The far-off summits of the Djurjura were tinted1 with the intense glare of the distant pines and cypresses2 cut sharply against the rose-warmed radiance of the sky. On the slopes of the hills white cupolas and terraced gardens, where the Algerine haouach still showed the taste and luxury of Algerine corsairs, rose up among their wild olive shadows on the groves3 of the lentiscus. In the deep gorges4 that were channeled between the riven rocks the luxuriance of African vegetation ran riot; the feathery crests5 of tossing reeds, the long, floating leaves of plants, filling the dry water-courses of vanished streams; the broad foliage6 of the wild fig7, and the glowing, dainty blossoms of the oleander, wherever a trace of brook8, or pool, or rivulet9 let it put forth10 its beautiful coronal, growing one in another in the narrow valleys, and the curving passes, wherever broken earth or rock gave shelter from the blaze and heat of the North African day.
Farther inland the bare, sear stretches of brown plain were studded with dwarf11 palm, the vast shadowless plateaux were desolate12 as the great desert itself far beyond; and the sun, as it burned on them a moment in the glory of its last glow, found them naked and grand by the sheer force of immensity and desolation, but dreary13 and endless, and broken into refts and chasms14, as though to make fairer by their own barren solitude15 the laughing luxuriance of the sea-face of the Sahel.
A moment, and the luster16 of the light flung its own magic brilliancy over the Algerine water-line, and then shone full on the heights of El Biar and Bouzariah, and on the lofty, delicate form of the Italian pines that here and there, Sicilian-like, threw out their graceful17 heads against the amber18 sun-glow and the deep azure19 of the heavens. Then swiftly, suddenly, the sun sank; twilight20 passed like a gray, gliding21 shade, an instant, over earth and sea; and night — the balmy, sultry, star-studded night of Africa — fell over the thirsty leafage longing23 for its dews, the closed flowers that slumbered24 at its touch, the seared and blackened plains to which its coolness could bring no herbage, the massive hills that seemed to lie so calmly in its rest.
Camped on one of the bare stretches above the Mustapha Road was a circle of Arab tents; the circle was irregularly kept, and the Krumas were scattered25 at will; here a low one of canvas, there one of goatskin; here a white towering canopy26 of teleze, there a low striped little nest of shelter, and loftier than all, the stately beit el shar of the Sheik, with his standard stuck into the earth in front of it, with its heavy folds hanging listlessly in the sultry, breathless air.
The encampment stretched far over the level, arid27 earth, and there was more than one tent where the shadowing folds of the banner marked the abode28 of some noble Djied. Disorder29 reigned30 supreme31, in all the desert freedom; horses and mules32, goats and camels, tethered, strayed among the conical houses of hair, browsing33 off the littered straw or the tossed-down hay; and caldrons seethed34 and hissed35 over wood fires, whose lurid36 light was flung on the eagle features and the white haiks of the wanderers who watched the boiling of their mess, or fed the embers with dry sticks. Round other fires, having finished the eating of their couscousson, the Bedouins lay full-length; enjoying the solemn silence which they love so little to break, and smoking their long pipes; while through the shadows about them glided37 the lofty figures of their brethren, with the folds of their sweeping38 burnous floating in the gloom. It was a picture, Rembrandt in color, Oriental in composition; with the darkness surrounding it stretching out into endless distance that led to the mystic silence of the great desert; and above the intense blue of the gorgeous night, with the stars burning through white, transparent39 mists of slowly drifting clouds.
In the central tent, tall and crimson-striped, with its mighty40 standard reared in front, and its opening free to the night, sat the Khalifa, the head of the tribe, with a circle of Arabs about him. He was thrown on his cushions, rich enough for a seraglio, while the rest squatted42 on the morocco carpet that covered the bare ground, and that was strewn with round brass43 Moorish44 trays and little cups emptied of their coffee. The sides of the tent were hung with guns and swords, lavishly45 adorned46; and in the middle stood a tall Turkish candle-branch in fretted47 work, whose light struggled with the white flood of the moon, and the ruddy, fitful glare from a wood fire without.
Beneath its light, which fell full on him, flung down upon another pile of cushions facing the open front of the tent, was a guest whom the Khalifa delighted to honor. Only a Corporal of Chasseurs, and once a foe48, yet one with whom the Arab found the brotherhood49 of brave men, and on whom he lavished50, in all he could, the hospitalities and honors of the desert.
The story of their friendship ran thus:
The tribe was now allied51 with France, or, at least, had accepted French sovereignty, and pledged itself to neutrality in the hostilities52 still rife53; but a few years before, far in the interior and leagued with the Kabailes, it had been one of the fiercest and most dangerous among the enemies of France. At that time the Khalifa and the Chasseur met in many a skirmish; hot, desperate struggles, where men fought horse to horse, hand to hand; midnight frays54, when, in the heart of lonely ravines, Arab ambuscades fell on squadrons of French cavalry55; terrible chases through the heat of torrid suns, when the glittering ranks of the charging troops swept down after the Bedouins’ flight; fiery56 combats, when the desert sand and the smoke of musketry circled in clouds above the close-locked struggle, and the Leopard57 of France and the Lion of Sahara wrestled58 in a death-grip.
In these, through four or five seasons of warfare59, the Sheik and the Chasseur had encountered each other, till each had grown to look for the other’s face as soon as the standards of the Bedouins flashed in the sunshine opposite the guidons of the Imperial forces; till each had watched and noted61 the other’s unmatched prowess, and borne away the wounds of the other’s home-strokes, with the admiration62 of a bold soldier for a bold rival’s dauntlessness and skill; till each had learned to long for an hour, hitherto always prevented by waves of battle that had swept them too soon asunder64, when they should meet in a duello once for all, and try their strength together till one bore off victory and one succumbed66 to death.
At last it came to pass that, after a lengthened67 term of this chivalrous68 antagonism69, the tribe were sorely pressed by the French troops, and could no longer mass its fearless front to face them, but had to flee southward to the desert, and encumbered70 by its flocks and its women, was hardly driven and greatly decimated. Now among those women was one whom the Sheik held above all earthly things except his honor in war; a beautiful antelope-eyed creature, lithe71 and graceful as a palm, and the daughter of a pure Arab race, on whom he could not endure for any other sight than his to look, and whom he guarded in his tent as the chief pearl of all his treasures; herds72, flocks, arms, even his horses, all save the honor of his tribe, he would have surrendered rather than surrender Djelma. It was a passion with him; a passion that not even the iron of his temper and the dignity of his austere74 calm could abate75 or conceal76; and the rumor77 of it and of the beauty of its object reached the French camp, till an impatient curiosity was roused about her, and a raid that should bear her off became the favorite speculation78 round the picket79 fires at night, and in the scorching80 noons, when the men lay stripped to their waist — panting like tired dogs under the hot withering82 breath that stole to them, sweeping over the yellow seas of sands.
Their heated fancies had pictured this treasure of the great Djied as something beyond all that her sex had ever given them, and to snare83 her in some unwary moment was the chief thought of Zephyr84 and Spahi when they went out on a scouting85 or foraging86 party. But it was easier said than done; the eyes of no Frank ever fell on her, and when he was most closely driven the Khalifa Ilderim abandoned his cattle and sheep, but, with the females of the tribe still safely guarded, fell more and more backward and southward; drawing the French on and on, farther and farther across the plains, in the sickliest times of hottest drought.
Re-enforcements could swell87 the Imperial ranks as swiftly as they were thinned, but with the Arabs a man once fallen was a man the less to their numbers forever, and the lightning-like pursuit began to tell terribly on them; their herds had fallen into their pursuers’ hands, and famine menaced them. Nevertheless, they were fierce in attack as tigers, rapid in swoop88 as vultures, and fought flying in such fashion that the cavalry lost more in this fruitless, worthless work than they would have done in a second Hohenlinden or Austerlitz.
Moreover, the heat was intense, water was bad and very rare, dysentery came with the scorch81 and the toil89 of this endless charge; the chief in command, M. le Marquis de Chateauroy, swore heavily as he saw many of his best men dropping off like sheep in a murrain, and he offered two hundred napoleons to whosoever should bring either the dead Sheik’s head or the living beauty of Djelma.
One day the Chasseurs had pitched their camp where a few barren, withered90 trees gave a semblance91 of shelter, and a little thread of brackish92 water oozed93 through the yellow earth.
It was high noon; the African sun was at its fiercest; far as the eye could reach there was only one boundless94, burning, unendurable glitter of parching95 sand and cloudless sky — brazen96 beneath, brazen above — till the desert and the heavens touched, and blent in one tawny97, fiery glow in the measureless distance. The men lay under canvas, dead-beat, half-naked, without the power to do anything except to fight like thirst-maddened dogs for a draught98 at the shallow stream that they and their breathless horses soon drained dry.
Even Raoul de Chateauroy, though his frame was like an Arab’s, and knit into Arab endurance, was stretched like a great bloodhound, chained by the sultry oppression. He was ruthless, inflexible99, a tyrant100 to the core, and sharp and swift as steel in his rigor101, but he was a fine soldier, and never spared himself any of the hardships that his regiment102 had to endure under him.
Suddenly the noon lethargy of the camp was broken; a trumpet-call rang through the stillness; against the amber transparency of the horizon line the outlines of half a dozen horsemen were seen looming103 nearer and nearer with every moment; they were some Spahis who had been out sweeping the country for food. The mighty frame of Chateauroy, almost as unclothed as an athlete’s, started from its slumberous104, panting rest; his eyes lightened hungrily; he muttered a fiery oath; “Mort de Dieu! — they have the woman!”
They had the woman. She had been netted near a water-spring, to which she had wandered too loosely guarded, and too far from the Bedouin encampment. The delight of the haughty105 Sidi’s eyes was borne off to the tents of his foe, and the Colonel’s face flushed darkly with an eager, lustful106 warmth, as he looked upon his captive. Rumor had not outboasted the Arab girl’s beauty; it was lustrous107 as ever was that when, far yonder to the eastward108, under the curled palms of Nile, the sorceress of the Caesars swept through her rose-strewn palace chambers109. Only Djelma was as innocent as the gazelle, whose grace she resembled, and loved her lord with a great love.
Of her suffering her captor took no more heed110 than if she were a young bird dying of shot-wounds; but, with one triumphant111, admiring glance at her, he wrote a message in Arabic, to send to the Khalifa, ere her loss was discovered — a message more cruel than iron. He hesitated a second, where he lay at the opening of his tent, whom he should send with it. His men were almost all half-dead with the sun-blaze. His glance chanced to light in the distance on a soldier to whom he bore no love — causelessly, but bitterly all the same. He had him summoned, and eyed him with a curious amusement — Chateauroy treated his squadrons with much the same sans-facon familiarity and brutality112 that a chief of filibusters114 uses in his.
“So! you heed the heat so little, you give up your turn of water to a drummer, they say?”
The Chasseur gave the salute115 with a calm deference116. A faint flush passed over the sun-bronze of his forehead. He had thought the Sidney-like sacrifice had been unobserved.
“The drummer was but a child, mon Commandant.”
“Be so good as to give us no more of those melodramatic acts!” said M. le Marquis contemptuously. “You are too fond of trafficking in those showy fooleries. You bribe118 your comrades for their favoritism too openly. Ventre bleu! I forbid it — do you hear?”
“I hear, mon Colonel.”
The assent119 was perfectly120 tranquil121 and respectful. He was too good a soldier not to render perfect obedience122, and keep perfect silence, under any goad123 of provocation124 to break both.
“Obey then!” said Chateauroy savagely125. “Well, since you love heat so well, you shall take a flag of truce127 and my scroll128 to the Sidi Ilderim. But tell me, first, what do you think of this capture?”
“It is not my place to give opinions, M. le Colonel.”
“Pardieu! It is your place when I bid you. Speak, or I will have the stick cut the words out of you!”
“I may speak frankly129?”
“Ten thousand curses — yes!”
“Then, I think that those who make war on women are no longer fit to fight with men.”
For a moment the long, sinewy130, massive form of Chateauroy started from the skins on which he lay at full length, like a lion started from its lair131. His veins132 swelled133 like black cords; under the mighty muscle of his bare chest his heart beat visibly in the fury of his wrath134.
“By God! I have a mind to have you shot like a dog!”
The Chasseur looked at him carelessly, composedly, but with a serene135 deference still, as due from a soldier to his chief.
“You have threatened it before, M. le Colonel. It may be as well to do it, or the army may think you capricious.”
Raoul de Chateauroy crushed a blasphemous136 oath through his clinched137 teeth, and laughed a certain short, stern, sardonic138 laugh, which his men dreaded139 more than his wrath.
“No; I will send you instead to the Khalifa. He often saves me the trouble of killing141 my own curs. Take a flag of truce and this paper, and never draw rein142 till you reach him, if your beast drop dead at the end.”
The Chasseur saluted143, took the paper, bowed with a certain languid, easy grace that camp life never cured him of, and went. He knew that the man who should take the news of his treasure’s loss to the Emir Ilderim would, a thousand to one, perish by every torture desert cruelty could frame, despite the cover of the white banner.
Chateauroy looked after him, as he and his horse passed from the French camp in the full burning tide of noon.
“If the Arabs kill him,” he thought, “I will forgive Ilderim five seasons of rebellion.”
The Chasseur, as he had been bidden, never drew rein across the scorching plateau. He rode to what he knew was like enough to be death, and death by many a torment144, as though he rode to a midnight love-tryst. His horse was of Arab breed — young, fleet, and able to endure extraordinary pressure, both of spur and of heat. He swept on, far and fast, through the sickly, lurid glitter of the day, over the loose sand, that flew in puffs146 around him as the hoofs147 struck it flying right and left. At last, ere he reached the Bedouin tents, that were still but slender black points against the horizon, he saw the Sheik and a party of horsemen returning from a foraging quest, and in ignorance as yet of the abduction of Djelma. He galloped148 straight to them, and halted across their line of march, with the folds of the little white flag fluttering in the sun. The Bedouins drew bridle150, and Ilderim advanced alone. He was a magnificent man, of middle age, with the noblest type of the eagle-eyed, aquiline151 desert beauty. He was a superb specimen152 of his race, without the lean, withered, rapacious153, vulture look which often mars it. His white haik floated round limbs fit for a Colossus: and under the snowy folds of his turban the olive-bronze of his bold forehead, the sweep of his jet-black beard, and the piercing luminance of his eyes had a grand and kingly majesty154.
A glance of recognition from him on the lascar, who had so often crossed swords with him; and he waved back the scroll with dignified155 courtesy.
“Read it me.”
It was read. Bitterly, blackly shameful156, the few brutal113 words were. They netted him as an eagle is netted in a shepherd’s trap.
The moment that he gave a sign of advancing against his ravishers, the captive’s life would pay the penalty; if he merely remained in arms, without direct attack, she would be made the Marquis’ mistress, and abandoned later to the army. The only terms on which he could have her restored were instant submission157 to the Imperial rule, and personal homage158 of himself and all his Djouad to the Marquis as the representatives of France — homage in which they should confess themselves dogs and the sons of dogs.
So ran the message of peace.
The Chasseur read on to the end calmly. Then he lifted his gaze, and looked at the Emir — he expected fifty swords to be buried in his heart.
As he gazed, he thought no more of his own doom159; he thought only of the revelation before him, of what passion and what agony could be-things unknown in the world where the chief portion of his life had passed. He was a war-hardened campaigner, trained in the ruthless school of African hostilities; who had seen every shape of mental and physical suffering, when men were left to perish of gun-wounds, as the rush of the charge swept on; when writhing160 horses died by the score of famine and of thirst; when the firebrand was hurled161 among sleeping encampments, and defenseless women were torn from their rest by the unsparing hands of pitiless soldiers. But the torture which shook for a second the steel-knit frame of this Arab passed all that he had dreamed as possible; it was mute, and held in bonds of iron, for the sake of the desert pride of a great ruler’s majesty; but it spoke162 more than any eloquence163 ever spoke yet on earth.
With a wild, shrill164 yell, the Bedouins whirled their naked sabers above their heads, and rushed down on the bearer of this shame to their chief and their tribe. The Chasseur did not seek to defend himself. He sat motionless. He thought the vengeance165 just.
The Sheik raised his sword, and signed them back, as he pointed166 to the white folds of the flag. Then his voice rolled out like thunder over the stillness of the plains:
“But that you trust yourself to my honor I would rend73 you limb from limb. Go back to the tiger who rules you, and tell him that — as Allah liveth — I will fall on him, and smite167 him as he hath never been smitten168. Dead or living, I will have back my own. If he take her life, I will have ten thousand lives to answer it; if he deal her dishonor, I will light such a holy war through the length and breadth of the land that his nation shall be driven backward like choked dogs into the sea, and perish from the face of the earth for evermore. And this I swear by the Law and the Prophet!”
The menace rolled out, imperious as a monarch’s, thrilling through the desert hush169. The Chasseur bent170 his head, as the words closed. His own teeth were tightly clinched, and his face was dark.
“Emir, listen to one word,” he said briefly171. “Shame has been done to me as to you. Had I been told what words I bore, they had never been brought by my hand. You know me. You have had the marks of my steel, as I have had the marks of yours. Trust me in this, Sidi. I pledge you my honor that, before the sun sets, she shall be given back to you unharmed, or I will return here myself, and your tribe shall slay172 me in what fashion they will. So alone can she be saved uninjured. Answer, will you have faith in me?”
The desert chief looked at him long; sitting motionless as a statue on his stallion, with the fierce gleam of his eyes fixed173 on the eyes of the man who so long had been his foe in contests whose chivalry174 equaled their daring. The Chasseur never wavered once under the set, piercing, ruthless gaze.
Then the Emir pointed to the sun, that was not at its zenith:
“You are a great warrior175: such men do not lie. Go, and if she be borne to me before the sun is half-way sunk toward the west, all the branches of the tribes of Ilderim shall be as your brethren, and bend as steel to your bidding. If not — as God is mighty — not one man in all your host shall live to tell the tale!”
The Chasseur bowed his head to his horse’s mane; then, without a word, wheeled round, and sped back across the plain.
When he reached his own cavalry camp, he went straightway to his chief. What passed between them none ever knew. The interview was brief; it was possibly as stormy. Pregnant and decisive it assuredly was; and the squadrons of Africa marveled that the man who dared beard Raoul de Chateauroy in his lair came forth with his life. Whatever the spell he used, the result was a marvel176.
At the very moment that the sun touched the lower half of the western heavens, the Sheik Ilderim, where he sat in his saddle, with all his tribe stretching behind him, full-armed, to sweep down like falcons178 on the spoilers, if the hour passed with the pledge unredeemed, saw the form of the Chasseur reappear between his sight and the glare of the skies; nor did he ride alone. That night the Pearl of the Desert lay once more in the mighty, sinuous179 arms of the great Emir.
But, with the dawn, his vengeance fell in terrible fashion, on the sleeping camp of the Franks; and from that hour dated the passionate180, savage126, unconcealed hate of Raoul de Chateauroy for the most daring soldier of all his fiery Horse, known in his troop as “Bel-a-faire-peur.”
It was in the tent of Ilderim now that he reclined, looking outward at the night where flames were leaping ruddily under a large caldron, and far beyond was the dark immensity of the star-studded sky; the light of the moon strayed in and fell on the chestnut181 waves of his beard, out of which the long amber stem of an Arab pipe glittered like a golden line, and on the skin — fair, despite a warm hue182 of bronze — and the long, slumberous softness of the hazel eyes, were in so marked a contrast of race with the eagle outlines of the Bedouins around.
From the hour of the restoration of his treasure the Sheik had been true to his oath; his tribe in all its branches had held the French lascar in closest brotherhood; wherever they were he was honored and welcomed; was he in war, their swords were drawn184 for him; was he in need, their houses of hair were spread for him; had he want of flight, the swiftest and most precious of their horses was at his service; had he thirst, they would have died themselves, wringing185 out the last drop from the water-skin for him. Through him their alliance, or more justly to speak, their neutrality, was secured to France, and the Bedouin Chief loved him with a great, silent, noble love that was fast rooted in the granite187 of his nature. Between them there was a brotherhood that beat down the antagonism of race, and was stronger than the instinctive188 hate of the oppressed for all who came under the abhorred189 standard of the usurpers. He liked the Arabs, and they liked him; a grave courtesy, a preference for the fewest words and least demonstration190 possible, a marked opinion that silence was golden, and that speech was at best only silver-washed metal, an instinctive dread140 of all discovery of emotion, and a limitless power of resisting and suppressing suffering, were qualities the nomads191 of the desert and the lion of the Chasseurs d’Afrique had in common; as they had in unison192 a wild passion for war, a dauntless zest193 in danger, and a love for the hottest heat of fiercest battle.
Silence reigned in the tent, beyond whose first division, screened by a heavy curtain of goat’s hair, the beautiful young Djelma played with her only son, a child of three or four summers; the Sheik lay mute, the Djouad and Marabouts around never spoke in his presence unless their lord bade them, and the Chasseur was stretched motionless, his elbow resting on a cushion of Morocco fabric194, and his eyes looking outward at the restless, changing movement of the firelit, starlit camp.
After the noise, the mirth, the riotous195 songs, and the gay, elastic196 good humor of his French comrades, the silence and the calm of the Emir’s “house of hair” were welcome to him. He never spoke much himself; of a truth, his gentle, immutable197 laconism198 was the only charge that his comrades ever brought against him. That a man could be so brief in words, while yet so soft in manner, seemed a thing out of all nature to the vivacious199 Frenchmen; that unchanging stillness and serenity200 in one who was such a reckless, resistless croc-mitaine, swift as fire in the field, was an enigma201 that the Cavalry and the Demi-cavalry of Algeria never solved. His corps202 would have gone after him to the devil, as Claude de Chanrellon had averred203; but they would sometimes wax a little impatient that he would never grow communicative or thread many phrases together, even over the best wine which ever warmed the hearts of its drinkers or loosened all rein from their lips.
“I wish I had come straight to you, Sidi, when I first set foot in Africa,” he said at last, while the fragrant204 smoke uncurled from under the droop205 of his long, pendent mustaches.
“Truly it had been well,” answered the Khalifa, who would have given the best stallions in his stud to have had this Frank with him in warfare, and in peace. “There is no life like our life.”
“Faith! I think not!” murmured the Chasseur, rather to himself than the Bedouin. “The desert keeps you and your horse, and you can let all the rest of the world ‘slide.’”
“But we are murderers and pillagers, say your nations,” resumed the Emir, with the shadow of a sardonic smile flickering207 an instant over the sternness and composure of his features. “To rifle a caravan208 is a crime, though to steal a continent is glory.”
Bel-a-faire-peur laughed slightly.
“Do not tempt117 me to rebel against my adopted flag.”
The Sheik looked at him in silence; the French soldiers had spent twelve years in the ceaseless exertions209 of an amused inquisitiveness210 to discover the antecedents of their volunteer; the Arabs, with their loftier instincts of courtesy, had never hinted to him a question of whence or why he had come upon African soil.
“I never thought at all in those days; else, had I thought twice, I should not have gone to your enemies,” he answered, as he lazily watched the Bedouins without squat41 on their heels round the huge brass bowls of couscoussou, which they kneaded into round lumps and pitched between their open, bearded lips in their customary form of supper. “Not but what our Roumis are brave fellows enough; better comrades no man could want.”
The Khalifa took the long pipe from his mouth and spoke; his slow, sonorous211 accents falling melodiously212 on the silence in the lingua sapir of the Franco–Arab tongue.
“Your comrades are gallant213 men; they are great warriors214, and fearless foes215; against such my voice is never lifted, however my sword may cross with them. But the locust-swarms that devour216 the land are the money-eaters, the petty despots, the bribe-takers, the men who wring186 gold out of infamy217, who traffic in tyrannies, who plunder218 under official seals, who curse Algiers with avarice219, with fraud, with routine, with the hell-spawn of civilization. It is the ‘Bureaucracy,’ as your tongue phrases it, that is the spoiler and the oppressor of the soil. But — we endure only for a while. A little, and the shame of the invader’s tread will be washed out in blood. Allah is great; we can wait.”
And with Moslem220 patience that the fiery gloom of his burning eyes belied221, the Djied stretched himself once more into immovable and silent rest.
The Chasseur answered nothing; his sympathies were heartfelt with the Arabs, his allegiance and his esprit de corps were with the service in which he was enrolled222. He could not defend French usurpation223; but neither could he condemn224 the Flag that had now become his Flag, and in which he had grown to feel much of national honor, to take much of national pride.
“They will never really win again, I am afraid,” he thought, as his eyes followed the wraith-like flash of the white burnous, as the Bedouins glided to and fro in the chiar-oscuro of the encampment; now in the flicker206 of the flames, now in the silvered luster of the moon. “It is the conflict of the races, as the cant225 runs, and their day is done. It is a bolder, freer, simpler type than anything we get in the world yonder. Shall we ever drift back to it in the future, I wonder?”
The speculation did not stay with him long; Semitic, Latin, or Teuton race was very much the same to him, and intellectual subtleties226 had not much attraction at any time for the most brilliant soldier in the French cavalry; he preferred the ring of the trumpets227, the glitter of the sun’s play along the line of steel as his regiment formed in line on the eve of a life-and-death struggle, the wild, breathless sweep of a midnight gallop149 over the brown, swelling228 plateau under the light of the stars, or — in some brief interval229 of indolence and razzia-won wealth — the gleam of fair eyes and the flush of sparkling sherbet when some passionate, darkling glance beamed on him from some Arab mistress whose scarlet230 lips murmured to him through the drowsy231 hush of an Algerine night the sense, if not the song of Pelagia,
“Life is so short at best!
Take while thou canst thy rest,
Sleeping by me!”
His thoughts drifted back over many varied232 scenes and changing memories of his service in Algiers, as he lay there at the entrance of the Sheik’s tent, with the night of looming shadow and reddened firelight and picturesque233 movement before him. Hours of reckless, headlong delight, when men grew drunk with bloodshed as with wine; hours of horrible, unsuccored suffering, when the desert thirst had burned in his throat and the jagged lances been broken off at the hilt in his flesh, while above-head the carrion234 birds wheeled, waiting their meal; hours of unceasing, unsparing slaughter235, when the word was given to slay and yield no mercy, where in the great, vaulted236, cavernous gloom of rent rocks, the doomed237 were hemmed238 as close as sheep in shambles239. Hours, in the warm flush of an African dawn, when the arbiter240 of the duel65 was the sole judge allowed or comprehended by the tigers of the tricolor, and to aim a dead shot or to receive one was the only alternative left, as the challenging eyes of “Zephir” or “Chasse–Marais” flashed death across the barriere, in a combat where only one might live, though the root of the quarrel had been nothing more than a toss too much of brandy, a puff145 of tobacco smoke construed241 into insult, or a fille de joie’s maliciously242 cast fire-brand of taunt243 or laugh. Hours of severe discipline, of relentless244 routine, of bitter deprivation245, of campaigns hard as steel in the endurance they needed, in the miseries246 they entailed247; of military subjection, stern and unbending, a yoke248 of iron that a personal and pitiless tyranny weighted with persecution249 that was scarce else than hatred250; of an implicit251 obedience that required every instinct of liberty, every habit of early life, every impulse of pride and manhood and freedom to be choked down like crimes, and buried as though they had never been. Hours again that repaid these in full, when the long line of Horse swept out to the attack, with the sun on the points of their weapons; when the wheeling clouds of Arab riders poured like the clouds of the simoon on a thinned, devoted252 troop that rallied and fought as hawks253 fight herons, and saved the day as the sky was flushed with that day’s decline; when some soft-eyed captive, with limbs of free mountain grace, and the warm veins flushing under the clear olive of her cheeks, was first wild as a young fettered254 falcon177, and then, like the falcon, quickly learned to tremble at a touch, and grow tame under a caress255, and love nothing so well as the hand that had captured her. Hours of all the chanceful fortunes of a soldier’s life, in hill-wars and desert raids, passed in memory through his thoughts now where he was stretched; looking dreamily through the film of his smoke at the city of tents, and the reclining forms of camels, and the tall, white slowly moving shapes of the lawless marauders of the sand plains.
“Is my life worth much more under the French Flag than it was under the English?” thought the Chasseur, with a certain, careless, indifferent irony256 on himself, natural to him. “There I killed time — here I kill men. Which is the better pursuit, I wonder. The world would rather economize257 the first commodity than the last, I believe. Perhaps it don’t make an overgood use of either.”
The night was someway spent when the talk of wild-pigeon-blue mares and sorrel stallions closed between the Djied and his guest; and the French soldier, who had been sent hither from the Bureau with another of his comrades, took his way through the now still camp where the cattle were sleeping, and the fires were burning out, and the banner-folds hung motionless in the luster of the stars, to the black-and-white tent prepared for him. A spacious258 one, close to the chief’s, and given such luxury in the shape of ornamented259 weapons, thick carpets, and soft cushions, as the tribe’s resources could bring together.
As he opened the folds and entered, his fellow-soldier, who was lying on his back, with his heels much higher than his head, and a short pipe in his teeth, tumbled himself up; with a rapid somersault, and stood bolt upright, giving the salute; a short, sturdy little man, with a skin burnt like a coffee-berry, that was in odd contrast with his light, dancing blue eyes, and his close, matted curls of yellow hair.
“Beg pardon, sir! I was half asleep!”
The Chasseur laughed a little.
“Don’t talk English; somebody will hear you one day.”
“What’s the odds260 if they do, sir?” responded the other. “It relieves one’s feelings a little. All of ’em know I’m English, but never a one of ’em know what you are. The name you was enrolled by won’t really tell ’em nothing. They guess it ain’t yours. That cute little chap, Tata, he says to me yesterday, ‘you’re always a-treating of your galonne like as if he was a prince.’ ‘Damme!’ says I, ‘I’d like to see the prince as would hold a candle to him.’ ‘You’re right there,’ says the little ’un. ‘There ain’t his equal for taking off a beggar’s head with a back sweep.’”
The Corporal laughed a little again, as he tossed himself down on the carpet.
“Well, it’s something to have one virtue261! But have a care what those chatter262-boxes get out of you.”
“Lord, sir! Ain’t I been a-taking care these ten years? It comes quite natural now. I couldn’t keep my tongue still; that wouldn’t be in anyways possible. So I’ve let it run on oiled wheels on a thousand rum tracks and doublings. I’ve told ’em such a lot of amazing stories about where we come from, that they’ve got half a million different styles to choose out of. Some thinks as how you’re a Polish nob, what got into hot water with the Russians; some as how you’re a Italian prince, what was cleaned out like Parma and them was; some as how you’re a Austrian Archduke that have cut your country because you was in love with the Empress, and had a duel about her that scandalized the whole empire; some as how you’re a exiled Spanish grandee263 a-come to learn tactics and that like, that you may go back, and pitch O’Donnell into the middle of next week, whenever you see a chance to cut in and try conclusions with him. Bless you, sir! you may let me alone for bamboozling264 of anybody.”
The Corporal laughed again, as he began to unharness himself. There was in him a certain mingling265 of insouciance266 and melancholy267, each of which alternately predominated; the former his by nature, the latter born of circumstances.
“If you can outwit our friends the Zephyrs268 you have reached a height of diplomacy269 indeed! I would not engage to do it myself. Take my word for it, ingenuity270 is always dangerous — silence is always safe.”
“That may be, sir,” responded the Chasseur, in the sturdy English with which his bright blue eyes danced a fitting nationality. “No doubt it’s uncommon271 good for them as can bring their minds to it — just like water instead o’ wine — but it’s very trying, like the teetotalism. You might as well tell a Newfoundland not to love a splash as me not to love a chatter. I’d cut my tongue out sooner than say never a word that you don’t wish — but say something I must, or die for it.”
With which the speaker, known to Algerian fame by the sobriquet272 of “Crache-au-nez-d’la-Mort,” from the hair-breadth escapes and reckless razzias from which he had come out without a scratch, dropped on his knees and began to take off the trappings of his fellow-soldier, with as reverential a service as though he were a lord of the bedchamber serving a Louis Quatorze. The other motioned him gently away.
“No, no! I have told you a thousand times we are comrades and equals now.”
“And I’ve told you a thousand times, sir, that we aren’t, and never will be, and don’t oughtn’t to be,” replied the soldier doggedly273, drawing off the spurred and dust-covered boots. “A gentleman’s a gentleman, let alone what straits he fall into.”
“But ceases to be one as soon as he takes a service he cannot requite274, or claims a superiority he does not possess. We have been fellow-soldiers for twelve years —”
“So we have, sir; but we are what we always was, and always will be-one a gentleman, the other a scamp. If you think so be as I’ve done a good thing, side by side with you, now and then in the fighting, give me my own way and let me wait on you when I can. I can’t do much on it when those other fellow’s eyes is on us; but here I can and I will — begging your pardon — so there’s an end of it. One may speak plain in this place with nothing but them Arabs about; and all the army know well enough, sir, that if it weren’t for that black devil, Chateauroy, you’d have had your officer’s commission, and your troop too, long before now —”
“Oh, no! There are scores of men in the ranks merit promotion275 better far than I do. And — leave the Colonel’s name alone. He is our chief, whatever else he be.”
The words were calm and careless, but they carried a weight with them that was not to be disputed. “Crache-au-nez-d’la-Mort” hung his head a little and went on unharnessing his Corporal in silence, contenting himself with muttering in his throat that it was true for all that, and the whole regiment knew it.
“You are happy enough in Algeria?” asked the one he served, as he stretched himself on the skins and carpets, and drank down a sherbet that his self-attached attendant had made with a skill learned from a pretty cantiniere, who had given him the lesson in return for a slashing276 blow with which he had struck down two “Riz-pain-sels,” who, as the best paid men in the army, had tried to cheat her in the price of her Cognac.
“I, sir? Never was so happy in my life, sir. I’d be discontented indeed if I wasn’t. Always some spicy277 bit of fighting. If there aren’t a fantasia, as they call it, in the field, there’s always somebody to pot in a small way; and, if you’re lying by in barracks, there’s always a scrimmage hot as pepper to be got up with fellows that love the row just as well as you do. It’s life, that’s where it is; it ain’t rusting278.”
“Then you prefer the French service?”
“Right and away, sir. You see this is how it is,” and the redoubtable279, yellow-haired “Crache-au-nez-d’la-Mort” paused in the vigorous cleansing280 and brushing he was bestowing281 on his Corporal’s uniform and stood at ease in his shirt and trousers; with his eloquence no way impeded282 by the brule-gueule that was always between his teeth. “Over there in England, you know, sir, pipe-clay is the deuce-and-all; you’re always got to have the stock on, and look as stiff as a stake, or it’s all up with you; you’re that tormented283 about little things that you get riled and kick the traces before the great ‘uns come to try you. There’s a lot of lads would be game as game could be in battle — aye, and good lads to boot, doing their duty right as a trivet when it came to anything like war — that are clean drove out of the service in time o’ peace, along with all them petty persecutions that worry a man’s skin like mosquito-bites. Now here they know that, and Lord! what soldiers they do make through knowing of it! It’s tight enough and stern enough in big things; martial284 law sharp enough, and obedience to the letter all through the campaigning; but that don’t grate on a fellow; if he’s worth his salt he’s sure to understand that he must move like clockwork in a fight, and that he’s to go to hell at double-quick-march, and mute as a mouse, if his officers see fit to send him. There ain’t better stuff to make soldiers out of nowhere than Englishmen, God bless ’em! But they’re badgered, they’re horribly badgered; and that’s why the service don’t take over there, let alone the way the country grudge285 ’em every bit of pay. In England you go in the ranks — well, they all just tell you you’re a blackguard, and there’s the lash60, and you’d better behave yourself or you’ll get it hot and hot; they take for granted you’re a bad lot or you wouldn’t be there, and in course you’re riled and go to the bad according, seeing that it’s what’s expected of you. Here, contrariwise, you come in the ranks and get a welcome, and feel that it just rests with yourself whether you won’t be a fine fellow or not; and just along of feeling that you’re pricked286 to show the best metal you’re made on, and not to let nobody else beat you out of the race, like. Ah! it makes a wonderful difference to a fellow — a wonderful difference — whether the service he’s come into look at him as a scamp that never will be nothing but a scamp, or as a rascal287 that’s maybe got in him, all rascal though he is, the pluck to turn into a hero. And that’s just the difference, sir, that France has found out, and England hasn’t — God bless her, all the same!”
With which the soldier whom England had turned adrift, and France had won in her stead, concluded his long oration183 by dropping on his knees to refill his Corporal’s pipe.
“An army’s just a machine, sir, in course,” he concluded, as he rammed288 in the Turkish tobacco. “But then it’s a live machine, for all that; and each little bit of it feels for itself, like the joints289 in an eel’s body. Now, if only one of them little bits smarts, the whole creature goes wrong — there’s the mischief290.”
Bel-a-faire-peur listened thoughtfully to his comrade where he lay flung full-length on the skins.
“I dare say you are right enough. I knew nothing of my men when — when I was in England; we none of us did; but I can very well believe what you say. Yet — fine fellows though they are here, they are terrible blackguards!”
“In course they are, sir; they wouldn’t be such larky291 company unless they was. But what I say is that they’re scamps who’re told they may be great men, if they like; not scamps who’re told that, because they’ve once gone to the devil, they must always keep there. It makes all the difference in life.”
“Yes — it makes all the difference in life, whether hope is left, or — left out!”
The words were murmured with a half smile that had a dash of infinite sadness in it; the other looked at him quickly with a shadow of keen pain passing over the bright, frank, laughing features of his sunburned face; he knew that the brief words held the whole history of a life.
“Won’t there never be no hope, sir?” he whispered, while his voice trembled a little under the long, fierce sweep of his yellow mustaches.
The Chasseur rallied himself with a slight, careless laugh; the laugh with which he had met before now the onslaught of charges ferocious292 as those of the magnificent day of Mazagran.
“Whom for? Both of us? Oh, yes; very likely we shall achieve fame and die! A splendid destiny.”
“No, sir,” said the other, with the hesitation293 still in the quiver of his voice. “You know I meant, no hope of your ever being again ——”
He stopped, he scarcely knew how to phrase the thoughts he was thinking.
The other moved with a certain impatience294.
“How often must I tell you to forget that I was ever anything except a soldier of France? — forget as I have forgotten it!”
The audacious, irrepressible “Crache-au-nez-d’la-Mort,” whom nothing could daunt63 and nothing could awe295, looked penitent296 and ashamed as a chidden spaniel.
“I know, sir. I have tried, many a year; but I thought, perhaps, as how his lordship’s death —”
“No life and no death can make any difference to me, except the death that some day an Arbico’s lunge will give me; and that is a long time coming.”
“Ah, for God’s sake, Mr. Cecil, don’t talk like this!”
The Chasseur gave a short, sharp shiver, and started at this name, as if a bullet had struck him.
“Never say that again!”
Rake, Algerian-christened “Crache-au-nez-d’la-Mort,” stammered297 a contrite298 apology.
“I never have done, sir — not for never a year; but it wrung299 it out of me like — you talking of wanting death in that way ——”
“Oh, I don’t want death!” laughed the other, with a low, indifferent laughter, that had in it a singular tone of sadness all the while. “I am of our friends the Spahis’ opinion — that life is very pleasant with a handsome, well-chosen harem, and a good horse to one’s saddle. Unhappily harems are too expensive for Roumis! Yet I am not sure that I am not better amused in the Chasseurs than I was in the Household — specially300 when we are at war. I suppose we must be wild animals at the core, or we should never find such an infinite zest in the death grapple. Good-night!”
He stretched his long, slender, symmetrical limbs out on the skins that made his bed, and closed his eyes, with the pipe still in his mouth, and its amber bowl resting on the carpet which the friendship and honor of Sidi–Ilderim had strewn over the bare turf on which the house of hair was raised. He was accustomed to sleep as soldiers sleep, in all the din22 of a camp, or with the roar of savage brutes301 echoing from the hills around, with his saddle beneath his head, under a slab302 of rock, or with the knowledge that at every instant the alarm might be given, the drums roll out over the night, and the enemy be down like lightning on the bivouac. But now a name — long unspoken to him — had recalled years he had buried far and forever from the first day that he had worn the kepi d’ordonnance of the Army of Algeria, and been enrolled among its wild and brilliant soldiers.
Now, long after his comrade had slept soundly, and the light in the single bronze Turkish candle-branch had flickered303 and died away, the Chasseur d’Afrique lay wakeful; looking outward through the folds of the tent at the dark and silent camp of the Arabs, and letting his memory drift backward to a time that had grown to be to him as a dream — a time when another world than the world of Africa had known him as Bertie Cecil.
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1
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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crests
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| v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的第三人称单数 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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rivulet
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| n.小溪，小河 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dwarf
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| n.矮子，侏儒，矮小的动植物；vt.使…矮小 | |
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desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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luster
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| n.光辉；光泽，光亮；荣誉 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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gliding
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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longing
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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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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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canopy
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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abode
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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reigned
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supreme
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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browsing
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| v.吃草( browse的现在分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
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seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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52
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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rife
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| adj.(指坏事情)充斥的，流行的，普遍的 | |
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frays
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| n.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的名词复数 )v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的第三人称单数 ) | |
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55
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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56
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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57
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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58
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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59
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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60
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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61
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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62
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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63
daunt
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| vt.使胆怯，使气馁 | |
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64
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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65
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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66
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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67
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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69
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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70
encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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72
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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73
rend
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| vt.把…撕开，割裂；把…揪下来，强行夺取 | |
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74
austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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75
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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76
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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77
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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78
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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79
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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80
scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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81
scorch
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| v.烧焦，烤焦；高速疾驶；n.烧焦处，焦痕 | |
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82
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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83
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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84
zephyr
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| n.和风，微风 | |
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85
scouting
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| 守候活动，童子军的活动 | |
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86
foraging
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| v.搜寻（食物），尤指动物觅（食）( forage的现在分词 )；（尤指用手）搜寻（东西） | |
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87
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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88
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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89
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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90
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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91
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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92
brackish
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| adj.混有盐的；咸的 | |
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93
oozed
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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94
boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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95
parching
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| adj.烘烤似的，焦干似的v.（使）焦干， （使）干透( parch的现在分词 )；使（某人）极口渴 | |
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96
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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97
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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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
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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100
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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101
rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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102
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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103
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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104
slumberous
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| a.昏昏欲睡的 | |
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105
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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106
lustful
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| a.贪婪的；渴望的 | |
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107
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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108
eastward
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|
| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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109
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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110
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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111
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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112
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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113
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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114
filibusters
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| n.掠夺兵( filibuster的名词复数 )；暴兵；（用冗长的发言）阻挠议事的议员；会议妨碍行为v.阻碍或延宕国会或其他立法机构通过提案( filibuster的第三人称单数 )；掠夺 | |
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115
salute
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| 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 | |
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116
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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117
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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118
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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119
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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120
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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121
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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122
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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123
goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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124
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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125
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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126
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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127
truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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128
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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129
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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130
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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131
lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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132
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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133
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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134
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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135
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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136
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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137
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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138
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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139
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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140
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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141
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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142
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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143
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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144
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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145
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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146
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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147
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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148
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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149
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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150
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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151
aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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152
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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153
rapacious
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| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
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154
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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155
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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156
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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157
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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158
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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159
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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160
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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161
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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162
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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163
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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164
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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165
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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166
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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167
smite
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| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
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168
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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169
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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170
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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171
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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172
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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173
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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174
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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175
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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176
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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177
falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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178
falcons
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| n.猎鹰( falcon的名词复数 ) | |
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179
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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180
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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181
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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182
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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183
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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184
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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185
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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186
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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187
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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188
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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189
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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190
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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191
nomads
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| n.游牧部落的一员( nomad的名词复数 )；流浪者；游牧生活；流浪生活 | |
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192
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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193
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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194
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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195
riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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196
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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197
immutable
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| adj.不可改变的，永恒的 | |
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198
laconism
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| n.（说话）简洁；简练的格言，精辟的警句 | |
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199
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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200
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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201
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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202
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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203
averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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204
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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205
droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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206
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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207
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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208
caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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209
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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210
inquisitiveness
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| 好奇，求知欲 | |
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211
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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212
melodiously
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213
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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214
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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215
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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216
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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217
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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218
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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219
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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220
Moslem
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| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
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221
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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222
enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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223
usurpation
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| n.篡位；霸占 | |
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224
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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225
cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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226
subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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227
trumpets
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|
| 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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228
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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229
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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230
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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231
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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232
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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233
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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234
carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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235
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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236
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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237
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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238
hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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239
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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240
arbiter
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| n.仲裁人，公断人 | |
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241
construed
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| v.解释（陈述、行为等）( construe的过去式和过去分词 )；翻译，作句法分析 | |
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242
maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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243
taunt
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|
| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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244
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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245
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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246
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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247
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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248
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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249
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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250
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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251
implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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252
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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253
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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254
fettered
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| v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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255
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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256
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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257
economize
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| v.节约，节省 | |
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258
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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259
ornamented
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| adj.花式字体的v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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260
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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261
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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262
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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263
grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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264
bamboozling
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| v.欺骗，使迷惑( bamboozle的现在分词 ) | |
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265
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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266
insouciance
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| n.漠不关心 | |
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267
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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268
zephyrs
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| n.和风，微风( zephyr的名词复数 ) | |
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269
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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270
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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271
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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272
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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273
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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274
requite
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| v.报酬，报答 | |
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275
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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276
slashing
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| adj.尖锐的；苛刻的；鲜明的；乱砍的v.挥砍( slash的现在分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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277
spicy
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| adj.加香料的；辛辣的，有风味的 | |
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278
rusting
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| n.生锈v.（使）生锈( rust的现在分词 ) | |
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279
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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280
cleansing
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| n. 净化(垃圾) adj. 清洁用的 动词cleanse的现在分词 | |
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281
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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282
impeded
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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283
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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284
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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285
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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286
pricked
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|
| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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287
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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288
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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289
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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290
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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291
larky
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| adj.爱闹玩的 | |
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292
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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293
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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294
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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295
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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296
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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297
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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298
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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299
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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300
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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301
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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302
slab
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|
| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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