“I must get rid of these two. It won’t do!”
Mrs. Schomberg had entertained that very opinion from the first; but she had been broken years ago into keeping her opinions to herself. Sitting in her night attire1 in the light of a single candle, she was careful not to make a sound, knowing from experience that her very assent2 would be resented. With her eyes she followed the figure of Schomberg, clad in his sleeping suit, and moving restlessly about the room.
He never glanced her way, for the reason that Mrs. Schomberg, in her night attire, looked the most unattractive object in existence — miserable3, insignificant4, faded, crushed, old. And the contrast with the feminine form he had ever in his mind’s eye made his wife’s appearance painful to his aesthetic5 sense.
Schomberg walked about swearing and fuming6 for the purpose of screwing his courage up to the sticking point.
“Hang me if I ought not to go now, at once, this minute, into his bedroom, and tell him to be off — him and that secretary of his — early in the morning. I don’t mind a round game of cards, but to make a decoy of my table d’hote — my blood boils! He came here because some lying rascal7 in Manila told him I kept a table d’hote.”
He said these things, not for Mrs. Schomberg’s information, but simply thinking aloud, and trying to work his fury up to a point where it would give him courage enough to face “plain Mr. Jones.”
“Impudent overbearing, swindling sharper,” he went on. “I have a good mind to —”
He was beside himself in his lurid8, heavy, Teutonic manner, so unlike the picturesque9, lively rage of the Latin races; and though his eyes strayed about irresolutely10, yet his swollen12, angry features awakened13 in the miserable woman over whom he had been tyrannizing for years a fear for his precious carcass, since the poor creature had nothing else but that to hold on to in the world. She knew him well; but she did not know him altogether. The last thing a woman will consent to discover in a man whom she loves, or on whom she simply depends, is want of courage. And, timid in her comer, she ventured to say pressingly:
“Be careful, Wilhelm! Remember the knives and revolvers in their trunks.”
In guise14 of thanks for that anxious reminder15, he swore horribly in the direction of her shrinking person. In her scanty16 nightdress, and barefooted, she recalled a mediaeval penitent17 being reproved for her sins in blasphemous18 terms. Those lethal19 weapons were always present to Schomberg’s mind. Personally, he had never seen them. His part, ten days after his guests’ arrival, had been to lounge in manly20, careless attitudes on the veranda21 — keeping watch — while Mrs. Schomberg, provided with a bunch of assorted22 keys, her discoloured teeth chattering23 and her globular eyes absolutely idiotic24 with fright, was “going through” the luggage of these strange clients. Her terrible Wilhelm had insisted on it.
“I’ll be on the look-out, I tell you,” he said. “I shall give you a whistle when I see them coming back. You couldn’t whistle. And if he were to catch you at it, and chuck you out by the scruff of the neck, it wouldn’t hurt you much; but he won’t touch a woman. Not he! He has told me so. Affected25 beast. I must find out something about their little game, and so there’s an end of it. Go in! Go now! Quick march!”
It had been an awful job; but she did go in, because she was much more afraid of Schomberg than of any possible consequences of the act. Her greatest concern was lest no key of the bunch he had provided her with should fit the locks. It would have been such a disappointment for Wilhelm. However, the trunks, she found, had been left open; but her investigation26 did not last long. She was frightened of firearms, and generally of all weapons, not from personal cowardice27, but as some women are, almost superstitiously28, from an abstract horror of violence and murder. She was out again on the veranda long before Wilhelm had any occasion for a warning whistle. The instinctive29, motiveless30 fear being the most difficult to overcome, nothing could induce her to return to her investigations31, neither threatening growls32 nor ferocious33 hisses34, nor yet a poke35 or two in the ribs36.
“Stupid female!” muttered the hotel-keeper, perturbed37 by the notion of that armoury in one of his bedrooms. This was from no abstract sentiment, with him it was constitutional. “Get out of my sight,” he snarled39. “Go and dress yourself for the table d’hote.”
Left to himself, Schomberg had meditated40. What the devil did this mean? His thinking processes were sluggish41 and spasmodic; but suddenly the truth came to him.
“By heavens, they are desperadoes!” he thought.
Just then he beheld42 “plain Mr. Jones” and his secretary with the ambiguous name of Ricardo entering the grounds of the hotel. They had been down to the port on some business, and now were returning; Mr. Jones lank43, spare, opening his long legs with angular regularity44 like a pair of compasses, the other stepping out briskly by his side. Conviction entered Schomberg’s heart. They WERE two desperadoes — no doubt about it. But as the funk which he experienced was merely a general sensation, he managed to put on his most severe Officer-of-the-Reserve manner, long before they had closed with him.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
Being answered with derisive45 civility, he became confirmed in his sudden conviction of their desperate character. The way Mr. Jones turned his hollow eyes on one, like an incurious spectre, and the way the other, when addressed, suddenly retracted46 his lips and exhibited his teeth without looking round — here was evidence enough to settle that point. Desperadoes! They passed through the billiard-room, inscrutably mysterious, to the back of the house, to join their violated trunks.
“Tiffin bell will ring in five minutes, gentlemen.” Schomberg called after them, exaggerating the deep manliness47 of his tone.
He had managed to upset himself very much. He expected to see them come back infuriated and begin to bully48 him with an odious49 lack of restraint. Desperadoes! However they didn’t; they had not noticed anything unusual about their trunks and Schomberg recovered his composure and said to himself that he must get rid of this deadly incubus50 as soon as practicable. They couldn’t possibly want to stay very long; this was not the town — the colony — for desperate characters. He shrank from action. He dreaded51 any kind of disturbance52 —“fracas” he called it — in his hotel. Such things were not good for business. Of course, sometimes one had to have a “fracas;” but it had been a comparatively trifling53 task to seize the frail54 Zangiacomo — whose bones were no larger than a chicken’s — round the ribs, lift him up bodily, dash him to the ground, and fall on him. It had been easy. The wretched, hook-nosed creature lay without movement, buried under its purple beard.
Suddenly, remembering the occasion of that “fracas,” Schomberg groaned55 with the pain as of a hot coal under his breastbone, and gave himself up to desolation. Ah, if he only had that girl with him he would have been masterful and resolute11 and fearless — fight twenty desperadoes — care for nobody on earth! Whereas the possession of Mrs. Schomberg was no incitement56 to a display of manly virtues57. Instead of caring for no one, he felt that he cared for nothing. Life was a hollow sham58; he wasn’t going to risk a shot through his lungs or his liver in order to preserve its integrity. It had no savour — damn it!
In his state of moral decomposition59, Schomberg, master as he was of the art of hotel-keeping, and careful of giving no occasion for criticism to the powers regulating that branch of human activity, let things take their course; though he saw very well where that course was tending. It began first with a game or two after dinner — for the drinks, apparently60 — with some lingering customer, at one of the little tables ranged against the walls of the billiard-room. Schomberg detected the meaning of it at once. “That’s what it was! This was what they were! And, moving about restlessly (at that time his morose61 silent period had set in), he cast sidelong looks at the game; but he said nothing. It was not worth while having a row with men who were so overbearing. Even when money appeared in connection with these postprandial games, into which more and more people were being drawn62, he still refrained from raising the question; he was reluctant to draw unduly63 the attention of “plain Mr. Jones” and of the equivocal Ricardo, to his person. One evening, however, after the public rooms of the hotel had become empty, Schomberg made an attempt to grapple with the problem in an indirect way.
In a distant corner the tired China boy dozed64 on his heels, his back against the wall. Mrs. Schomberg had disappeared, as usual, between ten and eleven. Schomberg walked about slowly in and out of the room and the veranda, thoughtful, waiting for his two guests to go to bed. Then suddenly he approached them, militarily, his chest thrown out, his voice curt65 and soldierly.
“Hot night, gentlemen.”
Mr Jones, lolling back idly in a chair, looked up. Ricardo, as idle, but more upright, made no sign.
“Won’t you have a drink with me before retiring?” went on Schomberg, sitting down by the little table.
“By all means,” said Mr. Jones lazily.
Ricardo showed his teeth in a strange, quick grin. Schomberg felt painfully how difficult it was to get in touch with these men, both so quiet, so deliberate, so menacingly unceremonious. He ordered the Chinaman to bring in the drinks. His purpose was to discover how long these guests intended to stay. Ricardo displayed no conversational66 vein67, but Mr. Jones appeared communicative enough. His voice somehow matched his sunken eyes. It was hollow without being in the least mournful; it sounded distant, uninterested, as though he were speaking from the bottom of a well. Schomberg learned that he would have the privilege of lodging68 and boarding these gentlemen for at least a month more. He could not conceal69 his discomfiture70 at this piece of news.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like to have people in your house?” asked plain Mr. Jones languidly. “I should have thought the owner of a hotel would be pleased.”
He lifted his delicate and beautifully pencilled eyebrows71. Schomberg muttered something about the locality being dull and uninteresting to travellers — nothing going on — too quiet altogether, but he only provoked the declaration that quiet had its charm sometimes, and even dullness was welcome as a change.
“We haven’t had time to be dull for the last three years,” added plain Mr. Jones, his eyes fixed72 darkly on Schomberg whom he further more invited to have another drink, this time with him, and not to worry himself about things he did not understand; and especially not to be inhospitable — which in a hotel-keeper is highly unprofessional.
“I don’t understand,” grumbled73 Schomberg. “Oh, yes, I understand perfectly74 well. I—”
“You are frightened,” interrupted Mr. Jones. “What is the matter?”
“I don’t want any scandal in my place. That’s what’s the matter.”
Schomberg tried to face the situation bravely, but that steady, black stare affected him. And when he glanced aside uncomfortably, he met Ricardo’s grin uncovering a lot of teeth, though the man seemed absorbed in his thoughts all the time.
“And, moreover,” went on Mr. Jones in that distant tone of his, “you can’t help yourself. Here we are and here we stay. Would you try to put us out? I dare say you could do it; but you couldn’t do it without getting hurt — very badly hurt. We can promise him that, can’t we, Martin?”
The secretary retracted his lips and looked up sharply at Schomberg, as if only too anxious to leap upon him with teeth and claws.
Schomberg managed to produce a deep laugh.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Mr Jones closed his eyes wearily, as if the light hurt them, and looked remarkably75 like a corpse76 for a moment. This was bad enough; but when he opened them again, it was almost a worse trial for Schomberg’s nerves. The spectral77 intensity78 of that glance, fixed on the hotel-keeper (and this was most frightful) without any definite expression, seemed to dissolve the last grain of resolution in his character.
“You don’t think, by any chance, that you have to do with ordinary people, do you?” inquired Mr. Jones, in his lifeless manner, which seemed to imply some sort of menace from beyond the grave.
“He’s a gentleman,” testified Martin Ricardo with a sudden snap of the lips, after which his moustaches stirred by themselves in an odd, feline79 manner.
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of that,” said plain Mr. Jones, while Schomberg, dumb and planted heavily in his chair looked from one to the other, leaning forward a little. “Of course I am that; but Ricardo attaches too much importance to a social advantage. What I mean, for instance, is that he, quiet and inoffensive as you see him sitting here, would think nothing of setting fire to this house of entertainment of yours. It would blaze like a box of matches. Think of that! It wouldn’t advance your affairs much, would it? — whatever happened to us.”
“Come, come gentlemen,” remonstrated80 Schomberg, in a murmur81. “This is very wild talk!”
“And you have been used to deal with tame people, haven’t you? But we aren’t tame. We once kept a whole angry town at bay for two days, and then we got away with our plunder82. It was in Venezuela. Ask Martin here — he can tell you.”
Instinctively83 Schomberg looked at Ricardo, who only passed the tip of his tongue over his lips with an uncanny sort of gusto, but did not offer to begin.
“Well, perhaps it would be a rather long story,” Mr. Jones conceded after a short silence.
“I have no desire to hear it, I am sure,” said Schomberg. “This isn’t Venezuela. You wouldn’t get away from here like that. But all this is silly talk of the worst sort. Do you mean to say you would make deadly trouble for the sake of a few guilders that you and that other”— eyeing Ricardo suspiciously, as one would look at a strange animal —“gentleman can win of an evening? Isn’t as if my customers were a lot of rich men with pockets full of cash. I wonder you take so much trouble and risk for so little money.”
Schomberg’s argument was met by Mr. Jones’s statement that one must do something to kill time. Killing84 time was not forbidden. For the rest, being in a communicative mood, Mr. Jones said languidly and in a voice indifferent, as if issuing from a tomb, that he depended on himself, as if the world were still one great, wild jungle without law. Martin was something like that, too — for reasons of his own.
All these statements Ricardo confirmed by short, inhuman85 grins. Schomberg lowered his eyes, for the sight of these two men intimidated86 him; but he was losing patience.
“Of course, I could see at once that you were two desperate characters — something like what you say. But what would you think if I told you that I am pretty near as desperate as you two gentlemen? ‘Here’s that Schomberg has an easy time running his hotel,’ people think; and yet it seems to me I would just as soon let you rip me open and burn the whole show as not. There!”
A low whistle was heard. It came from Ricardo, and was derisive. Schomberg, breathing heavily, looked on the floor. He was really desperate. Mr. Jones remained languidly sceptical.
“Tut, tut! You have a tolerable business. You are perfectly tame; you —” He paused, then added in a tone of disgust: “You have a wife.”
Schomberg tapped the floor angrily with his foot and uttered an indistinct, laughing curse.
“What do you mean by flinging that damned trouble at my head?” he cried. “I wish you would carry her off with you some where to the devil! I wouldn’t run after you.”
The unexpected outburst affected Mr. Jones strangely. He had a horrified87 recoil88, chair and all, as if Schomberg had thrust a wriggling89 viper90 in his face.
“What’s this infernal nonsense?” he muttered thickly. “What do you mean? How dare you?”
Ricardo chuckled91 audibly.
“I tell you I am desperate,” Schomberg repeated. “I am as desperate as any man ever was. I don’t care a hang what happens to me!”
“Well, then”— Mr. Jones began to speak with a quietly threatening effect, as if the common words of daily use had some other deadly meaning to his mind —“well, then, why should you make yourself ridiculously disagreeable to us? If you don’t care, as you say, you might just as well let us have the key of that music-shed of yours for a quiet game; a modest bank — a dozen candles or so. It would be greatly appreciated by your clients, as far as I can judge from the way they betted on a game of ecarte I had with that fair, baby-faced man — what’s his name? They just yearn92 for a modest bank. And I am afraid Martin here would take it badly if you objected; but of course you won’t. Think of the calls for drinks!”
Schomberg, raising his eyes, at last met the gleams in two dark caverns93 under Mr. Jones’s devilish eyebrows, directed upon him impenetrably. He shuddered94 as if horrors worse than murder had been lurking95 there, and said, nodding towards Ricardo:
“I dare say he wouldn’t think twice about sticking me, if he had you at his back! I wish I had sunk my launch, and gone to the bottom myself in her, before I boarded the steamer you came by. Ah, well, I’ve been already living in hell for weeks, so you don’t make much difference. I’ll let you have the concert-room — and hang the consequences. But what about the boy on late duty? If he sees the cards and actual money passing, he will be sure to blab, and it will be all over the town in no time.”
A ghastly smile stirred the lips of Mr. Jones.
“Ah, I see you want to make a success of it. Very good. That’s the way to get on. Don’t let it disturb you. You chase all the Chinamen to bed early, and we’ll get Pedro here every evening. He isn’t the conventional waiter’s cut, but he will do to run to and fro with the tray, while you sit here from nine to eleven serving out drinks and gathering96 the money.”
“There will be three of them now,” thought the unlucky Schomberg.
But Pedro, at any rate, was just a simple, straightforward97 brute98, if a murderous one. There was no mystery about him, nothing uncanny, no suggestion of a stealthy, deliberate wildcat turned into a man, or of an insolent99 spectre on leave from Hades, endowed with skin and bones and a subtle power of terror. Pedro with his fangs100, his tangled101 beard, and queer stare of his little bear’s eyes was, by comparison, delightfully102 natural. Besides, Schomberg could no longer help himself.
“That will do very well,” he asserted mournfully. “But if you gentlemen, if you had turned up here only three months ago — ay, less than three months ago — you would have found somebody very different from what I am now to talk to you. It’s true. What do you think of that?”
“I scarcely know what to think. I should think it was a lie. You were probably as tame three months ago as you are now. You were born tame, like most people in the world.”
Mr Jones got up spectrally103, and Ricardo imitated him with a snarl38 and a stretch. Schomberg, in a brown study, went on, as if to himself:
“There has been an orchestra here — eighteen women.”
Mr Jones let out an exclamation104 of dismay, and looked about as if the walls around him and the whole house had been infected with plague. Then he became very angry, and swore violently at Schomberg for daring to bring up such subjects. The hotel-keeper was too much surprised to get up. He gazed from his chair at Mr. Jones’s anger, which had nothing spectral in it but was not the more comprehensible for that.
“What’s the matter?” he stammered105 out. “What subject? Didn’t you hear me say it was an orchestra? There’s nothing wrong in that. Well, there was a girl amongst them —” Schomberg’s eyes went stony106; he clasped his hands in front of his breast with such force that his knuckles107 came out white. “Such a girl! Tame, am I? I would have kicked everything to pieces about me for her. And she, of course . . . I am in the prime of life . . . then a fellow bewitched her — a vagabond, a false, bring, swindling, underhand, stick-at-nothing brute. Ah!”
His entwined fingers cracked as he tore his hands apart, flung out his arms, and leaned his forehead on them in a passion of fury. The other two looked at his shaking back — the attenuated108 Mr. Jones with mingled109 scorn and a sort of fear, Ricardo with the expression of a cat which sees a piece of fish in the pantry out of reach. Schomberg flung himself backwards110. He was dry-eyed, but he gulped111 as if swallowing sobs112.
“No wonder you can do with me what you like. You have no idea — just let me tell you of my trouble —”
“I don’t want to know anything of your beastly trouble,” said Mr. Jones, in his most lifelessly positive voice.
He stretched forth113 an arresting hand, and, as Schomberg remained open-mouthed, he walked out of the billiard-room in all the uncanniness of his thin shanks. Ricardo followed at his leader’s heels; but he showed his teeth to Schomberg over his shoulder.
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1
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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6
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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9
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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10
irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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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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14
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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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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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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superstitiously
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| 被邪教所支配 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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motiveless
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| adj.无动机的，无目的的 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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32
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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36
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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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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38
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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39
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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40
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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41
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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42
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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43
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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44
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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retracted
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| v.撤回或撤消( retract的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝执行或遵守；缩回；拉回 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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incitement
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| 激励； 刺激； 煽动； 激励物 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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decomposition
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| n. 分解, 腐烂, 崩溃 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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spectral
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| adj.幽灵的，鬼魂的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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feline
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| adj.猫科的 | |
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remonstrated
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 )；告诫 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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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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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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viper
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| n.毒蛇；危险的人 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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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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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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103
spectrally
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| adv.幽灵似地，可怕地 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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109
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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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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112
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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