The walk had been long and confoundedly sunny. Davidson stood wiping his wet neck and face on what Schomberg called “the piazza4.” Several doors opened on to it, but all the screens were down. Not a soul was in sight, not even a China boy — nothing but a lot of painted iron chairs and tables. Solitude5, shade, and gloomy silence — and a faint, treacherous6 breeze which came from under the trees and quite unexpectedly caused the melting Davidson to shiver slightly — the little shiver of the tropics which in Sourabaya, especially, often means fever and the hospital to the incautious white man.
The prudent8 Davidson sought shelter in the nearest darkened room. In the artificial dusk, beyond the levels of shrouded9 billiard-tables, a white form heaved up from two chairs on which it had been extended. The middle of the day, table d’hote tiffin once over, was Schomberg’s easy time. He lounged out, portly, deliberate, on the defensive10, the great fair beard like a cuirass over his manly11 chest. He did not like Davidson, never a very faithful client of his. He hit a bell on one of the tables as he went by, and asked in a distant, Officer-in-Reserve manner:
“You desire?”
The good Davidson, still sponging his wet neck, declared with simplicity12 that he had come to fetch away Heyst, as agreed.
“Not here!”
A Chinaman appeared in response to the bell. Schomberg turned to him very severely13:
“Take the gentleman’s order.”
Davidson had to be going. Couldn’t wait — only begged that Heyst should be informed that the Sissie would leave at midnight.
“Not — here, I am telling you!”
Davidson slapped his thigh14 in concern.
“Dear me! Hospital, I suppose.” A natural enough surmise15 in a very feverish16 locality.
The Lieutenant17 of the Reserve only pursed up his mouth and raised his eyebrows18 without looking at him. It might have meant anything, but Davidson dismissed the hospital idea with confidence. However, he had to get hold of Heyst between this and midnight:
“He has been staying here?” he asked.
“Yes, he was staying here.”
“Can you tell me where he is now?” Davidson went on placidly20. Within himself he was beginning to grow anxious, having developed the affection of a self-appointed protector towards Heyst. The answer he got was:
“Can’t tell. It’s none of my business,” accompanied by majestic21 oscillations of the hotel-keeper’s head, hinting at some awful mystery.
Davidson was placidity22 itself. It was his nature. He did not betray his sentiments, which were not favourable23 to Schomberg.
“I am sure to find out at the Tesmans’ office,” he thought. But it was a very hot hour, and if Heyst was down at the port he would have learned already that the Sissie was in. It was even possible that Heyst had already gone on board, where he could enjoy a coolness denied to the town. Davidson, being stout24, was much preoccupied25 with coolness and inclined to immobility. He lingered awhile, as if irresolute26. Schomberg, at the door, looking out, affected27 perfect indifference28. He could not keep it up, though. Suddenly he turned inward and asked with brusque rage:
“You wanted to see him?”
“Why, yes,” said Davidson. “We agreed to meet —”
“Don’t you bother. He doesn’t care about that now.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“Well, you can judge for yourself. He isn’t here, is he? You take my word for it. Don’t you bother about him. I am advising you as a friend.”
“Thank you,” said, Davidson, inwardly startled at the savage29 tone. “I think I will sit down for a moment and have a drink, after all.”
This was not what Schomberg had expected to hear. He called brutally31:
“Boy!”
The Chinaman approached, and after referring him to the white man by a nod the hotel-keeper departed, muttering to himself. Davidson heard him gnash his teeth as he went.
Davidson sat alone with the billiard-tables as if there had been not a soul staying in the hotel. His placidity was so genuine that he was not unduly33, fretting34 himself over the absence of Heyst, or the mysterious manners Schomberg had treated him to. He was considering these things in his own fairly shrewd way. Something had happened; and he was loath35 to go away to investigate, being restrained by a presentiment36 that somehow enlightenment would come to him there. A poster of CONCERTS EVERY EVENING, like those on the gate, but in a good state of preservation37, hung on the wall fronting him. He looked at it idly and was struck by the fact — then not so very common — that it was a ladies’ orchestra; “Zangiacomo’s eastern tour — eighteen performers.” The poster stated that they had had the honour of playing their select repertoire38 before various colonial excellencies, also before pashas, sheiks, chiefs, H. H. the Sultan of Mascate, etc., etc.
Davidson felt sorry for the eighteen lady-performers. He knew what that sort of life was like, the sordid39 conditions and brutal30 incidents of such tours led by such Zangiacomos who often were anything but musicians by profession. While he was staring at the poster, a door somewhere at his back opened, and a woman came in who was looked upon as Schomberg’s wife, no doubt with truth. As somebody remarked cynically40 once, she was too unattractive to be anything else. The opinion that he treated her abominably41 was based on her frightened expression. Davidson lifted his hat to her. Mrs. Schomberg gave him an inclination42 of her sallow head and incontinently sat down behind a sort of raised counter, facing the door, with a mirror and rows of bottles at her back. Her hair was very elaborately done with two ringlets on the left side of her scraggy neck; her dress was of silk, and she had come on duty for the afternoon. For some reason or other Schomberg exacted this from her, though she added nothing to the fascinations43 of the place. She sat there in the smoke and noise, like an enthroned idol44, smiling stupidly over the billiards45 from time to time, speaking to no one, and no one speaking to her. Schomberg himself took no more interest in her than may be implied in a sudden and totally unmotived scowl46. Otherwise the very Chinamen ignored her existence.
She had interrupted Davidson in his reflections. Being alone with her, her silence and open-mouthed immobility made him uncomfortable. He was easily sorry for people. It seemed rude not to take any notice of her. He said, in allusion47 to the poster:
“Are you having these people in the house?”
She was so unused to being addressed by customers that at the sound of his voice she jumped in her seat. Davidson was telling us afterwards that she jumped exactly like a figure made of wood, without losing her rigid48 immobility. She did not even move her eyes; but she answered him freely, though her very lips seemed made of wood.
“They stayed here over a month. They are gone now. They played every evening.”
“Pretty good, were they?”
To this she said nothing; and as she kept on staring fixedly49 in front of her, her silence disconcerted Davidson. It looked as if she had not heard him — which was impossible. Perhaps she drew the line of speech at the expression of opinions. Schomberg might have trained her, for domestic reasons, to keep them to herself. But Davidson felt in honour obliged to converse50; so he said, putting his own interpretation51 on this surprising silence:
“I see — not much account. Such bands hardly ever are. An Italian lot, Mrs. Schomberg, to judge by the name of the boss?”
She shook her head negatively.
“No. He is a German really; only he dyes his hair and beard black for business. Zangiacomo is his business name.”
“That’s a curious fact,” said Davidson. His head being full of Heyst, it occurred to him that she might be aware of other facts. This was a very amazing discovery to anyone who looked at Mrs. Schomberg. Nobody had ever suspected her of having a mind. I mean even a little of it, I mean any at all. One was inclined to think of her as an It — an automaton52, a very plain dummy53, with an arrangement for bowing the head at times and smiling stupidly now and then. Davidson viewed her profile with a flattened54 nose, a hollow cheek, and one staring, unwinking, goggle55 eye. He asked himself: Did that speak just now? Will it speak again? It was as exciting, for the mere56 wonder of it, as trying to converse with a mechanism57. A smile played about the fat features of Davidson; the smile of a man making an amusing experiment. He spoke58 again to her:
“But the other members of that orchestra were real Italians, were they not?”
Of course, he didn’t care. He wanted to see whether the mechanism would work again. It did. It said they were not. They were of all sorts, apparently59. It paused, with the one goggle eye immovably gazing down the whole length of the room and through the door opening on to the “piazza.” It paused, then went on in the same low pitch:
“There was even one English girl.”
“Poor devil!”— said Davidson, “I suppose these women are not much better than slaves really. Was that fellow with the dyed beard decent in his way?”
The mechanism remained silent. The sympathetic soul of Davidson drew its own conclusions.
“Beastly life for these women!” he said. “When you say an English girl, Mrs. Schomberg, do you really mean a young girl? Some of these orchestra girls are no chicks.”
“Young enough,” came the low voice out of Mrs. Schomberg’s unmoved physiognomy.
Davidson, encouraged, remarked that he was sorry for her. He was easily sorry for people.
“Where did they go to from here?” he asked.
“She did not go with them. She ran away.”
This was the pronouncement Davidson obtained next. It introduced a new sort of interest.
“Well! Well!” he exclaimed placidly; and then, with the air of a man who knows life: “Who with?” he inquired with assurance.
Mrs. Schomberg’s immobility gave her an appearance of listening intently. Perhaps she was really listening; but Schomberg must have been finishing his sleep in some distant part of the house. The silence was profound, and lasted long enough to become startling. Then, enthroned above Davidson, she whispered at last:
“That friend of yours.”
“Oh, you know I am here looking for a friend,” said Davidson hopefully. “Won’t you tell me —”
“I’ve told you”
“Eh?”
A mist seemed to roll away from before Davidson’s eyes, disclosing something he could not believe.
“You can’t mean it!” he cried. “He’s not the man for it.” But the last words came out in a faint voice. Mrs. Schomberg never moved her head the least bit. Davidson, after the shock which made him sit up, went slack all over.
“Heyst! Such a perfect gentleman!” he exclaimed weakly.
Mrs. Schomberg did not seem to have heard him. This startling fact did not tally32 somehow with the idea Davidson had of Heyst. He never talked of women, he never seemed to think of them, or to remember that they existed; and then all at once — like this! Running off with a casual orchestra girl!
“You might have knocked me down with a feather,” Davidson told us some time afterwards.
By then he was taking an indulgent view of both the parties to that amazing transaction. First of all, on reflection, he was by no means certain that it prevented Heyst from being a perfect gentleman, as before. He confronted our open grins or quiet smiles with a serious round face. Heyst had taken the girl away to Samburan; and that was no joking matter. The loneliness, the ruins of the spot, had impressed Davidson’s simple soul. They were incompatible60 with the frivolous61 comments of people who had not seen it. That black jetty, sticking out of the jungle into the empty sea; these roof-ridges of deserted62 houses peeping dismally63 above the long grass! Ough! The gigantic and funeral blackboard sign of the Tropical Belt Coal Company, still emerging from a wild growth of bushes like an inscription64 stuck above a grave figured by the tall heap of unsold coal at the shore end of the wharf65, added to the general desolation.
Thus the sensitive Davidson. The girl must have been miserable66 indeed to follow such a strange man to such a spot. Heyst had, no doubt, told her the truth. He was a gentleman. But no words could do justice to the conditions of life on Samburan. A desert island was nothing to it. Moreover, when you were cast away on a desert island — why, you could not help yourself; but to expect a fiddle-playing girl out of an ambulant ladies’ orchestra to remain content there for a day, for one single day, was inconceivable. She would be frightened at the first sight of it. She would scream.
The capacity for sympathy in these stout, placid19 men! Davidson was stirred to the depths; and it was easy to see that it was about Heyst that he was concerned. We asked him if he had passed that way lately.
“Oh, yes. I always do — about half a mile off.”
“Seen anybody about?”
“No, not a soul. Not a shadow.”
“Did you blow your whistle?”
“Blow the whistle? You think I would do such a thing?”
He rejected the mere possibility of such an unwarrantable intrusion. Wonderfully delicate fellow, Davidson!
“Well, but how do you know that they are there?” he was naturally asked.
Heyst had entrusted67 Mrs. Schomberg with a message for Davidson — a few lines in pencil on a scrap68 of crumpled69 paper. It was to the effect: that an unforeseen necessity was driving him away before the appointed time. He begged Davidson’s indulgence for the apparent discourtesy. The woman of the house — meaning Mrs. Schomberg — would give him the facts, though unable to explain them, of course.
“What was there to explain?” wondered Davidson dubiously70.
“He took a fancy to that fiddle-playing girl, and —”
“And she to him, apparently,” I suggested.
“Wonderfully quick work,” reflected Davidson. “What do you think will come of it?”
“Repentance, I should say. But how is it that Mrs. Schomberg has been selected for a confidante?”
For indeed a waxwork71 figure would have seemed more useful than that woman whom we all were accustomed to see sitting elevated above the two billiard-tables — without expression, without movement, without voice, without sight.
“Why, she helped the girl to bolt,” said Davidson turning at me his innocent eyes, rounded by the state of constant amazement72 in which this affair had left him, like those shocks of terror or sorrow which sometimes leave their victim afflicted73 by nervous trembling. It looked as though he would never get over it.
“Mrs. Schomberg jerked Heyst’s note, twisted like a pipe-light, into my lap while I sat there unsuspecting,” Davidson went on. “Directly I had recovered my senses, I asked her what on earth she had to do with it that Heyst should leave it with her. And then, behaving like a painted image rather than a live woman, she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear:
“I helped them. I got her things together, tied them up in my own shawl, and threw them into the compound out of a back window. I did it.”
“That woman that you would say hadn’t the pluck to lift her little finger!” marvelled74 Davidson in his quiet, slightly panting voice. “What do you think of that?”
I thought she must have had some interest of her own to serve. She was too lifeless to be suspected of impulsive75 compassion76. It was impossible to think that Heyst had bribed77 her. Whatever means he had, he had not the means to do that. Or could it be that she was moved by that disinterested78 passion for delivering a woman to a man which in respectable spheres is called matchmaking? — a highly irregular example of it!
“It must have been a very small bundle,” remarked Davidson further.
“I imagine the girl must have been specially7 attractive,” I said.
“I don’t know. She was miserable. I don’t suppose it was more than a little linen79 and a couple of those white frocks they wear on the platform.”
Davidson pursued his own train of thought. He supposed that such a thing had never been heard of in the history of the tropics. For where could you find anyone to steal a girl out of an orchestra? No doubt fellows here and there took a fancy to some pretty one — but it was not for running away with her. Oh dear no! It needed a lunatic like Heyst.
“Only think what it means,” wheezed80 Davidson, imaginative under his invincible81 placidity. “Just only try to think! Brooding alone on Samburan has upset his brain. He never stopped to consider, or he couldn’t have done it. No sane82 man . . . How is a thing like that to go on? What’s he going to do with her in the end? It’s madness.”
“You say that he’s mad. Schomberg tells us that he must be starving on his island; so he may end yet by eating her,” I suggested.
Mrs. Schomberg had had no time to enter into details, Davidson told us. Indeed, the wonder was that they had been left alone so long. The drowsy83 afternoon was slipping by. Footsteps and voices resounded84 on the veranda85 — I beg pardon, the piazza; the scraping of chairs, the ping of a smitten86 bell. Customers were turning up. Mrs. Schomberg was begging Davidson hurriedly, but without looking at him, to say nothing to anyone, when on a half-uttered word her nervous whisper was cut short. Through a small inner door Schomberg came in, his hair brushed, his beard combed neatly87, but his eyelids88 still heavy from his nap. He looked with suspicion at Davidson, and even glanced at his wife; but he was baffled by the natural placidity of the one and the acquired habit of immobility in the other.
“Have you sent out the drinks?” he asked surlily.
She did not open her lips, because just then the head boy appeared with a loaded tray, on his way out. Schomberg went to the door and greeted the customers outside, but did not join them. He remained blocking half the doorway89, with his back to the room, and was still there when Davidson, after sitting still for a while, rose to go. At the noise he made Schomberg turned his head, watched him lift his hat to Mrs. Schomberg and receive her wooden bow accompanied by a stupid grin, and then looked away. He was loftily dignified90. Davidson stopped at the door, deep in his simplicity.
“I am sorry you won’t tell me anything about my friend’s absence,” he said. “My friend Heyst, you know. I suppose the only course for me now is to make inquiries91 down at the port. I shall hear something there, I don’t doubt.”
“Make inquiries of the devil!” replied Schomberg in a hoarse92 mutter.
Davidson’s purpose in addressing the hotel-keeper had been mainly to make Mrs. Schomberg safe from suspicion; but he would fain have heard something more of Heyst’s exploit from another point of view. It was a shrewd try. It was successful in a rather startling way, because the hotel-keeper’s point of view was horribly abusive. All of a sudden, in the same hoarse sinister93 tone, he proceeded to call Heyst many names, of which “pig-dog” was not the worst, with such vehemence94 that he actually choked himself. Profiting from the pause, Davidson, whose temperament95 could withstand worse shocks, remonstrated96 in an undertone:
“It’s unreasonable97 to get so angry as that. Even if he had run off with your cash-box —”
The big hotel-keeper bent98 down and put his infuriated face close to Davidson’s.
“My cash-box! My — he — look here, Captain Davidson! He ran off with a girl. What do I care for the girl? The girl is nothing to me.”
He shot out an infamous99 word which made Davidson start. That’s what the girl was; and he reiterated100 the assertion that she was nothing to him. What he was concerned for was the good name of his house. Wherever he had been established, he had always had “artist parties” staying in his house. One recommended him to the others; but what would happen now, when it got about that leaders ran the risk in his house — his house — of losing members of their troupe101? And just now, when he had spent seven hundred and thirty-four guilders in building a concert-hall in his compound. Was that a thing to do in a respectable hotel? The cheek, the indecency, the impudence102, the atrocity103! Vagabond, impostor, swindler, ruffian, schwein-hund!
He had seized Davidson by a button of his coat, detaining him in the doorway, and exactly in the line of Mrs. Schomberg’s stony104 gaze. Davidson stole a glance in that direction and thought of making some sort of reassuring105 sign to her, but she looked so bereft106 of senses, and almost of life, perched up there, that it seemed not worth while. He disengaged his button with firm placidity. Thereupon, with a last stifled107 curse, Schomberg vanished somewhere within, to try and compose his spirits in solitude. Davidson stepped out on the veranda. The party of customers there had become aware of the explosive interlude in the doorway. Davidson knew one of these men, and nodded to him in passing; but his acquaintance called out:
“Isn’t he in a filthy108 temper? He’s been like that ever since.”
The speaker laughed aloud, while all the others sat smiling. Davidson stopped.
“Yes, rather.” His feelings were, he told us, those of bewildered resignation; but of course that was no more visible to the others than the emotions of a turtle when it withdraws into its shell.
“It seems unreasonable,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Oh, but they had a scrap!” the other said.
“What do you mean? Was there a fight! — a fight with Heyst?” asked Davidson, much perturbed109, if somewhat incredulous.
“Heyst? No, these two — the bandmaster, the fellow who’s taking these women about and our Schomberg. Signor Zangiacomo ran amuck110 in the morning, and went for our worthy111 friend. I tell you, they were rolling on the floor together on this very veranda, after chasing each other all over the house, doors slamming, women screaming, seventeen of them, in the dining-room; Chinamen up the trees. Hey, John? You climb tree to see the fight, eh?”
The boy, almond-eyed and impassive, emitted a scornful grunt112, finished wiping the table, and withdrew.
“That’s what it was — a real, go-as-you-please scrap. And Zangiacomo began it. Oh, here’s Schomberg. Say, Schomberg, didn’t he fly at you, when the girl was missed, because it was you who insisted that the artists should go about the audience during the interval113?”
Schomberg had reappeared in the doorway. He advanced. His bearing was stately, but his nostrils114 were extraordinarily115 expanded, and he controlled his voice with apparent effort.
“Certainly. That was only business. I quoted him special terms and all for your sake, gentlemen. I was thinking of my regular customers. There’s nothing to do in the evenings in this town. I think, gentlemen, you were all pleased at the opportunity of hearing a little good music; and where’s the harm of offering a grenadine, or what not, to a lady artist? But that fellow — that Swede — he got round the girl. He got round all the people out here. I’ve been watching him for years. You remember how he got round Morrison.”
He changed front abruptly116, as if on parade, and marched off. The customers at the table exchanged glances silently. Davidson’s attitude was that of a spectator. Schomberg’s moody117 pacing of the billiard-room could be heard on the veranda.
“And the funniest part is,” resumed the man who had been speaking before — an English clerk in a Dutch house —“the funniest part is that before nine o’clock that same morning those two were driving together in a gharry down to the port, to look for Heyst and the girl. I saw them rushing around making inquiries. I don’t know what they would have done to the girl, but they seemed quite ready to fall upon your Heyst, Davidson, and kill him on the quay118.”
He had never, he said, seen anything so queer. Those two investigators119 working feverishly120 to the same end were glaring at each other with surprising ferocity. In hatred121 and mistrust they entered a steam-launch, and went flying from ship to ship all over the harbour, causing no end of sensation. The captains of vessels122, coming on shore later in the day, brought tales of a strange invasion, and wanted to know who were the two offensive lunatics in a steam-launch, apparently after a man and a girl, and telling a story of which one could make neither head nor tail. Their reception by the roadstead was generally unsympathetic, even to the point of the mate of an American ship bundling them out over the rail with unseemly precipitation.
Meantime Heyst and the girl were a good few miles away, having gone in the night on board one of the Tesman schooners123 bound to the eastward125. This was known afterwards from the Javanese boatmen whom Heyst hired for the purpose at three o’clock in the morning. The Tesman schooner124 had sailed at daylight with the usual land breeze, and was probably still in sight in the offing at the time. However, the two pursuers after their experience with the American mate, made for the shore. On landing, they had another violent row in the German language. But there was no second fight; and finally, with looks of fierce animosity, they got together into a gharry — obviously with the frugal126 view of sharing expenses — and drove away, leaving an astonished little crowd of Europeans and natives on the quay.
After hearing this wondrous127 tale, Davidson went away from the hotel veranda, which was filling with Schomberg’s regular customers. Heyst’s escapade was the general topic of conversation. Never before had that unaccountable individual been the cause of so much gossip, he judged. No! Not even in the beginnings of the Tropical Belt Coal Company when becoming for a moment a public character was he the object of a silly criticism and unintelligent envy for every vagabond and adventurer in the islands. Davidson concluded that people liked to discuss that sort of scandal better than any other.
I asked him if he believed that this was such a great scandal after all.
“Heavens, no!” said that excellent man who, himself, was incapable128 of any impropriety of conduct. “But it isn’t a thing I would have done myself; I mean even if I had not been married.”
There was no implied condemnation129 in the statement; rather something like regret. Davidson shared my suspicion that this was in its essence the rescue of a distressed130 human being. Not that we were two romantics, tingeing131 the world to the hue132 of our temperament, but that both of us had been acute enough to discover a long time ago that Heyst was.
“I shouldn’t have had the pluck,” he continued. “I see a thing all round, as it were; but Heyst doesn’t, or else he would have been scared. You don’t take a woman into a desert jungle without being made sorry for it sooner or later, in one way or another; and Heyst being a gentleman only makes it worse.”
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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treacherous
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specially
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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shrouded
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defensive
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manly
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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severely
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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surmise
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feverish
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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eyebrows
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placid
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placidly
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majestic
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placidity
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favourable
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preoccupied
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irresolute
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affected
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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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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30
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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31
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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32
tally
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| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
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33
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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34
fretting
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| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
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35
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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36
presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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37
preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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38
repertoire
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| n.(准备好演出的)节目，保留剧目；(计算机的)指令表，指令系统， <美>(某个人的)全部技能；清单，指令表 | |
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39
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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40
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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41
abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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42
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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43
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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44
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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45
billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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46
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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47
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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48
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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49
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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50
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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51
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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52
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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53
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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54
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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55
goggle
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| n.瞪眼，转动眼珠，护目镜；v.瞪眼看，转眼珠 | |
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56
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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57
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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58
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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59
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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60
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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61
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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62
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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63
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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64
inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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65
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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66
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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67
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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69
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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70
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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71
waxwork
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| n.蜡像 | |
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72
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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73
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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76
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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77
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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78
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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79
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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80
wheezed
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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82
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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83
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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84
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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85
veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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86
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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87
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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88
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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89
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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90
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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91
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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92
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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93
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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94
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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95
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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96
remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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97
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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98
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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99
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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100
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
troupe
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| n.剧团，戏班；杂技团；马戏团 | |
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102
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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103
atrocity
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| n.残暴，暴行 | |
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104
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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105
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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106
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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107
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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108
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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109
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
amuck
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| ad.狂乱地 | |
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111
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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112
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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113
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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114
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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115
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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116
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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117
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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118
quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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119
investigators
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| n.调查者，审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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120
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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121
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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122
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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123
schooners
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| n.（有两个以上桅杆的）纵帆船( schooner的名词复数 ) | |
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124
schooner
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| n.纵帆船 | |
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125
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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126
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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127
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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128
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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129
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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130
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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131
tingeing
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| vt.着色，使…带上色彩（tinge的现在分词形式） | |
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132
hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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