Villette owns a climate as variable, though not so humid, as that of any English town. A night of high wind followed upon that soft sunset, and all the next day was one of dry storm — dark, beclouded, yet rainless — the streets were dim with sand and dust, whirled from the boulevards. I know not that even lovely weather would have tempted2 me to spend the evening-time of study and recreation where I had spent it yesterday. My alley3, and, indeed, all the walks and shrubs4 in the garden, had acquired a new, but not a pleasant interest; their seclusion6 was now become precarious7; their calm — insecure. That casement8 which rained billets, had vulgarized the once dear nook it overlooked; and elsewhere, the eyes of the flowers had gained vision, and the knots in the tree-boles listened like secret ears. Some plants there were, indeed, trodden down by Dr. John in his search, and his hasty and heedless progress, which I wished to prop9 up, water, and revive; some footmarks, too, he had left on the beds: but these, in spite of the strong wind, I found a moment’s leisure to efface10 very early in the morning, ere common eyes had discovered them. With a pensive11 sort of content, I sat down to my desk and my German, while the pupils settled to their evening lessons; and the other teachers took up their needlework.
The scene of the “etude du soir” was always the refectory, a much smaller apartment than any of the three classes or schoolrooms; for here none, save the boarders, were ever admitted, and these numbered only a score. Two lamps hung from the ceiling over the two tables; these were lit at dusk, and their kindling13 was the signal for school-books being set aside, a grave demeanour assumed, general silence enforced, and then commenced “la lecture pieuse.” This said “lecture pieuse” was, I soon found, mainly designed as a wholesome14 mortification15 of the Intellect, a useful humiliation16 of the Reason; and such a dose for Common Sense as she might digest at her leisure, and thrive on as she best could.
The book brought out (it was never changed, but when finished, recommenced) was a venerable volume, old as the hills — grey as the H?tel de Ville.
I would have given two francs for the chance of getting that book once into my bands, turning over the sacred yellow leaves, ascertaining17 the title, and perusing18 with my own eyes the enormous figments which, as an unworthy heretic, it was only permitted me to drink in with my bewildered ears. This book contained legends of the saints. Good God! (I speak the words reverently) what legends they were. What gasconading rascals19 those saints must have been, if they first boasted these exploits or invented these miracles. These legends, however, were no more than monkish20 extravagances, over which one laughed inwardly; there were, besides, priestly matters, and the priestcraft of the book was far worse than its monkery. The ears burned on each side of my head as I listened, perforce, to tales of moral martyrdom inflicted21 by Rome; the dread22 boasts of confessors, who had wickedly abused their office, trampling23 to deep degradation24 high-born ladies, making of countesses and princesses the most tormented25 slaves under the sun. Stories like that of Conrad and Elizabeth of Hungary, recurred26 again and again, with all its dreadful viciousness, sickening tyranny and black impiety27: tales that were nightmares of oppression, privation, and agony.
I sat out this “lecture pieuse” for some nights as well as I could, and as quietly too; only once breaking off the points of my scissors by involuntarily sticking them somewhat deep in the worm-eaten board of the table before me. But, at last, it made me so burning hot, and my temples, and my heart, and my wrist throbbed28 so fast, and my sleep afterwards was so broken with excitement, that I could sit no longer. Prudence29 recommended henceforward a swift clearance30 of my person from the place, the moment that guilty old book was brought out. No Mause Headrigg ever felt a stronger call to take up her testimony31 against Sergeant32 Bothwell, than I— to speak my mind in this matter of the popish “lecture pieuse.” However, I did manage somehow to curb33 and rein34 in; and though always, as soon as Rosine came to light the lamps, I shot from the room quickly, yet also I did it quietly; seizing that vantage moment given by the little bustle35 before the dead silence, and vanishing whilst the boarders put their books away.
When I vanished — it was into darkness; candles were not allowed to be carried about, and the teacher who forsook36 the refectory, had only the unlit hall, schoolroom, or bedroom, as a refuge. In winter I sought the long classes, and paced them fast to keep myself warm — fortunate if the moon shone, and if there were only stars, soon reconciled to their dim gleam, or even to the total eclipse of their absence. In summer it was never quite dark, and then I went up-stairs to my own quarter of the long dormitory, opened my own casement (that chamber37 was lit by five casements38 large as great doors), and leaning out, looked forth39 upon the city beyond the garden, and listened to band-music from the park or the palace-square, thinking meantime my own thoughts, living my own life, in my own still, shadow-world.
This evening, fugitive40 as usual before the Pope and his works, I mounted the staircase, approached the dormitory, and quietly opened the door, which was always kept carefully shut, and which, like every other door in this house, revolved41 noiselessly on well-oiled hinges. Before I saw, I felt that life was in the great room, usually void: not that there was either stir or breath, or rustle42 of sound, but Vacuum lacked, Solitude43 was not at home. All the white beds — the “lits d’ange,” as they were poetically44 termed — lay visible at a glance; all were empty: no sleeper45 reposed47 therein. The sound of a drawer cautiously slid out struck my ear; stepping a little to one side, my vision took a free range, unimpeded by falling curtains. I now commanded my own bed and my own toilet, with a locked work-box upon it, and locked drawers underneath48.
Very good. A dumpy, motherly little body, in decent shawl and the cleanest of possible nightcaps, stood before this toilet, hard at work apparently49 doing me the kindness of “tidying out” the “meuble.” Open stood the lid of the work-box, open the top drawer; duly and impartially50 was each succeeding drawer opened in turn: not an article of their contents but was lifted and unfolded, not a paper but was glanced over, not a little box but was unlidded; and beautiful was the adroitness51, exemplary the care with which the search was accomplished52. Madame wrought53 at it like a true star, “unhasting yet unresting.” I will not deny that it was with a secret glee I watched her. Had I been a gentleman I believe Madame would have found favour in my eyes, she was so handy, neat, thorough in all she did: some people’s movements provoke the soul by their loose awkwardness, hers — satisfied by their trim compactness. I stood, in short, fascinated; but it was necessary to make an effort to break this spell a retreat must be beaten. The searcher might have turned and caught me; there would have been nothing for it then but a scene, and she and I would have had to come all at once, with a sudden clash, to a thorough knowledge of each other: down would have gone conventionalities, away swept disguises, and I should have looked into her eyes, and she into mine — we should have known that we could work together no more, and parted in this life for ever.
Where was the use of tempting54 such a catastrophe55? I was not angry, and had no wish in the world to leave her. I could hardly get another employer whose yoke56 would be so light and so, easy of carriage; and truly I liked Madame for her capital sense, whatever I might think of her principles: as to her system, it did me no harm; she might work me with it to her heart’s content: nothing would come of the operation. Loverless and inexpectant of love, I was as safe from spies in my heart-poverty, as the beggar from thieves in his destitution57 of purse. I turned, then, and fled; descending58 the stairs with progress as swift and soundless as that of the spider, which at the same instant ran down the bannister.
How I laughed when I reached the schoolroom. I knew now she had certainly seen Dr. John in the garden; I knew what her thoughts were. The spectacle of a suspicious nature so far misled by its own inventions, tickled59 me much. Yet as the laugh died, a kind of wrath60 smote61 me, and then bitterness followed: it was the rock struck, and Meribah’s waters gushing63 out. I never had felt so strange and contradictory64 an inward tumult65 as I felt for an hour that evening: soreness and laughter, and fire, and grief, shared my heart between them. I cried hot tears: not because Madame mistrusted me — I did not care twopence for her mistrust — but for other reasons. Complicated, disquieting66 thoughts broke up the whole repose46 of my nature. However, that turmoil67 subsided68: next day I was again Lucy Snowe.
On revisiting my drawers, I found them all securely locked; the closest subsequent examination could not discover change or apparent disturbance69 in the position of one object. My few dresses were folded as I had left them; a certain little bunch of white violets that had once been silently presented to me by a stranger (a stranger to me, for we had never exchanged words), and which I had dried and kept for its sweet perfume between the folds of my best dress, lay there unstirred; my black silk scarf, my lace chemisette and collars, were unrumpled. Had she creased70 one solitary71 article, I own I should have felt much greater difficulty in forgiving her; but finding all straight and orderly, I said, “Let bygones be bygones. I am unharmed: why should I bear malice72?”
A thing there was which puzzled myself, and I sought in my brain a key to that riddle73 almost as sedulously74 as Madame had sought a guide to useful knowledge in my toilet drawers. How was it that Dr. John, if he had not been accessory to the dropping of that casket into the garden, should have known that it was dropped, and appeared so promptly75 on the spot to seek it? So strong was the wish to clear up this point that I began to entertain this daring suggestion: “Why may I not, in case I should ever have the opportunity, ask Dr. John himself to explain this coincidence?”
And so long as Dr. John was absent, I really believed I had courage to test him with such a question.
Little Georgette was now convalescent; and her physician accordingly made his visits very rare: indeed, he would have ceased them altogether, had not Madame insisted on his giving an occasional call till the child should be quite well.
She came into the nursery one evening just after I had listened to Georgette’s lisped and broken prayer, and had put her to bed. Taking the little one’s hand, she said, “Cette enfant a toujours un peu de fièvre.” And presently afterwards, looking at me with a quicker glance than was habitual76 to her quiet eye, “Le Docteur John l’a-t-il vue dernièrement? Non, n’est-ce pas?”
Of course she knew this better than any other person in the house. “Well,” she continued, “I am going out, pour faire quelques courses en fiacre. I shall call on Dr. John, and send him to the child. I will that he sees her this evening; her cheeks are flushed, her pulse is quick; you will receive him — for my part, I shall be from home.”
Now the child was well enough, only warm with the warmth of July; it was scarcely less needful to send for a priest to administer extreme unction than for a doctor to prescribe a dose; also Madame rarely made “courses,” as she called them, in the evening: moreover, this was the first time she had chosen to absent herself on the occasion of a visit from Dr. John. The whole arrangement indicated some plan; this I saw, but without the least anxiety. “Ha! ha! Madame,” laughed Light-heart the Beggar, “your crafty78 wits are on the wrong tack79.”
She departed, attired80 very smartly, in a shawl of price, and a certain chapeau vert tendre — hazardous81, as to its tint82, for any complexion83 less fresh than her own, but, to her, not unbecoming. I wondered what she intended: whether she really would send Dr. John or not; or whether indeed he would come: he might be engaged.
Madame had charged me not to let Georgette sleep till the doctor came; I had therefore sufficient occupation in telling her nursery tales and palavering the little language for her benefit. I affected84 Georgette; she was a sensitive and a loving child: to hold her in my lap, or carry her in my arms, was to me a treat. To-night she would have me lay my head on the pillow of her crib; she even put her little arms round my neck. Her clasp, and the nestling action with which she pressed her cheek to mine, made me almost cry with a tender pain. Feeling of no kind abounded85 in that house; this pure little drop from a pure little source was too sweet: it penetrated86 deep, and subdued87 the heart, and sent a gush62 to the eyes. Half an hour or an hour passed; Georgette murmured in her soft lisp that she was growing sleepy. “And you shall sleep,” thought I, “malgré maman and médecin, if they are not here in ten minutes.”
Hark! There was the ring, and there the tread, astonishing the staircase by the fleetness with which it left the steps behind. Rosine introduced Dr. John, and, with a freedom of manner not altogether peculiar88 to herself, but characteristic of the domestics of Villette generally, she stayed to hear what he had to say. Madame’s presence would have awed89 her back to her own realm of the vestibule and the cabinet — for mine, or that of any other teacher or pupil, she cared not a jot90. Smart, trim and pert, she stood, a hand in each pocket of her gay grisette apron91, eyeing Dr. John with no more fear or shyness than if he had been a picture instead of a living gentleman.
“Le marmot n’a rien, nest-ce pas?” said she, indicating Georgette with a jerk of her chin.
“Pas beaucoup,” was the answer, as the doctor hastily scribbled92 with his pencil some harmless prescription93.
“Eh bien!” pursued Rosine, approaching him quite near, while he put up his pencil. “And the box — did you get it? Monsieur went off like a coup-de-vent the other night; I had not time to ask him.”
“I found it: yes.”
“And who threw it, then?” continued Rosine, speaking quite freely the very words I should so much have wished to say, but had no address or courage to bring it out: how short some people make the road to a point which, for others, seems unattainable!
“That may be my secret,” rejoined Dr. John briefly94, but with no, sort of hauteur95: he seemed quite to understand the Rosine or grisette character.
“Mais enfin,” continued she, nothing abashed96, “monsieur knew it was thrown, since be came to seek it — how did he know?”
“I was attending a little patient in the college near,” said he, “and saw it dropped out of his chamber window, and so came to pick it up.”
How simple the whole explanation! The note had alluded98 to a physician as then examining “Gustave.”
“Ah ?a!” pursued Rosine; “il n’y a donc rien là-dessous: pas de mystère, pas d’amourette, par12 exemple?”
“Pas plus que sur ma main,” responded the doctor, showing his palm.
“Quel dommage!” responded the grisette: “et moi —à qui tout99 cela commen?ait à donner des idées.”
“Vraiment! vous en êtes pour vos frais,” was the doctor’s cool rejoinder.
She pouted100. The doctor could not help laughing at the sort of “moue” she made: when he laughed, he had something peculiarly good-natured and genial101 in his look. I saw his hand incline to his pocket.
“How many times have you opened the door for me within this last month?” he asked.
“Monsieur ought to have kept count of that,” said Rosine, quite readily.
“As if I had not something better to do!” rejoined he; but I saw him give her a piece of gold, which she took unscrupulously, and then danced off to answer the door-bell, ringing just now every five minutes, as the various servants came to fetch the half-boarders.
The reader must not think too hardly of Rosine; on the whole, she was not a bad sort of person, and had no idea there could be any disgrace in grasping at whatever she could get, or any effrontery102 in chattering103 like a pie to the best gentleman in Christendom.
I had learnt something from the above scene besides what concerned the ivory box: viz., that not on the robe de jaconas, pink or grey, nor yet on the frilled and pocketed apron, lay the blame of breaking Dr. John’s heart: these items of array were obviously guiltless as Georgette’s little blue tunic104. So much the better. But who then was the culprit? What was the ground — what the origin — what the perfect explanation of the whole business? Some points had been cleared, but how many yet remained obscure as night!
“However,” I said to myself, “it is no affair of yours;” and turning from the face on which I had been unconsciously dwelling105 with a questioning gaze, I looked through the window which commanded the garden below. Dr. John, meantime, standing106 by the bed-side, was slowly drawing on his gloves and watching his little patient, as her eyes closed and her rosy107 lips parted in coming sleep. I waited till he should depart as usual, with a quick bow and scarce articulate “good-night.”. Just as he took his hat, my eyes, fixed108 on the tall houses bounding the garden, saw the one lattice, already commemorated109, cautiously open; forth from the aperture110 projected a hand and a white handkerchief; both waved. I know not whether the signal was answered from some viewless quarter of our own dwelling; but immediately after there fluttered from, the lattice a falling object, white and light — billet the second, of course.
“There!” I ejaculated involuntarily.
“Where?”, asked Dr. John with energy, making direct for the window. “What, is it?”
“They have gone and done it again,” was my reply. “A handkerchief waved and something fell:” and I pointed111 to the lattice, now closed and looking hypocritically blank.
“Go, at once; pick it up and bring it here,” was his prompt direction; adding, “Nobody will take notice of you: I should be seen.”
Straight I went. After some little search, I found a folded paper, lodged112 on the lower branch of a shrub5; I seized and brought it direct to Dr. John. This time, I believe not even Rosine saw me.
He instantly tore the billet into small pieces, without reading it. “It is not in the least her fault, you must remember,” he said, looking at me.
“Whose fault?” I asked. “Who is it?”
“You don’t yet know, then?”
“Not in the least.”
“Have you no guess?”
“None.”
“If I knew you better, I might be tempted to risk some confidence, and thus secure you as guardian113 over a most innocent and excellent, but somewhat inexperienced being.”
“As a duenna?” I asked.
“Yes,” said he abstractedly. “What snares114 are round her!” he added, musingly115: and now, certainly for the first time, he examined my face, anxious, doubtless, to see if any kindly116 expression there, would warrant him in recommending to my care and indulgence some ethereal creature, against whom powers of darkness were plotting. I felt no particular vocation117 to undertake the surveillance of ethereal creatures; but recalling the scene at the bureau, it seemed to me that I owed him a good turn: if I could help him then I would, and it lay not with me to decide how. With as little reluctance118 as might be, I intimated that “I was willing to do what I could towards taking care of any person in whom he might be interested.”.
“I am no farther interested than as a spectator,” said he, with a modesty119, admirable, as I thought, to witness. “I happen to be acquainted with the rather worthless character of the person, who, from the house opposite, has now twice invaded the, sanctity of this place; I have also met in society the object at whom these vulgar attempts are aimed. Her exquisite120 superiority and innate121 refinement122 ought, one would think, to scare impertinence from her very idea. It is not so, however; and innocent, unsuspicious as she is, I would guard her from evil if I could. In person, however, I can do nothing I cannot come near her”— he paused.
“Well, I am willing to help you,” said I, “only tell me how.” And busily, in my own mind, I ran over the list of our inmates123, seeking this paragon124, this pearl of great price, this gem77 without flaw. “It must be Madame,” I concluded. “She only, amongst us all, has the art even to seem superior: but as to being unsuspicious, inexperienced, &c., Dr. John need not distract himself about that. However, this is just his whim125, and I will not contradict him; he shall be humoured: his angel shall be an angel.
“Just notify the quarter to which my care is to be directed,” I continued gravely: chuckling126, however, to myself over the thought of being set to chaperon Madame Beck or any of her pupils. Now Dr. John had a fine set of nerves, and he at once felt by instinct, what no more coarsely constituted mind would have detected; namely, that I was a little amused at him. The colour rose to his cheek; with half a smile he turned and took his hat — he was going. My heart smote me.
“I will — I will help you,” said I eagerly. “I will do what you wish. I will watch over your angel; I will take care of her, only tell me who she is.”
“But you must know,” said he then with earnestness, yet speaking very low. “So spotless, so good, so unspeakably beautiful! impossible that one house should contain two like her. I allude97, of course —”
Here the latch127 of Madame Beck’s chamber-door (opening into the nursery) gave a sudden click, as if the hand holding it had been slightly convulsed; there was the suppressed explosion of an irrepressible sneeze. These little accidents will happen to the best of us. Madame — excellent woman! was then on duty. She had come home quietly, stolen up-stairs on tip-toe; she was in her chamber. If she had not sneezed, she would have heard all, and so should I; but that unlucky sternutation routed Dr. John. While he stood aghast, she came forward alert, composed, in the best yet most tranquil128 spirits: no novice129 to her habits but would have thought she had just come in, and scouted130 the idea of her ear having been glued to the key-hole for at least ten minutes. She affected to sneeze again, declared she was “enrhumée,” and then proceeded volubly to recount her “courses en fiacre.” The prayer-bell rang, and I left her with the doctor.
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1
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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shrub
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| n.灌木，灌木丛 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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par
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| n.标准，票面价值，平均数量；adj.票面的，平常的，标准的 | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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ascertaining
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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perusing
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的现在分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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monkish
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| adj.僧侣的，修道士的，禁欲的 | |
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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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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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impiety
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| n.不敬；不孝 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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clearance
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| n.净空；许可(证)；清算；清除，清理 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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casements
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| n.窗扉( casement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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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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revolved
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| v.（使）旋转( revolve的过去式和过去分词 )；细想 | |
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42
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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43
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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44
poetically
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| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
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45
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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46
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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47
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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49
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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50
impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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51
adroitness
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52
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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53
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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54
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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55
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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56
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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57
destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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58
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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59
tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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60
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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61
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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62
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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63
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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64
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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65
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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66
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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67
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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68
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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69
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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70
creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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71
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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72
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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73
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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74
sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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75
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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76
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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77
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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78
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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79
tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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80
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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82
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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83
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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84
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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85
abounded
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| v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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87
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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88
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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89
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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90
jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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91
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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92
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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93
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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94
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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95
hauteur
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| n.傲慢 | |
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96
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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98
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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100
pouted
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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102
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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103
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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104
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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105
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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106
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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107
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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108
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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109
commemorated
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| v.纪念，庆祝( commemorate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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111
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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112
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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113
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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114
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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115
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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116
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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117
vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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118
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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119
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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120
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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121
innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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122
refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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123
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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124
paragon
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| n.模范，典型 | |
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125
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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126
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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127
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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128
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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129
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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130
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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