“Forget, I do intreat you, poor sufferer, all your past unhappiness; forget every thing that you once were.”
“Aye, you say right; I must forget every thing, or to be what I am must torture me to despair. Poor, misled, foolish, insensate Beatrice! I can accuse myself alone for my many ills; myself, and that power who sits on high, and scatters6 evil like dew upon the earth, a killing7, blighting9 honey dew.”
“Hush! my poor girl, do not talk thus; indeed I must not have you utter these sentiments.”
“Oh! let me speak: before all others I must hide my bursting feelings, deep, deep. Yet for one moment let me curse!”
Beatrice arose; she pointed10 to heaven; she stood in the same attitude, as when she had prophesied11 to the people of Ferrara under the portico12 of the church of St. Anna; but how changed! Her form thin; her face care-worn; her love-formed lips withered13; her hands and arms, then so round and fair, now wrinkled and faded; her eyes were not the same; they had lost that softness which, mingling14 with their fire, was as something wonderful in brilliancy and beauty; they now, like the sun from beneath a thunder cloud, glared fiercely from under her dark and scattered15 hair that shaded her brow: but even now, as in those times, she spoke16 with tumultuous eloquence17:
“Euthanasia, you are much deceived; you either worship a useless shadow, or a fiend in the clothing of a god. Listen to me, while I announce to you the eternal and victorious18 influence of evil, which circulates like air about us, clinging to our flesh like a poisonous garment, eating into us, and destroying us. Are you blind, that you see it not? Are you deaf, that you hear no groans19? Are you insensible, that you feel no misery20? Open your eyes, and you will behold21 all of which I speak, standing22 in hideous23 array before you. Look around. Is there not war, violation24 of treaties, and hard-hearted cruelty? Look at the societies of men; are not our fellow creatures tormented26 one by the other in an endless circle of pain? Some shut up in iron cages, starved and destroyed; cities float in blood, and the hopes of the husbandman are manured by his own mangled27 limbs: remember the times of our fathers, the extirpation28 of the Albigenses; — the cruelties of Ezzelin, when troops of the blind, and the lame29, and the mutilated, the scum of his prisons, inundated30 the Italian states. Remember the destruction of the templars. Did you never glance in thought into the tower of famine of Ugolino; or into the hearts of the armies of exiles, that each day the warring citizens banish31 from their homes? Did you never reflect on the guilty policy of the Popes, those ministers of the reigning32 king of heaven? Remember the Sicilian vespers; the death of the innocent Conradin; the myriads33 whose bones are now bleached35 beneath the sun of Asia: they went in honour of His name, and thus He rewards them.
“Then reflect upon domestic life, on the strife36, hatred37 and uncharitableness, that, as sharp spears, pierce one’s bosom39 at every turn; think of jealousy40, midnight murders, envy, want of faith, calumny41, ingratitude, cruelty, and all which man in his daily sport inflicts42 upon man. Think upon disease, plague, famine, leprosy, fever, and all the aching pains our limbs suffer withal; visit in thought the hospital, the lazar house; Oh! surely God’s hand is the chastening hand of a father, that thus torments43 his children! His children? his eternal enemies! look, I am one! He created the seeds of disease, maremma, thirst, want; he created man, — that most wretched of slaves; oh! know you not what a wretch44 man is? and what a store house of infinite pain is this much-vaunted human soul? Look into your own heart; or, if that be too peaceful, gaze on mine; I will tear it open for your inspection45. There is remorse46, hatred, grief — overwhelming, mighty47, and eternal misery. God created me: am I the work of a beneficent being? Oh, what spirit mingled48 in my wretched frame love, hope, energy, confidence, — to find indifference49, to be blasted to despair, to be as weak as the fallen leaf, to be betrayed by all! Now I am changed, — I hate; — my energy is spent in curses, and if I trust, it is to be the more deeply wounded.
“Did not the power you worship create the passions of man; his desires which outleap possibility, and bring ruin upon his head? Did he not implant51 the seeds of ambition, revenge and hate? Did he not create love, the tempter: he who keeps the key of that mansion52 whose motto must ever be Lasciate ogni speranza voi che intrate.
And the imagination, that masterpiece of his malice53; that spreads honey on the cup that you may drink poison; that strews54 roses over thorns, thorns sharp and big as spears; that semblance55 of beauty which beckons56 you to the desert; that apple of gold with the heart of ashes; that foul57 image, with the veil of excellence58; that mist of the maremma, glowing with roseate hues59 beneath the sun, that creates it, and beautifies it, to destroy you; that diadem60 of nettles61; that spear, broken in the heart! He, the damned and triumphant62 one, sat meditating many thousand years for the conclusion, the consummation, the final crown, the seal of all misery, which he might set on man’s brain and heart to doom63 him to endless torment25; and he created the Imagination. And then we are told the fault is ours; good and evil are sown in our hearts, and ours is the tillage, ours the harvest; and can this justify64 an omnipotent65 deity66 that he permits one particle of pain to subsist67 in his world? Oh, never.
“I tell thee what; there is not an atom of life in this all — peopled world that does not suffer pain; we destroy animals; — look at your own dress, which a myriad34 of living creatures wove and then died; those sables68, — a thousand hearts once beat beneath those skins, quenched70 in the agonies of death to furnish forth71 that cloak. Yet why not? While they lived, those miserable72 hearts beat under the influence of fear, cold and famine. Oh! better to die, than to suffer! The whale in the great ocean destroys nations of fish, but thousands live on him and torment him. Destruction is the watchword of the world; the death by which it lives, the despair by which it hopes: oh, surely a good being created all this!
“Let me tell you, that you do ill to ally yourself to the triumphant spirit of evil, leaving the worship of the good, who is fallen and depressed73, yet who still lives. He wanders about the world a proscribed74 and helpless thing, hooted75 from the palaces of kings, excommunicated from churches; sometimes he wanders into the heart of man, and makes his bosom glow with love and virtue76; but so surely as he enters, misfortune, bound to him by his enemy, as a corpse77 to a living body, enters with him; the wretch who has received his influence, becomes poor, helpless and deserted78; happy if he be not burnt at the stake, whipped with iron, torn with red-hot pincers.
“The Spirit of Evil chose a nation for his own; the Spirit of Good tried to redeem79 that nation from its gulf80 of vice81 and misery, and was cruelly destroyed by it; and now, as the masterpiece of the enemy, they are adored together; and he the beneficent, kind and suffering, is made the mediator82 to pull down curses upon us.
“How quick and secure are the deeds of the evil spirit; how slow and uncertain those of the good! I remember once a good and learned friend of mine telling me, that the country about Athens was adorned83 by the most exquisite84 works man had ever produced; marble temples traced with divine sculpture, statues transcending85 human beauty; the art of man had been exhausted86 to embellish87 it, the lives of hundreds of men had been wasted to accomplish it, the genius of the wisest had been employed in its execution; ages had passed, while slowly, year by year, these wonders had been collected; some were almost falling through exceeding age, while others shone in their first infancy88. Well:— a king, Philip of Macedon, destroyed all these in three days, burnt them, razed89 them, annihilated91 them. This is the proportionate energy of good and evil; the produce of ages is the harvest of a moment; a man may spend years in curbing93 his passions, in acquiring wisdom, in becoming an angel in excellence; the brutality94 of a fellow creature, or the chance of war, may fell him in an instant; and all his knowledge and virtues95 become blank, as a moonless, starless night.
“Euthanasia, my heart aches, and my spirits flag: I was a poor, simple girl; but I have suffered much; and endurance, and bitter experience have let me into the truth of things; the deceitful veil which is cast over this world, is powerless to hide its deformity from me. I see the cruel heart, which lurks96 beneath the beautiful skin of the pard; I see the blight8 of autumn in the green leaves of spring, the wrinkles of age in the face of youth, rust50 on the burnished97 iron, storm in the very breast of calm, sorrow in the heart of joy; all beauty wraps deformity, as the fruit the kernel98; Time opens the shell, the seed is poison.”
The eyes of Beatrice shot forth sparks of fire as she poured out this anathema99 against the creation; her cheeks were fevered with a hectic100 glow; her voice, sharp and broken, which was sometimes raised almost to a shriek101, and sometimes lowered to a whisper, fell on the brain of Euthanasia like a rain of alternate fire and ice; she shrunk and trembled beneath the flood of terror that inundated and confounded her understanding: but the eloquent102 prophetess of Evil ceased at last, and, pale and exhausted, she sank down; clasping Euthanasia in her arms, she hid her face on her knees, and sobbed103, and wept: “Forgive me, if I have said that which appears to you blasphemy104; I will unveil my heart to you, tell you my sufferings, and surely you will then curse with me the author of my being.”
Euthanasia spoke consolation105 alone; she bade her weep no more; that she need no longer fear or hate; that she might again love, hope and trust; and that she as a tender sister would sympathize with and support her. The undisciplined mind of poor Beatrice was as a flower that droops106 beneath the storm; but, on the first gleam of sunshine, raises again its head, even though the hail-stones and the wind might have broken and tarnished107 its leaves and its tints108. She looked up, and smiled; “I will do all that you tell me; I will be docile110, good and affectionate; — I will be obedient to your smallest sign, kindest, dearest Euthanasia. Trust me, you shall make me a Catholic again, if you will love me unceasingly for one whole year, and in the mean time I do not die. I am very teachable, very, very tractable111; but I have suffered greatly, as one day you will know; for I will tell you every thing. Now, good bye; I am very tired, and I think I shall sleep.”
“Sleep then, poor creature; here is a couch ready for you; I will watch near you; and may your dreams be pleasant.”
“Give me your hand then; I will hold it while I rest; how small, and white, and soft it is! Look at mine, it is yellow and dry; once it was like yours; I think it was rather smaller, but never so well shaped; the tips of my fingers and my nails were never dyed by so roseate a tint109 as this, nor was the palm so silken soft. You are very beautiful, and very good, dear Euthanasia; I hope you are, and will be happy.”
Euthanasia kissed the forehead of this child of imagination and misery; and soon she slept, forgetful of all her sufferings. Euthanasia felt deeply interested in her; she felt that they were bound together, by their love for one who loved only himself; she thought over her wild denunciations; and, strange to say, she felt doubly warmed with admiration112 of the creation, and gratitude3 towards God, at the moment that Beatrice had painted its defects. She thought of the beauty of the world and the wondrous113 nature of man, until her mind was raised to an enthusiastic sentiment of happiness and praise. “And you also shall curb92 your wild thoughts,” whispered Euthanasia, as she looked at the sleeping girl; “I will endeavour to teach you the lessons of true religion; and, in reducing the wandering thoughts of one so lovely and so good, I shall be in part fulfilling my task on the earth.”
For several days after this conversation Beatrice became peaceful and mild, saying little, and appearing complacent114, almost content; she attended mass, told her beads115, and talked of going to confession116. Euthanasia was astounded117; she was herself so steady in her principles, so firm in opinion and action, slow to change, but resolute118 having changed, that she was at a loss to understand the variable feelings and swift mutations of the poor, untaught Beatrice.
“Confess!” she repeated; “you promised that I should convert you in a year; but you have already forsaken119 your Paterin opinions!”
“No, indeed, I have not; but it is of so little consequence; I would please you, dearest, by seeming what I am not; not that I am sure that I am not what you desire. You know, if God is good, he will forgive my errors: if he is evil, I care not to please him; so I shall endeavour to please the virtuous120 and kind of this world, and you are one of those, my best friend. Besides, now I think of it, this world seems too beautiful to have been created by an evil spirit; he would have made us all toads121, the trees and flowers all mushrooms, and the rocks and mountains would have been huge, formless polypi. Yet there is evil; but I will not trouble myself more about it; you shall form my creed122; and, as a lisping infant, with clasped hands, I will repeat my prayers after you.”
“Why so, dearest Beatrice? Why will you not recall the creeds123 of your childhood, as your adoptive parents taught them you? I cannot school you better than they.”
“My childhood!” cried the prophetess; her eyes becoming dark and stormy, “what to become again a dupe, a maniac124? to fall again, as I have fallen? Cease, cease, in mercy cease, to talk of my childhood; days of error, vanity and paradise! My lessons must all be new; all retold in words signifying other ideas than what they signified during my mad, brief dream of youth. Then faith was not a shadow: it was what these eyes saw; I clutched hope, and found it certainty; I heard the angels of heaven, and saw the souls of the departed; can I ever see them again?”
“Sweetest and most unfortunate, drive away memory, and take hope to you. Youth is indeed a dream; and, if I spent it not in your ecstasies125, yet believe me I was not then as I am now. I am older than you, and know life better; I have passed the fearful change from dream to reality, and am now calm. I have known all your throes; sometimes indeed they now visit me; but I quench69 them, cast them aside, tread on them; — so may you.”
“Never! never!” replied Beatrice: “I was born for wretchedness. When the fates twined my destiny, they mingled three threads; the first was green hope, the second purple joy, the third black despair; but the two first were very short, and soon came to an end; a dreary126 line of black alone remains127. Yet I would forget all that; and for many days I have been as calm as a bird that broods, rocked on her tree by a gentle wind; full of a quiet, sleepy life. Should this state continue longer, I might become what you wish me to be; but I find my soul awakening129, and I fear a relapse; I fear the return of tears and endless groans. Oh! let me wrap myself round you, my better angel, hope of my life; pour your balmy words upon me; lay your cool, healthful cheek near my burning one, let our pulses beat responsive! Oh! that once I could become less feverish130, less wild, less like a dark and crimsoned131 thunder-cloud, driven away, away, through the unknown wildernesses132 of sky.”
Euthanasia was glad to hear her suffering friend talk, however wildly; for she observed that, when she had exhausted herself in speech, she became calmer and happier; while, if she brooded silently over her cares, she became almost insane through grief. Occasionally she sought consolation in music; there was something magical in her voice, and in the tones she could draw from the organ or the harp38: in her days of glory it had been said, that she was taught to sing by angelic instructors133; and now those remembered melodies remained, sole relics134 of her faded honours. The recollection of this sometimes disturbed her; and she would suddenly break off her song, and peevishly135 exclaim, that music, like the rest of the world’s masks, contained the soul of bitterness within its form of beauty.
“Not so, dear girl,” said Euthanasia; “Euterpe has ever been so dear a friend of mine, that I cannot permit you to calumniate136 her unjustly; there is to me an unalloyed pleasure in music. Some blessed spirit, compassionate137 of man’s estate, and loving him, sent it, to teach him that he is other than what he seems: it comes, like a voice from a far world, to tell you that there are depths of intense emotion veiled in the blue empyrean, and the windows of heaven are opened by music alone. It chastens and lulls138 our ecstasies; and, if it awakens139 grief, it also soothes140 it. But more than to the happy or the sorrowful, music is an inestimable gift to those who forget all sublimer141 emotions in the pursuits of daily life. I listen to the talk of men; I play with my embroidery-frame; I enter into society: suddenly high song awakens me, and I leave all this tedious routine far, far distant; I listen, till all the world is changed, and the beautiful earth becomes more beautiful. Evening and all its soft delights, morning and all its refreshing142 loveliness; — noonday, when the busy soul rests, like the sun in its diurnal143 course, and then gathering144 new strength, descends145; all these, when thought upon, bring pleasure; but music is far more delicious than these. Never do I feel happier and better, than when I have heard sweet music; my thoughts often sleep like young children nestled in their cradles, until music awakens them, and they open their starry146 eyes. I may be mistaken; but music seems to me to reveal to us some of the profoundest secrets of the universe; and the spirit, freed from prison by its charms, can then soar, and gaze with eagle eyes on the eternal sun of this all-beauteous world.”
Beatrice smiled. — Since her days of happiness had ended, Euthanasia’s enthusiasm had become more concentrated, more concealed147; but Beatrice again awoke to her words, and these two ladies, bound by the sweet ties of gratitude and pity, found in each other’s converse148 some balm for their misfortunes. Circumstances had thus made friends of those whom nature seemed to separate: they were much unlike; but the wild looks of Beatrice sometimes reflected the soft light of Euthanasia’s eyes; and Euthanasia found her heart, which was sinking to apathy149, awake again, as she listened to Beatrice. And, though we may be unhappy, we can never be perfectly150 wretched, while the mind is active; it is inaction alone that constitutes true wretchedness.
In the mean time her own journey to Florence was put off indefinitely. She was too much interested in the fate of Beatrice, and already loved her too well, to desert her; the poor prophetess appeared little capable of the journey, since the most trifling151 circumstance would awaken128 her wildest fancies, and fever and convulsions followed. Once indeed Euthanasia had mentioned her wish to go thither152; Beatrice looked at her with flashing eyes, and cried, “Did you not promise never to desert me? Are you faithless also?”
“But would you not accompany me?”
“Do you see that river that flows near Lucca?” exclaimed Beatrice. “I fancy that it has flowed through the self-same banks these many thousand years; and sooner will it desert them, than I this town. See you that cypress153, that grows towering above all its neighbour trees in that convent-garden, I am as firm to this soil as that; I will never leave this place but by force, and then I die.”
She said these words in her wildest manner; and they were followed by such an annihilation of strength, and such symptoms of fever, that Euthanasia did not again dare mention her removal to Florence. She also suffered less by her continued stay at Lucca; for the feelings of her heart were so completely absorbed in pity and love for Beatrice, that the painful ideas of many years’ growth seemed rooted out by a new and mightier154 power. She was so little selfish, that she could easily forget her own sorrows, deep as they were, in her sympathy for the unhappy prophetess, who had suffered evils tremendous and irremediable.
Castruccio often sent to learn of the welfare of this poor girl, and Euthanasia answered his enquiries with exactness. She did this; for she thought that perhaps the future destiny of Beatrice was in his hands, and that he might engraft life and even happiness on the blighted155 plant.
One day Beatrice went out. It was the first time she had quitted the palace; and Euthanasia was vexed156 and anxious. After an absence of some hours she returned; she was clothed in a great coarse cloak that entirely157 disguised her; she put it off; and, trembling, blushing, panting, she threw herself into the arms of her protectress.
“I have seen him! I have seen him!”
“Calm yourself, poor fluttering bird; you have seen him: well, well, he is changed, much altered; why do you weep?”
“Aye, he is changed; but he is far more beautiful than ever he was. Oh, Euthanasia, how radiant, how divine he is! His eyes, which, like the eagle’s, could outgaze the sun, yet melt in the sweetest love, as a cloud, shining, yet soft; his brow, manly158 and expansive, on which his raven159 curls rest; his upturned lips, where pride, and joy, and love, and wisdom, and triumph live, small spirits, ready to obey his smallest will; and his head, cinctured by a slight diadem, looks carved out by the intensest knowledge of beauty! How graceful160 his slightest motion! and his voice, — his voice is here, — ”
Beatrice put her hand upon her heart; her eyes were filled with tears; and the whole expression of her face was softened161 and humanized. Suddenly she stopped; she dried her eyes; and, fixing them on Euthanasia, she took her two hands in hers, and looked on her, as if she would read her soul. “Beautiful creature,” she said, “once he told me that he loved you. Did he not? does he not? Why are you separated? do you not love him?”
“I did; once I did truly; but he has cast off that which was my love; and, like a flower plucked from the stalk, it has withered — as you see it.”
“Aye, that is strange. What did he cast off?”
“Why will you make me speak? He cast off humanity, honesty, honourable162 feeling, all that I prize.”
“Forms, forms, — mere163 forms, my mistaken Euthanasia. He remained, and was not that every thing? Methinks, it would please me, that my lover should cast off all humanity, and be a reprobate164, and an outcast of his species. Oh! then how deeply and tenderly I should love him; soiled with crimes, his hands dripping blood, I would shade him as the flowering shrub165 invests the ruin; I would cover him with a spotless veil; — my intensity166 of love would annihilate90 his wickedness; — every one would hate him; — but, if all adored him, it would not come near the sum of my single affection. I should be every thing to him, life, and hope; he would die in his remorse; but he would live again and again in the light of my love; I would invest him as a silvery mist, so that none should see how evil he was; I would pour out before him large draughts167 of love, that he should become drunk with it, until he grew good and kind. So you deserted this glorious being, and he has felt the pangs168 of unrequited affection, the helpless throes of love cast as water upon the sand of the desert? Oh, indeed I pity him!”
“Believe me,” cried Euthanasia, “he has other affections. Glory and conquest are his mistresses, and he is a successful lover; already he has deluged169 our valleys in blood, and turned our habitations into black and formless ruins; he has torn down the banners of the Florentines, and planted his own upon the towers of noble cities; I believe him to be happy.”
“Thank God for that; I would pour out my blood, drop by drop, to make him happy. But he is not married, and you have deserted him; I love him; he has loved me; is it impossible —? Oh! foolish, hateful wretch that I am, what do I say? No creature was ever so utterly170 undone171!”
Beatrice covered her face with her hands; her struggles were violent; she shrunk from Euthanasia’s consoling embrace; and at length, quite overcome, she sank in convulsions on the pavement of the hall. Her paroxysm was long and fearful; it was succeeded by a heavy lethargic172 sleep; during the first part of which she was feverish and uneasy; but, after some hours, her cheeks became pale, her pulse beat slower, and her breath was drawn173 regularly.
Euthanasia watched beside her alone: when she found that she was sleeping quietly and deeply, she retired174 from her bedside; and, sitting at some distance, she tried to school herself on the bitter feelings that had oppressed her since the morning. Euthanasia was so self-examining, that she never allowed a night to elapse without recalling her feelings and actions of the past day; she endeavoured to be simply just to herself, and her soul had so long been accustomed to this discipline, that it easily laid open its dearest secrets. Misfortune had not dulled her sense of right and wrong; her understanding was still clear, though tinged175 by the same lofty enthusiasm which had ever been her characteristic. She now searched her soul to find what were the feelings which still remained to her concerning Castruccio; she hardly knew whether it was hate or love. Hate! could she hate one, to whom once she had delivered up all her thoughts, as to the tribunal of her God, whom she had loved as one to whom she was willing to unite herself for ever? And could she love one, who had deceived her in her dearest hopes, who had lulled176 her on the brink177 of a precipice178, to plunge179 her with greater force to eternal unhappiness? She felt neither hatred, nor revenge, nor contempt colder than either; she felt grief alone, and that sentiment was deeply engraven on her soul.
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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scatters
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| v.（使）散开， （使）分散，驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 )；撒 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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blighting
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| 使凋萎( blight的现在分词 )； 使颓丧； 损害； 妨害 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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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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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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26
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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27
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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28
extirpation
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| n.消灭，根除，毁灭；摘除 | |
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29
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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30
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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31
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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32
reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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33
myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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34
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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35
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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36
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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37
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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38
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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39
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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40
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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41
calumny
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| n.诽谤，污蔑，中伤 | |
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42
inflicts
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的第三人称单数 ) | |
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43
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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44
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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45
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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46
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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47
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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48
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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49
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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50
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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51
implant
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| vt.注入，植入，灌输 | |
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52
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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53
malice
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|
| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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54
strews
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| v.撒在…上( strew的第三人称单数 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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55
semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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56
beckons
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
foul
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|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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58
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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59
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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60
diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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61
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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62
triumphant
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|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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63
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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64
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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65
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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66
deity
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| n.神，神性；被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
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67
subsist
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| vi.生存，存在，供养 | |
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68
sables
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| n.紫貂( sable的名词复数 )；紫貂皮；阴暗的；暗夜 | |
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69
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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70
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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71
forth
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|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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72
miserable
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|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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73
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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74
proscribed
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| v.正式宣布（某事物）有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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77
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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78
deserted
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|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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79
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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80
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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81
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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82
mediator
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| n.调解人，中介人 | |
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83
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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84
exquisite
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|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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85
transcending
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|
| 超出或超越（经验、信念、描写能力等）的范围( transcend的现在分词 )； 优于或胜过… | |
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86
exhausted
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|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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87
embellish
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| v.装饰，布置；给…添加细节，润饰 | |
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88
infancy
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|
| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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89
razed
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| v.彻底摧毁，将…夷为平地( raze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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91
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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92
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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93
curbing
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|
| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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94
brutality
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|
| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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95
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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96
lurks
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|
| n.潜在，潜伏；（lurk的复数形式）vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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97
burnished
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|
| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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98
kernel
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| n.(果实的)核，仁；(问题)的中心，核心 | |
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99
anathema
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| n.诅咒；被诅咒的人(物)，十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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100
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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101
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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102
eloquent
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|
| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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103
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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104
blasphemy
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|
| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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105
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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106
droops
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的名词复数 ) | |
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107
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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108
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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109
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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110
docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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111
tractable
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| adj.易驾驭的；温顺的 | |
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112
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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113
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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114
complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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115
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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116
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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117
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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118
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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119
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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120
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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121
toads
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆( toad的名词复数 ) | |
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122
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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123
creeds
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| （尤指宗教）信条，教条( creed的名词复数 ) | |
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124
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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125
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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126
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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127
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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128
awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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129
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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130
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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131
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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132
wildernesses
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|
| 荒野( wilderness的名词复数 )； 沙漠； （政治家）在野； 不再当政（或掌权） | |
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133
instructors
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| 指导者，教师( instructor的名词复数 ) | |
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134
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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135
peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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136
calumniate
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| v.诬蔑，中伤 | |
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137
compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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138
lulls
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| n.间歇期（lull的复数形式）vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的第三人称单数形式） | |
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139
awakens
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的第三人称单数 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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140
soothes
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| v.安慰( soothe的第三人称单数 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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141
sublimer
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| 使高尚者，纯化器 | |
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142
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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143
diurnal
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| adj.白天的，每日的 | |
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144
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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145
descends
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| v.下来( descend的第三人称单数 )；下去；下降；下斜 | |
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146
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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147
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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148
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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149
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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150
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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151
trifling
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|
| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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153
cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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154
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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157
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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160
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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161
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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162
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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167
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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168
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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169
deluged
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| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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170
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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171
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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172
lethargic
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| adj.昏睡的，懒洋洋的 | |
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173
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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174
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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175
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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177
brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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178
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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