She dared not rejoice that the relief which had come in extremity6 and had appeared to justify7 the policy of the Frate’s party was making that party so triumphant8, that Francesco Valori, hot-tempered chieftain of the Piagnoni, had been elected Gonfaloniere at the beginning of the year, and was making haste to have as much of his own liberal way as possible during his two months of power. That seemed for the moment like a strengthening of the party most attached to freedom, and a reinforcement of protection to Savonarola; but Romola was now alive to every suggestion likely to deepen her foreboding, that whatever the present might be, it was only an unconscious brooding over the mixed germs of Change which might any day become tragic9. And already by Carnival10 time, a little after mid-February, her presentiment11 was confirmed by the signs of a very decided12 change: the Mediceans had ceased to be passive, and were openly exerting themselves to procure14 the election of Bernardo del Nero as the new Gonfaloniere.
On the last day of the Carnival, between ten and eleven in the morning, Romola walked out, according to promise, towards the Corso degli Albizzi, to fetch her cousin Brigida, that they might both be ready to start from the Via de’ Bardi early in the afternoon, and take their places at a window which Tito had had reserved for them in the Piazza15 della Signoria, where there was to be a scene of so new and striking a sort, that all Florentine eyes must desire to see it. For the Piagnoni were having their own way thoroughly16 about the mode of keeping the Carnival. In vain Dolfo Spini and his companions had struggled to get up the dear old masques and practical jokes, well spiced with indecency. Such things were not to be in a city where Christ had been declared king.
Romola set out in that languid state of mind with which every one enters on a long day of sight-seeing purely17 for the sake of gratifying a child, or some dear childish friend. The day was certainly an epoch18 in carnival-keeping; but this phase of reform had not touched her enthusiasm: and she did not know that it was an epoch in her own life when another lot would begin to be no longer secretly but visibly entwined with her own.
She chose to go through the great Piazza that she might take a first survey of the unparalleled sight there while she was still alone. Entering it from the south, she saw something monstrous19 and many-coloured in the shape of a pyramid, or, rather, like a huge fir-tree, sixty feet high, with shelves on the branches, widening and widening towards the base till they reached a circumference20 of eighty yards. The Piazza was full of life: slight young figures, in white garments, with olive wreaths on their heads, were moving to and fro about the base of the pyramidal tree, carrying baskets full of bright-coloured things; and maturer forms, some in the monastic frock, some in the loose tunics21 and dark-red caps of artists, were helping22 and examining, or else retreating to various points in the distance to survey the wondrous23 whole: while a considerable group, amongst whom Romola recognised Piero di Cosimo, standing on the marble steps of Orcagna’s Loggia, seemed to be keeping aloof24 in discontent and scorn.
Approaching nearer, she paused to look at the multifarious objects ranged in gradation from the base to the summit of the pyramid. There were tapestries25 and brocades of immodest design, pictures and sculptures held too likely to incite26 to vice27; there were boards and tables for all sorts of games, playing-cards along with the blocks for printing them, dice13, and other apparatus28 for gambling29; there were worldly music-books, and musical instruments in all the pretty varieties of lute30, drum, cymbal31, and trumpet32; there were masks and masquerading-dresses used in the old Carnival shows; there were handsome copies of Ovid, Boccaccio, Petrarca, Pulci, and other books of a vain or impure33 sort; there were all the implements34 of feminine vanity-rouge-pots, false hair, mirrors, perfumes, powders, and transparent35 veils intended to provoke inquisitive36 glances: lastly, at the very summit, there was the unflattering effigy37 of a probably mythical38 Venetian merchant, who was understood to have offered a heavy sum for this collection of marketable abominations, and, soaring above him in surpassing ugliness, the symbolic39 figure of the old debauched Carnival.
This was the preparation for a new sort of bonfire — the Burning of Vanities. Hidden in the interior of the pyramid was a plentiful40 store of dry fuel and gunpowder41; and on this last day of the festival, at evening, the pile of vanities was to be set ablaze42 to the sound of trumpets43, and the ugly old Carnival was to tumble into the flames amid the songs of reforming triumph.
This crowning act of the new festivities could hardly have been prepared but for a peculiar44 organisation45 which had been started by Savonarola two years before. The mass of the Florentine boyhood and youth was no longer left to its own genial46 promptings towards street mischief47 and crude dissoluteness. Under the training of Fra Domenico, a sort of lieutenant48 to Savonarola, lads and striplings, the hope of Florence, were to have none but pure words on their lips, were to have a zeal49 for Unseen Good that should put to shame the luke-warmness of their elders, and were to know no pleasures save of an angelic sort — singing divine praises and walking in white robes. It was for them that the ranges of seats had been raised high against the walls of the Duomo; and they had been used to hear Savonarola appeal to them as the future glory of a city specially50 appointed to do the work of God.
These fresh-cheeked troops were the chief agents in the regenerated51 merriment of the new Carnival, which was a sort of sacred parody52 of the old. Had there been bonfires in the old time? There was to be a bonfire now, consuming impurity53 from off the earth. Had there been symbolic processions? There were to be processions now, but the symbols were to be white robes and red crosses and olive wreaths — emblems54 of peace and innocent gladness — and the banners and images held aloft were to tell the triumphs of goodness. Had there been dancing in a ring under the open sky of the Piazza, to the sound of choral voices chanting loose songs? There was to be dancing in a ring now, but dancing of monks55 and laity56 in fraternal love and divine joy, and the music was to be the music of hymns57. As for the collections from street passengers, they were to be greater than ever — not for gross and superfluous58 suppers, but — for the benefit of the hungry and needy59; and, besides, there was the collecting of the Anathema60, or the Vanities to be laid on the great pyramidal bonfire.
Troops of young inquisitors went from house to house on this exciting business of asking that the Anathema should be given up to them. Perhaps, after the more avowed61 vanities had been surrendered, Madonna, at the head of the household had still certain little reddened balls brought from the Levant, intended to produce on a sallow cheek a sudden bloom of the most ingenuous62 falsity? If so, let her bring them down and cast them into the basket of doom63. Or perhaps, she had ringlets and coils of ‘dead hair?’ — if so, let her bring them to the street-door, not on her head, but in her hands, and publicly renounce64 the Anathema which hid the respectable signs of age under a ghastly mockery of youth. And, in reward, she would hear fresh young voices pronounce a blessing65 on her and her house.
The beardless inquisitors, organised into little regiments66, doubtless took to their work very willingly. To coerce67 people by shame, or other spiritual pelting68, into the giving up of things it will probably vex69 them to part with, is a form of piety70 to which the boyish mind is most readily converted and if some obstinately71 wicked men got enraged72 and threatened the whip or the cudgel, this also was exciting. Savonarola himself evidently felt about the training of these boys the difficulty weighing on all minds with noble yearnings towards great ends, yet with that imperfect perception of means which forces a resort to some supernatural constraining73 influence as the only sure hope. The Florentine youth had had very evil habits and foul74 tongues: it seemed at first an unmixed blessing when they were got to shout ‘Viva Gesu!’ But Savonarola was forced at last to say from the pulpit, ‘There is a little too much shouting of “Yiva Gesu!” This constant utterance75 of sacred words brings them into contempt. Let me have no more of that shouting till the next Festa.’
Nevertheless, as the long stream of white-robed youthfulness, with its little red crosses and olive wreaths, had gone to the Duomo at dawn this morning to receive the communion from the hands of Savonarola, it was a sight of beauty; and, doubtless, many of those young souls were laying up memories of hope and awe76 that might save them from ever resting in a merely vulgar view of their work as men and citizens. There is no kind of conscious obedience77 that is not an advance on lawlessness, and these boys became the generation of men who fought greatly and endured greatly in the last struggle of their Republic. Now, in the intermediate hours between the early communion and dinner-time, they were making their last perambulations to collect alms and vanities, and this was why Romola saw the slim white figures moving to and fro about the base of the great pyramid.
‘What think you of this folly78, Madonna Romola?’ said a brusque voice close to her ear. ‘Your Piagnoni will make l’inferno a pleasant prospect79 to us, if they are to carry things their own way on earth. It’s enough to fetch a cudgel over the mountains to see painters, like Lorenzo di Credi and young Baccio there, helping to burn colour out of life in this fashion.’
‘My good Piero,’ said Romola, looking up and smiling at the grim man, ‘even you must be glad to see some of these things burnt. Look at those gewgaws and wigs80 and rouge-pots: I have heard you talk as indignantly against those things as Fra Girolamo himself.’
‘What then?’ said Piero, turning round on her sharply. ‘I never said a woman should make a black patch of herself against the background. Va! Madonna Antigone, it’s a shame for a woman with your hair and shoulders to run into such nonsense — leave it to women who are not worth painting. What! the most holy Virgin81 herself has always been dressed well; that’s the doctrine82 of the Church:— talk of heresy83, indeed! And I should like to know what the excellent Messer Bardo would have said to the burning of the divine poets by these Frati, who are no better an imitation of men than if they were onions with the bulbs uppermost. Look at that Petrarca sticking up beside a rouge-pot: do the idiots pretend that the heavenly Laura~ was a painted harridan84? And Boccaccio, now: do you mean to say, Madonna Romola — you who are fit to be a model for a wise Saint Catherine of Egypt — do you mean to say you have never read the stories of the immortal85 Messer Giovanni?’
‘It is true I have read them, Piero,’ said Romola. ‘Some of them a great many times over, when I was a little girl. I used to get the book down when my father was asleep, so that I could read to myself.’
‘Ebbene?’ said Piero, in a fiercely challenging tone.
‘There are some things in them I do not want ever to forget,’ said Romola; ‘but you must confess, Piero, that a great many of those stories are only about low deceit for the lowest ends. Men do not want books to make them think lightly of vice, as if life were a vulgar joke. And I cannot blame Fra Girolamo for teaching that we owe our time to something better.’
‘Yes, yes, it’s very well to say so now you’ve read them,’ said Piero, bitterly, turning on his heel and walking away from her.
Romola, too, walked on, smiling at Piero’s innuendo86, with a sort of tenderness towards the old painter’s anger, because she knew that her father would have felt something like it. For herself, she was conscious of no inward collision with the strict and sombre view of pleasure which tended to repress poetry in the attempt to repress vice. Sorrow and joy have each their peculiar narrowness; and a religious enthusiasm like Savonarola’s which ultimately blesses mankind by giving the soul a strong propulsion towards sympathy with pain, indignation against wrong, and the subjugation87 of sensual desire, must always incur88 the reproach of a great negation89. Romola’s life had given her an affinity90 for sadness which inevitably91 made her unjust towards merriment. That subtle result of culture which we call Taste was subdued92 by the need for deeper motive93; just as the nicer demands of the palate are annihilated94 by urgent hunger. Moving habitually95 amongst scenes of suffering, and carrying woman’s heaviest disappointment in her heart, the severity which allied96 itself with self-renouncing beneficent strength had no dissonance for her.
点击收听单词发音
1 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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2 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
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3 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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4 alleviated | |
减轻,缓解,缓和( alleviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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6 extremity | |
n.末端,尽头;尽力;终极;极度 | |
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7 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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8 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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9 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
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10 carnival | |
n.嘉年华会,狂欢,狂欢节,巡回表演 | |
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11 presentiment | |
n.预感,预觉 | |
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12 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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13 dice | |
n.骰子;vt.把(食物)切成小方块,冒险 | |
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14 procure | |
vt.获得,取得,促成;vi.拉皮条 | |
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15 piazza | |
n.广场;走廊 | |
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16 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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17 purely | |
adv.纯粹地,完全地 | |
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18 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
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19 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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20 circumference | |
n.圆周,周长,圆周线 | |
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21 tunics | |
n.(动植物的)膜皮( tunic的名词复数 );束腰宽松外衣;一套制服的短上衣;(天主教主教等穿的)短祭袍 | |
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22 helping | |
n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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23 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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24 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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25 tapestries | |
n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 );绣帷,织锦v.用挂毯(或绣帷)装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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26 incite | |
v.引起,激动,煽动 | |
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27 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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28 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
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29 gambling | |
n.赌博;投机 | |
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30 lute | |
n.琵琶,鲁特琴 | |
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31 cymbal | |
n.铙钹 | |
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32 trumpet | |
n.喇叭,喇叭声;v.吹喇叭,吹嘘 | |
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33 impure | |
adj.不纯净的,不洁的;不道德的,下流的 | |
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34 implements | |
n.工具( implement的名词复数 );家具;手段;[法律]履行(契约等)v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 );执行;贯彻;使生效 | |
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35 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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36 inquisitive | |
adj.求知欲强的,好奇的,好寻根究底的 | |
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37 effigy | |
n.肖像 | |
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38 mythical | |
adj.神话的;虚构的;想像的 | |
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39 symbolic | |
adj.象征性的,符号的,象征主义的 | |
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40 plentiful | |
adj.富裕的,丰富的 | |
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41 gunpowder | |
n.火药 | |
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42 ablaze | |
adj.着火的,燃烧的;闪耀的,灯火辉煌的 | |
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43 trumpets | |
喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 ); 小号; 喇叭形物; (尤指)绽开的水仙花 | |
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44 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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45 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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46 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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47 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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48 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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49 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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50 specially | |
adv.特定地;特殊地;明确地 | |
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51 regenerated | |
v.新生,再生( regenerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52 parody | |
n.打油诗文,诙谐的改编诗文,拙劣的模仿;v.拙劣模仿,作模仿诗文 | |
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53 impurity | |
n.不洁,不纯,杂质 | |
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54 emblems | |
n.象征,标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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55 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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56 laity | |
n.俗人;门外汉 | |
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57 hymns | |
n.赞美诗,圣歌,颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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58 superfluous | |
adj.过多的,过剩的,多余的 | |
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59 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
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60 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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61 avowed | |
adj.公开声明的,承认的v.公开声明,承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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62 ingenuous | |
adj.纯朴的,单纯的;天真的;坦率的 | |
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63 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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64 renounce | |
v.放弃;拒绝承认,宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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65 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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66 regiments | |
(军队的)团( regiment的名词复数 ); 大量的人或物 | |
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67 coerce | |
v.强迫,压制 | |
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68 pelting | |
微不足道的,无价值的,盛怒的 | |
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69 vex | |
vt.使烦恼,使苦恼 | |
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70 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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71 obstinately | |
ad.固执地,顽固地 | |
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72 enraged | |
使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 ); 歜; 激愤 | |
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73 constraining | |
强迫( constrain的现在分词 ); 强使; 限制; 约束 | |
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74 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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75 utterance | |
n.用言语表达,话语,言语 | |
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76 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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77 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
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78 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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79 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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80 wigs | |
n.假发,法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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81 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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82 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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83 heresy | |
n.异端邪说;异教 | |
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84 harridan | |
n.恶妇;丑老大婆 | |
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85 immortal | |
adj.不朽的;永生的,不死的;神的 | |
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86 innuendo | |
n.暗指,讽刺 | |
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87 subjugation | |
n.镇压,平息,征服 | |
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88 incur | |
vt.招致,蒙受,遭遇 | |
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89 negation | |
n.否定;否认 | |
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90 affinity | |
n.亲和力,密切关系 | |
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91 inevitably | |
adv.不可避免地;必然发生地 | |
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92 subdued | |
adj. 屈服的,柔和的,减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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94 annihilated | |
v.(彻底)消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 );使无效;废止;彻底击溃 | |
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95 habitually | |
ad.习惯地,通常地 | |
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96 allied | |
adj.协约国的;同盟国的 | |
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