It consisted of a sort of antechamber, almost as large as ahandkerchief (decorated by the Fortins with the name of dining-room),a bedroom, and a closet called a dressing-room in the lease.
Nothing could be more gloomy than this lodging3, in which the raggedpaper and soiled paint retained the traces of all the wanderers whohad occupied it since the opening of the Hotel des Folies. Thedislocated ceiling was scaling off in large pieces; the floorseemed affected4 with the dry-rot; and the doors and windows wereso much warped5 and sprung, that it required an effort to close them.
The furniture was on a par1 with the rest.
"How everything does wear out!" sighed Mme. Fortin. "It isn't tenyears since I bought that furniture."In point of fact it was over fifteen, and even then she had boughtit secondhanded, and almost unfit for use. The curtains retainedbut a vague shade of their original color. The veneer6 was almostentirely off the bedstead. Not a single lock was in order, whetherin the bureau or the secretary. The rug had become a nameless rag;and the broken springs of the sofa, cutting through the threadbarestuff, stood up threateningly like knife-blades.
The most sumptuous7 object was an enormous China stove, whichoccupied almost one-half of the hall-dining-room. It could not beused to make a fire; for it had no pipe. Nevertheless, Mme. Fortinrefused obstinately8 to take it out, under the pretext9 that it gavesuch a comfortable appearance to the apartment. All this elegancecost Maxence forty-five francs a month, and five francs for theservice; the whole payable10 in advance from the 1st to the 3d ofthe month. If, on the 4th, a tenant11 came in without money, Mme.
Fortin squarely refused him his key, and invited him to seekshelter elsewhere.
"I have been caught too often," she replied to those who tried toobtain twenty-four hours' grace from her. "I wouldn't trust myown father till the 5th, he who was a superior officer in Napoleon'sarmies, and the very soul of honor."It was chance alone which had brought Maxence, after the Commune,to the Hotel des Folies; and he had not been there a week, beforehe had fully12 made up his mind not to wear out Mme. Fortin'sfurniture very long. He had even already found another and moresuitable lodging, when, about a year ago, a certain meeting onthe stairs had modified all his views, and lent a charm to hisapartment which he did not suspect.
As he was going out one morning to his office, he met on the verylanding a rather tall and very dark girl, who had just comerunning up stairs. She passed before him like a flash, openedthe opposite door, and disappeared. But, rapid as the apparitionhad been, it had left in Maxence's mind one of those impressionswhich are never obliterated13. He could not think of any thingelse the whole day; and after business-hours, instead of going todine in Rue14 St. Gilles, as usual, he sent a despatch15 to his motherto tell her not to wait for him, and bravely went home.
But it was in vain, that, during the whole evening, he kept watchbehind his door, left slyly ajar: he did not get a glimpse of theneighbor. Neither did she show herself on the next or the threefollowing days; and Maxence was beginning to despair, when at last,on Sunday, as he was going down stairs, he met her again face toface. He had thought her quite pretty at the first glance: thistime he was dazzled to that extent, that he remained for over aminute, standing16 like a statue against the wall.
And certainly it was not her dress that helped setting off herbeauty. She wore a poor dress of black merino, a narrow collar,and plain cuffs17, and a bonnet18 of the utmost simplicity19. She hadnevertheless an air of incomparable dignity, a grace that charmed,and yet inspired respect, and the carriage of a queen. This wason the 30th of July. As he was handing in his key, before leaving,"My apartment suits me well enough," said Maxence to Mme. Fortin:
"I shall keep it. And here are fifty francs for the month of August."And, while the landlady20 was making out a receipt,"You never told me," he began with his most indifferent look, "thatI had a neighbor."Mme. Fortin straightened herself up like an old warhorse that hearsthe sound of the bugle21.
"Yes, yes!" she said, -" Mademoiselle Lucienne.""Lucienne," repeated Maxence: "that's a pretty name.""Have you seen her?""I have just seen her. She's rather good looking."The worthy22 landlady jumped on her chair. "Rather good looking!"she interrupted. "You must be hard to please, my dear sir; for I,who am a judge, I affirm that you might hunt Paris over for fourwhole days without finding such a handsome girl. Rather goodlooking! A girl who has hair that comes down to her knees, adazzling complexion23, eyes as big as this, and teeth whiter thanthat cat's. All right, my friend. You'll wear out more than onepair of boots running after women before you catch one like her."That was exactly Maxence's opinion; and yet with his coldest look,"Has she been long your tenant, dear Mme. Fortin?" he asked.
"A little over a year. She was here during the siege; and justthen, as she could not pay her rent, I was, of course, going tosend her off; but she went straight to the commissary of police,who came here, and forbade me to turn out either her or anybodyelse. As if people were not masters in their own house!""That was perfectly24 absurd!" objected Maxence, who was determinedto gain the good graces of the landlady.
"Never heard of such a thing!" she went on. "Compel you to lodgepeople free! Why not feed them too? In short, she remained solong, that, after the Commune, she owed me a hundred and eightyfrancs. Then she said, that, if I would let her stay, she wouldpay me each month in advance, besides the rent, ten francs on theold account. I agreed, and she has already paid up twenty francs.""Poor girl!" said Maxence.
But Mme. Fortin shrugged25 her shoulders.
"Really," she replied, "I don't pity her much; for, if she onlywanted, in forty-eight hours I should be paid, and she would havesomething else on her back besides that old black rag. I tell herevery day, 'In these days, my child, there is but one reliablefriend, which is better than all others, and which must be taken asit comes, without making any faces if it is a little dirty: that'smoney.' But all my preaching goes for nothing. I might as wellsing."Maxence was listening with intense delight.
"In short, what does she do?" he asked.
"That's more than I know," replied Mme. Fortin. "The young ladyhas not much to say. All I know is, that she leaves every morningbright and early, and rarely gets home before eleven. On Sundayshe stays home, reading; and sometimes, in the evening, she goesout, always alone, to some theatre or ball. Ah! she is an oddone, I tell you!"A lodger26 who came in interrupted the landlady; and Maxence walkedoff dreaming how he could manage to make the acquaintance of hispretty and eccentric neighbor.
Because he had once spent some hundreds of napoleons in the companyof young ladies with yellow chignons, Maxence fancied himself a manof experience, and had but little faith in the virtue27 of a girl oftwenty, living alone in a hotel, and left sole mistress of her ownfancy. He began to watch for every occasion of meeting her; and,towards the last of the month, he had got so far as to bow to her,and to inquire after her health.
But, the first time he ventured to make love to her, she looked athim head to foot, and turned her back upon him with so much contempt,that he remained, his mouth wide open, perfectly stupefied.
"I am losing my time like a fool," he thought.
Great, then, was his surprise, when the following week, on a fineafternoon, he saw Mlle. Lucienne leave her room, no longer clad inher eternal black dress, but wearing a brilliant and extremely richtoilet. With a beating heart he followed her.
In front of the Hotel des Folies stood a handsome carriage andhorses.
As soon as Mlle. Lucienne appeared, a footman opened respectfullythe carriage-door. She went in; and the horses started at a fulltrot.
Maxence watched the carriage disappear in the distance, like achild who sees the bird fly upon which he hoped to lay hands.
"Gone," he muttered, "gone!"But, when he turned around, he found himself face to face with theFortins, man and wife; who were laughing a sinister29 laugh.
"What did I tell you?" exclaimed Mine Fortin. "There she is,started at last. Get up, horse! She'll do well, the child."The magnificent equipage and elegant dress had already producedquite an effect among the neighbors. The customers sitting in frontof the caf were laughing among themselves. The confectioner andhis wife were casting indignant glances at the proprietors30 of theHotel des Folies.
"You see, M. Favoral," replied Mme. Fortin, "such a girl as thatwas not made for our neighborhood. You must make up your mind toit; you won't see much more of her on the Boulevard du Temple."Without saying a word, Maxence ran to his room, the hot tearsstreaming from his eyes. He felt ashamed of himself; for, afterall, what was this girl to him?.
She is gone!" he repeated to himself. "Well, good-by, let her go!"But, despite all his efforts at philosophy, he felt an immensesadness invading his heart: ill-defined regrets and spasms31 of angeragitated him. He was thinking what a fool he had been to believein the grand airs of the young lady, and that, if he had had dressesand horses to give her, she might not have received him so harshly.
At last he made up his mind to think no more of her, - one of thosefine resolutions which are always taken, and never kept; and in theevening he left his room to go and dine in the Rue St. Gilles.
But, as was often his custom, he stopped at the caf next door, andcalled for a drink. He was mixing his absinthe when he saw thecarriage that had carried off Mlle. Lucienne in the morning returningat a rapid gait, and stopping short in front of the hotel. Mlle.
Lucienne got out slowly, crossed the sidewalk, and entered thenarrow corridor. Almost immediately, the carriage turned around,and drove off.
"What does it mean?" thought Maxence, who was actually forgettingto swallow his absinthe.
He was losing himself in absurd conjectures32, when, some fifteenminutes later, he saw the girl coming out again. Already she hadtaken off her elegant clothes, and resumed her cheap black dress.
She had a basket on her arm, and was going towards the Rue Chariot.
Without further reflections, Maxence rose suddenly, and started tofollow her, being very careful that she should not see him. Afterwalking for five or six minutes, she entered a shop, half-eatinghouse, and half wine-shop, in the window of which a large signcould be read: "Ordinary at all hours for forty centimes. Hardboiled eggs, and salad of the season."Maxence, having crept up as close as he could, saw Mlle. Luciennetake a tin box out of her basket, and have what is called an"ordinaire" poured into it; that is, half a pint33 of soup, a pieceof beef as large as the fist, and a few vegetables. She then hada small bottle half-filled with wine, paid, and walked out withthat same look of grave dignity which she always wore.
"Funny dinner," murmured Maxence, "for a woman who was spreadingherself just now in a ten-thousand-franc carriage."From that moment she became the sole and only object of his thoughts.
A passion, which he no longer attempted to resist, was penetratinglike a subtle poison to the innermost depths of his being. Hethought himself happy, when, after watching for hours, he caught aglimpse of this singular creature, who, after that extraordinaryexpedition, seemed to have resumed her usual mode of life. Mme.
Fortin was dumfounded.
"She has been too exacting," she said to Maxence, "and the thinghas fallen through."He made no answer. He felt a perfect horror for the honorablelandlady's insinuations; and yet he never ceased to repeat tohimself that he must be a great simpleton to have faith for amoment in that young lady's virtue. What would he not have givento be able to question her? But he dared not. Often he wouldgather up his courage, and wait for her on the stairs; but, assoon as she fixed34 upon him her great black eye, all the phraseshe had prepared took flight from his brain, his tongue clove35 tohis mouth, and he could barely succeed in stammering36 out a timid,"Good-morning, mademoiselle."He felt so angry with himself, that he was almost on the point ofleaving the Hotel des Folies, when one evening:
"Well," said Mme. Fortin to him, "all is made up again, it seems.
The beautiful carriage called again to-day."Maxence could have beaten her.
"What good would it do you," he replied, "if Lucienne were to turnout badly?""It's always a pleasure," she grumbled37, "to have one more woman totorment the men. Those are the girls, you see, who avenge38 us poorhonest women!"The sequel seemed at first to justify39 her worst previsions. Threetimes during that week, Mlle. Lucienne rode out in grand style; butas she always returned, and always resumed her eternal black woolendress,"I can't make head or tail of it," thought Maxence. But never mind,I'll clear the matter up yet."He applied41, and obtained leave of absence; and from the very nextday he took up a position behind the window of the adjoining caf .
On the first day he lost his time; but on the second day, at aboutthree o'clock, the famous equipage made its appearance; and, a fewmoments later, Mlle. Lucienne took a seat in it. Her toilet wasricher, and more showy still, than the first time. Maxence jumpedinto a cab.
"You see that carriage," he said to the coachman, "Wherever itgoes, you must follow it. I give ten francs extra pay.""All right!" replied the driver, whipping up his horses.
And much need he had, too, of whipping them; for the carriage thatcarried off Mlle. Lucienne started at full trot28 down the Boulevards,to the Madeleine, then along the Rue Royale, and through the Placede la Concorde, to the Avenue des Champs-E1ysees, where the horseswere brought down to a walk. It was the end of September, and oneof those lovely autumnal days which are a last smile of the bluesky and the last caress42 of the sun.
There were races in the Bois de Boulogne; and the equipages werefive and six abreast43 on the avenue. The side-alleys were crowdedwith idlers. Maxence, from the inside of his cab, never lost sightof Mlle. Lucienne.
She was evidently creating a sensation. The men stopped to lookat her with gaping44 admiration45: the women leaned out of theircarriages to see her better.
"Where can she be going?" Maxence wondered.
She was going to the Bois; and soon her carriage joined theinterminable line of equipages which were following the grand driveat a walk. It became easier now to follow on foot. Maxence sentoff his cab to wait for him at a particular spot, and took thepedestrians' road, that follows the edge of the lakes. He hadnot gone fifty steps, however, before he heard some one call him.
He turned around, and, within two lengths of his cane46, saw M. SaintPavin and M. Costeclar. Maxence hardly knew M. Saint Pavin, whomhe had only seen two or three times in the Rue St. Gilles, andexecrated M. Costeclar. Still he advanced towards them.
Mlle. Lucienne's carriage was now caught in the file; and he wassure of joining it whenever he thought proper.
"It is a miracle to see you here, my dear Maxence!" exclaimed M.
Costeclar, loud enough to attract the attention of several persons.
To occupy the attention of others, anyhow and at any cost, was M.
Costeclar's leading object in life.. That was evident from thestyle of his dress, the shape of his hat, the bright stripes of hisshirt, his ridiculous shirt-collar, his cuffs, his boots, his gloves,his cane, every thing, in fact.
"If you see us on foot," he added, "it is because we wanted to walka little. The doctor's prescription47, my dear. My carriage isyonder, behind those trees. Do you recognize my dapple-grays?"And he extended his cane in that direction, as if he were addressinghimself, not to Maxence alone, but to all those who were passing by.
"Very well, very well! everybody knows you have a carriage,"interrupted M. Saint Pavin.
The editor of "The Financial Pilot" was the living contrast of hiscompanion. More slovenly48 still than M. Costeclar was careful ofhis dress, he exhibited cynically49 a loose cravat50 rolled over a shirtworn two or three days, a coat white with lint51 and plush, muddyboots, though it had not rained for a week, and large red hands,surprisingly filthy52.
He was but the more proud ; and he wore, cocked up to one side, ahat that had not known a brush since the day it had left the hatter's.
"That fellow Costeclar," he went on, "he won't believe that thereare in France a number of people who live and die without everhaving owned a horse or a coupe; which is a fact, nevertheless.
Those fellows who were born with fifty or sixty thousand francs'
income in their baby-clothes are all alike."The unpleasant intention was evident; but M. Costeclar was not theman to get angry for such a trifle.
"You are in bad humor to-day, old fellow," he said. The editor of"The Financial Pilot" made a threatening gesture.
"Well, yes," he answered, "I am in bad humor, like a man who forten years past has been beating the drum in front of your d--dfinancial shops, and who does not pay expenses. Yes, for ten yearsI have shouted myself hoarse53 for your benefit: 'Walk in, ladies andgentlemen, and, for every twenty-cent-piece you deposit with us,we will return you a five-franc-piece. Walk in, follow the crowd,step up to the office: this is the time.' They go in. You receivemountains of twenty-cent-pieces: you never return anything, neithera five-franc-piece, nor even a centime. The trick is done, thepublic is sold. You drive your own carriage; you suspend diamondsto your mistress' ears; and I, the organizer of success, whose puffsopen the tightest closed pockets, and start up the old louis fromthe bottom of the old woolen40 stocking, - I am driven to have my bootshalf-soled. You stint54 me my existence; you kick as soon as I askyou to pay for the big drums bursted in your beha1f"He spoke55 so loud, that three or four idlers had stopped. Withoutbeing very shrewd, Maxence understood readily that he had happenedin the midst of an acrimonious56 discussion. Closely pressed, anddesirous of gaining time, M. Costeclar had called him in the hopesof effecting a diversion.
Bowing, therefore, politely,"Excuse me, gentlemen," he-said: "I fear I have interrupted you."But M. Costeclar detained him.
"Don't go," he declared; "you must come down and take a glass ofMadeira with us, down at the Cascade57."And, turning to the editor of "The Pilot":
"Come, now, shut up," he said: "you shall have what you want.""Really?""Upon my word.""I'd rather have two or three lines in black and white.""I'll give them to you to-night.""All right, then! Forward the big guns! Look out for next Sunday'snumber!"Peace being made, the gentlemen continued their walk in the mostfriendly manner, M. Costeclar pointing out to Maxence all thecelebrities who were passing by them in their carriages.
He had just designated to his attention Mme. and Mlle. de Thaller,accompanied by two gigantic footmen, when, suddenly interruptinghimself, and rising on tiptoe,"Sacre bleu!" he exclaimed: "what a handsome woman!"Without too much affectation, Maxence fell back a step or two. Hefelt himself blushing to his very ears, and trembled lest his suddenemotion were noticed, and he were questioned; for it was Mlle.
Lucienne who thus excited M. Costeclar's noisy enthusiasm. Oncealready she had been around the lake; and she was continuingher circular drive.
"Positively," approved the editor of "The Financial Pilot," "she issomewhat better than the rest of those ladies we have just seengoing by."M. Costeclar was on the point of pulling out what little hair hehad left.
"And I don't know her!" he went on. "A lovely woman rides in theBois, and I don't know who she is! That is ridiculous andprodigious! Who can post us?"A little ways off stood a group of gentlemen, who had also just lefttheir carriages, and were looking on this interminable procession ofequipages and this amazing display of toilets.
"They are friends of mine," said M. Costeclar: "let us join them."They did so; and, after the usual greetings,"Who is that?" inquired M. Costeclar, - "that dark person, whosecarriage follows Mme. de Thaller's?"An old young man, with scanty58 hair, dyed beard, and a most impudentsmile, answered him,"That's just what we are trying to find out. None of us have everseen her.""I must and shall find out," interrupted M. Costeclar. "I have avery intelligent servant"Already he was starting in the direction of the spot where hiscarriage was waiting for him. The old beau stopped him.
Don't bother yourself, my dear friend," he said. " I have also aservant who is no fool; and he has had orders for over fifteenminutes."The others burst out laughing.
"Distanced, Costeclar!" exclaimed M. Saint Pavin, who,notwithstanding his slovenly dress and cynic manners, seemedperfectly well received.
No one was now paying any attention to Maxence; and he slipped offwithout the slightest care as to what M. Costeclar might think.
Reaching the spot where his cab awaited him,"Which way, boss?" inquired the driver. Maxence hesitated. Whatbetter had he to do than to go home? And yet...
"We'll wait for that same carriage," he answered; and we'll followit on the return."But he learned nothing further. Mlle. Lucienne drove straight tothe Boulevard du Temple, and, as before, immediately resumed hereternal black dress; and Maxence saw, her go to the little restaurantfor her modest dinner.
But he saw something else too.
Almost on the heels of the girl, a servant in livery entered the hotelcorridor, and only went off after remaining a full quarter of an hourin busy conference with Mme. Fortin.
"It's all over," thought the poor fellow. "Lucienne will not bemuch longer my neighbor."He was mistaken. A month went by without bringing about any change.
As in the past, she went out early, came home late, and on Sundaysremained alone all day in her room. Once or twice a week, when theweather was fine, the carriage came for her at about three o'clock,and brought her home at nightfall. Maxence had exhausted59 allconjectures, when one evening, it was the 31st of October, as hewas coming in to go to bed, he heard a loud sound of voices in theoffice of the hotel. Led by an instinctive60 curiosity, he approachedon tiptoe, so as to see and hear every thing. The Fortins and Mlle.
Lucienne were having a great discussion.
"That's all nonsense," shrieked61 the worthy, landlady; "and I meanto be paid."Mlle. Lucienne was quite calm.
"Well," she replied: "don't I pay you? Here are forty francs,- thirty in advance for my room, and ten on the old account.""I don't want your ten francs!""What do you want, then?""Ah, - the hundred and fifty francs which you owe me still."The girl shrugged her shoulders.
"You forget our agreement," she uttered.
"Our agreement?""Yes. After the Commune, it was understood that I would give youten francs a month on the old account; as long as I give them toyou, you have nothing to ask."Crimson62 with rage, Mme. Fortin had risen from her seat.
"Formerly," she interrupted, "I presumed I had to deal with a poorworking-girl, an honest girl."Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the insult.
"I have not the amount you ask," she said coldly.
"Well, then," vociferated the other, "you must go and ask it ofthose who pay for your carriages and your dresses."Still impassible, the girl, instead of answering, stretched herhand towards her key; but M. Fortin stopped her arm.
"No, no!" he said with a giggle63. "People who don't pay theirhotel-bill sleep out, my darling."Maxence, that very morning, had received his month's pay, and hefelt, as it were, his two hundred francs trembling in his pockets.
Yielding to a sudden inspiration, he threw open the office-door,and, throwing down one hundred and fifty francs upon the table,"Here is your money, wretch64!" he exclaimed. And he withdrew atonce.
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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obstinately
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pretext
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payable
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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standing
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cuffs
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bonnet
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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landlady
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bugle
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worthy
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complexion
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perfectly
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shrugged
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lodger
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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sinister
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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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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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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stint
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| v.节省，限制，停止；n.舍不得化，节约，限制；连续不断的一段时间从事某件事 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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acrimonious
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| adj.严厉的，辛辣的，刻毒的 | |
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cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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