Anyone who attacks a proud person in a comic vein1 is almost sure of success; the laugh is generally on his side.
I asked in my dialogue whether it was lawful2 for a provost-marshal to call himself simply marshal, and whether a lieutenant-colonel had a right to the title of colonel. I also asked whether the man who preferred titles of honour, for which he had paid in hard cash, to his ancient and legitimate3 rank, could pass for a sage5.
Of course the marquis had to laugh at my dialogue, but he was called the general ever after. He had placed the royal arms of Poland over the gate of his palace, much to the amusement of Count Mischinski, the Polish ambassador to Berlin, who happened to be passing through Bologna at that time.
I told the Pole of my dispute with the mad marquis, and persuaded him to pay Albergati a visit, leaving his card. The ambassador did so, and the call was returned, but Albergati’s cards no longer bore the title of general.
The Dowager Electress of Saxony having come to Bologna, I hastened to pay my respects to her. She had only come to see the famous catstrato Farinello, who had left Madrid, and now lived at Bologna in great comfort. He placed a magnificent collation6 before the Electress, and sang a song of his own composition, accompanying himself on the piano. The Electress, who was an enthusiastic musician, embraced Farinello, exclaiming —
“Now I can die happy.”
Farinello, who was also known as the Chevalier Borschi had reigned7, as it were, in Spain till the Parmese wife of Philip V. had laid plots which obliged him to leave the Court after the disgrace of Enunada. The Electress noticed a portrait of the queen, and spoke9 very highly of her, mentioning some circumstances which must have taken place in the reign8 of Ferdinand VI.
The famous musician burst into tears, and said that Queen Barbara was as good as Elizabeth of Parma was wicked.
Borschi might have been seventy when I saw him at Bologna. He was very rich and in the enjoyment10 of good health, and yet he was unhappy, continually shedding tears at the thought of Spain.
Ambition is a more powerful passion than avarice11. Besides, Farinello had another reason for unhappiness.
He had a nephew who was the heir to all his wealth, whom he married to a noble Tuscan lady, hoping to found a titled family, though in an indirect kind of way. But this marriage was a torment12 to him, for in his impotent old age he was so unfortunate as to fall in love with his niece, and to become jealous of his nephew. Worse than all the lady grew to hate him, and Farinello had sent his nephew abroad, while he never allowed the wife to go out of his sight.
Lord Lincoln arrived in Bologna with an introduction for the cardinal13 legate, who asked him to dinner, and did me the honour of giving me an invitation to meet him. The cardinal was thus convinced that Lord Lincoln and I had never met, and that the grand duke of Tuscany had committed a great injustice14 in banishing15 me. It was on that occasion that the young nobleman told me how they had spread the snare16, though he denied that he had been cheated; he was far too proud to acknowledge such a thing. He died of debauchery in London three or four years after.
I also saw at Bologna the Englishman Aston with Madame Slopitz, sister of the Charming Cailimena. Madame Slopitz was much handsomer than her sister. She had presented Aston with two babes as beautiful as Raphael’s cherubs17.
I spoke of her sister to her, and from the way in which I sang her praises she guessed that I had loved her. She told me she would be in Florence during the Carnival18 of 1773, but I did not see her again till the year 1776, when I was at Venice.
The dreadful Nina Bergonci, who had made a madman of Count Ricla, and was the source of all my woes19 at Barcelona, had come to Bologna at the beginning of Lent, occupying a pleasant house which she had taken. She had carte blanche with a banker, and kept up a great state, affirming herself to be with child by the Viceroy of Catalonia, and demanding the honours which would be given to a queen who had graciously chosen Bologna as the place of her confinement20. She had a special recommendation to the legate, who often visited her, but in the greatest secrecy21.
The time of her confinement approached, and the insane Ricla sent over a confidential22 man, Don Martino, who was empowered to have the child baptized, and to recognize it as Ricla’s natural offspring.
Nina made a show of her condition, appearing at the theatre and in the public places with an enormous belly23. The greatest noble of Bologna paid court to her, and Nina told them that they might do so, but that she could not guarantee their safety from the jealous dagger24 of Ricla. She was impudent25 enough to tell them what happened to me at Barcelona, not knowing that I was at Bologna.
She was extremely surprised to hear from Count Zini, who knew me, that I inhabited the same town as herself.
When the count met me he asked me if the Barcelona story was true. I did not care to take him into my confidence, so I replied that I did not know Nina, and that the story had doubtless been made up by her to see whether he would encounter danger for her sake.
When I met the cardinal I told him the whole story, and his eminence26 was astonished when I gave him some insight into Nina’s character, and informed him that she was the daughter of her sister and her grandfather.
“I could stake my life,” said I, “that Nina is no more with child than you are.”
“Oh, come!” said he, laughing, “that is really too strong; why shouldn’t she have a child? It is a very simple matter, it seems to me. Possibly it may not be Ricla’s child but there can be no doubt that she is with somebody’s child. What object could she have for feigning27 pregnancy28?”
“To make herself famous by defiling29 the Count de Ricla, who was a model of justice and virtue30 before knowing this Messalina. If your eminence knew the hideous31 character of Nina you would not wonder at anything she did.”
“Well, we shall see.”
“Yes.”
About a week later I heard a great noise in the street, and on putting my head out of the window I saw a woman stripped to the waist, and mounted on an ass4, being scourged32 by the hangman, and hooted33 by a mob of all the biricchini in Bologna. Severini came up at the same moment and informed me that the woman was the chief midwife in Bologna, and that her punishment had been ordered by the cardinal archbishop.
“It must be for some great crime,” I observed.
“No doubt. It is the woman who was with Nina the day before yesterday.”
“What! has Nina been brought to bed?”
“Yes; but of a still-born child.”
“I see it all.”
Next day the story was all over the town.
A poor woman had come before the archbishop, and had complained bitterly that the midwife Teresa had seduced34 her, promising35 to give her twenty sequins if she would give her a fine boy to whom she had given birth a fortnight ago. She was not given the sum agreed upon, and in her despair at hearing of the death of her child she begged for justice, declaring herself able to prove that the dead child said to be Nina’s was in reality her own.
The archbishop ordered his chancellor36 to enquire37 into the affair with the utmost secrecy, and then proceed to instant and summary execution.
A week after this scandal Don Martino returned to Barcelona; but Nina remained as impudent as ever, doubled the size of the red cockades which she made her servants wear, and swore that Spain would avenge38 her on the insolent39 archbishop. She remained at Bologna six weeks longer, pretending to be still suffering from the effects of her confinement. The cardinal legate, who was ashamed of having had anything to do with such an abandoned prostitute, did his best to have her ordered to leave.
Count Ricla, a dupe to the last, gave her a considerable yearly income on the condition that she should never come to Barcelona again; but in a year the count died.
Nina did not survive him for more than a year, and died miserably40 from her fearful debauchery. I met her mother and sister at Venice, and she told me the story of the last two years of her daughter’s life; but it is so sad and so disgusting a tale that I feel obliged to omit it.
As for the infamous41 midwife, she found powerful friends.
A pamphlet appeared in which the anonymous42 author declared that the archbishop had committed a great wrong in punishing a citizen in so shameful43 a manner without any of the proper formalities of justice. The writer maintained that even if she were guilty she had been unjustly punished, and should appeal to Rome.
The prelate, feeling the force of these animadversions, circulated a pamphlet in which it appeared that the midwife had made three prior appearances before the judge, and that she would have been sent to the gallows44 long ago if the archbishop had not hesitated to shame three of the noblest families in Bologna, whose names appeared in documents in the custody45 of his chancellor.
Her crimes were procuring46 abortion47 and killing48 erring49 mothers, substituting the living for the dead, and in one case a boy for a girl, thus giving him the enjoyment of property which did not belong to him.
This pamphlet of the prelate reduced the patrons of the infamous midwife to silence, for several young noblemen whose mothers had been attended by her did not relish50 the idea of their family secrets being brought to light.
At Bologna I saw Madame Marucci, who had been expelled from Spain for the same reason as Madame Pelliccia. The latter had retired51 to Rome, while Madame Marucci was on her way to Lucca, her native country.
Madame Soavi, a Bolognese dancer whom I had known at Parma and Paris, came to Bologna with her daughter by M. de Marigni. The girl, whose name was Adelaide, was very beautiful, and her natural abilities had been fostered by a careful education.
When Madame Soavi got to Bologna she met her husband whom she had not seen for fifteen years.
“Here is a treasure for you,” said she, shewing him her daughter.
“She’s certainly very pretty, but what am I to do with her? She does not belong to me.”
“Yes she does, as I have given her to you. You must know that she has six thousand francs a year, and that I shall be her cashier till I get her married to a good dancer. I want her to learn character dancing, and to make her appearance on the boards. You must take her out on holidays.”
“What shall I say if people ask me who she is?”
“Say she is your daughter, and that you are certain, because your wife gave her to you.”
“I can’t see that.”
“Ah, you have always stayed at home, and consequently your wits are homely52.”
I heard this curious dialogue which made me laugh then, and makes me laugh now as I write it. I offered to help in Adelaide’s education, but Madame Soavi laughed, and said —
“Fox, you have deceived so many tender pullets, that I don’t like to trust you with this one, for fear of your making her too precocious53.”
“I did not think of that, but you are right.”
Adelaide became the wonder of Bologna.
A year after I left the Comte du Barri, brother-in-law of the famous mistress of Louis XV., visited Bologna, and became so amorous54 of Adelaide that her mother sent her away, fearing he would carry her off.
Du Barri offered her a hundred thousand francs for the girl, but she refused the offer.
I saw Adelaide five years later on the boards of a Venetian theatre. When I went to congratulate her, she said —
“My mother brought me into the world, and I think she will send me out of it; this dancing is killing me.”
In point of fact this delicate flower faded and died after seven years of the severe life to which her mother had exposed her.
Madame Soavi who had not taken the precaution to settle the six thousand francs on herself, lost all in losing Adelaide, and died miserably after having rolled in riches. But, alas55! I am not the man to reproach anyone on the score of imprudence.
At Bologna I met the famous Afflisio, who had been discharged from the imperial service and had turned manager. He went from bad to worse, and five or six years later committed forgery56, was sent to the galleys57, and there died.
I was also impressed by the example of a man of a good family, who had once been rich. This was Count Filomarino. He was living in great misery58, deprived of the use of all his limbs by a succession of venereal complaints. I often went to see him to give him a few pieces of money, and to listen to his malevolent59 talk, for his tongue was the only member that continued active. He was a scoundrel and a slanderer60, and writhed61 under the thought that he could not go to Naples and torment his relations, who were in reality respectable people, but monsters according to his shewing.
Madame Sabatini, the dancer, had returned to Bologna, having made enough money to rest upon her laurels62. She married a professor of anatomy63, and brought all her wealth to him as a dower. She had with her her sister, who was not rich and had no talents, but was at the same time very agreeable.
At the house I met an abbe, a fine young man of modest appearance. The sister seemed to be deeply in love with him, while he appeared to be grateful and nothing more.
I made some remark to the modest Adonis, and he gave me a very sensible answer. We walked away together, and after telling each other what brought us to Bologna we parted, agreeing to meet again.
The abbe, who was twenty-four or twenty-five years old, was not in orders, and was the only son of a noble family of Novara, which was unfortunately poor as well as noble.
He had a very scanty64 revenue, and was able to live more cheaply at Bologna than Novara, where everything is dear. Besides, he did not care for his relations; he had no friends, and everybody there was more or less ignorant.
The Abbe de Bolini, as he was called, was a man of tranquil65 mind, living a peaceful and quiet life above all things. He liked lettered men more than letters, and did not trouble to gain the reputation of a wit. He knew he was not a fool, and when he mixed with learned men he was quite clever enough to be a good listener.
Both temperament66 and his purse made him temperate67 in all things, and he had received a sound Christian68 education. He never talked about religion, but nothing scandalized him. He seldom praised and never blamed.
He was almost entirely69 indifferent to women, flying from ugly women and blue stockings, and gratifying the passion of pretty ones more out of kindliness70 than love, for in his heart he considered women as more likely to make a man miserable71 than happy. I was especially interested in this last characteristic.
We had been friends for three weeks when I took the liberty of asking him how he reconciled his theories with his attachment72 to Brigida Sabatini.
He supped with her every evening, and she breakfasted with him every morning. When I went to see him, she was either there already or came in before my call was over. She breathed forth73 love in every glance, while the abbe was kind, but, in spite of his politeness, evidently bored.
Brigida looked well enough, but she was at least ten years older than the abbe. She was very polite to me and did her best to convince me that the abbe was happy in the possession of her heart, and that they both enjoyed the delights of mutual74 love.
But when I asked him over a bottle of good wine about his affection for Brigida, he sighed, smiled, blushed, looked down, and finally confessed that this connection was the misfortune of his life.
“Misfortune? Does she make you sigh in vain? If so you should leave her, and thus regain75 your happiness.”
“How can I sigh? I am not in love with her. She is in love with me, and tries to make me her slave.”
“How do you mean?”
“She wants me to marry her, and I promised to do so, partly from weakness, and partly from pity; and now she is in a hurry.”
“I daresay; all these elderly girls are in a hurry.”
“Every evening she treats me to tears, supplications, and despair. She summons me to keep my promise, and accuses me of deceiving her, so you may imagine that my situation is an unhappy one.”
“Have you any obligations towards her?”
“None whatever. She has violated me, so to speak, for all the advances came from her. She has only what her sister gives her from day to day, and if she got married she would not get that.”
“Have you got her with child?”
“I have taken good care not to do so, and that’s what has irritated her; she calls all my little stratagems76 detestable treason.”
“Nevertheless, you have made up your mind to marry her sooner or later?”
“I’d as soon hang myself. If I got married to her I should be four times as poor as I am now, and all my relations at Novara would laugh at me for bringing home a wife of her age. Besides, she is neither rich nor well born, and at Novara they demand the one or the other.”
“Then as a man of honour and as a man of sense, you ought to break with her, and the sooner the better.”
“I know, but lacking normal strength what am I to do? If I did not go and sup with her to-night, she would infallibly come after me to see what had happened. I can’t lock my door in her face, and I can’t tell her to go away.”
“No, but neither can go on in this miserable way.
“You must make up your mind, and cut the Gordian knot, like Alexander.”
“I haven’t his sword.”
“I will lend it you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen to me. You must go and live in another town. She will hardly go after you there, I suppose.”
“That is a very good plan, but flight is a difficult matter.”
“Difficult? Not at all. Do you promise to do what I tell you, and I will arrange everything quite comfortably. Your mistress will not know anything about it till she misses you at supper.”
“I will do whatever you tell me, and I shall never forget your kindness; but Brigida will go mad with grief.”
“Well my first order to you is not to give her grief a single thought. You have only to leave everything to me. Would you like to start to- morrow?”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes. Have you any debts?”
“No.”
“Do you want any money?”
“I have sufficient. But the idea of leaving tomorrow has taken my breath away. I must have three days delay.”
“Why so?”
“I expect some letters the day after to-morrow, and I must write to my relations to tell them where I am going.”
“I will take charge of your letters and send them on to you.”
“Where shall I be?”
“I will tell you at the moment of your departure; trust in me. I will send you at once where you will be comfortable. All you have to do is to leave your trunk in the hands of your landlord, with orders not to give it up to anyone but myself.”
“Very good. I am to go without my trunk, then.”
“Yes. You must dine with me every day till you go, and mind not to tell anyone whatsoever77 that you intend leaving Bologna.”
“I will take care not to do so.”
The worthy78 young fellow looked quite radiant. I embraced him and thanked him for putting so much trust in me.
I felt proud at the good work I was about to perform, and smiled at the thought of Brigida’s anger when she found that her lover had escaped. I wrote to my good friend Dandolo that in five or six days a young abbe would present himself before him bearing a letter from myself. I begged Dandolo to get him a comfortable and cheap lodging79, as my friend was so unfortunate as to be indifferently provided with money, though an excellent man. I then wrote the letter of which the abbe was to be the bearer.
Next day Bolini told me that Brigida was far from suspecting his flight, as owing to his gaiety at the thought of freedom he had contented80 her so well during the night she had passed with him that she thought him as much in love as she was.
“She has all my linen81,” he added, “but I hope to get a good part of it back under one pretext82 or another, and she is welcome to the rest.”
On the day appointed he called on me as we had arranged the night before, carrying a huge carpet bag containing necessaries. I took him to Modena in a post chaise, and there we dined; afterward83 I gave him a letter for M. Dandolo, promising to send on his trunk the next day.
He was delighted to hear that Venice was his destination, as he had long wished to go there, and I promised him that M. Dandolo should see that he lived as comfortably and cheaply as he had done at Bologna.
I saw him off, and returned to Bologna. The trunk I dispatched after him the following day.
As I had expected, the poor victim appeared before me all in tears the next day. I felt it my duty to pity her; it would have been cruel to pretend I did not know the reason for her despair. I gave her a long but kindly84 sermon, endeavouring to persuade her that I had acted for the best in preventing the abbe marrying her, as such a step would have plunged85 them both into misery.
The poor woman threw herself weeping at my feet, begging me to bring her abbe back, and swearing by all the saints that she would never mention the word “marriage” again. By way of calming her, I said I would do my best to win him over.
She asked where he was, and I said at Venice; but of course she did not believe me. There are circumstances when a clever man deceives by telling the truth, and such a lie as this must be approved by the most rigorous moralists.
Twenty-seven months later I met Bolini at Venice. I shall describe the meeting in its proper place.
A few days after he had gone, I made the acquaintance of the fair Viscioletta, and fell so ardently86 in love with her that I had to make up my mind to buy her with hard cash. The time when I could make women fall in love with me was no more, and I had to make up my mind either to do without them or to buy them.
I cannot help laughing when people ask me for advice, as I feel so certain that my advice will not be taken. Man is an animal that has to learn his lesson by hard experience in battling with the storms of life. Thus the world is always in disorder87 and always ignorant, for those who know are always in an infinitesimal proportion to the whole.
Madame Viscioletta, whom I went to see every day, treated me as the Florentine widow had done, though the widow required forms and ceremonies which I could dispense88 with in the presence of the fair Viscioletta, who was nothing else than a professional courtezan, though she called herself a virtuosa.
I had besieged89 her for three weeks without any success, and when I made any attempts she repulsed90 me laughingly.
Monsignor Buoncompagni, the vice-legate, was her lover in secret, though all the town knew it, but this sort of conventional secrecy is common enough in Italy. As as ecclesiastic91 he could not court her openly, but the hussy made no mystery whatever of his visits.
Being in need of money, and preferring to get rid of my carriage than of anything else, I announced it for sale at the price of three hundred and fifty Roman crowns. It was a comfortable and handsome carriage, and was well worth the price. I was told that the vice-legate offered three hundred crowns, and I felt a real pleasure in contradicting my favoured rival’s desires. I told the man that I had stated my price and meant to adhere to it, as I was not accustomed to bargaining.
I went to see my carriage at noon one day to make sure that it was in good condition, and met the vice-legate who knew me from meeting me at the legate’s, and must have been aware that I was poaching on his preserves. He told me rudely that the carriage was not worth more than three hundred crowns, and that I ought to be glad of the opportunity of getting rid of it, as it was much too good for me.
I had the strength of mind to despise his violence, and telling him dryly that I did not chaffer I turned my back on him and went my way.
Next day the fair Viscioletta wrote me a note to the effect that she would be very much obliged if I would let the vice-legate have the carriage at his own price, as she felt sure he would give it to her. I replied that I would call on her in the afternoon, and that my answer would depend on my welcome, I went in due course, and after a lively discussion, she gave way, and I signified my willingness to sell the carriage for the sum offered by the vice-legate.
The next day she had her carriage, and I had my three hundred crowns, and I let the proud prelate understand that I had avenged92 myself for his rudeness.
About this time Severini succeeded in obtaining a position as tutor in an illustrious Neapolitan family, and as soon as he received his journey- money he left Bologna. I also had thoughts of leaving the town.
I had kept up an interesting correspondence with M. Zaguri, who had made up his mind to obtain my recall in concert with Dandolo, who desired nothing better. Zaguri told me that if I wanted to obtain my pardon I must come and live as near as possible to the Venetian borders, so that the State Inquisitors might satisfy themselves of my good conduct. M. Zuliani, brother to the Duchess of Fiano, gave me the same advice, and promised to use all his interest in my behalf.
With the idea of following this counsel I decided93 to set up my abode94 at Trieste, where M. Zaguri told me he had an intimate friend to whom he would give me a letter of introduction. As I could not go by land without passing through the States of Venice I resolved to go to Ancona, whence boats sail to Trieste every day. As I should pass through Pesaro I asked my patron to give me a letter for the Marquis Mosca, a distinguished95 man of letters whom I had long wished to know. Just then he was a good deal talked about on account of a treatise96 on alms which he had recently published, and which the Roman curia had placed on the “Index.”
The marquis was a devotee as well as a man of learning, and was imbued97 with the doctrine98 of St. Augustine, which becomes Jansenism if pushed to an extreme point.
I was sorry to leave Bologna, for I had spent eight pleasant months there. In two days I arrived at Pesaro in perfect health and well provided for in every way.
I left my letter with the marquis, and he came to see me the same day. He said his house would always be open to me, and that he would leave me in his wife’s hands to be introduced to everybody and everything in the place. He ended by asking me to dine with him the following day, adding that if I cared to examine his library he could give me an excellent cup of chocolate.
I went, and saw an enormours collection of comments on the Latin poets from Ennius to the poets of the twelfth century of our era. He had had them all printed at his own expense and at his private press, in four tall folios, very accurately99 printed but without elegance100. I told him my opinion, and he agreed that I was right.
The want of elegance which had spared him an outlay101 of a hundred thousand francs had deprived him of a profit of three hundred thousand.
He presented me with a copy, which he sent to my inn, with an immense folio volume entitled “Marmora Pisaurentia,” which I had no time to examine.
I was much pleased with the marchioness, who had three daughters and two sons, all good-looking and well bred.
The marchioness was a woman of the world, while her husband’s interests were confined to his books. This difference in disposition102 sometimes gave rise to a slight element of discord103, but a stranger would never have noticed it if he had not been told.
Fifty years ago a wise man said to me: “Every family is troubled by some small tragedy, which should be kept private with the greatest care. In fine, people should learn to wash their dirty linen in private.”
The marchioness paid me great attention during the five days I spent at Pesaro. In the day she drove me from one country house to another, and at night she introduced me to all the nobility of the town.
The marquis might have been fifty then. He was cold by temperament, had no other passion but that of study, and his morals were pure. He had founded an academy of which he was the president. Its design was a fly, in allusion104 to his name Mosca, with the words ‘de me ce’, that is to say, take away ‘c’ from ‘musca’ and you have ‘musa’.
His only failing was that which the monks105 regard as his finest quality, he was religious to excess, and this excess of religion went beyond the bounds where ‘nequit consistere rectum’.
But which is the better, to go beyond these bounds, or not to come up to them? I cannot venture to decide the question. Horace says —
“Nulla est mihi religio!”
and it is the beginning of an ode in which he condemns106 philosophy for estranging107 him from religion.
Excess of every kind is bad.
I left Pesaro delighted with the good company I had met, and only sorry I had not seen the marquis’s brother who was praised by everyone.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
sage
|
|
| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
collation
|
|
| n.便餐；整理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
avarice
|
|
| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
cardinal
|
|
| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
injustice
|
|
| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
banishing
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
snare
|
|
| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
cherubs
|
|
| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
carnival
|
|
| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
woes
|
|
| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
confinement
|
|
| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
belly
|
|
| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
dagger
|
|
| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
feigning
|
|
| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
pregnancy
|
|
| n.怀孕，怀孕期 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
defiling
|
|
| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
scourged
|
|
| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
hooted
|
|
| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
seduced
|
|
| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
promising
|
|
| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
chancellor
|
|
| n.(英)大臣；法官；(德、奥)总理；大学校长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
enquire
|
|
| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
avenge
|
|
| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
insolent
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
miserably
|
|
| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
infamous
|
|
| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
anonymous
|
|
| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
shameful
|
|
| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
gallows
|
|
| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
custody
|
|
| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
procuring
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
abortion
|
|
| n.流产，堕胎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
erring
|
|
| 做错事的，错误的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
relish
|
|
| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
homely
|
|
| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
precocious
|
|
| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
amorous
|
|
| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
alas
|
|
| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
forgery
|
|
| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
galleys
|
|
| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
misery
|
|
| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
malevolent
|
|
| adj.有恶意的，恶毒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
slanderer
|
|
| 造谣中伤者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
writhed
|
|
| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
laurels
|
|
| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
anatomy
|
|
| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
scanty
|
|
| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
tranquil
|
|
| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
temperament
|
|
| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
temperate
|
|
| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
kindliness
|
|
| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
attachment
|
|
| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
regain
|
|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
stratagems
|
|
| n.诡计，计谋( stratagem的名词复数 )；花招 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
whatsoever
|
|
| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
pretext
|
|
| n.借口，托词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
plunged
|
|
| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
ardently
|
|
| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
dispense
|
|
| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
besieged
|
|
| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
repulsed
|
|
| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
ecclesiastic
|
|
| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
avenged
|
|
| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
abode
|
|
| n.住处，住所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
treatise
|
|
| n.专著；(专题)论文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
imbued
|
|
| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
doctrine
|
|
| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
outlay
|
|
| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
disposition
|
|
| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
discord
|
|
| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
allusion
|
|
| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
monks
|
|
| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
condemns
|
|
| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的第三人称单数 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
estranging
|
|
| v.使疏远（尤指家庭成员之间）( estrange的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |