation400 is so congenial to my habits.’ — ‘And’ — ‘Well, what? — you hesitate.’ — ‘I hesitate,’ said the ingenuous25 and timid Isidora, ‘because’ — ‘Well?’ — ‘Because,’ she added, bursting into tears, ‘those with whom you speak will not utter to God language like mine. They will speak to you of wealth and dower; they will inquire about that region where you have told me your rich and wide possessions are held; and should they ask me of them, how shall I answer?’
‘At these words, Melmoth approached as close as possible to the casement, and uttered a certain word which Isidora did not at first appear to hear, or understand — trembling she repeated her request. In a still lower tone the answer was returned. Incredulous, and hoping that the answer had deceived her, she again repeated her petition. A withering monosyllable, not to be told, thundered in her ears, — and she shrieked401 as she closed the casement. Alas! the casement only shut out the form of the stranger — not his image.’
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1
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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tardiness
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| n.缓慢；迟延；拖拉 | |
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grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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wither
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| vt.使凋谢，使衰退，(用眼神气势等)使畏缩；vi.枯萎，衰退，消亡 | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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14
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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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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20
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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23
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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24
err
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| vi.犯错误，出差错 | |
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25
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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repelling
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| v.击退( repel的现在分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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33
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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36
imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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39
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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40
lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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41
celibacy
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| n.独身(主义) | |
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42
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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43
revere
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| vt.尊崇，崇敬，敬畏 | |
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44
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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45
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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46
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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47
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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48
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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49
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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50
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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51
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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52
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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53
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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54
mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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55
detesting
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的现在分词 ) | |
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56
abhorring
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| v.憎恶( abhor的现在分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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57
execrating
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| v.憎恶( execrate的现在分词 )；厌恶；诅咒；咒骂 | |
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58
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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59
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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60
cardinals
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| 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 | |
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61
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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62
apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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63
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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64
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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65
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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66
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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67
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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68
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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everlastingly
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| 永久地，持久地 | |
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70
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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71
lapses
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| n.失误，过失( lapse的名词复数 )；小毛病；行为失检；偏离正道v.退步( lapse的第三人称单数 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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72
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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73
attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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74
inverted
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| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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76
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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77
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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78
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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79
inhaling
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| v.吸入( inhale的现在分词 ) | |
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80
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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81
refulgent
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| adj.辉煌的，灿烂的 | |
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82
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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83
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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84
dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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85
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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86
isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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87
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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88
constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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89
illusive
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| adj.迷惑人的，错觉的 | |
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90
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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91
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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92
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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93
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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94
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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95
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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96
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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97
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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98
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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99
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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100
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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101
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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102
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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103
reverting
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| 恢复( revert的现在分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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104
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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105
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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106
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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107
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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108
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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109
proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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110
rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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111
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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112
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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113
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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114
raves
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| n.狂欢晚会( rave的名词复数 )v.胡言乱语( rave的第三人称单数 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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115
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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116
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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117
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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118
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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119
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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120
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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121
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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122
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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123
conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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124
malignity
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| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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125
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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126
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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127
apotheosis
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| n.神圣之理想；美化；颂扬 | |
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128
baboon
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| n.狒狒 | |
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129
redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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130
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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131
impoverished
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| adj.穷困的，无力的，用尽了的v.使（某人）贫穷( impoverish的过去式和过去分词 )；使（某物）贫瘠或恶化 | |
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132
transfusion
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| n.输血，输液 | |
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133
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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134
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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136
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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138
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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139
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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140
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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141
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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142
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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143
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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144
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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145
illiberal
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| adj.气量狭小的，吝啬的 | |
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146
immunity
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| n.优惠；免除；豁免，豁免权 | |
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147
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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148
peculiar
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|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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149
premise
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| n.前提；v.提论，预述 | |
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150
rites
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| 仪式，典礼( rite的名词复数 ) | |
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151
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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152
gainsayer
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| 否认的 | |
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153
adjure
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| v.郑重敦促(恳请) | |
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154
copiousness
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| n.丰裕，旺盛 | |
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155
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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156
benignity
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| n.仁慈 | |
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157
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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158
mundane
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| adj.平凡的；尘世的；宇宙的 | |
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159
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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160
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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161
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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162
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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163
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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164
omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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165
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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166
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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167
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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168
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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169
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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170
zealous
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| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
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171
slake
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| v.解渴，使平息 | |
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172
provocative
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|
| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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173
stimulative
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| n.刺激，促进因素adj.刺激的，激励的，促进的 | |
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174
neutralize
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| v.使失效、抵消，使中和 | |
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175
stimulation
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| n.刺激，激励，鼓舞 | |
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176
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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177
trespassed
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| （trespass的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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178
protrusion
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| n.伸出，突出 | |
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179
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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180
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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181
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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182
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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183
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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184
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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185
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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186
parched
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|
| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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187
gaping
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|
| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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188
chimeras
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| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
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189
abortive
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|
| adj.不成功的，发育不全的 | |
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190
repletion
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| n.充满，吃饱 | |
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191
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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192
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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193
niche
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| n.壁龛；合适的职务(环境、位置等) | |
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194
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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195
sleepless
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|
| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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196
prostrated
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|
| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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197
monotonous
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|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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198
vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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199
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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200
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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201
dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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202
violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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203
prostrating
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的现在分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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204
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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205
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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206
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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207
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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208
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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209
worthiest
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| 应得某事物( worthy的最高级 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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210
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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211
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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212
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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213
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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214
consecrated
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|
| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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215
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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216
illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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217
kindles
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的第三人称单数 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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218
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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219
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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220
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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221
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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222
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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223
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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224
quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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225
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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226
neutralizes
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| v.使失效( neutralize的第三人称单数 )；抵消；中和；使（一个国家）中立化 | |
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227
orbs
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| abbr.off-reservation boarding school 在校寄宿学校n.球，天体，圆形物( orb的名词复数 ) | |
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228
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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229
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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230
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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231
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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232
inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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233
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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234
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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235
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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236
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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237
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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238
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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239
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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240
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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241
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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242
bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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243
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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244
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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245
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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246
neophyte
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| n.新信徒；开始者 | |
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247
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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248
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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249
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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250
ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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251
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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252
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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253
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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254
solicit
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| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
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255
solicited
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| v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
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256
deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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257
bask
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| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
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258
satire
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|
| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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259
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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260
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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261
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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262
voluptuous
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|
| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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263
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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264
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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265
limpid
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| adj.清澈的，透明的 | |
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266
fouler
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|
| adj.恶劣的( foul的比较级 )；邪恶的；难闻的；下流的 | |
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267
surfeit
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| v.使饮食过度；n.(食物)过量，过度 | |
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268
ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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269
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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270
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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271
consign
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| vt.寄售（货品），托运，交托，委托 | |
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272
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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273
bind
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|
| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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274
enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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275
wafts
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|
| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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276
revel
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|
| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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277
brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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278
eloquent
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|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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279
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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280
expound
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|
| v.详述；解释；阐述 | |
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281
picturesque
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|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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282
basked
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|
| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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283
darted
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|
| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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284
scowling
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|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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285
trample
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|
| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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286
bruise
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|
| n.青肿，挫伤；伤痕；vt.打青；挫伤 | |
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287
bagatelle
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| n.琐事；小曲儿 | |
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288
herald
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|
| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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289
horrid
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|
| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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290
subsisted
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|
| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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291
auspicious
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|
| adj.吉利的；幸运的，吉兆的 | |
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292
slumbering
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|
| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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293
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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294
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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295
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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296
mingles
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|
| 混合，混入( mingle的第三人称单数 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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297
levity
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|
| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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298
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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299
nuptial
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|
| adj.婚姻的，婚礼的 | |
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300
flirtation
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|
| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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301
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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302
fidelity
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|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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303
espouse
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| v.支持，赞成，嫁娶 | |
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304
volatility
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|
| n.挥发性，挥发度，轻快，（性格）反复无常 | |
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305
extemporaneous
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|
| adj.即席的，一时的 | |
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306
clandestinely
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|
| adv.秘密地，暗中地 | |
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307
austere
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|
| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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308
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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309
mingled
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|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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310
invoke
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|
| v.求助于(神、法律)；恳求，乞求 | |
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311
stifled
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|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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312
testy
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|
| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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313
starched
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|
| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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314
rustling
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|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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315
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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316
strut
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|
| v.肿胀，鼓起；大摇大摆地走；炫耀；支撑；撑开；n.高视阔步；支柱，撑杆 | |
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317
velvet
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|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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318
transgressing
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| v.超越( transgress的现在分词 )；越过；违反；违背 | |
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319
tenure
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| n.终身职位；任期；(土地)保有权，保有期 | |
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320
regenerated
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| v.新生，再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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321
tyrants
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| 专制统治者( tyrant的名词复数 )； 暴君似的人； （古希腊的）僭主； 严酷的事物 | |
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322
trophies
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|
| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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323
scourge
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|
| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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324
barbarians
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|
| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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325
ravaged
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|
| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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326
pretensions
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|
| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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327
ornaments
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|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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328
trump
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|
| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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329
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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330
gasping
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|
| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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331
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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332
devotedness
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333
fragrant
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|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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334
inhaled
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|
| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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335
immortal
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|
| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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336
lashing
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|
| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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337
adamant
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|
| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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338
axis
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| n.轴，轴线，中心线；坐标轴，基准线 | |
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339
mighty
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|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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340
inebriated
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|
| adj.酒醉的 | |
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341
monarch
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|
| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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342
pampered
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|
| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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343
canopy
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|
| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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344
myriads
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|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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345
enumerated
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|
| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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346
condescend
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|
| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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347
oratorios
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|
| n.（以宗教为主题的）清唱剧，神剧( oratorio的名词复数 ) | |
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348
riddles
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|
| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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349
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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350
infringement
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|
| n.违反；侵权 | |
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351
expiate
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|
| v.抵补，赎罪 | |
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352
inveterate
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|
| adj.积习已深的，根深蒂固的 | |
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353
disciple
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|
| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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354
sarcastic
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|
| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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355
frigidity
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|
| n.寒冷；冷淡；索然无味；（尤指妇女的）性感缺失 | |
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356
graceful
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|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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357
enchanted
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|
| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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358
controverted
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| v.争论，反驳，否定( controvert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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359
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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360
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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361
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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362
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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363
deride
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| v.嘲弄，愚弄 | |
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364
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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365
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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366
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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367
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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368
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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369
modulation
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| n.调制 | |
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370
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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371
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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372
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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373
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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374
apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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375
profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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376
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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377
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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378
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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379
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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380
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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381
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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382
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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383
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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384
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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385
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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386
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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387
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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388
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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389
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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390
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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391
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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392
lava
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| n.熔岩，火山岩 | |
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393
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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394
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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395
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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396
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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397
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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398
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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399
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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400
solicitation
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| n.诱惑；揽货；恳切地要求；游说 | |
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401
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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