There is also another letter of his written at about the same time to the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr — a letter since published by M. Emile Quersac in his “Undercurrents of the Revolution in Brittany,” unearthed18 by him from the archives of Rennes, to which it had been consigned19 by M. de Lesdiguieres, who had received it for justiciary purposes from the Marquis.
“The Paris newspapers,” he writes in this, “which have reported in considerable detail the fracas20 at the Theatre Feydau and disclosed the true identity of the Scaramouche who provoked it, inform me also that you have escaped the fate I had intended for you when I raised that storm of public opinion and public indignation. I would not have you take satisfaction in the thought that I regret your escape. I do not. I rejoice in it. To deal justice by death has this disadvantage that the victim has no knowledge that justice has overtaken him. Had you died, had you been torn limb from limb that night, I should now repine in the thought of your eternal and untroubled slumber22. Not in euthanasia, but in torment23 of mind should the guilty atone24. You see, I am not sure that hell hereafter is a certainty, whilst I am quite sure that it can be a certainty in this life; and I desire you to continue to live yet awhile that you may taste something of its bitterness.
“You murdered Philippe de Vilmorin because you feared what you described as his very dangerous gift of eloquence25, I took an oath that day that your evil deed should be fruitless; that I would render it so; that the voice you had done murder to stifle26 should in spite of that ring like a trumpet27 through the land. That was my conception of revenge. Do you realize how I have been fulfilling it, how I shall continue to fulfil it as occasion offers? In the speech with which I fired the people of Rennes on the very morrow of that deed, did you not hear the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin uttering the ideas that were his with a fire and a passion greater than he could have commanded because Nemesis28 lent me her inflaming29 aid? In the voice of Omnes Omnibus at Nantes my voice again — demanding the petition that sounded the knell30 of your hopes of coercing31 the Third Estate, did you not hear again the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin? Did you not reflect that it was the mind of the man you had murdered, resurrected in me his surviving friend, which made necessary your futile32 attempt under arms last January, wherein your order, finally beaten, was driven to seek sanctuary33 in the Cordelier Convent? And that night when from the stage of the Feydau you were denounced to the people, did you not hear yet again, in the voice of Scaramouche, the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin, using that dangerous gift of eloquence which you so foolishly imagined you could silence with a sword-thrust? It is becoming a persecution34 — is it not? — this voice from the grave that insists upon making itself heard, that will not rest until you have been cast into the pit. You will be regretting by now that you did not kill me too, as I invited you on that occasion. I can picture to myself the bitterness of this regret, and I contemplate35 it with satisfaction. Regret of neglected opportunity is the worst hell that a living soul can inhabit, particularly such a soul as yours. It is because of this that I am glad to know that you survived the riot at the Feydau, although at the time it was no part of my intention that you should. Because of this I am content that you should live to enrage36 and suffer in the shadow of your evil deed, knowing at last — since you had not hitherto the wit to discern it for yourself — that the voice of Philippe de Vilmorin will follow you to denounce you ever more loudly, ever more insistently37, until having lived in dread13 you shall go down in blood under the just rage which your victim’s dangerous gift of eloquence is kindling38 against you.”
I find it odd that he should have omitted from this letter all mention of Mlle. Binet, and I am disposed to account it at least a partial insincerity that he should have assigned entirely39 to his self-imposed mission, and not at all to his lacerated feelings in the matter of Climene, the action which he had taken at the Feydau.
Those two letters, both written in April of that year 1789, had for only immediate40 effect to increase the activity with which Andre–Louis Moreau was being sought.
Le Chapelier would have found him so as to lend him assistance, to urge upon him once again that he should take up a political career. The electors of Nantes would have found him — at least, they would have found Omnes Omnibus, of whose identity with himself they were still in ignorance — on each of the several occasions when a vacancy41 occurred in their body. And the Marquis de La Tour d’Azyr and M. de Lesdiguieres would have found him that they might send him to the gallows42.
With a purpose no less vindictive43 was he being sought by M. Binet, now unhappily recovered from his wound to face completest ruin. His troupe44 had deserted45 him during his illness, and reconstituted under the direction of Polichinelle it was now striving with tolerable success to continue upon the lines which Andre–Louis had laid down. M. le Marquis, prevented by the riot from expressing in person to Mlle. Binet his purpose of making an end of their relations, had been constrained46 to write to her to that effect from Azyr a few days later. He tempered the blow by enclosing in discharge of all liabilities a bill on the Caisse d’Escompte for a hundred louis. Nevertheless it almost crushed the unfortunate and it enabled her father when he recovered to enrage her by pointing out that she owed this turn of events to the premature47 surrender she had made in defiance48 of his sound worldly advice. Father and daughter alike were left to assign the Marquis’ desertion, naturally enough, to the riot at the Feydau. They laid that with the rest to the account of Scaramouche, and were forced in bitterness to admit that the scoundrel had taken a superlative revenge. Climene may even have come to consider that it would have paid her better to have run a straight course with Scaramouche and by marrying him to have trusted to his undoubted talents to place her on the summit to which her ambition urged her, and to which it was now futile for her to aspire49. If so, that reflection must have been her sufficient punishment. For, as Andre–Louis so truly says, there is no worse hell than that provided by the regrets for wasted opportunities.
Meanwhile the fiercely sought Andre–Louis Moreau had gone to earth completely for the present. And the brisk police of Paris, urged on by the King’s Lieutenant50 from Rennes, hunted for him in vain. Yet he might have been found in a house in the Rue21 du Hasard within a stone’s throw of the Palais Royal, whither purest chance had conducted him.
That which in his letter to Le Chapelier he represents as a contingency51 of the near future was, in fact, the case in which already he found himself. He was destitute53. His money was exhausted54, including that procured55 by the sale of such articles of adornment56 as were not of absolute necessity.
So desperate was his case that strolling one gusty57 April morning down the Rue du Hasard with his nose in the wind looking for what might be picked up, he stopped to read a notice outside the door of a house on the left side of the street as you approach the Rue de Richelieu. There was no reason why he should have gone down the Rue du Hasard. Perhaps its name attracted him, as appropriate to his case.
The notice written in a big round hand announced that a young man of good address with some knowledge of swordsmanship was required by M. Bertrand des Amis on the second floor. Above this notice was a black oblong board, and on this a shield, which in vulgar terms may be described as red charged with two swords crossed and four fleurs de lys, one in each angle of the saltire. Under the shield, in letters of gold, ran the legend:
BERTRAND DES AMIS
Maitre en fait d’Armes des Academies du Roi
Andre–Louis stood considering. He could claim, he thought, to possess the qualifications demanded. He was certainly young and he believed of tolerable address, whilst the fencing-lessons he had received in Nantes had given him at least an elementary knowledge of swordsmanship. The notice looked as if it had been pinned there some days ago, suggesting that applicants58 for the post were not very numerous. In that case perhaps M. Bertrand des Amis would not be too exigent. And anyway, Andre–Louis had not eaten for four-and-twenty hours, and whilst the employment here offered — the precise nature of which he was yet to ascertain60 — did not appear to be such as Andre–Louis would deliberately61 have chosen, he was in no case now to be fastidious.
Then, too, he liked the name of Bertrand des Amis. It felicitously62 combined suggestions of chivalry63 and friendliness64. Also the man’s profession being of a kind that is flavoured with romance it was possible that M. Bertrand des Amis would not ask too many questions.
In the end he climbed to the second floor. On the landing he paused outside a door, on which was written “Academy of M. Bertrand des Amis.” He pushed this open, and found himself in a sparsely65 furnished, untenanted antechamber. From a room beyond, the door of which was closed, came the stamping of feet, the click and slither of steel upon steel, and dominating these sounds a vibrant66 sonorous67 voice speaking a language that was certainly French; but such French as is never heard outside a fencing-school.
“Coulez! Mais, coulez donc!. . . . So! Now the flanconnade — en carte. . . . And here is the riposte. . . . Let us begin again. Come! The ward68 of fierce. . . . Make the coupe, and then the quinte par1 dessus les armes. . . . O, mais allongez! Allongez! Allez au fond!” the voice cried in expostulation. “Come, that was better.” The blades ceased.
“Remember: the hand in pronation, the elbow not too far out. That will do for to-day. On Wednesday we shall see you tirer au mur. It is more deliberate. Speed will follow when the mechanism69 of the movements is more assured.”
Another voice murmured in answer. The steps moved aside. The lesson was at an end. Andre–Louis tapped on the door.
It was opened by a tall, slender, gracefully70 proportioned man of perhaps forty. Black silk breeches and stockings ending in light shoes clothed him from the waist down. Above he was encased to the chin in a closely fitting plastron of leather, His face was aquiline72 and swarthy, his eyes full and dark, his mouth firm and his clubbed hair was of a lustrous73 black with here and there a thread of silver showing.
In the crook74 of his left arm he carried a fencing-mask, a thing of leather with a wire grating to protect the eyes. His keen glance played over Andre–Louis from head to foot.
“Monsieur?” he inquired, politely.
It was clear that he mistook Andre–Louis’ quality, which is not surprising, for despite his sadly reduced fortunes, his exterior75 was irreproachable76, and M. des Amis was not to guess that he carried upon his back the whole of his possessions.
“You have a notice below, monsieur,” he said, and from the swift lighting77 of the fencing-master’s eyes he saw that he had been correct in his assumption that applicants for the position had not been jostling one another on his threshold. And then that flash of satisfaction was followed by a look of surprise.
“You are come in regard to that?”
Andre–Louis shrugged78 and half smiled. “One must live,” said he.
“But come in. Sit down there. I shall be at your. . . . I shall be free to attend to you in a moment.”
Andre–Louis took a seat on the bench ranged against one of the whitewashed79 walls. The room was long and low, its floor entirely bare. Plain wooden forms such as that which he occupied were placed here and there against the wall. These last were plastered with fencing trophies80, masks, crossed foils, stuffed plastrons, and a variety of swords, daggers81, and targets, belonging to a variety of ages and countries. There was also a portrait of an obese82, big-nosed gentleman in an elaborately curled wig83, wearing the blue ribbon of the Saint Esprit, in whom Andre–Louis recognized the King. And there was a framed parchment — M. des Amis’ certificate from the King’s Academy. A bookcase occupied one corner, and near this, facing the last of the four windows that abundantly lighted the long room, there was a small writing-table and an armchair. A plump and beautifully dressed young gentleman stood by this table in the act of resuming coat and wig. M. des Amis sauntered over to him — moving, thought Andre–Louis, with extraordinary grace and elasticity84 — and stood in talk with him whilst also assisting him to complete his toilet.
At last the young gentleman took his departure, mopping himself with a fine kerchief that left a trail of perfume on the air. M. des Amis closed the door, and turned to the applicant59, who rose at once.
“Where have you studied?” quoth the fencing-master abruptly85.
“Studied?” Andre–Louis was taken aback by the question. “Oh, at Louis Le Grand.”
M. des Amis frowned, looking up sharply as if to see whether his applicant was taking the liberty of amusing himself.
“In Heaven’s name! I am not asking you where you did your humanities, but in what academy you studied fencing.”
“Oh — fencing!” It had hardly ever occurred to Andre–Louis that the sword ranked seriously as a study. “I never studied it very much. I had some lessons in . . . in the country once.”
The master’s eyebrows86 went up. “But then?” he cried. “Why trouble to come up two flights of stairs?” He was impatient.
“The notice does not demand a high degree of proficiency87. If I am not proficient88 enough, yet knowing the rudiments89 I can easily improve. I learn most things readily,” Andre–Louis commended himself. “For the rest: I possess the other qualifications. I am young, as you observe: and I leave you to judge whether I am wrong in assuming that my address is good. I am by profession a man of the robe, though I realize that the motto here is cedat toga armis.”
M. des Amis smiled approvingly. Undoubtedly90 the young man had a good address, and a certain readiness of wit, it would appear. He ran a critical eye over his physical points. “What is your name?” he asked.
Andre–Louis hesitated a moment. “Andre–Louis,” he said.
The dark, keen eyes conned91 him more searchingly.
“Well? Andre–Louis what?”
“Just Andre–Louis. Louis is my surname.”
“Oh! An odd surname. You come from Brittany by your accent. Why did you leave it?”
“To save my skin,” he answered, without reflecting. And then made haste to cover the blunder. “I have an enemy,” he explained.
M. des Amis frowned, stroking his square chin. “You ran away?”
“You may say so.
“A coward, eh?”
“I don’t think so.” And then he lied romantically. Surely a man who lived by the sword should have a weakness for the romantic. “You see, my enemy is a swordsman of great strength — the best blade in the province, if not the best blade in France. That is his repute. I thought I would come to Paris to learn something of the art, and then go back and kill him. That, to be frank, is why your notice attracted me. You see, I have not the means to take lessons otherwise. I thought to find work here in the law. But I have failed. There are too many lawyers in Paris as it is, and whilst waiting I have consumed the little money that I had, so that . . . so that, enfin, your notice seemed to me something to which a special providence92 had directed me.”
M. des Amis gripped him by the shoulders, and looked into his face.
“Is this true, my friend?” he asked.
“Not a word of it,” said Andre–Louis, wrecking93 his chances on an irresistible95 impulse to say the unexpected. But he didn’t wreck94 them. M. des Amis burst into laughter; and having laughed his fill, confessed himself charmed by his applicant’s fundamental honesty.
“Take off your coat,” he said, “and let us see what you can do. Nature, at least, designed you for a swordsman. You are light, active, and supple96, with a good length of arm, and you seem intelligent. I may make something of you, teach you enough for my purpose, which is that you should give the elements of the art to new pupils before I take them in hand to finish them. Let us try. Take that mask and foil, and come over here.”
He led him to the end of the room, where the bare floor was scored with lines of chalk to guide the beginner in the management of his feet.
At the end of a ten minutes’ bout12, M. des Amis offered him the situation, and explained it. In addition to imparting the rudiments of the art to beginners, he was to brush out the fencing-room every morning, keep the foils furbished, assist the gentlemen who came for lessons to dress and undress, and make himself generally useful. His wages for the present were to be forty livres a month, and he might sleep in an alcove97 behind the fencing-room if he had no other lodging98.
The position, you see, had its humiliations. But, if Andre–Louis would hope to dine, he must begin by eating his pride as an hors d’oeuvre.
“And so,” he said, controlling a grimace99, “the robe yields not only to the sword, but to the broom as well. Be it so. I stay.”
It is characteristic of him that, having made that choice, he should have thrown himself into the work with enthusiasm. It was ever his way to do whatever he did with all the resources of his mind and energies of his body. When he was not instructing very young gentlemen in the elements of the art, showing them the elaborate and intricate salute100 — which with a few days’ hard practice he had mastered to perfection — and the eight guards, he was himself hard at work on those same guards, exercising eye, wrist, and knees.
Perceiving his enthusiasm, and seeing the obvious possibilities it opened out of turning him into a really effective assistant, M. des Amis presently took him more seriously in hand.
“Your application and zeal101, my friend, are deserving of more than forty livres a month,” the master informed him at the end of a week. “For the present, however, I will make up what else I consider due to you by imparting to you secrets of this noble art. Your future depends upon how you profit by your exceptional good fortune in receiving instruction from me.”
Thereafter every morning before the opening of the academy, the master would fence for half an hour with his new assistant. Under this really excellent tuition Andre–Louis improved at a rate that both astounded102 and flattered M. des Amis. He would have been less flattered and more astounded had he known that at least half the secret of Andre–Louis’ amazing progress lay in the fact that he was devouring103 the contents of the master’s library, which was made up of a dozen or so treatises104 on fencing by such great masters as La Bessiere, Danet, and the syndic of the King’s Academy, Augustin Rousseau. To M. des Amis, whose swordsmanship was all based on practice and not at all on theory, who was indeed no theorist or student in any sense, that little library was merely a suitable adjunct to a fencing-academy, a proper piece of decorative105 furniture. The books themselves meant nothing to him in any other sense. He had not the type of mind that could have read them with profit nor could he understand that another should do so. Andre–Louis, on the contrary, a man with the habit of study, with the acquired faculty106 of learning from books, read those works with enormous profit, kept their precepts107 in mind, critically set off those of one master against those of another, and made for himself a choice which he proceeded to put into practice.
At the end of a month it suddenly dawned upon M. des Amis that his assistant had developed into a fencer of very considerable force, a man in a bout with whom it became necessary to exert himself if he were to escape defeat.
“I said from the first,” he told him one day, “that Nature designed you for a swordsman. See how justified108 I was, and see also how well I have known how to mould the material with which Nature has equipped you.”
“To the master be the glory,” said Andre–Louis.
His relations with M. des Amis had meanwhile become of the friendliest, and he was now beginning to receive from him other pupils than mere16 beginners. In fact Andre–Louis was becoming an assistant in a much fuller sense of the word. M. des Amis, a chivalrous109, open-handed fellow, far from taking advantage of what he had guessed to be the young man’s difficulties, rewarded his zeal by increasing his wages to four louis a month.
From the earnest and thoughtful study of the theories of others, it followed now — as not uncommonly110 happens — that Andre–Louis came to develop theories of his own. He lay one June morning on his little truckle bed in the alcove behind the academy, considering a passage that he had read last night in Danet on double and triple feints. It had seemed to him when reading it that Danet had stopped short on the threshold of a great discovery in the art of fencing. Essentially111 a theorist, Andre–Louis perceived the theory suggested, which Danet himself in suggesting it had not perceived. He lay now on his back, surveying the cracks in the ceiling and considering this matter further with the lucidity112 that early morning often brings to an acute intelligence. You are to remember that for close upon two months now the sword had been Andre–Louis’ daily exercise and almost hourly thought. Protracted113 concentration upon the subject was giving him an extraordinary penetration114 of vision. Swordsmanship as he learnt and taught and saw it daily practised consisted of a series of attacks and parries, a series of disengages from one line into another. But always a limited series. A half-dozen disengages on either side was, strictly115 speaking, usually as far as any engagement went. Then one recommenced. But even so, these disengages were fortuitous. What if from first to last they should be calculated?
That was part of the thought — one of the two legs on which his theory was to stand; the other was: what would happen if one so elaborated Danet’s ideas on the triple feint as to merge116 them into a series of actual calculated disengages to culminate117 at the fourth or fifth or even sixth disengage? That is to say, if one were to make a series of attacks inviting118 ripostes again to be countered, each of which was not intended to go home, but simply to play the opponent’s blade into a line that must open him ultimately, and as predetermined, for an irresistible lunge. Each counter of the opponent’s would have to be preconsidered in this widening of his guard, a widening so gradual that he should himself be unconscious of it, and throughout intent upon getting home his own point on one of those counters.
Andre–Louis had been in his time a chess-player of some force, and at chess he had excelled by virtue of his capacity for thinking ahead. That virtue applied119 to fencing should all but revolutionize the art. It was so applied already, of course, but only in an elementary and very limited fashion, in mere feints, single, double, or triple. But even the triple feint should be a clumsy device compared with this method upon which he theorized.
He considered further, and the conviction grew that he held the key of a discovery. He was impatient to put his theory to the test.
That morning he was given a pupil of some force, against whom usually he was hard put to it to defend himself. Coming on guard, he made up his mind to hit him on the fourth disengage, predetermining the four passes that should lead up to it. They engaged in tierce, and Andre–Louis led the attack by a beat and a straightening of the arm. Came the demi-contre he expected, which he promptly120 countered by a thrust in quinte; this being countered again, he reentered still lower, and being again correctly parried, as he had calculated, he lunged swirling121 his point into carte, and got home full upon his opponent’s breast. The ease of it surprised him.
They began again. This time he resolved to go in on the fifth disengage, and in on that he went with the same ease. Then, complicating122 the matter further, he decided123 to try the sixth, and worked out in his mind the combination of the five preliminary engages. Yet again he succeeded as easily as before.
The young gentleman opposed to him laughed with just a tinge52 of mortification124 in his voice.
“I am all to pieces this morning,” he said.
“You are not of your usual force,” Andre–Louis politely agreed. And then greatly daring, always to test that theory of his to the uttermost: “So much so,” he added, “that I could almost be sure of hitting you as and when I declare.”
The capable pupil looked at him with a half-sneer. “Ah, that, no,” said he.
“Let us try. On the fourth disengage I shall touch you. Allons! En garde!”
And as he promised, so it happened.
The young gentleman who, hitherto, had held no great opinion of Andre–Louis’ swordsmanship, accounting125 him well enough for purposes of practice when the master was otherwise engaged, opened wide his eyes. In a burst of mingled126 generosity127 and intoxication128, Andre–Louis was almost for disclosing his method — a method which a little later was to become a commonplace of the fencing-rooms. Betimes he checked himself. To reveal his secret would be to destroy the prestige that must accrue129 to him from exercising it.
At noon, the academy being empty, M. des Amis called Andre–Louis to one of the occasional lessons which he still received. And for the first time in all his experience with Andre–Louis, M. des Amis received from him a full hit in the course of the first bout. He laughed, well pleased, like the generous fellow he was.
“Aha! You are improving very fast, my friend.” He still laughed, though not so well pleased, when he was hit in the second bout. After that he settled down to fight in earnest with the result that Andre–Louis was hit three times in succession. The speed and accuracy of the fencing-master when fully71 exerting himself disconcerted Andre–Louis’ theory, which for want of being exercised in practice still demanded too much consideration.
But that his theory was sound he accounted fully established, and with that, for the moment, he was content. It remained only to perfect by practice the application of it. To this he now devoted130 himself with the passionate131 enthusiasm of the discoverer. He confined himself to a half-dozen combinations, which he practised assiduously until each had become almost automatic. And he proved their infallibility upon the best among M. des Amis’ pupils.
Finally, a week or so after that last bout of his with des Amis, the master called him once more to practice.
Hit again in the first bout, the master set himself to exert all his skill against his assistant. But to-day it availed him nothing before Andre–Louis’ impetuous attacks.
After the third hit, M. des Amis stepped back and pulled off his mask.
“What’s this?” he asked. He was pale, and his dark brows were contracted in a frown. Not in years had he been so wounded in his self-love. “Have you been taught a secret botte?”
He had always boasted that he knew too much about the sword to believe any nonsense about secret bottes; but this performance of Andre–Louis’ had shaken his convictions on that score.
“No,” said Andre–Louis. “I have been working hard; and it happens that I fence with my brains.”
“So I perceive. Well, well, I think I have taught you enough, my friend. I have no intention of having an assistant who is superior to myself.”
“Little danger of that,” said Andre–Louis, smiling pleasantly. “You have been fencing hard all morning, and you are tired, whilst I, having done little, am entirely fresh. That is the only secret of my momentary132 success.”
His tact133 and the fundamental good-nature of M. des Amis prevented the matter from going farther along the road it was almost threatening to take. And thereafter, when they fenced together, Andre–Louis, who continued daily to perfect his theory into an almost infallible system, saw to it that M. des Amis always scored against him at least two hits for every one of his own. So much he would grant to discretion134, but no more. He desired that M. des Amis should be conscious of his strength, without, however, discovering so much of its real extent as would have excited in him an unnecessary degree of jealousy135.
And so well did he contrive9 that whilst he became ever of greater assistance to the master — for his style and general fencing, too, had materially improved — he was also a source of pride to him as the most brilliant of all the pupils that had ever passed through his academy. Never did Andre–Louis disillusion136 him by revealing the fact that his skill was due far more to M. des Amis’ library and his own mother wit than to any lessons received.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
par
|
|
| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
strife
|
|
| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
reminder
|
|
| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
contemptible
|
|
| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
prudent
|
|
| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
sedition
|
|
| n.煽动叛乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
bout
|
|
| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
victuals
|
|
| n.食物；食品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
ravenous
|
|
| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
stoic
|
|
| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
unearthed
|
|
| 出土的（考古） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
consigned
|
|
| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
fracas
|
|
| n.打架；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
rue
|
|
| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
torment
|
|
| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
atone
|
|
| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
stifle
|
|
| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
trumpet
|
|
| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
nemesis
|
|
| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
inflaming
|
|
| v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
knell
|
|
| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
coercing
|
|
| v.迫使做( coerce的现在分词 )；强迫；（以武力、惩罚、威胁等手段）控制；支配 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
futile
|
|
| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
sanctuary
|
|
| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
persecution
|
|
| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
contemplate
|
|
| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
enrage
|
|
| v.触怒，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
insistently
|
|
| ad.坚持地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
kindling
|
|
| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
immediate
|
|
| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
vacancy
|
|
| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
gallows
|
|
| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
vindictive
|
|
| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
troupe
|
|
| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
constrained
|
|
| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
premature
|
|
| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
defiance
|
|
| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
aspire
|
|
| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
lieutenant
|
|
| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
contingency
|
|
| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
tinge
|
|
| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
destitute
|
|
| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
procured
|
|
| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
adornment
|
|
| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
gusty
|
|
| adj.起大风的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
applicants
|
|
| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
applicant
|
|
| n.申请人，求职者，请求者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
felicitously
|
|
| adv.恰当地，适切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
chivalry
|
|
| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
sparsely
|
|
| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
vibrant
|
|
| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
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： |
|
|
|
|
68
ward
|
|
| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
mechanism
|
|
| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
gracefully
|
|
| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
aquiline
|
|
| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
lustrous
|
|
| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
crook
|
|
| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
exterior
|
|
| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
irreproachable
|
|
| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
whitewashed
|
|
| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
trophies
|
|
| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
daggers
|
|
| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
obese
|
|
| adj.过度肥胖的，肥大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
wig
|
|
| n.假发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
elasticity
|
|
| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
eyebrows
|
|
| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
proficiency
|
|
| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
proficient
|
|
| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
rudiments
|
|
| n.基础知识，入门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
undoubtedly
|
|
| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
conned
|
|
| adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
wrecking
|
|
| 破坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
wreck
|
|
| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
supple
|
|
| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
alcove
|
|
| n.凹室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
grimace
|
|
| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
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： |
|
|
|
|
101
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
astounded
|
|
| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
devouring
|
|
| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
treatises
|
|
| n.专题著作，专题论文，专著( treatise的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
decorative
|
|
| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
precepts
|
|
| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
chivalrous
|
|
| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
uncommonly
|
|
| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
essentially
|
|
| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
lucidity
|
|
| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
protracted
|
|
| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
penetration
|
|
| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
merge
|
|
| v.(使)结合，(使)合并，(使)合为一体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
culminate
|
|
| v.到绝顶，达于极点，达到高潮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
swirling
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
complicating
|
|
| 使复杂化( complicate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
mortification
|
|
| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
mingled
|
|
| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
accrue
|
|
| v.(利息等)增大，增多 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
tact
|
|
| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
discretion
|
|
| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
disillusion
|
|
| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |