The moon had just dropped below the narrow horizon of the camp, but to eyes which looked up from the blackness of the hollow the form of the nearest sentinel, erect1 on the edge of the cup, showed plain against the paler background of sky. The hour was the deadest of the night; but, as the stillest night has its noises, the camp was not without noises. The dull sound of horses browsing2, the breath of a thousand sleepers3, the low whinny of a mare4, or the muttered word of one who dreamed heavily and spoke5 in his dream, these and the like sounds fed a murmurous7 silence that was one with the brooding heaviness of a June night.
Odette de Villeneuve--the ears that drank in the voices of the slumbering8 host were hers--stood half-hidden in the doorway9 of her quarters and listened. The inner darkness had become intolerable to her. The wattled walls, though they were ventilated by a hundred crevices10, stifled11 her. Pent behind them she fancied a hundred things; she saw on the curtain of blackness drawn12 faces and staring eyes; she made of the faintest murmur6 that entered now a roar of voices, and now the hoarse13 beginnings of a scream. Outside, with the cooler air fanning her burning face, she could at least lay hold on reality. She was no longer the sport and plaything of her own strained senses. She could at least be sure that nothing was happening, that nothing had happened--yet. And though she still breathed quickly and crouched14 like a fearful thing in the doorway, here she could call hate to her support, she could reckon her wrongs and think of her lover, and persuade herself that this was but a nightmare from which she would awake to find all well with herself and with him.
If only the thing were over and done! Ah, if only it were done! That was her feeling. If only the thing were done! She bent15 her ear to listen; but nothing stirred, no alarm clove16 the night; and it could want little of morning. She fancied that the air struck colder, laden17 with that chill which comes before the dawn: and eastwards18 she thought that she discerned the first faint lightening of the sky. The day was at hand and nothing had happened.
She could not say on the instant whether she was sorry or glad. But she was sure that she would be sorry when the sun rose high and shone on her enemy's triumph, and Charles and Roger and Bonne, whom she had taught herself to despise, saw their choice justified19, and the side they had supported victorious20. The triumph of those beneath us is hard to bear; and at that picture the Abbess's face grew hard, though there was no one to see it. The blood throbbed21 in her head as she thought of it; throbbed so loudly that she questioned the reality of a sound that a moment later forced itself upon her senses. It was a sound not unlike the pulsing of the blood; not terrible nor loud, but rhythmical22, such as the tide makes when it rises slowly but irresistibly23 to fill some channel left bare at the ebb24.
What was it? She stood arrested. Was it only the blood surging in her ears? Or was it the silent uprising of a multitude of men, each from the place where he lay? Or was it, could it be the stealthy march of countless25 feet across the camp?
It might be that. She listened more intently, staying with one hand the beating of her heart. She decided26 that it was that.
Thereon it was all she could do to resist the impulse to give the alarm. She had no means of knowing in which direction the unseen band was moving. She could guess, but she might be wrong; and in that case, at any moment the night might hurl27 upon her a hundred brutes28 whose first victim as they charged through the encampment she must be. She fancied that the darkness wavered; and here and there bred shifting forms. She fancied that the dull sound was drawing nearer and growing louder. And--a scream rose in her throat.
She choked it down. An instant later she had her reward, if that was a reward which left her white and shuddering--a coward clinging for support to the frail29 wall beside her.
It was a shrill30 scream rending31 the night; such an one as had distended32 her own throat an instant before--but stifled in mid-utterance in a fashion horrible and suggestive. Upon it followed a fierce outcry in several voices, cut short two seconds later with the same abruptness33, and followed by--silence. Then, while she clung cold, shivering, half fainting to the wattle, the darkness gave forth34 again that dull shuffling35, moving sound, a little quickened perhaps, and a little more apparent.
This time it caused an alarm. Sharp and clear came a voice from the ridge36, "What goes there? Answer!"
No answer was given, and "Who goes there?" cried a voice from a different point, and then "To arms!" cried a third. "To arms! To arms!" And on a rising wave of hoarse cries the camp awoke.
The tall form of the Bat seemed to start up within a yard of the Abbess. He seized a stick that hung beside a drum on a post, and in a twinkling the hurried notes of the Alert pulsed through the camp. On the instant men rose from the earth about him; while frightened faces, seen by the rays of a passing light, looked from hut-doors, and the cries of a waiting-maid struggling in hysterics mingled37 with the words of command that brought the troopers into line and manned the ground in front of the Vicomte's quarters. A trooper flew up the sloping rampart to learn from the sentry38 what he had seen, and was back as quickly with the news that the guards knew no more than was known below. They had only heard a suspicious outcry, and following on it sounds which suggested the movement of a body of men.
The Bat, bringing order out of confusion--and in that well aided by Roger, though the lad's heart was bursting with fears for his mistress--could do naught39 at the first blush but secure his position. But when he had got his men placed, and lanthorns so disposed as to advantage them and hamper40 an attack, he turned sharply on the man. "Did they hear my lord's voice?" he asked.
"It was their fancy. Certainly the outcry came from that part of the camp."
"Then out on them!" Roger exclaimed, unable to control himself. "Out on them. To saddle and let us charge, and woe41 betide them if they stand!"
"Softly, softly," the Bat said. "Orders, young sir! Mine are to stand firm, whatever betides, and guard the women! And that I shall do until daylight."
"Daylight?" Roger cried.
"Which is not half an hour off!"
"Half an hour!" The lad's tone rang with indignation. "Are you a man and will you leave a woman at their mercy?" He was white with rage and shaking. "Then I will go alone. I will go to their quarters--I, alone!" As he thought of the girl he loved and her terrors his heart was too big for his breast.
"And throw away another life?" the Bat replied sternly. "For shame!"
"For shame, I?"
"Ay, you! To call yourself a soldier and cry fie on orders!"
He would have added more, but he was forestalled42 by the Vicomte. In his high petulant43 tone he bade his son stand for a fool. "There are women here," he continued, sensibly enough, "and we are none too many to guard them, as we are."
"Ay, but she" Roger retorted, trembling, "is alone there."
"A truce44 to this!" the Bat struck in, with heat. "To your post, sir, and do your duty, or we are all lost together. Steady, men, steady!" as a slight movement of the troopers at the breastwork made itself felt rather than seen. "Pikes low! Pikes low! What is it?"
He saw then. The commotion45 was caused by the approach of a group of men, three or four in number, whose neighbourhood one of the lights had just betrayed. "Who comes there?" cried the leader of the Countess's troopers, who was in charge of that end of the line. "Are you friends?"
"Ay, ay! Friends!"
If so, they were timorous46 friends. For when they were bidden to advance to the spot where the Bat with the Vicomte and Roger awaited them, their alarm was plain. The foremost was the man who had spoken for the peasants at the debate some days before. But the smith's boldness and independence were gone; he was ashake with fear. "I have bad news," he stammered47. "Bad news, my lords!"
"The worse for some one!" the Bat answered with a grim undernote that should have satisfied even Roger. As he spoke he raised one of the lights from the ground, and held it so that its rays fell on the peasants' faces. "Has harm happened to the hostages?"
"God avert48 it! But they have been carried off," the man faltered49 through his ragged50 beard. It was evident that he was thoroughly51 frightened.
"Carried off?"
"Ay, carried off!"
"By whom? By whom, rascal52?" The Bat's eyes glared dangerously. "By Heaven, if you have had hand or finger in it----" he added.
"Should I be here if I had?" the man answered, piteously extending his open hands.
"I know not. But now you are here, you will stay here! Surround them!" And when the order had been carried out, "Now speak, or your skin will pay for it," the Bat continued. "What has happened, spawn53 of the dung-heap?"
"Some of our folk--God knows without our knowledge"--the smith whined--"brought in a party of the men on the hill----"
"The Old Crocans from the town?"
"Ay! And they seized the--my lord and the lady--and got off with them! As God sees me, they were gone before we were awake!" he protested, seeing the threatening blade with which Roger was advancing upon him.
The Lieutenant54 held the lad back. "Very good," he said. "We shall follow with the first light. If a hair of their heads be injured, I shall hang you first, and the rest of you by batches55 as the trees will bear!" And with a black and terrible look the Bat swore an oath to chill the blood. The leader of the Countess's men repeated it after him, word for word; and Roger, silent but with rage in his eyes, stood shaking between them, his blade in his hand.
The Vicomte, his fears for the safety of his own party allayed56, turned to see who were present. He discovered his eldest57 daughter, leaning as if not far from fainting, against the doorway of the Duke's quarters. "Courage, girl," he said, in a tone of rebuke58. "We are in no peril59 ourselves, and should set an example. Where is your sister?"
"I do not know," the Abbess replied shakily. It was being borne in on her that not two lives, but the lives of many, of scores and of hundreds, might pay for what she had done. And she was new to the work. "I have not seen her," she repeated with greater firmness, as she summoned hate to her support, and called up before her fancy the Countess's childish attractions. "She must be sleeping."
"Sleeping?" the Vicomte echoed in astonishment60. He was going to add more when another took the words out of his mouth.
"What is that?" It was Roger's voice fiercely raised. "By Heaven! It is Fulbert."
It was Fulbert. As the men, of whom some were saddling--for the light was beginning to appear--pressed forward to look, the steward61 crawled out of the gloom about the brook62, and, raising himself on one hand, made painful efforts to speak. He looked like a dead man risen; nor did the uncertain light of the lanthorns take from the horror of his appearance. Probably he had been left for dead, for the smashing blow of some blunt weapon had beaten in one temple and flooded his face and beard with blood. The Abbess, faint and sick, appalled63 by this first sign of her handiwork, hid her eyes.
"Follow! Follow!" the poor creature muttered, swaying as he strove to rise to his feet. "A rescue!"
"With the first light," the Bat answered him. "With the first light! How many are they?"
But he only muttered, "Follow! A rescue! A rescue!" and repeated those words in such a tone that it was plain that he no longer understood them, but said them mechanically. Perhaps they had been the last he had uttered before he was struck down.
The Bat saw how it was with him; he had seen men in that state before. "With the first light!" he said, to soothe64 him. "With the first light we follow!" Then turning to his men he bade them carry the poor fellow in and see to his hurts.
Roger sprang forward, eager to help. And they were bearing the man to the rear, and the Abbess had taken heart to uncover her eyes, while still averting65 them, when a strange sound broke from her lips--lips blanched66 in an instant to the colour of paper. It caught the ear of the Bat, who stood nearest to her. He turned. The Abbess, with arm outstretched, was pointing to the door of the Countess's hut. There, visible, though she seemed to shrink from sight, and even raised her hand in deprecation, stood the Countess herself.
"By Heaven!" the Bat cried. And he stood. While Roger, in place of advancing, gazed on her as on a ghost.
She tried to speak, but no sound came. And for the Abbess she had as easily spoken as the dead. Her senses tottered67, the slim figure danced before her eyes, the voices of those who spoke came from a great way off.
It was the Vicomte who, being the least concerned, was first to find his voice. "Is it you, Countess?" he quavered.
The Countess nodded. She could not speak.
"But how--how have you escaped?"
"Ay, how?" the Bat chimed in more soberly. He saw that it was no phantom68, though the mystery seemed none the less for that. "How come you here, Countess? How--am I mad, or did you not go to their quarters at sundown?"
"No," she whispered. "I did not go." She framed the words with difficulty. Between shame and excitement she seemed ready to sink into the earth.
"No? You did not? Then who--who did go? Some one went."
She made a vain attempt to speak. Then commanding herself--
"Bonne went--in my place," she cried. And clapping her hands to her face in a paroxysm of grief, she leant, weeping, against the post of the door.
They looked at one another and began to understand, and to see. And one had opened his mouth to speak, when a strangled cry drew all eyes to the Abbess. She seemed to be striving to put something from her. Her staring eyes, her round mouth of horror, her waving fingers made up a picture of terror comparable only to one of those masks which the Greeks used in their tragedies of fate. A moment she showed thus, and none of those who turned eye on her doubted that they were looking on a stress of passion beside which the Countess's grief was but a puny69 thing. The next moment she fell her length in a swoon.
* * * * *
When she came to herself an hour later she lay for a time with eyes open but vacant, eyes which saw but conveyed no image to the ailing70 brain. The sun was still low. Its shafts71 darting72 through the interstices in the wall of the hut were laden with a million dancing motes73, which formed a shifting veil of light between her eyes and the roof. She seemed to have been gazing at this a whole ?on when the first conscious thought pierced her mind, and she asked herself where she was.
Where? Not in her own lodging74, nor alone. This was borne in on her. For on one side of her couch crouched one of her women; on the other knelt the Countess, her face hidden. In the doorway behind the head of the bed, and so beyond the range of her vision, were others; the low drone of voices, her father's, the Duke's, penetrated75 one by one to her senses still dulled by the shock she had suffered. Something had happened then; something serious to her, or she would not lie thus surrounded with watchers on all sides of her bed. Had she been ill?
She considered this silently, and little by little began to remember: the flight to the camp, the camp life, the Duke's hut in which she had passed most of her time in the camp. Yes, she was in the Duke's hut, and that was his voice. She was lying on his couch. They had been besieged76, she remembered. Had she been wounded? From under half-closed lids she scrutinised the two women beside her. The one she knew. The other must be her sister. Yes, her sister would be the first to come, the first to aid her. But it was not her sister. It was----
She knew.
She called on God and lay white and mute, shaking violently, but with closed eyes. The women rose and looked at her, and suggested remedies, and implored78 her to speak. But she lay cold and dumb, and only from time to time by violent fits of trembling showed that she was alive. What had she done? What had she done?
The women could make nothing of her. Nor when they had tried their utmost could her father, though he came and chid79 her querulously; his tone the sharper for the remorse80 he was feeling. He had had an hour to think; and during that hour the obedience81 which his less cherished daughter had ever paid him, her cheerful care of him, her patience with him, had risen before him; and, alas82, with these thoughts, the memory of many an unkind word and act, many a taunt83 flung at her as lightly as at the dog that cumbered the hearth84. To balance the account, and a little perhaps because the way in which Odette took it was an added reproach to him, he spoke harshly to the Abbess--such is human nature! But, for all the effect his words had on her, he might have addressed a stone. That which she had done thundered too loudly in her ears for another's voice to enter.
She had not loved her sister over dearly, and into such love as she had given contempt had entered largely. But she was her sister. She was her sister! Memories of childish days in the garden at Villeneuve, when Bonne had clung to her hand and run beside her, and prattled85, and played, and quarrelled, and yielded to her--being always the gentler--rose in her mind; and memories of little words and acts, and of Bonne's face on this occasion and on that! And dry-eyed she shook with horror of the thing she had done. Her sister! She had done her sister to death more cruelly, more foully86, more barbarously, than if she had struck her lifeless at her feet.
An age, it seemed to her, she lay in this state, cold, paralysed, without hope. Then a word caught her ear and fixed87 her attention.
"They have been away two hours," Joyeuse muttered, speaking low to the Vicomte. "They should be back."
"What could they do?" the Vicomte answered in a tone of despair.
"Forty swords can do much," Joyeuse answered hardily88. "Were I sound I should know what to do. And that right well!"
"They started too late."
"The greater reason they should be back! Were all over they would be back."
"I have no hope."
"I have. Had they desired to kill them only," the Duke continued with reason, "the brutes had done it here, in a moment! If they did not hope to use them why carry them off?"
But the Vicomte with a quivering lip shook his head. He was still thinking--with marvellous unselfishness for him--of the daughter who had borne with him so long and so patiently. For des Ageaux there might be hope and a chance. But a woman in the hands of savages89 such as those he had seen in the town on the hill! He shuddered90 as he thought of it. Better death, better death a hundred times than that. He did not wish to see her again.
But in one heart the mention of hope had awakened91 hope. The Abbess raised herself on her elbow. "Who have gone?" she asked in a voice so hollow and changed they started as at the voice of a stranger. "Who are gone?" she repeated.
"All but eight spears!" the Duke answered.
"Why not all?" she cried feverishly92. "Why not all?"
"Some it was necessary to keep," Joyeuse replied gently. "Not one has been kept that could go. If your sister can be saved, she will be saved."
"Too late!" the Vicomte muttered. And he shook his head.
The Abbess sank back with a groan93. But a moment later she broke into a passion of weeping. The cord that had bound her heart had snapped. The first horror of the thing which she had done was passing. The first excuse, the first suggestion that for that which she had not intended she was not answerable, was whispering at the threshold of her ear. As she wept in passionate94, in unrestrained abandonment, regarding none of those about her, wonder, an almost resentful wonder, grew in the Vicomte's heart. He had not given her credit for a tithe95, for a hundredth part of the affection she felt for her sister! For the Duke, he, who had seen her consistently placid96, garbed97 in gentle dignity, and as unemotional as she was beautiful, marvelled98 for a different reason. He hailed the human in her with delight; he could have blessed the weeping girl for every tear that proclaimed her woman. By the depth of her love for her sister he plumbed99 her capacity for a more earthly passion. He rejoiced, therefore, as much as he marvelled.
There was one other upon whom Odette's sudden breakdown100 wrought101 even more powerfully; and that was the Countess. While the sister remained stunned102 by the dreadful news and deaf to consolation103, the poor child, who took all to herself and mingled shame with her grief, had not dared to speak; she had not found the heart or the courage to speak. Awed104 by the immensity of the catastrophe105, and the Abbess's stricken face, she had cowered106 on her knees beside the bed with her face hidden; and weeping silently and piteously, had not presumed to trouble the other with her remorse or her useless regret. But the tears of a woman appeal to another woman after a fashion all their own. They soften107, they invite. No sooner, then, had Odette proclaimed herself human by the abandonment of her grief than the Countess felt the impulse to throw herself into her arms and implore77 her forgiveness. She knew, none better, that Bonne had suffered in her place; that in her place and because of her fears--proved only too real--she had gone to death or worse than death; that the fault lay with herself. And that she took it to herself, that her heart was full of remorse and love and contrition--all this she longed to say to the sister. Before Odette knew what to expect or to fear, the younger woman was in her arms.
One moment. The next Odette struck her--struck her with furious, frantic108 rage, and flung her from her. "It is you! You have done this! You!" she cried, panting, and with blazing eyes. "You have killed her! You!"
The young girl staggered back with the mark of the Abbess's fingers crimson109 on her cheek. She stood an instant breathing hard, the combative110 instinct awakened by the blow showing in her eyes and her small bared teeth. Then she flung her hands to her face. "It is true! It is true!" she sobbed111. "But I did not know!"
"Know?" the Abbess cried back relentlessly112; and she was going to add other and madder and more insulting words, when her father's face of amazement113 checked her. She fell back sullenly114, and with a gesture of despair turned her face to the wall.
The Vicomte was on his feet, shocked by what had passed. He began to babble115 words of apology, of excuse; while Joyeuse, ravished, strange to say, by the spirit of the woman he had deemed above anger and above passion, smiled exultant116, wondering what new, what marvellous, what incomparable side of herself this wonderful woman would next exhibit. He who had exhausted117 all common types, all common moods, saw that he had here the quintessence both of heaven and earth. Her beauty, her meekness118, her indignation, her sorrow--what an amalgam119 was here! And how all qualities became her!
Had Roger been there he had taken, it is possible, another view. But he was not; and presently into the halting flow of the Vicomte's words crept a murmur, a tramp of feet, a sound indescribable, but proclaiming news. He broke off. "What is it?" he said. "What is it?"
"News! Ay, news, for a hundred crowns!" the Duke answered. He moved to the door.
The Countess, her face bedabbled with tears, tears of outraged120 pride as well as grief, stayed her sobs121 and looked in the same direction. Even the Abbess caught the infection, and raising her head from the pillow listened with parted lips and staring eyes. News! There was news. But what was it? Good or bad? The Abbess, her heart standing122 still, bit her lip till the blood came.
The murmur of voices drew nearer.
点击收听单词发音
1 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 browsing | |
v.吃草( browse的现在分词 );随意翻阅;(在商店里)随便看看;(在计算机上)浏览信息 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 sleepers | |
n.卧铺(通常以复数形式出现);卧车( sleeper的名词复数 );轨枕;睡觉(呈某种状态)的人;小耳环 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 murmurous | |
adj.低声的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 doorway | |
n.门口,(喻)入门;门路,途径 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 crevices | |
n.(尤指岩石的)裂缝,缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 stifled | |
(使)窒息, (使)窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 ); 镇压,遏制; 堵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 crouched | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 clove | |
n.丁香味 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 eastwards | |
adj.向东方(的),朝东(的);n.向东的方向 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 justified | |
a.正当的,有理的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 victorious | |
adj.胜利的,得胜的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 throbbed | |
抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 ); (心脏、脉搏等)跳动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 rhythmical | |
adj.有节奏的,有韵律的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 irresistibly | |
adv.无法抵抗地,不能自持地;极为诱惑人地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 ebb | |
vi.衰退,减退;n.处于低潮,处于衰退状态 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 hurl | |
vt.猛投,力掷,声叫骂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 brutes | |
兽( brute的名词复数 ); 畜生; 残酷无情的人; 兽性 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 frail | |
adj.身体虚弱的;易损坏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 shrill | |
adj.尖声的;刺耳的;v尖叫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 rending | |
v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 );分裂;(因愤怒、痛苦等而)揪扯(衣服或头发等);(声音等)刺破 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 distended | |
v.(使)膨胀,肿胀( distend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 abruptness | |
n. 突然,唐突 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 shuffling | |
adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 sentry | |
n.哨兵,警卫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 hamper | |
vt.妨碍,束缚,限制;n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 forestalled | |
v.先发制人,预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 petulant | |
adj.性急的,暴躁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 truce | |
n.休战,(争执,烦恼等的)缓和;v.以停战结束 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 commotion | |
n.骚动,动乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 timorous | |
adj.胆怯的,胆小的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 stammered | |
v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 avert | |
v.防止,避免;转移(目光、注意力等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 faltered | |
(嗓音)颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 ); 支吾其词; 蹒跚; 摇晃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 rascal | |
n.流氓;不诚实的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 spawn | |
n.卵,产物,后代,结果;vt.产卵,种菌丝于,产生,造成;vi.产卵,大量生产 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 batches | |
一批( batch的名词复数 ); 一炉; (食物、药物等的)一批生产的量; 成批作业 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 allayed | |
v.减轻,缓和( allay的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 rebuke | |
v.指责,非难,斥责 [反]praise | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 peril | |
n.(严重的)危险;危险的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 appalled | |
v.使惊骇,使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的;丧胆的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 averting | |
防止,避免( avert的现在分词 ); 转移 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 blanched | |
v.使变白( blanch的过去式 );使(植物)不见阳光而变白;酸洗(金属)使有光泽;用沸水烫(杏仁等)以便去皮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 tottered | |
v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 phantom | |
n.幻影,虚位,幽灵;adj.错觉的,幻影的,幽灵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 puny | |
adj.微不足道的,弱小的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 ailing | |
v.生病 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 shafts | |
n.轴( shaft的名词复数 );(箭、高尔夫球棒等的)杆;通风井;一阵(疼痛、害怕等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 darting | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 motes | |
n.尘埃( mote的名词复数 );斑点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 lodging | |
n.寄宿,住所;(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 besieged | |
包围,围困,围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 implore | |
vt.乞求,恳求,哀求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 chid | |
v.责骂,责备( chide的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 obedience | |
n.服从,顺从 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 taunt | |
n.辱骂,嘲弄;v.嘲弄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 prattled | |
v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话( prattle的过去式和过去分词 );发出连续而无意义的声音;闲扯;东拉西扯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 foully | |
ad.卑鄙地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 hardily | |
耐劳地,大胆地,蛮勇地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 savages | |
未开化的人,野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 shuddered | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 feverishly | |
adv. 兴奋地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 tithe | |
n.十分之一税;v.课什一税,缴什一税 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 placid | |
adj.安静的,平和的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 garbed | |
v.(尤指某类人穿的特定)服装,衣服,制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 marvelled | |
v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 plumbed | |
v.经历( plumb的过去式和过去分词 );探究;用铅垂线校正;用铅锤测量 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 breakdown | |
n.垮,衰竭;损坏,故障,倒塌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 awed | |
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 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 cowered | |
v.畏缩,抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 soften | |
v.(使)变柔软;(使)变柔和 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
109 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
110 combative | |
adj.好战的;好斗的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
111 sobbed | |
哭泣,啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 ); 哭诉,呜咽地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
112 relentlessly | |
adv.不屈不挠地;残酷地;不间断 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
113 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
114 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
115 babble | |
v.含糊不清地说,胡言乱语地说,儿语 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
116 exultant | |
adj.欢腾的,狂欢的,大喜的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
117 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
118 meekness | |
n.温顺,柔和 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
119 amalgam | |
n.混合物;汞合金 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
120 outraged | |
a.震惊的,义愤填膺的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
121 sobs | |
啜泣(声),呜咽(声)( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
122 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |