Serenely1 as Wellington, another hero slept profoundly, on the eve of a great event — of a great contest to be met when the day should break — of a critical victory, depending on him alone to save the Guards of England from defeat and shame; their honor and their hopes rested on his solitary2 head; by him they would be lost or saved; but, unharassed by the magnitude of the stake at issue, unhaunted by the past, unfretted by the future, he slumbered3 the slumber4 of the just.
Not Sir Tristram, Sir Caledore, Sir Launcelot — no, nor Arthur himself — was ever truer knight5, was ever gentler, braver, bolder, more stanch6 of heart, more loyal of soul, than he to whom the glory of the Brigades was trusted now; never was there spirit more dauntless and fiery7 in the field; never temper kindlier and more generous with friends and foes8. Miles of the ridge9 and furrow10, stiff fences of terrible blackthorn, double posts and rails, yawners and croppers both, tough as Shire and Stewards11 could make them, awaited him on the morrow; on his beautiful lean head capfuls of money were piled by the Service and the Talent; and in his stride all the fame of the Household would be centered on the morrow; but he took his rest like the cracker12 he was — standing13 as though he were on guard, and steady as a rock, a hero every inch of him. For he was Forest King, the great steeple-chaser, on whom the Guards had laid all their money for the Grand Military — the Soldiers’ Blue Ribbon.
His quarters were a loose box; his camp-bed a litter of straw fresh shaken down; his clothing a very handsome rug, hood14, and quarter-piece buckled15 on and marked “B. C.”; above the manger and the door was lettered his own name in gold. “Forest King”; and in the panels of the latter were miniatures of his sire and of his dam: Lord of the Isles16, one of the greatest hunters that the grass countries ever saw sent across them; and Bayadere, a wild-pigeon-blue mare17 of Circassia. How, furthermore, he stretched up his long line of ancestry18 by the Sovereign, out of Queen of Roses; by Belted Earl, out of Fallen Star; by Marmion, out of Court Coquette, and straight up to the White Cockade blood, etc., etc., etc. — is it not written in the mighty19 and immortal20 chronicle, previous as the Koran, patrician21 as the Peerage, known and beloved to mortals as the “Stud Book”?
Not an immensely large, or unusually powerful horse, but with race in every line of him; steel-gray in color, darkening well at all points, shining and soft as satin, with the firm muscles quivering beneath at the first touch of excitement to the high mettle22 and finely-strung organization; the head small, lean, racer-like, “blood” all over; with the delicate taper23 ears, almost transparent24 in full light; well ribbed-up, fine shoulders, admirable girth and loins; legs clean, slender, firm, promising25 splendid knee action; sixteen hands high, and up to thirteen stone; clever enough for anything, trained to close and open country, a perfect brook26 jumper, a clipper at fencing; taking a great deal of riding, as anyone could tell by the set-on of his neck, but docile27 as a child to a well-known hand — such was Forest King with his English and Eastern strains, winner at Chertsey, Croydon, the National, the Granby, the Belvoir Castle, the Curragh, and all the gentleman-rider steeple-chases and military sweepstakes in the kingdom, and entered now, with tremendous bets on him, for the Gilt28 Vase.
It was a crisp, cold night outside; starry29, wintry, but open weather, and clear; the ground would be just right on the morrow, neither hard as the slate30 of a billiard-table, nor wet as the slush of a quagmire31. Forest King slept steadily32 on in his warm and spacious33 box, dreaming doubtless of days of victory, cub-hunting in the reedy October woods and pastures, of the ringing notes of the horn, and the sweet music of the pack, and the glorious quick burst up-wind, breasting the icy cold water, and showing the way over fence and bullfinch. Dozing34 and dreaming pleasantly; but alert for all that; for he awoke suddenly, shook himself, had a hilarious35 roll in the straw, and stood “at attention.”
Awake only, could you tell the generous and gallant36 promise of his perfect temper; for there are no eyes that speak more truly, none on earth that are so beautiful, as the eyes of a horse. Forest King’s were dark as a gazelle’s, soft as a woman’s, brilliant as stars, a little dreamy and mournful, and as infinitely37 caressing38 when he looked at what he loved, as they could blaze full of light and fire when danger was near and rivalry39 against him. How loyally such eyes have looked at me over the paddock fence, as a wild, happy gallop40 was suddenly broken for a gentle head to be softly pushed against my hand with the gentlest of welcomes! They sadly put to shame the million human eyes that so fast learn the lie of the world, and utter it as falsely as the lips.
The steeple-chaser stood alert, every fiber41 of his body strung to pleasurable excitation; the door opened, a hand held him some sugar, and the voice he loved best said fondly, “All right, old boy?”
Forest King devoured42 the beloved dainty with true equine unction, rubbed his forehead against his master’s shoulder, and pushed his nose into the nearest pocket in search for more of his sweetmeat.
“You’d eat a sugar-loaf, you dear old rascal43. Put the gas up, George,” said his owner, while he turned up the body clothing to feel the firm, cool skin, loosened one of the bandages, passed his hand from thigh44 to fetlock, and glanced round the box to be sure the horse had been well suppered and littered down.
“Think we shall win, Rake?”
Rake, with a stable lantern in his hand and a forage45 cap on one side of his head, standing a little in advance of a group of grooms46 and helpers, took a bit of straw out of his mouth, and smiled a smile of sublime47 scorn and security. “Win, sir? I should be glad to know as when was that ere King ever beat yet; or you either, sir, for that matter?”
Bertie Cecil laughed a little languidly.
“Well, we take a good deal of beating, I think, and there are not very many who can give it us; are there, old fellow?” he said to the horse, as he passed his palm over the withers48; “but there are some crushers in the lot tomorrow; you’ll have to do all you know.”
Forest King caught the manger with his teeth, and kicked in a bit of play and ate some more sugar, with much licking of his lips to express the nonchalance49 with which he viewed his share in the contest, and his tranquil50 certainty of being first past the flags. His master looked at him once more and sauntered out of the box.
“He’s in first-rate form, Rake, and right as a trivet.”
“Course he is, sir; nobody ever laid leg over such cattle as all that White Cockade blood, and he’s the very best of the strain,” said Rake, as he held up his lantern across the stable-yard, that looked doubly dark in the February night after the bright gas glare of the box.
“So he need be,” thought Cecil, as a bull terrier, three or four Gordon setters, an Alpine51 mastiff, and two wiry Skyes dashed at their chains, giving tongue in frantic52 delight at the sound of his step, while the hounds echoed the welcome from their more distant kennels53, and he went slowly across the great stone yard, with the end of a huge cheroot glimmering54 through the gloom. “So he need be, to pull me through. The Ducal and the October let me in for it enough; I never was closer in my life. The deuce! If I don’t do the distance tomorrow I shan’t have sovereigns enough to play pound-points at night! I don’t know what a man’s to do; if he’s put into this life, he must go the pace of it. Why did Royal send me into the Guards, if he meant to keep the screw on in this way? He’d better have drafted me into a marching regiment55 at once, if he wanted me to live upon nothing.”
Nothing meant anything under 60,000 pounds a year with Cecil, as the minimum of monetary56 necessities in this world, and a look of genuine annoyance57 and trouble, most unusual there, was on his face, the picture of carelessness and gentle indifference58 habitually59, though shadowed now as he crossed the courtyard after his after-midnight visit to his steeple-chaser. He had backed Forest King heavily, and stood to win or lose a cracker on his own riding on the morrow; and, though he had found sufficient to bring him into the Shires, he had barely enough lying on his dressing-table, up in the bachelor suite60 within, to pay his groom’s book, or a notion where to get more, if the King should find his match over the ridge and furrow in the morning!
It was not pleasant: a cynical61, savage62, world-disgusted Timon derives63 on the whole a good amount of satisfaction from his break-down in the fine philippics against his contemporaries that it is certain to afford, and the magnificent grievances64 with which it furnishes him; but when life is very pleasant to a man, and the world very fond of him; when existence is perfectly65 smooth — bar that single pressure of money — and is an incessantly66 changing kaleidoscope of London seasons, Paris winters, ducal houses in the hunting months, dinners at the Pall67 Mall Clubs, dinners at the Star and Garter, dinners irreproachable68 everywhere; cottage for Ascot week, yachting with the R. V. Y. Club, Derby handicaps at Hornsey, pretty chorus-singers set up in Bijou villas69, dashing rosieres taken over to Baden, warm corners in Belvoir, Savernake, and Longeat battues, and all the rest of the general programme, with no drawback to it, except the duties at the Palace, the heat of a review, or the extravagance of a pampered70 lionne — then to be pulled up in that easy, swinging gallop for sheer want of a golden shoe, as one may say, is abominably71 bitter, and requires far more philosophy to endure than Timon would ever manage to master. It is a bore, an unmitigated bore; a harsh, hateful, unrelieved martyrdom that the world does not see, and that the world would not pity if it did.
“Never mind! Things will come right. Forest King never failed me yet; he is as full of running as a Derby winner, and he’ll go over the yawners like a bird,” thought Cecil, who never confronted his troubles with more than sixty seconds’ thought, and who was of that light, impassible, half-levity, half-languor72 of temperament73 that both throws off worry easily and shirks it persistently74. “Sufficient for the day,” etc., was the essence of his creed75; and if he had enough to lay a fiver at night on the rubber, he was quite able to forget for the time that he wanted five hundred for settling-day in the morning, and had not an idea how to get it. There was not a trace of anxiety on him when he opened a low arched door, passed down a corridor, and entered the warm, full light of that chamber76 of liberty, that sanctuary78 of the persecuted79, that temple of refuge, thrice blessed in all its forms throughout the land, that consecrated80 Mecca of every true believer in the divinity of the meerschaum, and the paradise of the nargile — the smoking-room.
A spacious, easy chamber, too; lined with the laziest of divans82, seen just now through a fog of smoke, and tenanted by nearly a score of men in every imaginable loose velvet83 costume, and with faces as well known in the Park at six o’clock in May, and on the Heath in October; in Paris in January, and on the Solent in August; in Pratt’s of a summer’s night, and on the Moors84 in an autumn morning, as though they were features that came round as regularly as the “July” or the Waterloo Cup. Some were puffing85 away in calm, meditative86 comfort, in silence that they would not have broken for any earthly consideration; others were talking hard and fast, and through the air heavily weighted with the varieties of tobacco, from tiny cigarettes to giant cheroots, from rough bowls full of cavendish to sybaritic rose-water hookahs, a Babel of sentences rose together: “Gave him too much riding, the idiot.” “Take the field, bar one.” “Nothing so good for the mare as a little niter and antimony in her mash87.” “Not at all! The Regent and Rake cross in the old strain, always was black-tan with a white frill.” “The Earl’s as good a fellow as Lady Flora88; always give you a mount.” “Nothing like a Kate Terry though, on a bright day, for salmon89.” “Faster thing I never knew; found at twenty minutes past eleven, and killed just beyond Longdown Water at ten to twelve.” All these various phrases were rushing in among each other, and tossed across the eddies90 of smoke in the conflicting tongues loosened in the tabagie and made eloquent91, though slightly inarticulate, by pipe-stems; while a tall, fair man, with the limbs of a Hercules, the chest of a prize-fighter, and the face of a Raphael Angel, known in the Household as Seraph92, was in the full blood of a story of whist played under difficulties in the Doncaster express.
“I wanted a monkey; I wanted monkeys awfully,” he was stating as Forest King’s owner came into the smoking-room.
“Did you, Seraph? The ‘Zoo’ or the Clubs could supply you with apes fully93 developed to any amount,” said Bertie, as he threw himself down.
“You be hanged!” laughed the Seraph, known to the rest of the world as the Marquis of Rockingham, son of the Duke of Lyonnesse. “I wished monkeys, but the others wished ponies94 and hundreds, so I gave in; Vandebur and I won two rubbers, and we’d just begun the third when the train stopped with a crash; none of us dropped the cards though, but the tricks and the scores all went down with the shaking. ‘Can’t play in that row,’ said Charlie, for the women were shrieking95 like mad, and the engine was roaring like my mare Philippa — I’m afraid she’ll never be cured, poor thing! — so I put my head out and asked what was up? We’d run into a cattle train. Anybody hurt? No, nobody hurt; but we were to get out. ‘I’ll be shot if I get out,’ I told ’em, ‘till I’ve finished the rubber.’ ‘But you must get out,’ said the guard; ‘carriages must be moved.’ ‘Nobody says “must” to him,’ said Van (he’d drank more Perles du Rhin than was good for him in Doncaster); ‘don’t you know the Seraph?’ Man stared. ‘Yes, sir; know the Seraph, sir; leastways, did, sir, afore he died; see him once at Moulsey Mill, sir; his “one two” was amazin’. Waters soon threw up the sponge.’ We were all dying with laughter, and I tossed him a tenner. ‘There, my good fellow,’ said I, ‘shunt the carriage and let us finish the game. If another train comes up, give it Lord Rockingham’s compliments and say he’ll thank it to stop, because collisions shake his trumps97 together.’ Man thought us mad; took tenner though, shunted us to one side out of the noise, and we played two rubbers more before they’d repaired the damage and sent us on to town.”
And the Seraph took a long-drawn whiff from his silver meerschaum, and then a deep draught98 of soda99 and brandy to refresh himself after the narrative100 — biggest, best-tempered, and wildest of men in or out of the Service, despite the angelic character of his fair-haired head, and blue eyes that looked as clear and as innocent as those of a six-year-old child.
“Not the first time by a good many that you’ve ‘shunted off the straight,’ Seraph?” laughed Cecil, substituting an amber77 mouth-piece for his half-finished cheroot. “I’ve been having a good-night look at the King. He’ll stay.”
“Of course he will,” chorused half a dozen voices.
“With all our pots on him,” added the Seraph. “He’s too much of a gentleman to put us all up a tree; he knows he carries the honor of the Household.”
“There are some good mounts, there’s no denying that,” said Chesterfield of the Blues101 (who was called Tom for no other reason than that it was entirely102 unlike his real name of Adolphus), where he was curled up almost invisible, except for the movement of the jasmine stick of his chibouque. “That brute103, Day Star, is a splendid fencer, and for a brook jumper, it would be heard to best Wild Geranium, though her shoulders are not quite what they ought to be. Montacute, too, can ride a good thing, and he’s got one in Pas de Charge.”
“I’m not much afraid of Monti, he makes too wild a burst first; he never saves on atom,” yawned Cecil, with the coils of his hookah bubbling among the rose-water; “the man I’m afraid of is that fellow from the Tenth; he’s as light as a feather and as hard as steel. I watched him yesterday going over the water, and the horse he’ll ride for Trelawney is good enough to beat even the King if he’s properly piloted.”
“You haven’t kept yourself in condition, Beauty,” growled104 “Tom,” with the chibouque in his mouth, “else nothing could give you the go-by. It’s tempting105 Providence106 to go in for the Gilt Vase after such a December and January as you spent in Paris. Even the week you’ve been in the Shires you haven’t trained a bit; you’ve been waltzing or playing baccarat till five in the morning, and taking no end of sodas107 after to bring you right for the meet at nine. If a man will drink champagnes and burgundies as you do, and spend his time after women, I should like to know how he’s to be in hard riding condition, unless he expects a miracle.”
With which Chesterfield, who weighed fourteen stone himself, and was, therefore, out of all but welter-races, and wanted a weight-carrier of tremendous power even for them, subsided109 under a heap of velvet and cashmere, and Cecil laughed; lying on a divan81 just under one of the gas branches, the light fell full on his handsome face, with its fair hue111 and its gentle languor on which there was not a single trace of the outrecuidance attributed to him. Both he and the Seraph could lead the wildest life of any men in Europe without looking one shadow more worn than the brightest beauty of the season, and could hold wassail in riotous112 rivalry till the sun rose, and then throw themselves into saddle as fresh as if they had been sound asleep all night; to keep up with the pack the whole day in a fast burst or on a cold scent113, or in whatever sport Fortune and the coverts114 gave them, till their second horses wound their way homeward through muddy, leafless lanes, when the stars had risen.
“Beauty don’t believe in training. No more do I. Never would train for anything,” said the Seraph now, pulling the long blond mustaches that were not altogether in character with his seraphic cognomen115. “If a man can ride, let him. If he’s born to the pigskin he’ll be in at the distance safe enough, whether he smokes or don’t smoke, drink or don’t drink. As for training on raw chops, giving up wine, living like the very deuce and all, as if you were in a monastery116, and changing yourself into a mere110 bag of bones — it’s utter bosh. You might as well be in purgatory117; besides, it’s no more credit to win then than if you were a professional.”
“But you must have trained at Christ Church, Rock, for the Eight?” asked another Guardsman, Sir Vere Bellingham; “Severe,” as he was christened, chiefly because he was the easiest-going giant in existence.
“Did I! men came to me; wanted me to join the Eight; coxswain came, awful strict little fellow, docked his men of all their fun — took plenty himself though! Coxswain said I must begin to train, do as all his crew did. I threw up my sleeve and showed him my arm;” and the Seraph stretched out an arm magnificent enough for a statue of Milo. “I said, ‘there, sir, I’ll help you thrash Cambridge, if you like, but train I won’t for you or for all the University. I’ve been Captain of the Eton Eight; but I didn’t keep my crew on tea and toast. I fattened119 ’em regularly three times a week on venison and champagne108 at Christopher’s. Very happy to feed yours, too, if you like; game comes down to me every Friday from the Duke’s moors; they look uncommonly120 as if they wanted it!’ You should have seen his face! — fatten118 the Eight! He didn’t let me do that, of course; but he was very glad of my oar96 in his rowlocks, and I helped him beat Cambridge without training an hour myself, except so far as rowing hard went.”
And the Marquis of Rockingham, made thirsty by the recollection, dipped his fair mustaches into a foaming121 seltzer.
“Quite right, Seraph!” said Cecil; “when a man comes up to the weights, looking like a homunculus, after he’s been getting every atom of flesh off him like a jockey, he ought to be struck out for the stakes, to my mind. ‘Tisn’t a question of riding, then, nor yet of pluck, or of management; it’s nothing but a question of pounds, and of who can stand the tamest life the longest.”
“Well, beneficial for one’s morals, at any rate,” suggested Sir Vere.
“Morals be hanged!” said Bertie, very immorally122. “I’m glad you remind us of them, Vere; you’re such a quintessence of decorum and respectability yourself! I say — anybody know anything of this fellow of the Tenth that’s to ride Trelawney’s chestnut123?”
“Jimmy Delmar! Oh, yes; I know Jimmy,” answered Lord Cosmo Wentworth, of the Scots Fusileers, from the far depths of an arm-chair. “Knew him at Aldershot. Fine rider; give you a good bit of trouble, Beauty. Hasn’t been in England for years; troop been such a while at Calcutta. The Fancy take to him rather; offering very freely on him this morning in the village; and he’s got a rare good thing in the chestnut.”
“Not a doubt of it. The White Lily blood, out of that Irish mare D’Orleans Diamonds, too.”
“Never mind! Tenth won’t beat us. The Household will win safe enough, unless Forest King goes and breaks his back over Brixworth — eh, Beauty?” said the Seraph, who believed devoutly124 in his comrade, with all the loving loyalty125 characteristic of the House of Lyonnesse, that to monarchs126 and to friends had often cost it very dear.
“You put your faith in the wrong quarter, Rock; I may fail you, he never will,” said Cecil, with ever so slight a dash of sadness in his words; the thought crossed him of how boldly, how straightly, how gallantly127 the horse always breasted and conquered his difficulties — did he himself deal half so well with his own?
“Well! you both of you carry all our money and all our credit; so for the fair fame of the Household do ‘all you know.’ I haven’t hedged a shilling, not laid off a farthing, Bertie; I stand on you and the King, and nothing else — see what a sublime faith I have in you.”
“I don’t think you’re wise then, Seraph; the field will be very strong,” said Cecil languidly. The answer was indifferent, and certainly thankless; but under his drooped128 lids a glance, frank and warm, rested for the moment on the Seraph’s leonine strength and Raphaelesque head; it was not his way to say it, or to show it, or even much to think it; but in his heart he loved his old friend wonderfully well.
And they talked on of little else than of the great steeple-chase of the Service, for the next hour in the Tabak–Parliament, while the great clouds of scented129 smoke circled heavily round; making a halo of Turkish above the gold locks of the Titanic130 Seraph, steeping Chesterfield’s velvets in strong odors of Cavendish, and drifting a light rose-scented mist over Bertie’s long, lithe131 limbs, light enough and skilled enough to disdain132 all “training for the weights.”
“That’s not the way to be in condition,” growled “Tom,” getting up with a great shake as the clock clanged the strokes of five; they had only returned from a ball three miles off, when Cecil had paid his visit to the loose box. Bertie laughed; his laugh was like himself — rather languid, but very light-hearted, very silvery, very engaging.
“Sit and smoke till breakfast time if you like, Tom; it won’t make any difference to me.”
But the Smoke Parliament wouldn’t hear of the champion of the Household over the ridge and furrow risking the steadiness of his wrist and the keenness of his eye by any such additional tempting of Providence, and went off itself in various directions, with good-night iced drinks, yawning considerably133 like most other parliaments after a sitting.
It was the old family place of the Royallieu House in which he had congregated134 half the Guardsmen in the Service for the great event, and consequently the bachelor chambers135 in it were of the utmost comfort and spaciousness136, and when Cecil sauntered into his old quarters, familiar from boyhood, he could not have been better off in his own luxurious137 haunts in Piccadilly. Moreover, the first thing that caught his eye was a dainty scarlet138 silk riding jacket broidered in gold and silver, with the motto of his house, “Coeur Vaillant se fait Royaume,” all circled with oak and laurel leaves on the collar.
It was the work of very fair hands, of very aristocratic hands, and he looked at it with a smile. “Ah, my lady, my lady!” he thought half aloud, “do you really love me? Do I really love you?”
There was a laugh in his eyes as he asked himself what might be termed an interesting question; then something more earnest came over his face, and he stood a second with the pretty costly139 embroideries140 in his hand, with a smile that was almost tender, though it was still much more amused. “I suppose we do,” he concluded at last; “at least quite as much as is ever worth while. Passions don’t do for the drawing-room, as somebody says in ‘Coningsby’; besides — I would not feel a strong emotion for the universe. Bad style always, and more detrimental141 to ‘condition,’ as Tom would say, than three bottles of brandy!”
He was so little near what he dreaded142, at present at least, that the scarlet jacket was tossed down again, and gave him no dreams of his fair and titled embroideress. He looked out, the last thing, at some ominous143 clouds drifting heavily up before the dawn, and the state of the weather, and the chance of its being rainy, filled his thoughts, to the utter exclusion144 of the donor145 of that bright gold-laden dainty gift. “I hope to goodness there won’t be any drenching146 shower. Forest King can stand ground as hard as a slate, but if there’s one thing he’s weak in it’s slush!” was Bertie’s last conscious thought, as he stretched his limbs out and fell sound asleep.
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1
serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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stanch
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| v.止住（血等）；adj.坚固的；坚定的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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buckled
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isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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taper
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| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
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24
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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25
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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26
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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27
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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28
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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29
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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30
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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31
quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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32
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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33
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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34
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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35
hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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36
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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37
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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38
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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39
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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40
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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41
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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42
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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43
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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44
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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45
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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46
grooms
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| n.新郎( groom的名词复数 )；马夫v.照料或梳洗（马等）( groom的第三人称单数 )；使做好准备；训练；（给动物）擦洗 | |
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47
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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48
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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49
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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50
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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51
alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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52
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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53
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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54
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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55
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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56
monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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57
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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58
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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59
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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60
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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61
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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62
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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63
derives
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| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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64
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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65
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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66
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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67
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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68
irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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69
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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70
pampered
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| adj.饮食过量的，饮食奢侈的v.纵容，宠，娇养( pamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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72
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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73
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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74
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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75
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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76
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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77
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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78
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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79
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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80
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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81
divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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82
divans
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| n.（可作床用的）矮沙发( divan的名词复数 )；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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83
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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84
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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85
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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86
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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87
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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88
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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89
salmon
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| n.鲑，大马哈鱼，橙红色的 | |
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90
eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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91
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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92
seraph
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| n.六翼天使 | |
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93
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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94
ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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95
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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96
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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97
trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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98
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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99
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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100
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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101
blues
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| n.抑郁，沮丧；布鲁斯音乐 | |
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102
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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103
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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104
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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105
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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106
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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107
sodas
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| n.苏打( soda的名词复数 )；碱；苏打水；汽水 | |
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108
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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109
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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110
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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111
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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112
riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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113
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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114
coverts
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| n.隐蔽的，不公开的，秘密的( covert的名词复数 )；复羽 | |
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115
cognomen
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| n.姓；绰号 | |
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116
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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117
purgatory
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| n.炼狱；苦难；adj.净化的，清洗的 | |
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118
fatten
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| v.使肥，变肥 | |
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119
fattened
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| v.喂肥( fatten的过去式和过去分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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120
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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121
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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122
immorally
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| adv.淫荡地；不正经地；不道德地；品行不良地 | |
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123
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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124
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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125
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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126
monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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127
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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128
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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130
titanic
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| adj.巨人的，庞大的，强大的 | |
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131
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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132
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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133
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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134
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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136
spaciousness
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| n.宽敞 | |
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137
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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138
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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139
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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140
embroideries
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| 刺绣( embroidery的名词复数 )； 刺绣品； 刺绣法 | |
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141
detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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142
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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143
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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144
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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145
donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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146
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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