“Where is he?”
“Oh, he is waiting at the lodge1.”
“I told you to show him to Natacha’s sitting-room2. Didn’t you understand me, Ermolai?”
“Pardon, Barinia, but the young stranger, when I asked to search him, as you directed, flatly refused to let me.”
“Did you explain to him that everybody is searched before being allowed to enter, that it is the order, and that even my mother herself has submitted to it?”
“I told him all that, Barinia; and I told him about madame your mother.”
“What did he say to that?”
“That he was not madame your mother. He acted angry.”
“Well, let him come in without being searched.”
“The Chief of Police won’t like it.”
“Do as I say.”
Ermolai bowed and returned to the garden. The “barinia” left the veranda3, where she had come for this conversation with the old servant of General Trebassof, her husband, and returned to the dining-room in the datcha des Iles, where the gay Councilor Ivan Petrovitch was regaling his amused associates with his latest exploit at Cubat’s resort. They were a noisy company, and certainly the quietest among them was not the general, who nursed on a sofa the leg which still held him captive after the recent attack, that to his old coachman and his two piebald horses had proved fatal. The story of the always-amiable Ivan Petrovitch (a lively, little, elderly man with his head bald as an egg) was about the evening before. After having, as he said, “recure la bouche” for these gentlemen spoke4 French like their own language and used it among themselves to keep their servants from understanding — after having wet his whistle with a large glass of sparkling rosy5 French wine, he cried:
“You would have laughed, Feodor Feodorovitch. We had sung songs on the Barque* and then the Bohemians left with their music and we went out onto the river-bank to stretch our legs and cool our faces in the freshness of the dawn, when a company of Cossacks of the Guard came along. I knew the officer in command and invited him to come along with us and drink the Emperor’s health at Cubat’s place. That officer, Feodor Feodorovitch, is a man who knows vintages and boasts that he has never swallowed a glass of anything so common as Crimean wine. When I named champagne6 he cried, ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ A true patriot7. So we started, merry as school-children. The entire company followed, then all the diners playing little whistles, and all the servants besides, single file. At Cubat’s I hated to leave the companion-officers of my friend at the door, so I invited them in, too. They accepted, naturally. But the subalterns were thirsty as well. I understand discipline. You know, Feodor Feodorovitch, that I am a stickler8 for discipline. Just because one is gay of a spring morning, discipline should not be forgotten. I invited the officers to drink in a private room, and sent the subalterns into the main hall of the restaurant. Then the soldiers were thirsty, too, and I had drinks served to them out in the courtyard. Then, my word, there was a perplexing business, for now the horses whinnied. The brave horses, Feodor Feodorovitch, who also wished to drink the health of the Emperor. I was bothered about the discipline. Hall, court, all were full. And I could not put the horses in private rooms. Well, I made them carry out champagne in pails and then came the perplexing business I had tried so hard to avoid, a grand mixture of boots and horse-shoes that was certainly the liveliest thing I have ever seen in my life. But the horses were the most joyous9, and danced as if a torch was held under their nostrils10, and all of them, my word! were ready to throw their riders because the men were not of the same mind with them as to the route to follow! From our window we laughed fit to kill at such a mixture of sprawling11 boots and dancing hoofs12. But the troopers finally got all their horses to barracks, with patience, for the Emperor’s cavalry13 are the best riders in the world, Feodor Feodorovitch. And we certainly had a great laugh! — Your health, Matrena Petrovna.”
* The “Barque” is a restaurant on a boat, among the isles14, near the Gulf15 of Finland, on a bank of the Neva.
These last graceful16 words were addressed to Madame Trebassof, who shrugged17 her shoulders at the undesired gallantry of the gay Councilor. She did not join in the conversation, excepting to calm the general, who wished to send the whole regiment18 to the guard-house, men and horses. And while the roisterers laughed over the adventure she said to her husband in the advisory19 voice of the helpful wife:
“Feodor, you must not attach importance to what that old fool Ivan tells you. He is the most imaginative man in the capital when he has had champagne.”
“Ivan, you certainly have not had horses served with champagne in pails,” the old boaster, Athanase Georgevitch, protested jealously. He was an advocate, well-known for his table-feats, who claimed the hardest drinking reputation of any man in the capital, and he regretted not to have invented that tale.
“On my word! And the best brands! I had won four thousand roubles. I left the little fete with fifteen kopecks.”
Matrena Petrovna was listening to Ermolai, the faithful country servant who wore always, even here in the city, his habit of fresh nankeen, his black leather belt, his large blue pantaloons and his boots glistening20 like ice, his country costume in his master’s city home. Madame Matrena rose, after lightly stroking the hair of her step-daughter Natacha, whose eyes followed her to the door, indifferent apparently21 to the tender manifestations22 of her father’s orderly, the soldier-poet, Boris Mourazoff, who had written beautiful verses on the death of the Moscow students, after having shot them, in the way of duty, on their barricades23.
Ermolai conducted his mistress to the drawing-room and pointed24 across to a door that he had left open, which led to the sitting-room before Natacha’s chamber25.
“He is there,” said Ermolai in a low voice.
Ermolai need have said nothing, for that matter, since Madame Matrena was aware of a stranger’s presence in the sitting-room by the extraordinary attitude of an individual in a maroon26 frock-coat bordered with false astrakhan, such as is on the coats of all the Russian police agents and makes the secret agents recognizable at first glance. This policeman was on his knees in the drawing-room watching what passed in the next room through the narrow space of light in the hinge-way of the door. In this manner, or some other, all persons who wished to approach General Trebassof were kept under observation without their knowing it, after having been first searched at the lodge, a measure adopted since the latest attack.
Madame Matrena touched the policeman’s shoulder with that heroic hand which had saved her husband’s life and which still bore traces of the terrible explosion in the last attack, when she had seized the infernal machine intended for the general with her bare hand. The policeman rose and silently left the room, reached the veranda and lounged there on a sofa, pretending to be asleep, but in reality watching the garden paths.
Matrena Petrovna took his place at the hinge-vent. This was her rule; she always took the final glance at everything and everybody. She roved at all hours of the day and night round about the general, like a watch-dog, ready to bite, to throw itself before the danger, to receive the blows, to perish for its master. This had commenced at Moscow after the terrible repression27, the massacre28 of revolutionaries under the walls of Presnia, when the surviving Nihilists left behind them a placard condemning29 the victorious30 General Trebassof to death. Matrena Petrovna lived only for the general. She had vowed31 that she would not survive him. So she had double reason to guard him.
But she had lost all confidence even within the walls of her own home.
Things had happened even there that defied her caution, her instinct, her love. She had not spoken of these things save to the Chief of Police, Koupriane, who had reported them to the Emperor. And here now was the man whom the Emperor had sent, as the supreme32 resource, this young stranger — Joseph Rouletabille, reporter.
“But he is a mere33 boy!” she exclaimed, without at all understanding the matter, this youthful figure, with soft, rounded cheeks, eyes clear and, at first view, extraordinarily34 naive35, the eyes of an infant. True, at the moment Rouletabille’s expression hardly suggested any superhuman profundity36 of thought, for, left in view of a table, spread with hors-d’oeuvres, the young man appeared solely37 occupied in digging out with a spoon all the caviare that remained in the jars. Matrena noted38 the rosy freshness of his cheeks, the absence of down on his lip and not a hint of beard, the thick hair, with the curl over the forehead. Ah, that forehead — the forehead was curious, with great over-hanging cranial lumps which moved above the deep arcade39 of the eye-sockets while the mouth was busy — well, one would have said that Rouletabille had not eaten for a week. He was demolishing40 a great slice of Volgan sturgeon, contemplating41 at the same time with immense interest a salad of creamed cucumbers, when Matrena Petrovna appeared.
He wished to excuse himself at once and spoke with his mouth full.
“I beg your pardon, madame, but the Czar forgot to invite me to breakfast.”
Madame Matrena smiled and gave him a hearty42 handshake as she urged him to be seated.
“You have seen His Majesty43?”
“I come from him, madame. It is to Madame Trebassof that I have the honor of speaking?”
“Yes. And you are Monsieur —?”
“Joseph Rouletabille, madame. I do not add, ‘At your service — because I do not know about that yet. That is what I said just now to His Majesty.”
“Then?” asked Madame Matrena, rather amused by the tone the conversation had taken and the slightly flurried air of Rouletabille.
“Why, then, I am a reporter, you see. That is what I said at once to my editor in Paris, ‘I am not going to take part in revolutionary affairs that do not concern my country,’ to which my editor replied, ‘You do not have to take part. You must go to Russia to make an inquiry44 into the present status of the different parties. You will commence by interviewing the Emperor.’ I said, ‘Well, then, here goes,’ and took the train.”
“And you have interviewed the Emperor?”
“Oh, yes, that has not been difficult. I expected to arrive direct at St. Petersburg, but at Krasnoie-Coelo the train stopped and the grand-marshal of the court came to me and asked me to follow him. It was very flattering. Twenty minutes later I was before His Majesty. He awaited me! I understood at once that this was obviously for something out of the ordinary.”
“And what did he say to you?”
“He is a man of genuine majesty. He reassured45 me at once when I explained my scruples46 to him. He said there was no occasion for me to take part in the politics of the matter, but to save his most faithful servant, who was on the point of becoming the victim of the strangest family drama ever conceived.”
Madame Matrena, white as a sheet, rose to her feet.
“Ah,” she said simply.
But Rouletabille, whom nothing escaped, saw her hand tremble on the back of the chair.
He went on, not appearing to have noticed her emotion:
“His Majesty added these exact words: ‘It is I who ask it of you; I and Madame Trebassof. Go, monsieur, she awaits you.’”
He ceased and waited for Madame Trebassof to speak.
She made up her mind after brief reflection.
“Have you seen Koupriane?”
“The Chief of Police? Yes. The grand-marshal accompanied me back to the station at Krasnoie-Coelo, and the Chief of Police accompanied me to St. Petersburg station. One could not have been better received.”
“Monsieur Rouletabille,” said Matrena, who visibly strove to regain47 her self-control, “I am not of Koupriane’s opinion and I am not”— here she lowered her trembling voice —“of the opinion His Majesty holds. It is better for me to tell you at once, so that you may not regret intervening in an affair where there are — where there are — risks — terrible risks to run. No, this is not a family drama. The family is small, very small: the general, his daughter Natacha (by his former marriage), and myself. There could not be a family drama among us three. It is simply about my husband, monsieur, who did his duty as a soldier in defending the throne of his sovereign, my husband whom they mean to assassinate48! There is nothing else, no other situation, my dear little guest.”
To hide her distress49 she started to carve a slice of jellied veal50 and carrot.
“You have not eaten, you are hungry. It is dreadful, my dear young man. See, you must dine with us, and then — you will say adieu. Yes, you will leave me all alone. I will undertake to save him all alone. Certainly, I will undertake it.”
A tear fell on the slice she was cutting. Rouletabille, who felt the brave woman’s emotion affecting him also, braced51 himself to keep from showing it.
“I am able to help you a little all the same,” he said. “Monsieur Koupriane has told me that there is a deep mystery. It is my vocation52 to get to the bottom of mysteries.”
“I know what Koupriane thinks,” she said, shaking her head. “But if I could bring myself to think that for a single day I would rather be dead.”
The good Matrena Petrovna lifted her beautiful eyes to Rouletabille, brimming with the tears she held back.
She added quickly:
“But eat now, my dear guest; eat. My dear child, you must forget what Koupriane has said to you, when you are back in France.”
“I promise you that, madame.”
“It is the Emperor who has caused you this long journey. For me, I did not wish it. Has he, indeed, so much confidence in you?” she asked naively53, gazing at him fixedly54 through her tears.
“Madame, I was just about to tell you. I have been active in some important matters that have been reported to him, and then sometimes your Emperor is allowed to see the papers. He has heard talk, too (for everybody talked of them, madame), about the Mystery of the Yellow Room and the Perfume of the Lady in Black.”
Here Rouletabille watched Madame Trebassof and was much mortified55 at the undoubted ignorance that showed in her frank face of either the yellow room or the black perfume.
“My young friend,” said she, in a voice more and more hesitant, “you must excuse me, but it is a long time since I have had good eyes for reading.”
Tears, at last, ran down her cheeks.
Rouletabille could not restrain himself any further. He saw in one flash all this heroic woman had suffered in her combat day by day with the death which hovered56. He took her little fat hands, whose fingers were overloaded57 with rings, tremulously into his own:
“Madame, do not weep. They wish to kill your husband. Well then, we will be two at least to defend him, I swear to you.”
“Even against the Nihilists!”
“Aye, madame, against all the world. I have eaten all your caviare. I am your guest. I am your friend.”
As he said this he was so excited, so sincere and so droll58 that Madame Trebassof could not help smiling through her tears. She made him sit down beside her.
“The Chief of Police has talked of you a great deal. He came here abruptly60 after the last attack and a mysterious happening that I will tell you about. He cried, ‘Ah, we need Rouletabille to unravel61 this!’ The next day he came here again. He had gone to the Court. There, everybody, it appears, was talking of you. The Emperor wished to know you. That is why steps were taken through the ambassador at Paris.”
“Yes, yes. And naturally all the world has learned of it. That makes it so lively. The Nihilists warned me immediately that I would not reach Russia alive. That, finally, was what decided63 me on coming. I am naturally very contrary.”
“And how did you get through the journey?”
“Not badly. I discovered at once in the train a young Slav assigned to kill me, and I reached an understanding with him. He was a charming youth, so it was easily arranged.”
Rouletabille was eating away now at strange viands64 that it would have been difficult for him to name. Matrena Petrovna laid her fat little hand on his arm:
“You speak seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“A small glass of vodka?”
“No alcohol.”
Madame Matrena emptied her little glass at a draught65.
“And how did you discover him? How did you know him?”
“First, he wore glasses. All Nihilists wear glasses when traveling. And then I had a good clew. A minute before the departure from Paris I had a friend go into the corridor of the sleeping-car, a reporter who would do anything I said without even wanting to know why. I said, ‘You call out suddenly and very loud, “Hello, here is Rouletabille.”’ So he called, ‘Hello, here is Rouletabille,’ and all those who were in the corridor turned and all those who were already in the compartments66 came out, excepting the man with the glasses. Then I was sure about him.”
Madame Trebassof looked at Rouletabile, who turned as red as the comb of a rooster and was rather embarrassed at his fatuity67.
“That deserves a rebuff, I know, madame, but from the moment the Emperor of all the Russias had desired to see me I could not admit that any mere man with glasses had not the curiosity to see what I looked like. It was not natural. As soon as the train was off I sat down by this man and told him who I thought he was. I was right. He removed his glasses and, looking me straight in the eyes, said he was glad to have a little talk with me before anything unfortunate happened. A half-hour later the entente-cordiale was signed. I gave him to understand that I was coming here simply on business as a reporter and that there was always time to check me if I should be indiscreet. At the German frontier he left me to go on, and returned tranquilly68 to his nitro-glycerine.”
“You are a marked man also, my poor boy.”
“Oh, they have not got us yet.”
Matrena Petrovna coughed. That us overwhelmed her. With what calmness this boy that she had not known an hour proposed to share the dangers of a situation that excited general pity but from which the bravest kept aloof69 either from prudence70 or dismay.
“Ah, my friend, a little of this fine smoked Hamburg beef?”
But the young man was already pouring out fresh yellow beer.
“There,” said he. “Now, madame, I am listening. Tell me first about the earliest attack.”
“Now,” said Matrena, “we must go to dinner.”
Rouletabille looked at her wide-eyed.
“But, madame, what have I just been doing?”
Madame Matrena smiled. All these strangers were alike. Because they had eaten some hors-d’oeuvres, some zakouskis, they imagined their host would be satisfied. They did not know how to eat.
“We will go to the dining-room. The general is expecting you. They are at table.”
“I understand I am supposed to know him.”
“Yes, you have met in Paris. It is entirely71 natural that in passing through St. Petersburg you should make him a visit. You know him very well indeed, so well that he opens his home to you. Ah, yes, my step-daughter also”— she flushed a little —“Natacha believes that her father knows you.”
She opened the door of the drawing-room, which they had to cross in order to reach the dining-room.
From his present position Rouletabille could see all the corners of the drawing-room, the veranda, the garden and the entrance lodge at the gate. In the veranda the man in the maroon frock-coat trimmed with false astrakhan seemed still to be asleep on the sofa; in one of the corners of the drawing-room another individual, silent and motionless as a statue, dressed exactly the same, in a maroon frock-coat with false astrakhan, stood with his hands behind his back seemingly struck with general paralysis72 at the sight of a flaring73 sunset which illumined as with a torch the golden spires74 of Saints Peter and Paul. And in the garden and before the lodge three others dressed in maroon roved like souls in pain over the lawn or back and forth75 at the entrance. Rouletabille motioned to Madame Matrena, stepped back into the sitting-room and closed the door.
“Police?” he asked.
Matrena Petrovna nodded her head and put her finger to her mouth in a naive way, as one would caution a child to silence. Rouletabille smiled.
“How many are there?”
“Ten, relieved every six hours.”
“That makes forty unknown men around your house each day.”
“Not unknown,” she replied. “Police.”
“Yet, in spite of them, you have had the affair of the bouquet76 in the general’s chamber.”
“No, there were only three then. It is since the affair of the bouquet that there have been ten.”
“It hardly matters. It is since these ten that you have had . . . ”
“What?” she demanded anxiously.
“You know well — the flooring.”
“Sh-h-h.”
She glanced at the door, watching the policeman statuesque before the setting sun.
“No one knows that — not even my husband.”
“So M. Koupriane told me. Then it is you who have arranged for these ten police-agents?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, we will commence now by sending all these police away.”
Matrena Petrovna grasped his hand, astounded77.
“Surely you don’t think of doing such a thing as that!”
“Yes. We must know where the blow is coming from. You have four different groups of people around here — the police, the domestics, your friends, your family. Get rid of the police first. They must not be permitted to cross your threshold. They have not been able to protect you. You have nothing to regret. And if, after they are gone, something new turns up, we can leave M. Koupriane to conduct the inquiries78 without his being preoccupied79 here at the house.”
“But you do not know the admirable police of Koupriane. These brave men have given proof of their devotion.”
“Madame, if I were face to face with a Nihilist the first thing I would ask myself about him would be, ‘Is he one of the police?’ The first thing I ask in the presence of an agent of your police is, ‘Is he not a Nihilist?’”
“But they will not wish to go.”
“Do any of them speak French?”
“Yes, their sergeant80, who is out there in the salon81.”
“Pray call him.”
Madame Trebassof walked into the salon and signaled. The man appeared. Rouletabille handed him a paper, which the other read.
“You will gather your men together and quit the villa82,” ordered Rouletabille. “You will return to the police Headguarters. Say to M. Koupriane that I have commanded this and that I require all police service around the villa to be suspended until further orders.”
The man bowed, appeared not to understand, looked at Madame Trebassof and said to the young man:
“At your service.”
He went out.
“Wait here a moment,” urged Madame Trebassof, who did not know how to take this abrupt59 action and whose anxiety was really painful to see.
She disappeared after the man of the false astrakhan. A few moments afterwards she returned. She appeared even more agitated83.
“I beg your pardon,” she murmured, “but I cannot let them go like this. They are much chagrined84. They have insisted on knowing where they have failed in their service. I have appeased85 them with money.”
“Yes, and tell me the whole truth, madame. You have directed them not to go far away, but to remain near the villa so as to watch it as closely as possible.”
She reddened.
“It is true. But they have gone, nevertheless. They had to obey you. What can that paper be you have shown them?”
Rouletabille drew out again the billet covered with seals and signs and cabalistics that he did not understand. Madame Trebassof translated it aloud: “Order to all officials in surveillance of the Villa Trebassof to obey the bearer absolutely. Signed: Koupriane.”
“Is it possible!” murmured Matrena Petrovna. “But Koupriane would never have given you this paper if he had imagined that you would use it to dismiss his agents.”
“Evidently. I have not asked him his advice, madame, you may be sure. But I will see him to-morrow and he will understand.”
“Meanwhile, who is going to watch over him?” cried she.
Rouletabille took her hands again. He saw her suffering, a prey86 to anguish87 almost prostrating88. He pitied her. He wished to give her immediate62 confidence.
“We will,” he said.
She saw his young, clear eyes, so deep, so intelligent, the well-formed young head, the willing face, all his young ardency89 for her, and it reassured her. Rouletabille waited for what she might say. She said nothing. She took him in her arms and embraced him.
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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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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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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stickler
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| n.坚持细节之人 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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advisory
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| adj.劝告的，忠告的，顾问的，提供咨询 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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manifestations
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| n.表示，显示（manifestation的复数形式） | |
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barricades
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| 路障，障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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massacre
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| n.残杀，大屠杀；v.残杀，集体屠杀 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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profundity
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| n.渊博；深奥，深刻 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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demolishing
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| v.摧毁( demolish的现在分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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assassinate
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| vt.暗杀，行刺，中伤 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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naively
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| adv. 天真地 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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overloaded
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| a.超载的，超负荷的 | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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fatuity
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| n.愚蠢，愚昧 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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appeased
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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prostrating
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的现在分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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ardency
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| n.热心，热烈 | |
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