The business which had called him out from his seclusion3 in his lost corner of the Eastern seas was with the Tesmans, and it had something to do with money. He transacted4 it quickly, and then found himself with nothing to do while he awaited Davidson, who was to take him back to his solitude5; for back to his solitude Heyst meant to go. He whom we used to refer to as the Enchanted6 Heyst was suffering from thorough disenchantment. Not with the islands, however. The Archipelago has a lasting7 fascination8. It is not easy to shake off the spell of island life. Heyst was disenchanted with life as a whole. His scornful temperament9, beguiled10 into action, suffered from failure in a subtle way unknown to men accustomed to grapple with the realities of common human enterprise. It was like the gnawing11 pain of useless apostasy12, a sort of shame before his own betrayed nature; and in addition, he also suffered from plain, downright remorse13. He deemed himself guilty of Morrison’s death. A rather absurd feeling, since no one could possibly have foreseen the horrors of the cold, wet summer lying in wait for poor Morrison at home.
It was not in Heyst’s character to turn morose14; but his mental state was not compatible with a sociable15 mood. He spent his evenings sitting apart on the veranda16 of Schomberg’s hotel. The lamentations of string instruments issued from the building in the hotel compound, the approaches to which were decorated with Japanese paper lanterns strung up between the trunks of several big trees. Scraps17 of tunes19 more or less plaintive20 reached his ears. They pursued him even into his bedroom, which opened into an upstairs veranda. The fragmentary and rasping character of these sounds made their intrusion inexpressibly tedious in the long run. Like most dreamers, to whom it is given sometimes to hear the music of the spheres, Heyst, the wanderer of the Archipelago, had a taste for silence which he had been able to gratify for years. The islands are very quiet. One sees them lying about, clothed in their dark garments of leaves, in a great hush21 of silver and azure22, where the sea without murmurs23 meets the sky in a ring of magic stillness. A sort of smiling somnolence24 broods over them; the very voices of their people are soft and subdued25, as if afraid to break some protecting spell.
Perhaps this was the very spell which had enchanted Heyst in the early days. For him, however, that was broken. He was no longer enchanted, though he was still a captive of the islands. He had no intention to leave them ever. Where could he have gone to, after all these years? Not a single soul belonging to him lived anywhere on earth. Of this fact — not such a remote one, after all — he had only lately become aware; for it is failure that makes a man enter into himself and reckon up his resources. And though he had made up his mind to retire from the world in hermit26 fashion, yet he was irrationally27 moved by this sense of loneliness which had come to him in the hour of renunciation. It hurt him. Nothing is more painful than the shock of sharp contradictions that lacerate our intelligence and our feelings.
Meantime Schomberg watched Heyst out of the comer of his eye. Towards the unconscious object of his enmity he preserved a distant lieutenant-of-the-Reserve demeanour. Nudging certain of his customers with his elbow, he begged them to observe what airs “that Swede” was giving himself.
“I really don’t know why he has come to stay in my house. This place isn’t good enough for him. I wish to goodness he had gone somewhere else to show off his superiority. Here I have got up this series of concerts for you gentlemen, just to make things a little brighter generally; and do you think he’ll condescend28 to step in and listen to a piece or two of an evening? Not he. I know him of old. There he sits at the dark end of the piazza29, all the evening long — planning some new swindle, no doubt. For two-pence I would ask him to go and look for quarters somewhere else; only one doesn’t like to treat a white man like that out in the tropics. I don’t know how long he means to stay, but I’m willing to bet a trifle that he’ll never work himself up to the point of spending the fifty cents of entrance money for the sake of a little good music.”
Nobody cared to bet, or the hotel-keeper would have lost. One evening Heyst was driven to desperation by the rasped, squeaked30, scraped snatches of tunes pursuing him even to his hard couch, with a mattress31 as thin as a pancake and a diaphanous32 mosquito net. He descended33 among the trees, where the soft glow of Japanese lanterns picked out parts of their great rugged34 trunks, here and there, in the great mass of darkness under the lofty foliage35. More lanterns, of the shape of cylindrical36 concertinas, hanging in a row from a slack string, decorated the doorway37 of what Schomberg called grandiloquently38 “my concert-hall.” In his desperate mood Heyst ascended39 three steps, lifted a calico curtain, and went in.
The uproar40 in that small, barn-like structure, built of imported pine boards, and raised clear of the ground, was simply stunning41. An instrumental uproar, screaming, grunting42, whining43, sobbing44, scraping, squeaking45 some kind of lively air; while a grand piano, operated upon by a bony, red-faced woman with bad-tempered46 nostrils47, rained hard notes like hail through the tempest of fiddles48. The small platform was filled with white muslin dresses and crimson49 sashes slanting50 from shoulders provided with bare arms, which sawed away without respite51. Zangiacomo conducted. He wore a white mess-jacket, a black dress waistcoat, and white trousers. His longish, tousled hair and his great beard were purple-black. He was horrible. The heat was terrific. There were perhaps thirty people having drinks at several little tables. Heyst, quite overcome by the volume of noise, dropped into a chair. In the quick time of that music, in the varied52, piercing clamour of the strings53, in the movements of the bare arms, in the low dresses, the coarse faces, the stony54 eyes of the executants, there was a suggestion of brutality55 — something cruel, sensual and repulsive56.
“This is awful!” Heyst murmured to himself.
But there is an unholy fascination in systematic57 noise. He did not flee from it incontinently, as one might have expected him to do. He remained, astonished at himself for remaining, since nothing could have been more repulsive to his tastes, more painful to his senses, and, so to speak, more contrary to his genius, than this rude exhibition of vigour58. The Zangiacomo band was not making music; it was simply murdering silence with a vulgar, ferocious59 energy. One felt as if witnessing a deed of violence; and that impression was so strong that it seemed marvellous to see the people sitting so quietly on their chairs, drinking so calmly out of their glasses, and giving no signs of distress60, anger, or fear. Heyst averted61 his gaze from the unnatural62 spectacle of their indifference63.
When the piece of music came to an end the relief was so great that he felt slightly dizzy, as if a chasm64 of silence had yawned at his feet. When he raised his eyes, the audience, most perversely65, was exhibiting signs of animation66 and interest in their faces, and the women in white muslin dresses were coming down in pairs from the platform into the body of Schomberg’s “concert-hall.” They dispersed67 themselves all over the place. The male creature with the hooked nose and purple-black beard disappeared somewhere. This was the interval68 during which, as the astute69 Schomberg had stipulated70, the members of the orchestra were encouraged to favour the members of the audience with their company — that is, such members as seemed inclined to fraternize with the arts in a familiar and generous manner; the symbol of familiarity and generosity71 consisting in offers of refreshment72.
The procedure struck Heyst as highly incorrect. However, the impropriety of Schomberg’s ingenious scheme was defeated by the circumstance that most of the women were no longer young, and that none of them had ever been beautiful. Their more or less worn checks were slightly rouged73, but apart from that fact, which might have been simply a matter of routine, they did not seem to take the success of the scheme unduly74 to heart. The impulse to fraternize with the arts being obviously weak in the audience, some of the musicians sat down listlessly at unoccupied tables, while others went on perambulating the central passage: arm in arm, glad enough, no doubt, to stretch their legs while resting their arms. Their crimson sashes gave a factitious touch of gaiety to the smoky atmosphere of the concert-hall; and Heyst felt a sudden pity for these beings, exploited, hopeless, devoid75 of charm and grace, whose fate of cheerless dependence76 invested their coarse and joyless features with a touch of pathos77.
Heyst was temperamentally sympathetic. To have them passing and repassing close to his little table was painful to him. He was preparing to rise and go out when he noticed that two white muslin dresses and crimson sashes had not yet left the platform. One of these dresses concealed78 the raw-boned frame of the woman with the bad-tempered curve to her nostrils. She was no less a personage than Mrs. Zangiacomo. She had left the piano, and, with her back to the hall, was preparing the parts for the second half of the concert, with a brusque, impatient action of her ugly elbow. This task done, she turned, and, perceiving the other white muslin dress motionless on a chair in the second row, she strode towards it between the music-stands with an aggressive and masterful gait. On the lap of that dress there lay, unclasped and idle, a pair of small hands, not very white, attached to well-formed arms. The next detail Heyst was led to observe was the arrangement of the hair — two thick, brown tresses rolled round an attractively shaped head.
“A girl, by Jove!” he exclaimed mentally.
It was evident that she was a girl. It was evident in the outline of the shoulders, in the slender white bust79 springing up, barred slantwise by the crimson sash, from the bell-shaped spread of muslin skirt hiding the chair on which she sat averted a little from the body of the hall. Her feet, in low white shoes, were crossed prettily80.
She had captured Heyst’s awakened81 faculty82 of observation; he had the sensation of a new experience. That was because his faculty of observation had never before been captured by any feminine creature in that marked and exclusive fashion. He looked at her anxiously, as no man ever looks at another man; and he positively83 forgot where he was. He had lost touch with his surroundings. The big woman, advancing, concealed the girl from his sight for a moment. She bent84 over the seated youthful figure, in passing it very close, as if to drop a word into its ear. Her lips did certainly move. But what sort of word could it have been to make the girl jump up so swiftly? Heyst, at his table, was surprised into a sympathetic start. He glanced quickly round. Nobody was looking towards the platform; and when his eyes swept back there again, the girl, with the big woman treading at her heels, was coming down the three steps from the platform to the floor of the hall. There she paused, stumbled one pace forward, and stood still again, while the other — the escort, the dragoon, the coarse big woman of the piano — passed her roughly, and, marching truculently85 down the centre aisle86 between the chairs and tables, went out to rejoin the hook-nosed Zangiacomo somewhere outside. During her extraordinary transit87, as if everything in the hall were dirt under her feet, her scornful eyes met the upward glance of Heyst, who looked away at once towards the girl. She had not moved. Her arms hung down; her eyelids88 were lowered.
Heyst laid down his half-smoked cigar and compressed his lips. Then he got up. It was the same sort of impulse which years ago had made him cross the sandy street of the abominable89 town of Delli in the island of Timor and accost90 Morrison, practically a stranger to him then, a man in trouble, expressively91 harassed92, dejected, lonely.
It was the same impulse. But he did not recognize it. He was not thinking of Morrison then. It may be said that, for the first time since the final abandonment of the Samburan coal mine, he had completely forgotten the late Morrison. It is true that to a certain extent he had forgotten also where he was. Thus, unchecked by any sort of self consciousness, Heyst walked up the central passage.
Several of the women, by this time, had found anchorage here and there among the occupied tables. They talked to the men, leaning on their elbows, and suggesting funnily — if it hadn’t been for the crimson sashes — in their white dresses an assembly of middle-aged93 brides with free and easy manners and hoarse94 voices. The murmuring noise of conversations carried on with some spirit filled Schomberg’s concert-room. Nobody remarked Heyst’s movements; for indeed he was not the only man on his legs there. He had been confronting the girl for some time before she became aware of his presence. She was looking down, very still, without colour, without glances, without voice, without movement. It was only when Heyst addressed her in his courteous95 tone that she raised her eyes.
“Excuse me,” he said in English, “but that horrible female has done something to you. She has pinched you, hasn’t she? I am sure she pinched you just now, when she stood by your chair.”
The girl received this overture96 with the wide, motionless stare of profound astonishment97. Heyst, vexed98 with himself, suspected that she did not understand what he said. One could not tell what nationality these women were, except that they were of all sorts. But she was astonished almost more by the near presence of the man himself, by his largely bald head, by the white brow, the sunburnt cheeks, the long, horizontal moustaches of crinkly bronze hair, by the kindly99 expression of the man’s blue eyes looking into her own. He saw the stony amazement100 in hers give way to a momentary101 alarm, which was succeeded by an expression of resignation.
“I am sure she pinched your arm most cruelly,” he murmured, rather disconcerted now at what he had done.
It was a great comfort to hear her say:
“It wouldn’t have been the first time. And suppose she did — what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a faint, remote playfulness in his tone which had not been heard in it lately, and which seemed to catch her ear pleasantly. “I am grieved to say that I don’t know. But can I do anything? What would you wish me to do? Pray command me.”
Again, the greatest astonishment became visible in her face; for she now perceived how different he was from the other men in the room. He was as different from them as she was different from the other members of the ladies’ orchestra.
“Command you?” she breathed, after a time, in a bewildered tone. “Who are you?” she asked a little louder.
“I am staying in this hotel for a few days. I just dropped in casually102 here. This outrage103 —”
“Don’t you try to interfere,” she said so earnestly that Heyst asked, in his faintly playful tone:
“Is it your wish that I should leave you?”
“I haven’t said that,” the girl answered. “She pinched me because I didn’t get down here quick enough —”
“I can’t tell you how indignant I am —” said Heyst. “But since you are down here now,” he went on, with the ease of a man of the world speaking to a young lady in a drawing-room, “hadn’t we better sit down?”
She obeyed his inviting104 gesture, and they sat down on the nearest chairs. They looked at each other across a little round table with a surprised, open gaze, self-consciousness growing on them so slowly that it was a long time before they averted their eyes; and very soon they met again, temporarily, only to rebound105, as it were. At last they steadied in contact, but by that time, say some fifteen minutes from the moment when they sat down, the “interval” came to an end.
So much for their eyes. As to the conversation, it had been perfectly106 insignificant107 because naturally they had nothing to say to each other. Heyst had been interested by the girl’s physiognomy. Its expression was neither simple nor yet very clear. It was not distinguished108 — that could not be expected — but the features had more fineness than those of any other feminine countenance109 he had ever had the opportunity to observe so closely. There was in it something indefinably audacious and infinitely110 miserable111 — because the temperament and the existence of that girl were reflected in it. But her voice! It seduced112 Heyst by its amazing quality. It was a voice fit to utter the most exquisite113 things, a voice which would have made silly chatter114 supportable and the roughest talk fascinating. Heyst drank in its charm as one listens to the tone of some instrument without heeding115 the tune18.
“Do you sing as well as play?” he asked her abruptly116.
“Never sang a note in my life,” she said, obviously surprised by the irrelevant117 question; for they had not been discoursing118 of sweet sounds. She was clearly unaware119 of her voice. “I don’t remember that I ever had much reason to sing since I was little,” she added.
That inelegant phrase, by the mere120 vibrating, warm nobility of the sound, found its way into Heyst’s heart. His mind, cool, alert, watched it sink there with a sort of vague concern at the absurdity121 of the occupation, till it rested at the bottom, deep down, where our unexpressed longings122 lie.
“You are English, of course?” he said.
“What do you think?” she answered in the most charming accents. Then, as if thinking that it was her turn to place a question: “Why do you always smile when you speak?”
It was enough to make anyone look grave, but her good faith was so evident that Heyst recovered himself at once.
“It’s my unfortunate manner —” he said with his delicate, polished playfulness. “It is very objectionable to you?”
She was very serious.
“No. I only noticed it. I haven’t come across so many pleasant people as all that, in my life.”
“It’s certain that this woman who plays the piano is infinitely more disagreeable than any cannibal I have ever had to do with.”
“I believe you!” She shuddered123. “How did you come to have anything to do with cannibals?”
“It would be too long a tale,” said Heyst with a faint smile. Heyst’s smiles were rather melancholy124, and accorded badly with his great moustaches, under which his mere playfulness lurked125 as comfortable as a shy bird in its native thicket126. “Much too long. How did you get amongst this lot here?”
“Bad luck,” she answered briefly127.
“No doubt, no doubt,” Heyst assented128 with slight nods. Then, still indignant at the pinch which he had divined rather than actually seen inflicted129: “I say, couldn’t you defend yourself somehow?”
She had risen already. The ladies of the orchestra were slowly regaining130 their places. Some were already seated, idle stony-eyed, before the music-stands. Heyst was standing131 up, too.
“They are too many for me,” she said.
These few words came out of the common experience of mankind; yet by virtue132 of her voice, they thrilled Heyst like a revelation. His feelings were in a state of confusion, but his mind was clear.
“That’s bad. But it isn’t actual ill-usage that this girl is complaining of,” he thought lucidly133 after she left him.
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收听单词发音
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1
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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transacted
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| v.办理（业务等）( transact的过去式和过去分词 )；交易，谈判 | |
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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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enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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apostasy
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| n.背教，脱党 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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irrationally
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| ad.不理性地 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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cylindrical
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| adj.圆筒形的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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grandiloquently
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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45
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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48
fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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49
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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50
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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51
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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52
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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55
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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56
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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57
systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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58
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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59
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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61
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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62
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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63
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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64
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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perversely
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| adv. 倔强地 | |
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66
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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67
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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69
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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70
stipulated
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| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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71
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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72
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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73
rouged
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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76
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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77
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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79
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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81
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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82
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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84
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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85
truculently
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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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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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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99
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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100
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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101
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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102
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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103
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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104
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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105
rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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106
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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107
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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108
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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109
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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110
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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111
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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112
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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113
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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114
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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115
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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116
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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117
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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118
discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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119
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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120
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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121
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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122
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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123
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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124
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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125
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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126
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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127
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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128
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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131
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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132
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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133
lucidly
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| adv.清透地，透明地 | |
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