“He is not very ill,” she said in a low voice, in answer to Castruccio’s enquiries; “the fever has left him entirely9; he is weak, but recovering. He sleeps sweetly now: look at him; at his reverend grey hairs strewn over his naked temples; look at his eyes, sunken with age, yet, when open, beaming with benevolence10 and affection: look what a gentle smile there is upon his pale lips; there he sleeps, affection, benevolence, matchless virtue11, and excelling wisdom, all cradled by the baby Sleep; I have been contemplating12 him for more than an hour; he draws his breath as regularly as a sleeping infant who has sucked its fill, and his heart heaves slowly, but calmly. It is a heavenly sight to look on the repose13 of this good old man; it calms wild passion, and sheds the fresh dew of healthful meditation14 over the strange reveries of youth.”
She spoke15 in a whisper; but her countenance was all animation16. The old man moved; and, pressing her finger on her lips, she paused. “Beatrice, my child,” he said, “I have slept long and soundly, and feel quite well. Who is that stranger? does he bring news from the marquess? Aye, I remember this is the day, — I am strangely confused; I recollect17 now that I heard of his success before I slept.”
“Father, it is my lord Castruccio, who, after having reinstated our prince in his sovereignty, visits your sick chamber.”
Castruccio remained several hours conversing18 with the bishop; he gave him an account of the action of the morning, and Beatrice listened with her whole soul in her eyes; yet, attentive19 as she was to the narration20, she watched with sweet earnestness her sick friend, turning her looks from him to the animated21 face of Castruccio; and again, as she crept near her adoptive father, she adjusted some pillow, or performed some little office that marked her earnest observation.
“How beautiful she is!” thought Castruccio, “and what will become of her?” He fixed22 his eyes on the silver plate on her forehead. “Yes, she is the Ancilla Dei, a maiden23 vowed24 to God and chastity; yet her eyes seem penetrated26 with love; the changeful and blooming colours of her face, her form, which is all that imagination can conceive of perfect, appear not like those of a cloistered28 nun29. Ah! Beatrice, if you would be sacred to your God, you ought to hide your surpassing loveliness with thick veils, behind treble grates. But she is a prophetess; something more than human; — a character unapproachable even in thought.”
Thus Castruccio tried to disentangle his perplexed30 thoughts, still looking on the maiden, who, suddenly raising her eyes, and meeting his which were fixed on her silver plate, blushed even till the tips of her fingers became a rosy31 red; and then, complaining in an hesitating voice, that the plate hurt her brow, she untied32 it; while her silken hair, no longer confined, fell on her neck.
Thus many hours passed, and when at length the prophetess retired33, it was to feverish34 meditation, and thoughts burning with passion, rendered still more dangerous from her belief in the divine nature of all that suggested itself to her mind. She prayed to the Virgin35 to inspire her; and, again giving herself up to reverie, she wove a subtle web, whose materials she believed heavenly, but which were indeed stolen from the glowing wings of love. Kneeling, her eyes raised to heaven, she felt the same commotion36 in her soul, which she had felt before, and had recognised as divine inspiration; she felt the same uncontrollable transport and burst of imaginative vision, which she believed to flow immediately from the invisible ray of heaven-derived prophecy. She felt her soul, as it were, fade away, and incorporate itself with another and a diviner spirit, which whispered truth and knowledge to her mind, and then slowly receding4, left her human nature, agitated, joyful37, and exhausted38; — these were her dreams, — alas39! to her they were realities.
The following morning she again met Castruccio in the chamber of the bishop. She now looked upon him fearlessly; and, if the virgin modesty40 of her nature had not withheld41 her, her words would have been as frank as she innocently believed them to be inspired. But, although she was silent, her looks told that she was changed. Her manner the day before had been soft, concentrated, and retiring; now she was unconstrained; her eyes sparkled, and a joyous42 expression dwelt in every feature. Her manner towards her guardian43 was endearing, nor was the affectionate modulation44 of her voice different when she addressed his guest: Castruccio started to hear it. It reminded him of the accents of Euthanasia, whom for a while he had forgotten; and, looking at Beatrice, he thought, “How lovely she is, and yet how unlike!”
Several days passed thus; Beatrice became embarrassed; it seemed as if she wished to speak to Castruccio, and yet dared not: when she approached, she blushed, and again drew back, and would again seek him, but again vainly. She had framed the mode of her address, conned45 and reconned the words she should say; but, when an opportunity occurred to utter them, her voice failed her, the memory of what she was about to utter deserted46 her, and it was not until the approach of a third person took from her the possibility of speaking, that speech again returned, and the lost occasion was uselessly lamented47. At night she sought the counsels of heaven, and gave herself up to her accustomed ecstasies48; they always told her the same things, until to her bewildered and untamed mind it seemed as if the spirit that had power over her, reprimanded her hesitation49, her little trust in the promises of heaven, and her reluctance50 to follow the path it pointed51 out.
“Surely, oh! most certainly,” she thought, “thus I am commanded by the Power who has so often revealed his will to me. Can I penetrate27 his hidden designs? can I do more than execute his decrees? did I not feel thus, when with prophetic transport I foretold52 distant events that surely came to pass? when I foresaw yet afar off the death of Lorenzo, that lovely child blooming in health, when every one called me a false prophet? And yet he died. And now, the marquess’s return? nay53, am I not approved by heaven? did I not escape from the malice54 of my enemies through its miraculous55 interposition? Oh! I will no longer scan with presumptuous56 argument, purposes that are ruled by mightier57 hands than mine; I will resign myself to the guidance of what has ever conducted me aright, and which now points out the path to happiness.”
The next morning, her cheeks flushed, her eyes weighed down, trembling and abashed58, she sought Castruccio. It is impossible that there should not have been much tenderness in his manner towards this lovely girl; her history, her strange and romantic contemplations and impulses, and the great intimacy59 which had arisen between them, were sufficient for this. He regarded her also as a nun; and this made him feel less restraint in the manner of his address, since he feared not to be misconstrued; while at the same time it gave an elevation60 and unusual tone to his ideas concerning her, that made him watch her every motion with interest. She now approached; and he said playfully; “Where is thy mark, prophetess? art thou no longer the Maiden of God? For some days thou hast cast aside the hallowed diadem61.”
“I still have it,” she replied; “but I have dismissed it from my brow; I will give it you; come, my lord, this evening at midnight to the secret entrance of the viscountess’s palace.” Saying these words, she fled to hide her burning blushes in solitude62, and again to feel the intoxicating63 delusions64 that led her on to destruction.
Castruccio came. If it were in human virtue to resist the invitation of this angelic girl, his was not the mind, strictly65 disciplined to right, self-examining and jealous of its own integrity, that should thus weigh its actions, and move only as approved by conscience. He was frank and noble in his manner; his nature was generous; and, though there lurked66 in his heart the germ of an evil-bearing tree, it was as yet undeveloped and inanimated; and, in obeying the summons of Beatrice, he passively gave himself up to the strong excitements of curiosity and wonder.
He went again and again. When the silent night was spread over every thing, and the walls of the town stood black and confused amidst the overshadowing trees, whose waving foliage67 was diversified68 by no gleam of light, but all was formless as the undistinguishable air; or if a star were dimly seen, it just glistened69 on the waters of the marsh70, and then swiftly the heavy web of clouds hid both star and water; when the watch dogs were mute, unawakened by the moon, and the wind that blew across the plain alone told to the ear the place of the trees; when the bats and the owls71 were lulled72 by the exceeding darkness; it was on such nights as these, that Castruccio sought the secret entrance of the viscountess’s palace, and was received by the beautiful Beatrice, enshrined in an atmosphere of love and joy.
She was a strange riddle73 to him. Without vow25, without even that slight shew of distrust which is the child of confidence itself; without seeking the responsive professions of eternal love, she surrendered herself to his arms. And, when the first maiden bashfulness had passed away, all was deep tenderness and ardent74 love. Yet there was a dignity and a trusting affection in her most unguarded moments, that staggered him: a broken expression would sometimes fall from her lips, that seemed to say that she believed him indissolubly hers, which made him start, as if he feared that he had acted with perfidy75; yet he had never solicited76, never promised, — what could she mean? What was she? He loved her as he would have loved any thing that was surpassingly beautiful; and, when these expressions, that intimated somewhat of enduring and unchangeable in their intercourse77, intruded78 themselves, they pained and irritated him: he turned to the recollection of Euthanasia, his pure, his high-minded, and troth-plight bride; — she seemed as if wronged by such an idea; and yet he hardly dared think her purer than poor Beatrice, whose soul, though given up to love, was imbued79 in its very grain and texture80 with delicate affections and honourable81 feelings; all that makes the soul and living spark of virtue. If she had not resisted the impulses of her soul, it was not that she wanted the power; but that, deluded83 by the web of deceit that had so long wound itself about her, she believed them, not only lawful84, but inspired by the special interposition of heaven.
Poor Beatrice! She had inherited from her mother the most ardent imagination that ever animated a human soul. Its images were as vivid as reality, and were so overpowering, that they appeared to her, when she compared them to the calm sensations of others, as something superhuman; and she followed that as a guide, which she ought to have bound with fetters85, and to have curbed86 and crushed by every effort of reason. Unhappy prophetess! the superstitions87 of her times had obtained credit for, and indeed given birth to her pretensions88, and the compassion89 and humanity of her follow creatures had stamped them with the truth-attesting seal of a miracle. There is so much life in love! Beatrice was hardly seventeen, and she loved for the first time; and all the exquisite90 pleasures of that passion were consecrated91 to her, by a mysteriousness and delusive92 sanctity that gave them tenfold zest93. It is said, that in love we idolize the object; and, placing him apart and selecting him from his fellows, look on him as superior in nature to all others. We do so; but, even as we idolize the object of our affections, do we idolize ourselves: if we separate him from his fellow mortals, so do we separate ourselves, and, glorying in belonging to him alone, feel lifted above all other sensations, all other joys and griefs, to one hallowed circle from which all but his idea is banished94; we walk as if a mist or some more potent95 charm divided us from all but him; a sanctified victim which none but the priest set apart for that office could touch and not pollute, enshrined in a cloud of glory, made glorious through beauties not our own. Thus we all feel during the entrancing dream of love; and Beatrice, the ardent, affectionate Beatrice, felt this with multiplied power: and, believing that none had ever felt so before, she thought that heaven itself had interfered96 to produce so true a paradise. If her childish dreams had been full of fire, how much more vivid and overpowering was the awakening97 of her soul when she first loved! It seemed as if some new and wondrous98 spirit had descended99, alive, breathing and panting, into her colder heart, and gave it a new impulse, a new existence. Ever the dupe of her undisciplined thoughts, she cherished her reveries, believing that heavenly and intellectual, which was indebted for its force to earthly mixtures; and she resigned herself entire to her visionary joys, until she finally awoke to truth, fallen, and for ever lost.
In the mean time peace was entirely restored to Ferrara: on the fifteenth of August Castel Tealdo surrendered, and the Pope’s governor, with his foreign guard, quitted the territories of the marquess of Este. Galeazzo Visconti returned to Milan, but still Castruccio lingered: he wished to go; he found himself out of place as a dangling100 courtier in the train of Obizzo; but how could he leave Beatrice? What did she expect or wish? The passionate101 tenderness that she evinced, could not be an ephemeral spark of worthless love; and how often did the We, she used in talking of futurity, make him pause when he wished to speak of their separation! She seemed happy; her words flowed in rich abundance, and were adorned102 with various imagery and with delicate thoughts, shewing that her soul, at rest from fear, wandered as it was wont103 amidst the wilds of her imagination. He found her untaught, undisciplined, but so sincere, so utterly104 forgetful of self, so trusting, that he dared not speak that, which each day shewed more clearly would be as a dagger105 to her heart. A thousand times he cursed himself for having mistaken her, and imagining, inspired as she believed herself to be, that her actions and feelings had not been dictated106 by the loftiest impulses. But the time arrived, when he was obliged to undeceive her; and the hand, that tore away the ties her trusting heart had bound round itself, at the same time tore away the veil which had for her invested all nature, and shewed her life as it was — naked and appalling107.
They sat in her apartment at the Malvezzi palace; she radiant, beautiful, and happy; and, twining her lovely arms around Castruccio, she said: “The moon will set late tomorrow — night, and you must not venture here; and indeed for several nights it will spread too glaring a beam. But tell me, are you become a citizen of Ferrara? They averred108 that you were the head of a noble city; but I see they must have been mistaken, or the poor city must totter109 strangely, so headless as your absence must make it. How is this, my only friend? Are you not Antelminelli? Are we not to go to Lucca?”
Castruccio could not stand the questioning of her soft yet earnest eyes; he withdrew himself from her arms, and taking her hands in his, kissed them silently. “How is my noble lord?” she repeated, “have you had ill news? are you again banished? that cannot be, or methinks my heart would have told me the secret. Yet, if you are, be not unhappy:— your own Beatrice, with prophetic words, and signs from heaven that lead the multitude, will conduct you to greater glory and greater power than you before possessed110. My gentle love, you have talked less about yourself, and about your hopes and desires, than I should have wished:— Do not think me a foolish woman, tied to an embroidery111 frame, or that my heart would not beat high at the news of your success, or that with my whole soul I should not enter into your plans, and tell you how the stars looked upon your intents. In truth my mind pants for fitting exertion112; and, in being joined to thee, dearest love, I thought that I had found the goal for which heaven had destined113 me. Nay, look not away from me; I do not reproach thee; I know that, in finding thee, in being bound to thy fate, mine is fulfilled; and I am happy. Now speak — tell me what has disturbed thy thoughts.”
“Sweetest Beatrice, I have nothing to tell; yet I have for many days wished to speak; for in truth I must return to Lucca.”
The quick sensations of Beatrice could not be deceived. The words of Castruccio were too plain; she looked at him, as if she would read the secret in his soul, — she did read it:— his downcast eyes, confused air, and the words he stammered114 out in explanation, told her every thing. The blood rushed to her face, her neck, her hands; and then as suddenly receding, left even her lips pale. She withdrew her arms from the soft caress115 she had bestowed116; playfully she had bound his head with her own hair and the silken strings117 entangled118 with his; she tore her tresses impatiently to disengage herself from him; then, trembling, white, and chilled, she sat down, and said not a word. Castruccio looked on with fear; he attempted consolation119.
“I shall visit thee again, my own Beatrice; for a time we must part; — the viscountess — the good bishop — you cannot leave them, — fear not but that we shall meet again.”
“We shall meet again!” she exclaimed with a passionate voice; “Never!”
Her tone, full of agitation120 and grief, sunk into the soul of Castruccio. He took her hand; it was lifeless; he would have kissed her; but she drew back coldly and sadly. His words had not been those of the heart; he had hesitated and paused: but now compassion, and the memory of what she had been, awoke his powers, and he said warmly, and with a voice whose modulations seemed tuned121 by love: “You mistake me, Beatrice; indeed you do. I love you; — who could help loving one so true, so gentle, and so trusting? — we part for a while; — this is necessary. Does not your character require it? the part you act in the world? every consideration of honour and delicacy122? — Do you think that I can ever forget you? does not your own heart tell you, that your love, your caresses123, your sweet eyes, and gentle words, have woven a net which must keep me for ever? You will remain here, and I shall go; but a few suns, a few moons, and we shall meet again, and the joy of that moment will make you forget our transient separation.”
How cold were these words to the burning heart of the prophetess; she, who thought that Heaven had singled out Castruccio to unite him to her, who thought that the Holy Spirit had revealed himself to bless their union, that, by the mingled124 strength of his manly125 qualities, and her divine attributes, some great work might be fulfilled on earth; who saw all as God’s command, and done by his special interposition; to find this heavenly tissue swept away, beaten down, and destroyed! It was to his fortunes, good or bad, that she had bound herself, to share his glory or soothe126 his griefs; and not to be the mistress of the passing hour, the distaff of the spinning Hercules. It was her heart, her whole soul she had given; her understanding, her prophetic powers, all the little universe that with her ardent spirit she grasped and possessed, she had surrendered, fully2, and without reserve; but alas! the most worthless part alone had been accepted, and the rest cast as dust upon the winds. How in this moment did she long to be a winged soul, that her person heedlessly given, given only as a part of that to the whole of which he had an indefeasible right, and which was now despised, might melt away from the view of the despiser, and be seen no more! The words of her lover brought despair, not comfort; she shook her head in silence; Castruccio spoke again and again; but many words are dangerous where there is much to conceal127, and every syllable128 he uttered laid bare some new forgery129 of her imagination, and shewed her more and more clearly the harsh reality. She was astounded130, and drank in his words eagerly, though she answered not; she was impatient when he was silent, for she longed to know the worst; yet she dared not direct the course of his explanations by a single enquiry: she was as a mother, who reads the death — warrant of her child on the physician’s brow, yet blindly trusting that she decyphers ill, will not destroy the last hope by a question. Even so she listened to the assurances of Castruccio, each word being a fresh assurance of her misery131, yet not stamping that last damning seal on her despair.
At length grey dawn appeared; she was silent, motionless and wan82; she marked it not; but he did; and rising hastily he cried, “I must go, or you are lost; farewell, Beatrice!”
Now she awoke, her eyes glared, her lovely features became even distorted by the strength of her agony, — she started up — “Not yet, not yet — one word more! Do you — love another?”
Her tone was that of command; — her flashing eyes demanded the truth, and seemed as if they would by their excessive force strike the falsehood dead, if he dared utter it: he was subdued132, impelled133 to reply:—
“I do.”
“Her name?”
“Euthanasia.”
“Enough, I will remember that name in my prayers. Now, go! seek not to come again; the entrance will be closed; do not endeavour to see me at the house of the bishop; I shall fly you as a basilisk, and, if I see you, your eyes will kill me. Remember these are my words; they are as true, as that I am all a lie. It will kill me; but I swear by all my hopes never to see you more. Oh, never, never!”
She again sank down pale and lifeless, pressing her hands upon her eyes, as if the more speedily to fulfil her vow. Castruccio dared stay no longer, he fled as the d?mon might have fled from the bitter sorrows of despoiled134 Paradise; he left her aghast, overthrown135, annihilated136.
He quitted Ferrara that day. He was miserable137: careless of the road, he sought solitude alone. Before night he was among the wild forests of the Apennines, — and there he paused; he was surrounded by the dark pine-forests that sung above him, covered by a night which was cloudy and unquiet, for the swift wind drove the rack along the sky, and moaned, and howled; while the lightnings of a distant storm, faint, but frequent, displayed the savage138 spot on which he rested. He threw himself from his horse, and abandoned himself to sorrow: it stung him to reflect, that he was the cause of sharpest pain to one who loved him; and the excuses he fondly leaned upon before his explanation, broke as a reed under the wild force of Beatrice’s despair. He had heard her story, he knew her delusions, and ought not to have acted towards her, as to a fellow-being who walked in the same light as himself, and saw objects dressed in the same colours: a false sun made every thing deceptive139 for her eyes, — and he knew it.
Yet what could he now do? Go again to Beatrice? Wherefore? What could he say? but one word — “forget me!” And that was already said. His early vows140, his deepest and his lasting141 hopes, were bound up in Euthanasia: she depended on him alone; she had no father, no relation, none to love but him. She had told him that she gave up her soul to him, and had intreated him not to cast aside the gift. Beatrice had never demanded his faith, his promise, his full and entire heart; but she believed that she had them, and the loss sustained by her was irretrievable.
Yet she would soon forget him: thus he reasoned; hers was one of those minds ever tossed like the ocean by the tempest of passion; yet, like the ocean, let the winds abate142, and it subsides143, and quickly again becomes smiling. She had many friends; she was loved, nay, adored, by all who surrounded her: utter hopelessness of ever seeing him again would cause her to forget him; her old ideas, her old habits would return, and she would be happy. His interference alone could harm her; but she, the spoiled child of the world, would weep out her grief on some fond and friendly bosom144, and then again laugh and play as she was wont.
He spent the following day and night among these forests; until the tempest of his soul was calmed, and his thoughts, before entangled and matted by vanity and error, now flowed loose, borne on by repentance145, as the clinging weeds of a dried — up brook146 are spread free and distinct by the re-appearance of the clear stream. He no longer felt the withering147 look of Beatrice haunt even his dreams; it appeared to him that he had paid the mulct of remorse148 and error; the impression of her enchantments149 and of her sorrows wore off; and he returned with renewed tenderness to Euthanasia, whom he had wronged; and, in the knowledge that he had shamed her pure lessons, he felt a true and wholesome150 sorrow, which was itself virtue. Yet he dared not go back to her; he dared not meet her clear, calm eye; and he felt that his cheek would burn with shame under her innocent gaze. He suddenly remembered his engagement to visit Pepi, the old Ghibeline politician, who, without honesty or humanity, snuffed up the air of self-conceit, and who, thus inflated151, believed himself entitled to cover others with the venom152 of sarcasm153 and contempt.
“Yes, old fox!” he cried, “I will unearth154 you, and see if there is aught in your kennel155 worth the labour. Methinks you would give out as if gold were under the dirt, or that power and wisdom lurked beneath your sheepskin and wrinkles; but believe me, my good friend, we Italians, however base our politics may be, are not yet low enough to feed from a trough with you for the driver.”
The recollection of something so low and contemptible156 as Benedetto of Cremona, relieved Castruccio from a load of dissatisfaction and remorse. Comparing Pepi with himself, not directly, but by inference of infinite contempt, he felt that he could again unabashed raise his eyes. This was not well; far better was the blush of humiliation157 which covered him in comparing his soiled purposes and strayed heart to something high and pure, than the ignoble158 heavings of self-consequence in matching himself with such a blotted159 specimen160 of humanity as Pepi. So, as we are wont, when we return from the solitude of self-examination to the company of fellow-sinners, he twisted up again the disentangled tresses of his frank and sincere thoughts into the million-knotted ties of the world’s customs and saintly-looking falsehoods; and, leaving the woods of the Apennines, something wiser in self-knowledge, and but little improved in generous virtue, and the government of his passions, he put spurs to his horse, and turned his steps towards Cremona.
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1
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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6
beheld
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| 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 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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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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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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narration
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| n.讲述，叙述；故事；记叙体 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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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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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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cloistered
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| adj.隐居的，躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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30
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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31
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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33
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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34
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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35
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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36
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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37
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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38
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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39
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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40
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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41
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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42
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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43
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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44
modulation
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| n.调制 | |
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45
conned
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| adj.被骗了v.指挥操舵( conn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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47
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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49
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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50
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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51
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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52
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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54
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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55
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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56
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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58
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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59
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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60
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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61
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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62
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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63
intoxicating
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| a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
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64
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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65
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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66
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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68
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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69
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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71
owls
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| n.猫头鹰( owl的名词复数 ) | |
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72
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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73
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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74
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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75
perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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76
solicited
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| v.恳求( solicit的过去式和过去分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
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77
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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78
intruded
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| 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 | |
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79
imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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80
texture
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| n.(织物)质地；(材料)构造；结构；肌理 | |
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81
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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82
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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83
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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85
fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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86
curbed
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| v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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88
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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89
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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90
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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91
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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92
delusive
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| adj.欺骗的，妄想的 | |
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93
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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94
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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95
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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96
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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97
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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98
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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99
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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100
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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101
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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102
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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103
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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104
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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105
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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106
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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107
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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108
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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109
totter
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| v.蹒跚， 摇摇欲坠；n.蹒跚的步子 | |
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110
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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111
embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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112
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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113
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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114
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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115
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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116
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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117
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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118
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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120
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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121
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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122
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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123
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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124
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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125
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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126
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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127
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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128
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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129
forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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130
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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131
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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132
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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133
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
overthrown
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| adj. 打翻的，推倒的，倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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136
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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137
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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138
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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139
deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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140
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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141
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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142
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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143
subsides
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的第三人称单数 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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144
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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145
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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146
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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147
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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148
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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149
enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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150
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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151
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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152
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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153
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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154
unearth
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| v.发掘，掘出，从洞中赶出 | |
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155
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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156
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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157
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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158
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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159
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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160
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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