That would be an interesting thing for them: it would cause one of those little thrills of pleasant excitement and conjectural2 exercise which supplied Riseholme with its emotional daily bread. They would all wonder what had happened to her, whether she had been taken ill at the very last moment before leaving town and with her well-known fortitude3 and consideration for the feelings of others, had sent her maid on to assure her husband that he need not be anxious. That would clearly be Mrs Quantock’s suggestion, for Mrs Quantock’s mind, devoted4 as it was now to the study of Christian5 Science, and the determination to deny the existence of pain, disease and death as regards herself, was always full of the gloomiest views as regards her friends, and on the slightest excuse, pictured that they, poor blind things, were suffering from false claims. Indeed, given that the fly had already arrived at The Hurst, and that its arrival had at this moment been seen by or reported to Daisy Quantock, the chances were vastly in favour of that lady’s having already started in to give Mrs Lucas absent treatment. Very likely Georgie Pillson had also seen the anticlimax6 of the fly’s arrival, but he would hazard a much more probable though erroneous solution of her absence. He would certainly guess that she had sent on her maid with her luggage to the station in order to take a seat for her, while she herself, oblivious7 of the passage of time, was spending her last half hour in contemplation of the Italian masterpieces at the National Gallery, or the Greek bronzes at the British Museum. Certainly she would not be at the Royal Academy, for the culture of Riseholme, led by herself, rejected as valueless all artistic8 efforts later than the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and a great deal of what went before. Her husband with his firm grasp of the obvious, on the other hand, would be disappointingly capable even before her maid confirmed his conjecture9, of concluding that she had merely walked from the station.
The motive, then, that made her send her cab on, though subconsciously11 generated, soon penetrated12 into her consciousness, and these guesses at what other people would think when they saw it arrive without her, sprang from the dramatic element that formed so large a part of her mentality13, and made her always take, as by right divine, the leading part in the histrionic entertainments with which the cultured of Riseholme beguiled14 or rather strenuously15 occupied such moments as could be spared from their studies of art and literature, and their social engagements. Indeed she did not usually stop at taking the leading part, but, if possible, doubled another character with it, as well as being stage-manager and adapter, if not designer of scenery. Whatever she did — and really she did an incredible deal — she did it with all the might of her dramatic perception, did it in fact with such earnestness that she had no time to have an eye to the gallery at all, she simply contemplated19 herself and her own vigorous accomplishment20. When she played the piano as she frequently did, (reserving an hour for practice every day), she cared not in the smallest degree for what anybody who passed down the road outside her house might be thinking of the roulades that poured from her open window: she was simply Emmeline Lucas, absorbed in glorious Bach or dainty Scarletti, or noble Beethoven. The latter perhaps was her favorite composer, and many were the evenings when with lights quenched21 and only the soft effulgence22 of the moon pouring in through the uncurtained windows, she sat with her profile, cameo-like (or like perhaps to the head on a postage stamp) against the dark oak walls of her music-room, and entranced herself and her listeners, if there were people to dinner, with the exquisite23 pathos24 of the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata25. Devotedly26 as she worshipped the Master, whose picture hung above her Steinway Grand, she could never bring herself to believe that the two succeeding movements were on the same sublime27 level as the first, and besides they “went” very much faster. But she had seriously thought, as she came down in the train today and planned her fresh activities at home of trying to master them, so that she could get through their intricacies with tolerable accuracy. Until then, she would assuredly stop at the end of the first movement in these moonlit seances, and say that the other two were more like morning and afternoon. Then with a sigh she would softly shut the piano lid, and perhaps wiping a little genuine moisture from her eyes, would turn on the electric light and taking up a book from the table, in which a paper-knife marked the extent of her penetration28, say:
“Georgie, you must really promise me to read this life of Antonino Caporelli the moment I have finished it. I never understood the rise of the Venetian School before. As I read I can smell the salt tide creeping up over the lagoon29, and see the campanile of dear Torcello.”
And Georgie would put down the tambour on which he was working his copy of an Italian cope and sigh too.
“You are too wonderful!” he would say. “How do you find time for everything?”
She rejoined with the apophthegm that made the rounds of Riseholme next day.
“My dear, it is just busy people that have time for everything.”
It might be thought that even such activities as have here been indicated would be enough to occupy anyone so busily that he would positively30 not have time for more, but such was far from being the case with Mrs Lucas. Just as the painter Rubens amused himself with being the ambassador to the Court of St. James — a sufficient career in itself for most busy men — so Mrs Lucas amused herself, in the intervals31 of her pursuit of Art for Art’s sake, with being not only an ambassador but a monarch32. Riseholme might perhaps according to the crude materialism33 of maps, be included in the kingdom of Great Britain, but in a more real and inward sense it formed a complete kingdom of its own, and its queen was undoubtedly34 Mrs Lucas, who ruled it with a secure autocracy35 pleasant to contemplate18 at a time when thrones were toppling, and imperial crowns whirling like dead leaves down the autumn winds. The ruler of Riseholme, happier than he of Russia, had no need to fear the finger of Bolshevism writing on the wall, for there was not in the whole of that vat36 which seethed37 so pleasantly with culture, one bubble of revolutionary ferment38. Here there was neither poverty nor discontent nor muttered menace of any upheaval39: Mrs Lucas, busy and serene40, worked harder than any of her subjects, and exercised an autocratic control over a nominal41 democracy.
Something of the consciousness of her sovereignty was in her mind, as she turned the last hot corner of the road and came in sight of the village street that constituted her kingdom. Indeed it belonged to her, as treasure trove42 belongs to the Crown, for it was she who had been the first to begin the transformation43 of this remote Elizabethan village into the palace of culture that was now reared on the spot where ten years ago an agricultural population had led bovine44 and unilluminated lives in their cottages of grey stone or brick and timber. Before that, while her husband was amassing46 a fortune, comfortable in amount and respectable in origin, at the Bar, she had merely held up a small dim lamp of culture in Onslow Gardens. But both her ambition and his had been to bask47 and be busy in artistic realms of their own when the materialistic48 needs were provided for by sound investments, and so when there were the requisite49 thousands of pounds in secure securities she had easily persuaded him to buy three of these cottages that stood together in a low two-storied block. Then, by judicious50 removal of partition-walls, she had, with the aid of a sympathetic architect, transmuted51 them into a most comfortable dwelling52, subsequently building on to them a new wing, that ran at right angles at the back, which was, if anything, a shade more inexorably Elizabethan than the stem onto which it was grafted53, for here was situated54 the famous smoking-parlour, with rushes on the floor, and a dresser ranged with pewter tankards, and leaded lattice-windows of glass so antique that it was practically impossible to see out of them. It had a huge open fireplace framed in oak-beams with a seat on each side of the iron-backed hearth55 within the chimney, and a genuine spit hung over the middle of the fire. Here, though in the rest of the house she had for the sake of convenience allowed the installation of electric light, there was no such concession56 made, and sconces on the walls held dim iron lamps, so that only those of the most acute vision were able to read. Even then reading was difficult, for the book-stand on the table contained nothing but a few crabbed57 black-letter volumes dating from not later than the early seventeenth century, and you had to be in a frantically58 Elizabethan frame of mind to be at ease there. But Mrs Lucas often spent some of her rare leisure moments in the smoking-parlour, playing on the virginal that stood in the window, or kippering herself in the fumes59 of the wood-fire as with streaming eyes she deciphered an Elzevir Horace rather late for inclusion under the rule, but an undoubted bargain.
The house stood at the end of the village that was nearest the station, and thus, when the panorama60 of her kingdom opened before her, she had but a few steps further to go. A yew-hedge, bought entire from a neighboring farm, and transplanted with solid lumps of earth and indignant snails61 around its roots, separated the small oblong of garden from the road, and cast monstrous62 shadows of the shapes into which it was cut, across the little lawns inside. Here, as was only right and proper, there was not a flower to be found save such as were mentioned in the plays of Shakespeare; indeed it was called Shakespeare’s garden, and the bed that ran below the windows of the dining room was Ophelia’s border, for it consisted solely63 of those flowers which that distraught maiden64 distributed to her friends when she should have been in a lunatic asylum65. Mrs Lucas often reflected how lucky it was that such institutions were unknown in Elizabeth’s day, or that, if known, Shakespeare artistically66 ignored their existence. Pansies, naturally, formed the chief decoration — though there were some very flourishing plants of rue67. Mrs Lucas always wore a little bunch of them when in flower, to inspire her thoughts, and found them wonderfully efficacious. Round the sundial, which was set in the middle of one of the squares of grass between which a path of broken paving-stone led to the front door, was a circular border, now, in July, sadly vacant, for it harboured only the spring-flowers enumerated68 by Perdita. But the first day every year when Perdita’s border put forth69 its earliest blossom was a delicious anniversary, and the news of it spread like wild-fire through Mrs Lucas’s kingdom, and her subjects were very joyful70, and came to salute71 the violet or daffodil, or whatever it was.
The three cottages dexterously72 transformed into The Hurst, presented a charmingly irregular and picturesque73 front. Two were of the grey stone of the district and the middle one, to the door of which led the paved path, of brick and timber; latticed windows with stone mullions gave little light to the room within, and certain new windows had been added; these could be detected by the observant eye for they had a markedly older appearance than the rest. The front-door, similarly, seemed as if it must have been made years before the house, the fact being that the one which Mrs Lucas had found there was too dilapidated to be of the slightest service in keeping out wind or wet or undesired callers. She had therefore caused to be constructed an even older one made from the oak-planks of a dismantled74 barn, and had it studded with large iron nails of antique pattern made by the village blacksmith. He had arranged some of them to look as if they spelled A.D. 1603. Over the door hung an inn-sign, and into the space where once the sign had swung was now inserted a lantern, in which was ensconced, well hidden from view by its patinated75 glass sides, an electric light. This was one of the necessary concessions76 to modern convenience, for no lamp nurtured77 on oil would pierce those genuinely opaque78 panes79, and illuminate45 the path to the gate. Better to have an electric light than cause your guests to plunge80 into Perdita’s border. By the side of this fortress-door hung a heavy iron bell-pull, ending in a mermaid81. When first Mrs Lucas had that installed, it was a bell-pull in the sense that an extremely athletic82 man could, if he used both hands and planted his feet firmly, cause it to move, so that a huge bronze bell swung in the servants’ passage and eventually gave tongue (if the athlete continued pulling) with vibrations83 so sonorous84 that the white-wash from the ceiling fell down in flakes86. She had therefore made another concession to the frailty87 of the present generation and the inconveniences of having whitewash88 falling into salads and puddings on their way to the dining room, and now at the back of the mermaid’s tail was a potent89 little bone button, coloured black and practically invisible, and thus the bell-pull had been converted into an electric bell-push. In this way visitors could make their advent90 known without violent exertion91, the mermaid lost no visible whit85 of her Elizabethan virginity, and the spirit of Shakespeare wandering in his garden would not notice any anachronism. He could not in fact, for there was none to notice.
Though Mrs Lucas’s parents had bestowed92 the name of Emmeline on her, it was not to be wondered at that she was always known among the more intimate of her subjects as Lucia, pronounced, of course, in the Italian mode — La Lucia, the wife of Lucas; and it was as “Lucia mia” that her husband hailed her as he met her at the door of The Hurst.
He had been watching for her arrival from the panes of the parlour while he meditated93 upon one of the little prose poems which formed so delectable94 a contribution to the culture of Riseholme, for though, as had been hinted, he had in practical life a firm grasp of the obvious, there were windows in his soul which looked out onto vague and ethereal prospects95 which so far from being obvious were only dimly intelligible96. In form these odes were cast in the loose rhythms of Walt Whitman, but their smooth suavity97 and their contents bore no resemblance whatever to the productions of that barbaric bard98, whose works were quite unknown in Riseholme. Already a couple of volumes of these prose-poems had been published, not of course in the hard business-like establishment of London, but at “Ye Sign of ye Daffodil,” on the village green, where type was set up by hand, and very little, but that of the best, was printed. The press had only been recently started at Mr Lucas’s expense, but it had put forth a reprint of Shakespeare’s sonnets99 already, as well as his own poems. They were printed in blunt type on thick yellowish paper, the edges of which seemed as if they had been cut by the forefinger100 of an impatient reader, so ragged101 and irregular were they, and they were bound in vellum, the titles of these two slim flowers of poetry, “Flotsam” and “Jetsam,” were printed in black letter type and the covers were further adorned102 with a sort of embossed seal and with antique looking tapes so that you could tie it all up with two bows when you had finished with Mr Lucas’s “Flotsam” for the time being, and turned to untie103 the “Jetsam.”
Today the prose-poem of “Loneliness” had not been getting on very well, and Philip Lucas was glad to hear the click of the garden-gate, which showed that his loneliness was over for the present, and looking up he saw his wife’s figure waveringly presented to his eyes through the twisted and knotty104 glass of the parlour window, which had taken so long to collect, but which now completely replaced the plain, commonplace unrefracting stuff which was there before. He jumped up with an alacrity105 remarkable106 in so solid and well-furnished a person, and had thrown open the nail-studded front-door before Lucia had traversed the path of broken paving-stones, for she had lingered for a sad moment at Perdita’s empty border.
“Lucia mia!” he exclaimed. “Ben arrivata! So you walked from the station?”
“Si, Peppino, mio caro,” she said. “Sta bene?”
He kissed her and relapsed into Shakespeare’s tongue, for their Italian, though firm and perfect as far as it went, could not be considered as going far, and was useless for conversational107 purposes, unless they merely wanted to greet each other, or to know the time. But it was interesting to talk Italian, however little way it went.
“Molto bene,” said he, “and it’s delightful108 to have you home again. And how was London?” he asked in the sort of tone in which he might have enquired109 after the health of a poor relation, who was not likely to recover. She smiled rather sadly.
“Terrifically busy about nothing,” she said. “All this fortnight I have scarcely had a moment to myself. Lunches, dinners, parties of all kinds; I could not go to half the gatherings110 I was bidden to. Dear good South Kensington! Chelsea too!”
“Carissima, when London does manage to catch you, it is no wonder it makes the most of you,” he said. “You mustn’t blame London for that.”
“No, dear, I don’t. Everyone was tremendously kind and hospitable111; they all did their best. If I blame anyone, I blame myself. But I think this Riseholme life with its finish and its exquisiteness112 spoils one for other places. London is like a railway-junction113: it has no true life of its own. There is no delicacy114, no appreciation115 of fine shades. Individualism has no existence there; everyone gabbles together, gabbles and gobbles: am not I naughty? If there is a concert in a private house — you know my views about music and the impossibility of hearing music at all if you are stuck in the middle of a row of people — even then, the moment it is over you are whisked away to supper, or somebody wants to have a few words. There is always a crowd, there is always food, you cannot be alone, and it is only in loneliness, as Goethe says, that your perceptions put forth their flowers. No one in London has time to listen: they are all thinking about who is there and who isn’t there, and what is the next thing. The exquisite present, as you put it in one of your poems, has no existence there: it is always the feverish116 future.”
“Delicious phrase! I should have stolen that gem17 for my poor poems, if you had discovered it before.”
She was too much used to this incense117 to do more than sniff118 it in unconsciously, and she went on with her tremendous indictment119.
“It isn’t that I find fault with London for being so busy,” she said with strict impartiality120, “for if being busy was a crime, I am sure there are few of us here who would escape hanging. But take my life here, or yours for that matter. Well, mine if you like. Often and often I am alone from breakfast till lunch-time, but in those hours I get through more that is worth doing than London gets through in a day and a night. I have an hour at my music not looking about and wondering who my neighbours are, but learning, studying, drinking in divine melody. Then I have my letters to write, and you know what that means, and I still have time for an hour’s reading so that when you come to tell me lunch is ready, you will find that I have been wandering through Venetian churches or sitting in that little dark room at Weimar, or was it Leipsic? How would those same hours have passed in London?
“Sitting perhaps for half an hour in the Park, with dearest Aggie121 pointing out to me, with thrills of breathless excitement, a woman who was in the divorce court, or a coroneted bankrupt. Then she would drag me off to some terrible private view full of the same people all staring at and gabbling to each other, or looking at pictures that made poor me gasp122 and shudder123. No, I am thankful to be back at my own sweet Riseholme again. I can work and think here.”
She looked round the panelled entrance-hall with a glow of warm content at toeing at home again that quite eclipsed the mere10 physical heat produced by her walk from the station. Wherever her eyes fell, those sharp dark eyes that resembled buttons covered with shiny American cloth, they saw nothing that jarred, as so much in London jarred. There were bright brass124 jugs125 on the window sill, a bowl of pot-pourri on the black table in the centre, an oak settee by the open fireplace, a couple of Persian rugs on the polished floor. The room had its quaintness126, too, such as she had alluded128 to in her memorable129 essay read before the Riseholme Literary Society, called “Humour in Furniture,” and a brass milkcan served as a receptacle for sticks and umbrellas. Equally quaint127 was the dish of highly realistic stone fruit that stood beside the pot-pourri and the furry130 Japanese spider that sprawled131 in a silk web over the window.
Such was the fearful verisimilitude of this that Lucia’s new housemaid had once fled from her duties in the early morning, to seek the assistance of the gardener in killing132 it. The dish of stone fruit had scored a similar success, for once she had said to Georgie Pillson, “Ah, my gardener has sent in some early apples and pears, won’t you take one home with you?” It was not till the weight of the pear (he swiftly selected the largest) betrayed the joke that he had any notion that they were not real ones. But then Georgie had had his revenge, for waiting his opportunity he had inserted a real pear among those stony133 specimens134 and again passing through with Lucia, he picked it out, and with lips drawn135 back had snapped at it with all the force of his jaws136. For the moment she had felt quite faint at the thought of his teeth crashing into fragments. . . . These humorous touches were altered from time to time; the spider for instance might be taken down and replaced by a china canary in a Chippendale cage, and the selection of the entrance hall for those whimsicalities was intentional137, for guests found something to smile at, as they took off their cloaks and entered the drawing room with a topic on their lips, something light, something amusing about what they had seen. For the gong similarly was sometimes substituted a set of bells that had once decked the collar of the leading horse in a waggoner’s team somewhere in Flanders; in fact when Lucia was at home there was often a new little quaintness for quite a sequence of days, and she had held out hopes to the Literary Society that perhaps some day, when she was not so rushed, she would jot138 down material for a sequel to her essay, or write another covering a rather larger field on “The Gambits of Conversation Derived139 from Furniture.”
On the table there was a pile of letters waiting for Mrs Lucas, for yesterday’s post had not been forwarded her, for fear of its missing her — London postmen were probably very careless and untrustworthy — and she gave a little cry of dismay as she saw the volume of her correspondence.
“But I shall be very naughty,” she said “and not look at one of them till after lunch. Take them away, Caro, and promise me to lock them up till then, and not give them me however much I beg. Then I will get into the saddle again, such a dear saddle, too, and tackle them. I shall have a stroll in the garden till the bell rings. What is it that Nietzsche says about the necessity to mediterranizer yourself every now and then? I must Riseholme myself.”
Peppino remembered the quotation140, which had occurreded in a review of some work of that celebrated141 author, where Lucia had also seen it, and went back, with the force of contrast to aid him, to his prose-poem of “Loneliness,” while his wife went through the smoking-parlour into the garden, in order to soak herself once more in the cultured atmosphere.
In this garden behind the house there was no attempt to construct a Shakespearian plot, for, as she so rightly observed, Shakespeare, who loved flowers so well, would wish her to enjoy every conceivable horticultural treasure. But furniture played a prominent part in the place, and there were statues and sundials and stone-seats scattered142 about with almost too profuse143 a hand. Mottos also were in great evidence, and while a sundial reminded you that “Tempus fugit,” an enticing144 resting-place somewhat bewilderingly bade you to “Bide145 a wee.” But then again the rustic146 seat in the pleached alley147 of laburnums had carved on its back, “Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,” so that, meditating148 on Keats, you could bide a wee with a clear conscience. Indeed so copious149 was the wealth of familiar and stimulating150 quotations151 that one of her subjects had once said that to stroll in Lucia’s garden was not only to enjoy her lovely flowers, but to spend a simultaneous half hour with the best authors. There was a dovecote of course, but since the cats always killed the doves, Mrs Lucas had put up round the desecrated152 home several pigeons of Copenhagen china, which were both imperishable as regards cats, and also carried out the suggestion of humour in furniture. The humour had attained153 the highest point of felicity when Peppino concealed154 a mechanical nightingale in a bush, which sang “Jug-jug” in the most realistic manner when you pulled a string. Georgie had not yet seen the Copenhagen pigeons, or being rather short-sighted thought they were real. Then, oh then, Peppino pulled the string, and for quite a long time Georgie listened entranced to their melodious155 cooings. That served him out for his “trap” about the real pear introduced among the stone specimens. For in spite of the rarefied atmosphere of culture at Riseholme, Riseholme knew how to “desipere in loco,” and its strenuous16 culture was often refreshed by these light refined touches.
Mrs Lucas walked quickly and decisively up and down the paths as she waited for the summons to lunch, for the activity of her mind reacted on her body, making her brisk in movement. On each side of her forehead were hard neat undulations of black hair that concealed the tips of her ears. She had laid aside her London hat, and carried a red cotton Contadina’s umbrella, which threw a rosy156 glow onto the oval of her thin face and its colourless complexion157. She bore the weight of her forty years extremely lightly, and but for the droop158 of skin at the corners of her mouth, she might have passed as a much younger woman. Her face was otherwise unlined and bore no trace of the ravages159 of emotional living, which both ages and softens160. Certainly there was nothing soft about her, and very little of the signs of age, and it would have been reasonable to conjecture that twenty years later she would look but little older than she did today. For such emotions as she was victim of were the sterile161 and ageless emotions of art; such desires as beset162 her were not connected with her affections, but her ambitions. Dynasty she had none, for she was childless, and thus her ambitions were limited to the permanence and security of her own throne as queen of Riseholme. She really asked nothing more of life than the continuance of such harvests as she had so plenteously reaped for these last ten years. As long as she directed the life of Riseholme, took the lead in its culture and entertainment, and was the undisputed fountain-head of all its inspirations, and from time to time refreshed her memory as to the utter inferiority of London she wanted nothing more. But to secure that she dedicated163 all that she had of ease, leisure and income. Being practically indefatigable164 the loss of ease and leisure troubled her but little and being in extremely comfortable circumstances, she had no need to economise in her hospitalities. She might easily look forward to enjoying an unchanging middle-aged165 activity, while generations of youth withered166 round her, and no star, remotely rising, had as yet threatened to dim her unrivalled effulgence. Though essentially167 autocratic, her subjects were allowed and even encouraged to develop their own minds on their own lines, provided always that those lines met at the junction where she was station-master. With regard to religion finally, it may be briefly168 said that she believed in God in much the same way as she believed in Australia, for she had no doubt whatever as to the existence of either, and she went to church on Sunday in much the same spirit as she would look at a kangaroo in the Zoological Gardens, for kangaroos come from Australia.
A low wall separated the far end of her garden from the meadow outside; beyond that lay the stream which flowed into the Avon, and it often seemed wonderful to her that the water which wimpled by would (unless a cow happened to drink it) soon be stealing along past the church at Stratford where Shakespeare lay. Peppino had written a very moving little prose-poem about it, for she had royally presented him with the idea, and had suggested a beautiful analogy between the earthly dew that refreshed the grasses, and was drawn up into the fire of the Sun, and Thought the spiritual dew that refreshed the mind and thereafter, rather vaguely169, was drawn up into the Full–Orbed Soul of the World.
At that moment Lucia’s eye was attracted by an apparition170 on the road which lay adjacent to the further side of the happy stream which flowed into the Avon. There was no mistaking the identity of the stout171 figure of Mrs Quantock with its short steps and its gesticulations, but why in the name of wonder should that Christian Scientist be walking with the draped and turbaned figure of a man with a tropical complexion and a black beard? His robe of saffron yellow with a violently green girdle was hitched172 up for ease in walking, and unless he had chocolate coloured stockings on, Mrs Lucas saw human legs of the same shade. Next moment that debatable point was set at rest for she caught sight of short pink socks in red slippers173. Even as she looked Mrs Quantock saw her (for owing to Christian Science she had recaptured the quick vision of youth) and waggled her hand and kissed it, and evidently called her companion’s attention, for the next moment he was salaaming174 to her in some stately Oriental manner. There was nothing to be done for the moment except return these salutations, as she could not yell an aside to Mrs Quantock, screaming out “Who is that Indian”? for if Mrs Quantock heard the Indian would hear too, but as soon as she could, she turned back towards the house again, and when once the lilac bushes were between her and the road she walked with more than her usual speed, in order to learn with the shortest possible delay from Peppino who this fresh subject of hers could be. She knew there were some Indian princes in London; perhaps it was one of them, in which case it would be necessary to read up Benares or Delhi in the Encyclopaedia175 without loss of time.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
conjectural
|
|
| adj.推测的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
fortitude
|
|
| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
anticlimax
|
|
| n.令人扫兴的结局；突降法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
artistic
|
|
| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
conjecture
|
|
| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
subconsciously
|
|
| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
penetrated
|
|
| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
mentality
|
|
| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
beguiled
|
|
| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
strenuously
|
|
| adv.奋发地，费力地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
strenuous
|
|
| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
gem
|
|
| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
contemplated
|
|
| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
accomplishment
|
|
| n.完成，成就，（pl.）造诣，技能 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
quenched
|
|
| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
effulgence
|
|
| n.光辉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sonata
|
|
| n.奏鸣曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
sublime
|
|
| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
lagoon
|
|
| n.泻湖，咸水湖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
monarch
|
|
| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
materialism
|
|
| n.［哲］唯物主义，唯物论；物质至上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
autocracy
|
|
| n.独裁政治，独裁政府 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
vat
|
|
| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
seethed
|
|
| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
ferment
|
|
| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
upheaval
|
|
| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
nominal
|
|
| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
trove
|
|
| n.被发现的东西，收藏的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
transformation
|
|
| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
bovine
|
|
| adj.牛的；n.牛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
illuminate
|
|
| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
amassing
|
|
| v.积累，积聚( amass的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
bask
|
|
| vt.取暖，晒太阳，沐浴于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
materialistic
|
|
| a.唯物主义的，物质享乐主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
requisite
|
|
| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
judicious
|
|
| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
transmuted
|
|
| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
dwelling
|
|
| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
grafted
|
|
| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
situated
|
|
| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
hearth
|
|
| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
concession
|
|
| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
crabbed
|
|
| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
frantically
|
|
| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
fumes
|
|
| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
panorama
|
|
| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
snails
|
|
| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
monstrous
|
|
| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
solely
|
|
| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
artistically
|
|
| adv.艺术性地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
enumerated
|
|
| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
joyful
|
|
| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
dexterously
|
|
| adv.巧妙地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
dismantled
|
|
| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
patinated
|
|
| v.（使）生绿锈( patinate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
76
concessions
|
|
| n.（尤指由政府或雇主给予的）特许权( concession的名词复数 )；承认；减价；（在某地的）特许经营权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
nurtured
|
|
| 养育( nurture的过去式和过去分词 )； 培育； 滋长； 助长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
opaque
|
|
| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
panes
|
|
| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
plunge
|
|
| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
mermaid
|
|
| n.美人鱼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
athletic
|
|
| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
vibrations
|
|
| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
sonorous
|
|
| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
whit
|
|
| n.一点，丝毫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
flakes
|
|
| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
frailty
|
|
| n.脆弱；意志薄弱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
whitewash
|
|
| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
potent
|
|
| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
advent
|
|
| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
bestowed
|
|
| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
meditated
|
|
| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
delectable
|
|
| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
prospects
|
|
| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
intelligible
|
|
| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
suavity
|
|
| n.温和；殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
bard
|
|
| n.吟游诗人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
sonnets
|
|
| n.十四行诗( sonnet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
forefinger
|
|
| n.食指 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
ragged
|
|
| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
adorned
|
|
| [计]被修饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
untie
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
knotty
|
|
| adj.有结的，多节的，多瘤的，棘手的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
alacrity
|
|
| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
enquired
|
|
| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
gatherings
|
|
| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
hospitable
|
|
| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
exquisiteness
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
junction
|
|
| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
appreciation
|
|
| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
feverish
|
|
| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
incense
|
|
| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
sniff
|
|
| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
indictment
|
|
| n.起诉；诉状 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
impartiality
|
|
| n. 公平, 无私, 不偏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
aggie
|
|
| n.农校，农科大学生 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
shudder
|
|
| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
jugs
|
|
| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
quaintness
|
|
| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
memorable
|
|
| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
furry
|
|
| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
sprawled
|
|
| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
killing
|
|
| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
stony
|
|
| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
specimens
|
|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
jaws
|
|
| n.口部；嘴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
intentional
|
|
| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
jot
|
|
| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
derived
|
|
| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
quotation
|
|
| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
profuse
|
|
| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
enticing
|
|
| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
bide
|
|
| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
meditating
|
|
| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
copious
|
|
| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
stimulating
|
|
| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
quotations
|
|
| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
desecrated
|
|
| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
complexion
|
|
| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
droop
|
|
| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
ravages
|
|
| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
softens
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的第三人称单数 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
sterile
|
|
| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
beset
|
|
| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
dedicated
|
|
| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
indefatigable
|
|
| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
withered
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
apparition
|
|
| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
hitched
|
|
| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
salaaming
|
|
| 行额手礼( salaam的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
175
encyclopaedia
|
|
| n.百科全书 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |