He was usually kept in incessant5 activity, because those in command over him had quickly discovered the immeasurable value of a bas-officier who was certain to enforce and obtain implicit6 obedience7, and certain to execute any command given him with perfect address and surety, yet, who, at the same time, was adored by his men, and had acquired a most singularly advantageous8 influence over them. But of this he was always glad; throughout his twelve years’ service under the Emperor’s flag, he had only found those moments in which he was unemployed9 intolerable; he would willingly have been in the saddle from dawn till midnight.
Chateauroy was himself present when the colts were taken into the stable-yard; and himself inquired, without the medium of any third person, the whole details of the sale and of the transit10. It was impossible, with all his inclination11, to find any fault either with the execution of the errand or with the brief, respectful answers by which his corporal replied to his rapid and imperious cross-questionings. There were a great number of men within hearing, many of them the most daring and rebellious12 pratiques of the regiment; and Cecil would have let the coarsest upbraidings scourge13 him rather than put the temptation to mutiny in their way which one insubordinate or even not strictly14 deferential15 word from him would have given. Hence the inspection16 passed off peaceably; as the Marquis turned on his heel, however, he paused a moment.
“Victor!”
“Mon Commandant?”
“I have not forgotten your insolence17 with those ivory toys. But Mme. la Princesse herself has deigned18 to solicit19 that it shall be passed over unpunished. She cannot, of course, yield to your impertinent request to remain also unpaid20 for them. I charged myself with the fulfillment of her wishes. You deserve the stick, but since Milady herself is lenient21 enough to pardon you, you are to take this instead. Hold your hand, sir!”
Cecil put out his hand; he expected to receive a heavy blow from his commander’s saber, that possibly might break the wrist. These little trifles were common in Africa.
Instead a rouleau of Napoleons was laid on his open palm. Chateauroy knew the gold would sting more than the blow.
For the moment Cecil had but one impulse — to dash the pieces in the giver’s face. In time to restrain the impulse, he caught sight of the wild, eager hatred22 gleaming in the eyes of Rake, of Petit Picpon, of a score of others, who loved him and cursed their Colonel, and would at one signal from him have sheathed24 their swords in the mighty25 frame of the Marquis, though they should have been fired down the next moment themselves for the murder. The warning of Cigarette came to his memory; his hand clasped on the gold; he gave the salute26 calmly as Chateauroy swung himself away.
The troops looked at him with longing27, questioning eyes; they knew enough of him by now to know the bitterness such gold, so given, had for him. Any other, even a corporal, would have been challenged with a storm of raillery, a volley of congratulation, and would have had shouted or hissed28 after him opprobrious29 accusations30 of “faisant suisse” if he had not forthwith treated his comrades royally from such largesse31. With Bel-a-faire-peur they held their peace; they kept the silence which they saw that he wished to keep, as, his hour of liberty being come, he went slowly out of the great court with the handful of Napoleons thrust in the folds of his sash.
Rather unconsciously than by premeditation his steps turned through the streets that led to his old familiar haunt, the As de Pique32; and dropping down on a bench under the awning33, he asked for a draught34 of water. It was brought him at once; the hostess, a quick, brown little woman from Paris, whom the lovers of Eugene Sue called Rogolette, adding of her own accord a lump of ice and a slice or two of lemon, for which she vivaciously35 refused payment, though generosity36 was by no means her cardinal37 virtue38.
“Bel-a-faire-peur” awakened39 general interest through Algiers; he brought so fiery41 and so daring a reputation with him from the wars and raids of the interior, yet he was so calm, so grave, so gentle, so listless. It was known that he had made himself the terror of Kabyle and Bedouin, yet here in the city he thanked the negro boy who took him a glass of lemonade at an estaminet, and sharply rebuked43 one of his men for knocking down an old colon23 with a burden of gourds44 and of melons; such a Roumi as this the good people of the Franco–African capital held as a perfect gift of the gods, and not understanding one whit45, nevertheless fully4 appreciated.
He did not look at the newspapers she offered him; but sat gazing out from the tawny46 awning, like the sail of a Neapolitan felucca, down the checkered47 shadows and the many-colored masses of the little, crooked48, rambling49, semi-barbaric alley50. He was thinking of the Napoleons in his sash and of the promise he had pledged to Cigarette. That he would keep it he was resolved. The few impressive, vivid words of the young vivandiere had painted before him like a picture the horrors of mutiny and its hopelessness; rather than that, through him, these should befall the men who had become his brethren-inarms, he felt ready to let the Black Hawk51 do his worst on his own life. Yet a weariness, a bitterness, he had never known in the excitement of active service came on him, brought by this sting of insult brought from the fair hand of an aristocrate.
There was absolutely no hope possible in his future. The uttermost that could ever come to him would be a grade something higher in the army that now enrolled52 him; the gift of the cross, or a post in the bureau. Algerine warfare53 was not like the campaigns of the armies of Italy or the Rhine, and there was no Napoleon here to discern with unerring omniscience54 a leader’s genius under the kepi of a common trooper. Though he should show the qualities of a Massena or a Kleber, the chances were a million to one that he would never get even as much as a lieutenancy55; and the raids on the decimated tribes, the obscure skirmishes of the interior, though terrible in slaughter56 and venturesome enough, were not the fields on which great military successes were won and great military honors acquired. The French fought for a barren strip of brown plateau that, gained, would be of little use or profit to them; he thought that he did much the same, that his future was much like those arid57 sand-plains, these thirsty, verdureless stretches of burned earth — very little worth the reaching.
The heavy folds of a Bedouin’s haick, brushing the papers off the bench, broke the thread of his musings. As he stooped for them, he saw that one was an English journal some weeks old. His own name caught his eye — the name buried so utterly59, whose utterance60 in the Sheik’s tent had struck him like a dagger’s thrust. The flickering61 light and darkness, as the awning waved to and fro, made the lines move dizzily upward and downward as he read — read the short paragraph touching62 the fortunes of the race that had disowned him:
“The Royallieu Succession. — We regret to learn that the Rt. Hon. Viscount Royallieu, who so lately succeeded to the family title on his father’s death, has expired at Mentone, whither his health had induced him to go some months previous. The late Lord was unmarried. His next brother was, it will be remembered, many years ago, killed on a southern railway. The title, therefore, now falls to the third and only remaining son, the Hon. Berkeley Cecil, who, having lately inherited considerable properties from a distant relative, will, we believe, revive all the old glories of this Peerage, which have, from a variety of causes, lost somewhat of their ancient brilliancy.”
Cecil sat quite still, as he had sat looking down on the record of his father’s death, when Cigarette had rallied him with her gay challenge among the Moresco ruins. His face flushed hotly under the warm, golden hue63 of the desert bronze, then lost all its color as suddenly, till it was as pale as any of the ivory he carved. The letters of the paper reeled and wavered, and grew misty64 before his eyes; he lost all sense of the noisy, changing, polyglot65 crowd thronging66 past him; he, a common soldier in the Algerian Cavalry67, knew that, by every law of birthright, he was now a Peer of England.
His first thought was for the dead man. True, there had been little amity68, little intimacy69, between them; a negligent70 friendliness71, whenever they had met, had been all that they had ever reached. But in their childhood they had been carelessly kind to one another, and the memory of the boy who had once played beside him down the old galleries and under the old forests, of the man who had now died yonder where the southern sea-board lay across the warm, blue Mediterranean72, was alone on him for the moment. His thoughts had gone back, with a pang73, almost ere he had read the opening lines, to autumn mornings in his youngest years when the leaves had been flushed with their earliest red, and the brown, still pools had been alive with water-birds, and the dogs had dropped down charging among the flags and rushes, and his brother’s boyish face had laughed on him from the wilderness74 of willows75, and his brother’s boyish hands had taught him to handle his first cartridge76 and to fire his first shot. The many years of indifference77 and estrangement78 were forgotten, the few years of childhood’s confidence and comradeship alone remembered, as he saw the words that brought him in his exile the story of his brethren’s fate and of his race’s fortunes. His head sank, his face was still colorless, he sat motionless with the printed sheet in his hand. Once his eyes flashed, his breath came fast and uneven79; he rose with a sudden impulse, with a proud, bold instinct of birth and freedom. Let him stand here in what grade he would, with the badge of a Corporal of the Army of Africa on his arm, this inheritance that had come to him was his; he bore the name and the title of his house as surely as any had ever borne it since the first of the Norman owners of Royallieu had followed the Bastard’s banner.
The vagabond throngs80 — Moorish81, Frank, Negro, Colon — paused as they pushed their way over the uneven road, and stared at him vacantly where he stood. There was something in his attitude, in his look, which swept over them, seeing none of them, in the eager lifting of his head, in the excited fire in his eyes, that arrested all — from the dullest muleteer, plodding82 on with his string of patient beasts, to the most volatile83 French girl laughing on her way with a group of fantassins. He did not note them, hear them, think of them; the whole of the Algerine scene had faded out as if it had no place before him; he had forgot that he was a cavalry soldier of the Empire; he saw nothing but the green wealth of the old home woods far away in England; he remembered nothing save that he, and he alone, was the rightful Lord of Royallieu.
The hand of a broad-chested, black-visaged veteran of Chasseurs fell on his shoulder, and the wooden rim84 of a little wine-cup was thrust toward him with the proffered85 drink. It startled him and recalled him to the consciousness of where he was. He stared one moment absently in the trooper’s amazed face, and then shook him off with a suddenness that tossed back the cup to the ground; and, holding the journal clinched86 close in his hand, went swiftly through the masses of the people — out and away, he little noted87 where — till he had forced his road beyond the gates, beyond the town, beyond all reach of its dust and its babble88 and its discord89, and was alone in the farther outskirts90, where to the north the calm, sunlit bay slept peacefully with a few scattered91 ships riding at anchor, and southward the luxuriance of the Sahel stretched to meet the wide and cheerless plateaus, dotted with the conical houses of hair, and desolate92 as though the locust-swarm had just alighted there to lay them waste.
Reaching the heights he stood still involuntarily, and looked down once more on the words that told him of his birthright; in the blinding, intense light of the African day they seemed to stand out as though carved in stone; and as he read them once more a great darkness passed over his face — this heritage was his, and he could never take it up; this thing had come to him, and he must never claim it. He was Viscount Royallieu as surely as any of his fathers had been so before him, and he was dead forever in the world’s belief; he must live, and grow old, and perish by shot or steel, by sickness or by age, with his name and his rights buried, and his years passed as a private soldier of France.
The momentary93 glow which had come to him, with the sudden resurrection of hope and of pride, faded utterly as he slowly read and reread the lines of the journal on the broken terraces of the hill-side, where the great fig94 trees spread their fantastic shadows, and through a rocky channel a russet stream of shallow waters threaded its downward path under the reeds, and no living thing was near him save some quiet browsing95 herds96 far off, and their Arab shepherd-lad that an artist might have sketched97 as Ishmael. What his future might have been rose before his thoughts; what it must be rose also, bitterly, blackly, drearily98 in contrast. A noble without even a name; a chief of his race without even the power to claim kinship with that race; owner by law of three thousand broad English acres, yet an exile without freedom to set foot on his native land; by heritage one among the aristocracy of England, by circumstances, now and forever, till an Arab bullet should cut in twain his thread of life, a soldier of the African legions, bound to obey the commonest and coarsest boor99 that had risen to a rank above him: this was what he knew himself to be, and knew that he must continue to be without one appeal against it, without once stretching out his hand toward his right of birth and station.
There was a passionate100 revolt, a bitter heart-sickness on him; all the old freedom and peace and luxury and pleasure of the life he had left so long allured101 him with a terrible temptation; the honors of the rank that he should now have filled were not what he remembered. What he longed for with an agonized102 desire was to stand once more stainless103 among his equals; to reach once more the liberty of unchallenged, unfettered life; to return once more to those who held him but as a dishonored memory, as one whom violent death had well snatched from the shame of a criminal career.
“But who would believe me now?” he thought. “Besides, this makes no difference. If three words spoken would reinstate me, I could not speak them at that cost. The beginning perhaps was folly105, but for sheer justice sake there is no drawing back now. Let him enjoy it; God knows I do not grudge106 him it.”
Yet, though it was true to the very core that no envy and no evil lay in his heart against the younger brother to whose lot had fallen all good gifts of men and fate, there was almost unbearable107 anguish108 on him in this hour in which he learned the inheritance that had come to him, and remembered that he could never take again even so much of it as lay in the name of his fathers. When he had given his memory up to slander109 and oblivion, and the shadow of a great shame; when he had let his life die out from the world that had known him, and buried it beneath the rough, weather-stained, blood-soaked cloth of a private soldier’s uniform, he had not counted the cost then, nor foreseen the cost hereafter. It had fallen on him very heavily now.
Where he stood under some sheltered columns of a long-ruined mosque110 whose shafts111 were bound together by a thousand withes and wreaths of the rich, fantastic Sahel foliage112, an exceeding weariness of longing was upon him — longing for all that he had forfeited113, for all that was his own, yet never could be claimed as his.
The day was intensely still; there was not a sound except when, here and there, the movement of a lizard114 under the dry grasses gave a low, crackling rustle115. He wondered almost which was the dream and which the truth: that old life that he had once led, and that looked now so far away and so unreal; or this which had been about him for so many years in the camps and the bivouacs, the barracks and the battlefields. He wondered almost which he himself was — an English Peer on whom the title of his line had fallen, or a Corporal of Chasseurs who must take his chief’s insults as patiently as a cur takes the blows of its master; that he was both seemed to him, as he stood there with the glisten116 of the sea before and the swelling117 slopes of the hillside above, a vague, distorted nightmare.
Hours might have passed, or only moments — he could not have told; his eyes looked blankly out at the sun-glow, his hand instinctively118 clinched on the journal whose stray lines had told him in an Algerine trattoria that he had inherited what he never could enjoy.
“Are they content, I wonder?” he thought, gazing down that fiery blaze of shadowless light. “Do they ever remember?”
He thought of those for whose sakes he had become what he was.
The distant, mellow119, ringing notes of a trumpet-call floated to his ear from the town at his feet; it was sounding the rentree en caserne. Old instinct, long habit, made him start and shake his harness together and listen. The trumpet-blast, winding120 cheerily from afar off, recalled him to the truth; summoned him sharply back from vain regrets to the facts of daily life. It waked him as it wakes a sleeping charger; it roused him as it rouses a wounded trooper.
He stood hearkening to the familiar music till it had died away — spirited, yet still lingering; full of fire, yet fading softly down the wind. He listened till the last echo ceased; then he tore the paper that he held in strips, and let it float away, drifting down the yellow current of the reedy river channel; and he half drew from its scabbard the saber whose blade had been notched121 and dented122 and stained in many midnight skirmishes and many headlong charges under the desert suns, and looked at it as though a friend’s eye gazed at him in the gleam of the trusty steel. And his soldier-like philosophy, his campaigner’s carelessness, his habitual123, easy negligence124 that had sometimes been weak as water and sometimes heroic as martyrdom, came back to him with a deeper shadow on it, that was grave with a calm, resolute125, silent courage.
“So best after all, perhaps,” he said half aloud, in the solitude126 of the ruined and abandoned mosque. “He cannot well come to shipwreck127 with such a fair wind and such a smooth sea. And I— I am just as well here. To ride with the Chasseurs is more exciting than to ride with the Pytchley; and the rules of the Chambree are scarce more tedious than the rules of a Court. Nature turned me out for a soldier, though Fashion spoiled me for one. I can make a good campaigner — I should never make anything else.”
And he let his sword drop back again into the scabbard, and quarreled no more with fate.
His hand touched the thirty gold pieces in his sash.
He started, as the recollection of the forgotten insult came back on him. He stood a while in thought; then he took his resolve.
A half hour of quick movement, for he had become used to the heat as an Arab and heeded128 it as little, brought him before the entrance-gates of the Villa129 Aioussa. A native of Soudan, in a rich dress, who had the office of porter, asked him politely his errand. Every indigene learns by hard experience to be courteous130 to a French soldier. Cecil simply asked, in answer, if Mme. La Princesse were visible. The negro returned cautiously that she was at home, but doubted her being accessible. “You come from M. le Marquis?” he inquired.
“No; on my own errand.”
“You!” Not all the native African awe131 of a Roumi could restrain the contemptuous amaze in the word.
“I. Ask if Corporal Victor, of the Chasseurs, can be permitted a moment’s interview with your mistress. I come by permission,” he added, as the native hesitated between his fear of a Roumi and his sense of the appalling132 unfittingness of a private soldier seeking audience of a Spanish princesse. The message was passed about between several of the household; at last a servant of higher authority appeared:
“Madame permitted Corporal Victor to be taken to her presence. Would he follow?”
He uncovered his head and entered, passing through several passages and chambers134, richly hung and furnished; for the villa had been the “campagne” of an illustrious French personage, who had offered it to the Princesse Corona135 when, for some slight delicacy136 of health, the air of Algeria was advocated. A singular sensation came on him, half of familiarity, half of strangeness, as he advanced along them; for twelve years he had seen nothing but the bare walls of barrack rooms, the goat-skin of douars, and the canvas of his own camp-tent. To come once more, after so long an interval137, amid the old things of luxury and grace that had been so long unseen wrought138 curiously139 on him. He could not fairly disentangle past and present. For the moment, as his feet fell once more on soft carpets, and his eyes glanced over gold and silver, malachite and bronze, white silk and violet damasks, he almost thought the Algerian years were a disordered dream of the night.
His spur caught in the yielding carpet, and his saber clashed slightly against it; as the rentree au caserne had done an hour before, the sound recalled the actual present to him. He was but a French soldier, who went on sufferance into the presence of a great lady. All the rest was dead and buried.
Some half dozen apartments, large and small, were crossed; then into that presence he was ushered140. The room was deeply shaded, and fragrant141 with the odors of the innumerable flowers of the Sahel soil; there was that about it which struck on him as some air — long unheard, but once intimately familiar — on the ear will revive innumerable memories. She was at some distance from him, with the trailing draperies of eastern fabrics142 falling about her in a rich, unbroken, shadowy cloud of melting color, through which, here and there, broke threads of gold; involuntarily he paused on the threshold, looking at her. Some faint, far-off remembrance stirred in him, but deep down in the closed grave of his past; some vague, intangible association of forgotten days, forgotten thoughts, drifted before him as it had drifted before him when first in the Chambree of his barracks he had beheld143 Venetia Corona.
She moved forward as her servant announced him; she saw him pause there like one spell-bound, and thought it the hesitation144 of one who felt sensitively his own low grade in life. She came toward him with the silent, sweeping145 grace that gave her the carriage of an empress; her voice fell on his ear with the accent of a woman immeasurably proud, but too proud not to bend softly and graciously to those who were so far beneath her that, without such aid from her, they could never have addressed or have approached her.
“You have come, I trust, to withdraw your prohibition146? Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to bring his Majesty’s notice to one of the best soldiers his Army holds.”
There was that in the words, gently as they were spoken, that recalled him suddenly to himself; they had that negligent, courteous pity she would have shown to some colon begging at her gates! He forgot — forgot utterly — that he was only an African trooper. He only remembered that he had once been a gentleman, that — if a life of honor and of self-negation can make any so — he was one still. He advanced and bowed with the old serene147 elegance148 that his bow had once been famed for; and she, well used to be even overcritical in such trifles, thought, “That man has once lived in courts!”
“Pardon me, madame, I do not come to trespass149 so far upon your benignity,” he answered, as he bent150 before her. “I come to express, rather, my regret that you should have made one single error.”
“Error!”— a haughty151 surprise glanced from her eyes as they swept over him. Such a word had never been used to her in the whole course of her brilliant and pampered152 life of sovereignty and indulgence.
“One common enough, madame, in your Order. The error to suppose that under the rough cloth of a private trooper’s uniform there cannot possibly be such aristocratic monopolies as nerves to wound.”
“I do not comprehend you.” She spoke104 very coldly; she repented153 her profoundly of her concession154 in admitting a Chasseur d’Afrique to her presence.
“Possibly not. Mine was the folly to dream that you would ever do so. I should not have intruded155 on you now, but for this reason: the humiliation156 you were pleased to pass on me I could neither refuse nor resent to the dealer157 of it. Had I done so, men who are only too loyal to me would have resented with me, and been thrashed or been shot, as payment. I was compelled to accept it, and to wait until I could return your gift to you. I have no right to complain that you pained me with it, since one who occupies my position ought, I presume, to consider remembrance, even by an outrage158, an honor done to him by the Princesse Corona.”
As he said the last words he laid on the table that stood near him the gold of Chateauroy’s insult. She had listened with a bewildering wonder, held in check by the haughtier159 impulse of offense160, that a man in this grade could venture thus to address, thus to arraign161 her. His words were totally incomprehensible to her, though, by the grave rebuke42 of his manner, she saw that they were fully meant, and, as he considered, fully authorized162 by some wrong done to him. As he laid the gold pieces down upon her table, an idea of the truth came to her.
“I know nothing of what you complain of; I sent you no money. What is it you would imply?” she asked him, looking up from where she leaned back in the low couch into whose depth she had sunk as he had spoken.
“You did not send me these? Not as payment for the chess service?”
“Absolutely not. After what you said the other day, I should have scarcely been so ill-bred and so heedless of inflicting163 pain. Who used my name thus?”
His face lightened with a pleasure and a relief that changed it wonderfully; that brighter look of gladness had been a stranger to it for so many years.
“You give me infinite happiness, madame. You little dream how bitter such slights are where one has lost the power to resent them! It was M. de Chateauroy, who this morning —”
“Dared to tell you I sent you those coins?”
The serenity164 of a courtly woman of the world was unbroken, but her blue and brilliant eyes darkened and gleamed beneath the sweep of their lashes165.
“Perhaps I can scarcely say so much. He gave them, and he implied that he gave them from you. The words he spoke were these.”
He told her them as they had been uttered, adding no more; she saw the construction they had been intended to bear, and that which they had borne naturally to his ear; she listened earnestly to the end. Then she turned to him with the exquisite166 softness of grace which, when she was moved to it, contrasted so vividly167 with the haughty and almost chill languor168 of her habitual manner.
“Believe me, I regret deeply that you should have been wounded by this most coarse indignity169; I grieve sincerely that through myself in any way it should have been brought upon you. As for the perpetrator of it, M. de Chateauroy will be received here no more; and it shall be my care that he learns not only how I resent his unpardonable use of my name, but how I esteem170 his cruel outrage to a defender171 of his own Flag. You did exceedingly well and wisely to acquaint me; in your treatment of it as an affront172 that I was without warrant to offer you, you showed the just indignation of a soldier, and — of what I am very sure that you are — a gentleman.”
He bowed low before her.
“Madame, you have made me the debtor173 of my enemy’s outrage. Those words from you are more than sufficient compensation for it.”
“A poor one, I fear! Your Colonel is your enemy, then? And wherefore?”
He paused a moment.
“Why, at first, I scarcely know. We are antagonistic174, I suppose.”
“But is it usual for officers of his high grade to show such malice175 to their soldiers?”
“Most unusual. In this service especially so; although officers rising from the ranks themselves are more apt to contract prejudices and ill feeling against, as they are to feel favoritism to, their men, than where they enter the regiment in a superior grade at once. At least, that is the opinion I myself have formed; studying the working of the different systems.”
“You know the English service, then?”
“I know something of it.”
“And still, though thinking this, you prefer the French?”
“I distinctly prefer it, as one that knows how to make fine soldiers and how to reward them; as one in which a brave man will be valued, and a worn-out veteran will not be left to die like a horse at a knacker’s.”
“A brave man valued, and yet you are a corporal!” thought Milady, as he pursued:
“Since I am here, madame, let me thank you, in the Army’s name, for your infinite goodness in acting176 so munificently177 on my slight hint. Your generosity has made many happy hearts in the hospital.”
“Generosity! Oh, do not call it by any such name! What did it cost me? We are terribly selfish here. I am indebted to you that for once you made me remember those who suffered.”
She spoke with a certain impulse of candor178 and of self-accusation that broke with great sweetness the somewhat coldness of her general manner; it was like a gleam of light that showed all the depth and the warmth that in truth lay beneath that imperious languor of habit. It broke further the ice of distance that severed179 the grande dame133 from the cavalry soldier.
Insensibly to himself, the knowledge that he had, in fact, the right to stand before her as an equal gave him the bearing of one who exercised that right, and her rapid perception had felt before now that this Roumi of Africa was as true a gentleman as any that had ever thronged180 about her in palaces. Her own life had been an uninterrupted course of luxury, prosperity, serenity, and power; the adversity which she could not but perceive had weighed on his had a strange interest to her. She had heard of many calamities181, and aided many; but they had always been far sundered182 from her, they had never touched her; in this man’s presence they seemed to grow very close, terribly real. She led him on to speak of his comrades, of his daily life, of his harassing183 routine of duties in peace, and of his various experiences in war. He told her, too, of Leon Ramon’s history; and as she listened, he saw a mist arise and dim the brilliancy of those eyes that men complained would never soften184. The very fidelity185 with which he sketched to her the bitter sufferings and the rough nobility that were momentarily borne and seen in that great military family of which he had become a son by adoption186, interested her by its very unlikeness to anything in her own world.
His voice had still the old sweetness, his manner still its old grace; and added to these were a grave earnestness and a natural eloquence187 that the darkness of his own fortunes, and the sympathies with others that pain had awakened, had brought to him. He wholly forgot their respective stations; he only remembered that for the first time for so many years he had the charm of converse188 with a woman of high breeding, of inexpressible beauty, and of keen and delicate intuition. He wholly forgot how time passed, and she did not seek to remind him; indeed, she but little noted it herself.
At last the conversation turned back to his Chief.
“You seem to be aware of some motive189 for your commandant’s dislike?” she asked him. “Tell me to what you attribute it?”
“It is a long tale, madame.”
“No matter; I would hear it.”
“I fear it would only weary you.”
“Do not fear that. Tell it me.”
He obeyed, and told to her the story of the Emir and of the Pearl of the Desert; and Venetia Corona listened, as she had listened to him throughout, with an interest that she rarely vouchsafed190 to the recitals191 and the witticisms192 of her own circle. He gave to the narrative193 a soldierly simplicity194 and a picturesque195 coloring that lent a new interest to her; and she was of that nature which, however, it may be led to conceal196 feeling from pride and from hatred, never fails to awaken40 to indignant sympathy at wrong.
“This barbarian197 is your chief!” she said, as the tale closed. “His enmity is your honor! I can well credit that he will never pardon your having stood between him and his crime.”
“He has never pardoned it yet, of a surety.”
“I will not tell you it was a noble action,” she said, with a smile sweet as the morning — a smile that few saw light on them. “It came too naturally to a man of honor for you to care for the epithet198. Yet it was a great one, a most generous one. But I have not heard one thing: what argument did you use to obtain her release?”
“No one has ever heard it,” he answered her, while his voice sank low. “I will trust you with it; it will not pass elsewhere. I told him enough of — of my own past life to show him that I knew what his had been, and that I knew, moreover, though they were dead to me now, men in that greater world of Europe who would believe my statement if I wrote them this outrage on the Emir, and would avenge199 it for the reputation of the Empire. And unless he released the Emir’s wife, I swore to him that I would so write, though he had me shot on the morrow; and he knew I should keep my word.”
She was silent some moments, looking on him with a musing58 gaze, in which some pity and more honor for him were blended.
“You told him your past. Will you confess it to me?”
“I cannot, madame.”
“And why?”
“Because I am dead! Because, in your presence, it becomes more bitter to me to remember that I ever lived.”
“You speak strangely. Cannot your life have a resurrection?”
“Never, madame. For a brief hour you have given it one — in dreams. It will have no other.”
“But surely there may be ways — such a story as you have told me brought to the Emperor’s knowledge, you would see your enemy disgraced, yourself honored?”
“Possibly, madame. But it is out of the question that it should ever be so brought. As I am now, so I desire to live and die.”
“You voluntarily condemn200 yourself to this?”
“I have voluntarily chosen it. I am well sure that the silence I entreat201 will be kept by you?”
“Assuredly; unless by your wish it be broken. Yet — I await my brother’s arrival here; he is a soldier himself; I shall hope that he will persuade you to think differently of your future. At any rate, both his and my own influence will always be exerted for you, if you will avail yourself of it.”
“You do me much honor, madame. All I will ever ask of you is to return those coins to my Colonel, and to forget that your gentleness has made me forget, for one merciful half hour, the sufferance on which alone a trooper can present himself here.”
He swept the ground with his kepi as though it were the plumed202 hat of a Marshal, and backed slowly from her presence, as he had many a time long before backed out of a throne-room.
As he went, his eyes caught the armies of the ivory chessmen; they stood under glass, and had not been broken by her lapdog.
Milady, left alone there in her luxurious203 morning room, sat a while lost in thought. He attracted her; he interested her; he aroused her sympathy and her wonder as the men of her own world failed to do — aroused them despite the pride which made her impatient of lending so much attention to a mere204 Chasseur d’Afrique. His knowledge of the fact that he was in reality the representative of his race, although the power to declare himself so had been forever abandoned and lost, had given him in her presence that day a certain melancholy205, and a certain grave dignity that would have shown a far more superficial observer than she was that he had come of a great race, and had memories that were of a very different hue to the coarse and hard life which he led now. She had seen much of the world, and was naturally far more penetrative and more correct in judgment206 than are most women. She discovered the ring of true gold in his words, and the carriage of pure breeding in his actions. He interested her more than it pleased her that he should. A man so utterly beneath her; doubtless brought into the grade to which he had fallen by every kind of error, of improvidence207, of folly — of probably worse than folly!
It was too absurd that she, so difficult to interest, so inaccessible208, so fastidious, so satiated with all that was brilliant and celebrated209, should find herself seriously spending her thoughts, her pity, and her speculation210 on an adventurer of the African Army! She laughed a little at herself as she stretched out her hand for a new volume of French poems dedicated211 to her by their accomplished212 writer, who was a Parisian diplomatist.
“One would imagine I was just out of a convent, and weaving a marvelous romance from a mystery and a tristesse, because the first soldier I notice in Algeria has a gentleman’s voice and is ill treated by his officers!” she thought with a smile, while she opened the poems which had that day arrived, radiant in the creamy vellum, the white velvet213, and the gold of a dedication214 copy, with the coronet of the Corona d’Amague on their binding215. The poems were sparkling with grace and elegant silvery harmonies; but they served ill to chain her attention, for while she read her eyes wandered at intervals216 to the chess battalions217.
“Such a man as that buried in the ranks of this brutalized army!” she mused218. “What fatal chance could bring him here? Misfortune, not misconduct, surely. I wonder if Lyon could learn? He shall try.”
“Your Chasseur has the air of a Prince, my love,” said a voice behind her.
“Equivocal compliment! A much better air than most Princes,” said Mme. Corona, glancing up with a slight shrug219 of her shoulders, as her guest and traveling companion, the Marquise de Renardiere, entered.
“Indeed! I saw him as he passed out; and he saluted220 me as if he had been a Marshal. Why did he come?”
Venetia Corona pointed221 to the Napoleons, and told the story; rather listlessly and briefly222.
“Ah! The man has been a gentleman, I dare say. So many of them come to our army. I remember General Villefleur’s telling me — he commanded here a while — that the ranks of the Zephyrs223 and Zouaves were full of well-born men, utterly good-for-nothing, the handsomest scoundrels possible; who had every gift and every grace, and yet come to no better end than a pistol-shot in a ditch or a mortal thrust from Bedouin steel. I dare say your Corporal is one of them.”
“It may be so.”
“But you doubt it, I imagine.”
“I am not sure now that I do. But this person is certainly unlike a man to whom disgrace has ever attached.”
“You think your protege, then, has become what he is through adversity, I suppose? Very interesting!”
“I really can tell you nothing of his antecedents. Through his skill at sculpture, and my notice of it, considerable indignity has been brought upon him; and a soldier can feel, it seems, though it is very absurd that he should! That is all my concern with the matter, except that I have to teach his commander not to play with my name in his barrack yard.”
She spoke with that negligence which always sounded very cold, though the words were so gently spoken. Her best and most familiar friends always knew when, with that courtly chillness, she had signed them their line of demarcation.
And the Marquise de Renardiere said no more, but talked of the Ambassador’s poems.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
regiment
|
|
| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
exertion
|
|
| n.尽力，努力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
incessant
|
|
| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
implicit
|
|
| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
obedience
|
|
| n.服从，顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
advantageous
|
|
| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
unemployed
|
|
| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
transit
|
|
| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
inclination
|
|
| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
rebellious
|
|
| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
scourge
|
|
| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
strictly
|
|
| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
deferential
|
|
| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
inspection
|
|
| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
insolence
|
|
| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
deigned
|
|
| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
solicit
|
|
| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
unpaid
|
|
| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
lenient
|
|
| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
hatred
|
|
| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
colon
|
|
| n.冒号，结肠，直肠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
sheathed
|
|
| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
salute
|
|
| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
hissed
|
|
| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
opprobrious
|
|
| adj.可耻的，辱骂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
accusations
|
|
| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
largesse
|
|
| n.慷慨援助，施舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
pique
|
|
| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
awning
|
|
| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
draught
|
|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
vivaciously
|
|
| adv.快活地；活泼地；愉快地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
cardinal
|
|
| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
virtue
|
|
| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
awaken
|
|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
rebuke
|
|
| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
rebuked
|
|
| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
gourds
|
|
| n.葫芦( gourd的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
whit
|
|
| n.一点，丝毫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
tawny
|
|
| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
checkered
|
|
| adj.有方格图案的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
rambling
|
|
| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
hawk
|
|
| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
enrolled
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
warfare
|
|
| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
omniscience
|
|
| n.全知，全知者，上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
lieutenancy
|
|
| n.中尉之职，代理官员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
slaughter
|
|
| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
arid
|
|
| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
utterance
|
|
| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
flickering
|
|
| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
misty
|
|
| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
polyglot
|
|
| adj.通晓数种语言的；n.通晓多种语言的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
thronging
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
cavalry
|
|
| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
amity
|
|
| n.友好关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
intimacy
|
|
| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
negligent
|
|
| adj.疏忽的；玩忽的；粗心大意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
friendliness
|
|
| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
Mediterranean
|
|
| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
pang
|
|
| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
willows
|
|
| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
cartridge
|
|
| n.弹壳，弹药筒；(装磁带等的)盒子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
indifference
|
|
| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
estrangement
|
|
| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
uneven
|
|
| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
throngs
|
|
| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
moorish
|
|
| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
plodding
|
|
| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
volatile
|
|
| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
rim
|
|
| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
proffered
|
|
| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
clinched
|
|
| 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） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
babble
|
|
| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
discord
|
|
| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
outskirts
|
|
| n.郊外，郊区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
momentary
|
|
| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
fig
|
|
| n.无花果(树) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
browsing
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
sketched
|
|
| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
drearily
|
|
| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
boor
|
|
| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
allured
|
|
| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
agonized
|
|
| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
stainless
|
|
| adj.无瑕疵的，不锈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
folly
|
|
| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
unbearable
|
|
| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
slander
|
|
| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
mosque
|
|
| n.清真寺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
shafts
|
|
| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
foliage
|
|
| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
forfeited
|
|
| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
lizard
|
|
| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
glisten
|
|
| vi.（光洁或湿润表面等）闪闪发光，闪闪发亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
swelling
|
|
| n.肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
instinctively
|
|
| adv.本能地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
mellow
|
|
| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
notched
|
|
| a.有凹口的，有缺口的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
dented
|
|
| v.使产生凹痕( dent的过去式和过去分词 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
habitual
|
|
| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
negligence
|
|
| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
solitude
|
|
| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
shipwreck
|
|
| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
heeded
|
|
| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
chambers
|
|
| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
corona
|
|
| n.日冕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
delicacy
|
|
| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
interval
|
|
| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
wrought
|
|
| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
curiously
|
|
| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
ushered
|
|
| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
fragrant
|
|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
fabrics
|
|
| 织物( fabric的名词复数 )； 布； 构造； （建筑物的）结构（如墙、地面、屋顶）：质地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
prohibition
|
|
| n.禁止；禁令，禁律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
serene
|
|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
elegance
|
|
| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
trespass
|
|
| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
pampered
|
|
| 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 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
repented
|
|
| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
concession
|
|
| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
intruded
|
|
| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
humiliation
|
|
| n.羞辱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
dealer
|
|
| n.商人，贩子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
outrage
|
|
| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
haughtier
|
|
| haughty（傲慢的，骄傲的）的比较级形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
160
offense
|
|
| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
arraign
|
|
| v.提讯；控告 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
authorized
|
|
| a.委任的，许可的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
inflicting
|
|
| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
serenity
|
|
| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
languor
|
|
| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
indignity
|
|
| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
defender
|
|
| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
affront
|
|
| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
debtor
|
|
| n.借方，债务人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
antagonistic
|
|
| adj.敌对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
malice
|
|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
munificently
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
178
candor
|
|
| n.坦白，率真 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
severed
|
|
| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
180
thronged
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
calamities
|
|
| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
sundered
|
|
| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
harassing
|
|
| v.侵扰，骚扰( harass的现在分词 )；不断攻击（敌人） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
soften
|
|
| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
fidelity
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
adoption
|
|
| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
eloquence
|
|
| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
converse
|
|
| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
vouchsafed
|
|
| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
recitals
|
|
| n.独唱会( recital的名词复数 )；独奏会；小型音乐会、舞蹈表演会等；一系列事件等的详述 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
192
witticisms
|
|
| n.妙语，俏皮话( witticism的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
conceal
|
|
| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
barbarian
|
|
| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
epithet
|
|
| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
avenge
|
|
| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
entreat
|
|
| v.恳求，恳请 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
plumed
|
|
| 饰有羽毛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
luxurious
|
|
| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
improvidence
|
|
| n.目光短浅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
inaccessible
|
|
| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
speculation
|
|
| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
dedicated
|
|
| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
dedication
|
|
| n.奉献，献身，致力，题献，献辞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
intervals
|
|
| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
battalions
|
|
| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
mused
|
|
| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
shrug
|
|
| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
saluted
|
|
| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
briefly
|
|
| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
zephyrs
|
|
| n.和风，微风( zephyr的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |