“Bonc?ur! Petit, petit Bonc?ur! Come, you little rogue3, oh, come, you silly little fool! Oh, you brute4, you—Bonc?ur, little dog,—you confounded obstinate6 creature!”
Karen was standing7 at the window laughing. The dog would not come, and Ulrik Frederik wheedled8 and swore.
“Amy des morceaux délicats,”
sang Karen, swinging a goblet9 full of wine:
“Et de la débauche polie Viens noyer dans nos Vins Muscats Ta soif et ta mélancolie!”
She was in high spirits, rather heated, and the notes of her song rose louder than she knew. At last Ulrik Frederik caught the dog. He carried it to the window in triumph, pressed the rose chaplet down over its ears, and, kneeling, presented it to Karen.
“Adorable Venus, queen of hearts, I beg you to accept from your humble10 slave this little innocent white lamb crowned with flowers—”
At that moment, Marie Grubbe opened the wicket. When she saw Ulrik Frederik on his knees, handing a rose garland, or whatever it was, to that red, laughing woman, she - 140 - turned pale, bent11 down, picked up a stone, and threw it with all her might at Karen. It struck the edge of the window, and shivered the glass in fragments, which fell rattling12 to the ground.
Karen darted13 back, shrieking14. Ulrik Frederik looked anxiously in after her. In his surprise he had dropped the dog, but he still held the wreath, and stood dumbfounded, angry, and embarrassed, turning it round in his fingers.
“Wait, wait!” cried Marie. “I missed you this time, but I’ll get you yet! I’ll get you!” She pulled from her hair a long, heavy steel pin set with rubies15, and holding it before her like a dagger16, she ran toward the house with a queer tripping, almost skipping gait. It seemed as though she were blinded, for she steered17 a strange meandering18 course up to the door.
There Ulrik Frederik stopped her.
“Go away!” she cried, almost whimpering, “you with your chaplet! Such a creature”—she went on, trying to slip past him, first on one side, then on the other, her eyes fixed19 on the door—“such a creature you bind20 wreaths for—rose-wreaths, ay, here you play the lovesick shepherd! Have you not a flute21, too? Where’s your flute?” she repeated, tore the wreath from his hand, hurled22 it to the ground, and stamped on it. “And a shepherd’s crook—Amaryllis—with a silk bow? Let me pass, I say!” She lifted the pin threateningly.
He caught both her wrists and held her fast. “Would you sting again?” he said sharply.
Marie looked up at him.
“Ulrik Frederik!” she said in a low voice, “I am your wife before God and men. Why do you not love me any more? Come with me! Leave the woman in there for what - 141 - she is, and come with me! Come, Ulrik Frederik, you little know what a burning love I feel for you, and how bitterly I have longed and grieved! Come, pray come!”
Ulrik Frederik made no reply. He offered her his arm and conducted her out of the garden to her coach, which was waiting not far away. He handed her in, went to the horses’ heads and examined the harness, changed a buckle23, and called the coachman down, under pretence24 of getting him to fix the couplings. While they stood there he whispered: “The moment you get into your seat, you are to drive on as hard as your horses can go, and never stop till you get home. Those are my orders, and I believe you know me.”
The man had climbed into his seat, Ulrik Frederik caught the side of the coach as though to jump in, the whip cracked and fell over the horses, he sprang back, and the coach rattled25 on.
Marie’s first impulse was to order the coachman to stop, to take the reins26 herself, or to jump out, but then a strange lassitude came over her, a deep unspeakable loathing27, a nauseating28 weariness, and she sat quite still, gazing ahead, never heeding29 the reckless speed of the coach.
Ulrik Frederik was again with Karen Fiol.
When Ulrik Frederik returned to the castle that evening, he was, in truth, a bit uneasy—not exactly worried, but with the sense of apprehension30 people feel when they know there are vexations and annoyances31 ahead of them that cannot be dodged32, but must somehow be gone through with. Marie had, of course, complained to the King. The King would give him a lecture, and he would have to listen to it all. Marie would wrap herself in the majestic33 silence of - 142 - offended virtue34, which he would be at pains to ignore. The whole atmosphere would be oppressive. The Queen would look fatigued35 and afflicted36—genteelly afflicted—and the ladies of the court, who knew nothing and suspected everything, would sit silently, now and then lifting their heads to sigh meekly37 and look at him with gentle upbraiding38 in large, condoning39 eyes. Oh, he knew it all, even to the halo of noble-hearted devotion with which the Queen’s poor groom40 of the chambers41 would try to deck his narrow head! The fellow would place himself at Ulrik Frederik’s side with ludicrous bravado42, overwhelming him with polite attentions and respectfully consoling stupidities, while his small pale-blue eyes and every line of his thin figure would cry out as plainly as words: “See, all are turning from him, but I, never! Braving the King’s anger and the Queen’s displeasure, I comfort the forsaken43! I put my true heart against—” Oh, how well he knew it all—everything—the whole story!
Nothing of all this happened. The King received him with a Latin proverb, a sure sign that he was in a good humor. Marie rose and held out her hand to him as usual, perhaps a little colder, a shade more reserved, but still in a manner very different from what he had expected. Not even when they were left alone together did she refer with so much as a word to their encounter at Lynge, and Ulrik Frederik wondered suspiciously. He did not know what to make of this curious silence; he would almost rather she had spoken.
Should he draw her out, thank her for not saying anything, give himself up to remorse45 and repentance46, and play the game that they were reconciled again?
Somehow he did not quite dare to try it; for he had - 143 - noticed that, now and then, she would gaze furtively47 at him with an inscrutable expression in her eyes, as if she were looking through him and taking his measure, with a calm wonder, a cool, almost contemptuous curiosity. Not a gleam of hatred48 or resentment49, not a shadow of grief or reproach, not one tremulous glance of repressed sadness! Nothing of that kind, nothing at all!
Therefore he did not venture, and nothing was said. Once in a while, as the days went by, his thoughts would dwell on the matter uneasily, and he would feel a feverish50 desire to have it cleared up. Still it was not done, and he could not rid himself of a sense that these unspoken accusations51 lay like serpents in a dark cave, brooding over sinister52 treasures, which grew as the reptiles53 grew, blood-red carbuncles rising on stalks of cadmium, and pale opal in bulb upon bulb slowly spreading, swelling54, and breeding, while the serpents lay still but ceaselessly expanding, gliding55 forth56 in sinuous57 bend upon bend, lifting ring upon ring over the rank growth of the treasure.
She must hate him, must be harboring secret thoughts of revenge; for an insult such as he had dealt her could not be forgotten. He connected this imagined lust58 for vengeance59 with the strange incident when she had lifted her hand against him and with Burrhi’s warning. So he avoided her more than ever, and wished more and more ardently60 that their ways might be parted.
But Marie was not thinking of revenge. She had forgotten both him and Karen Fiol. In that moment of unutterable disgust her love had been wiped out and left no traces, as a glittering bubble bursts and is no more. The glory of it is no more, and the iridescent61 colors it lent to every tiny picture mirrored in it are no more. They are - 144 - gone, and the eye which was held by their splendor62 and beauty is free to look about and gaze far out over the world which was once reflected in the glassy bubble.
The number of guests in the castle increased day by day. The rehearsals63 of the ballet were under way, and the dancing-masters and play-actors, Pilloy and Kobbereau, had been summoned to give instruction as well as to act the more difficult or less grateful r?les.
Marie Grubbe was to take part in the ballet and rehearsed eagerly. Since that day at Slangerup, she had been more animated64 and sociable65 and, as it were, more awake. Her intercourse66 with those about her had always before been rather perfunctory. When nothing special called her attention or claimed her interest, she had a habit of slipping back into her own little world, from which she looked out at her surroundings with indifferent eyes; but now she entered into all that was going on, and if the others had not been so absorbed by the new and exciting events of those days, they would have been astonished at her changed manner. Her movements had a quiet assurance, her speech an almost hostile subtlety67, and her eyes observed everything. As it was, no one noticed her except Ulrik Frederik, who would sometimes catch himself admiring her as if she were a stranger.
Among the guests who came in August was Sti H?gh, the husband of Marie’s sister. One afternoon, not long after his arrival, she was standing with him on a hillock in the woods, from which they could look out over the village and the flat, sun-scorched land beyond. Slow, heavy clouds were forming in the sky, and from the earth rose a dry, bitter smell like a sigh of drooping68, withering69 plants for the - 145 - life-giving water. A faint wind, scarcely strong enough to move the windmill at the cross-road below, was soughing forlornly in the tree-tops like a timid wail70 of the forest burning under summer heat and sun-glow. As a beggar bares his pitiful wound, so the parched71, yellow meadows spread their barren misery72 under the gaze of heaven.
The clouds gathered and lowered, and a few raindrops fell, one by one, heavy as blows on the leaves and straws, which would bend to one side, shake, and then be suddenly still again. The swallows flew low along the ground, and the blue smoke of the evening meal drooped73 like a veil over the black thatched roofs in the village near by.
A coach rumbled74 heavily over the road, and from the walks at the foot of the hill came the sound of low laughter and merry talk, rustling76 of fans and silk gowns, barking of tiny lapdogs, and snapping and crunching77 of dry twigs78. The court was taking its afternoon promenade79.
Marie and Sti H?gh had left the others to climb the hill, and were standing quite breathless after their hurried ascent80 of the steep path.
Sti H?gh was then a man in his early thirties, tall and lean, with reddish hair and a long, narrow face. He was pale and freckled81, and his thin, yellow-white brows were arched high over bright, light gray eyes, which had a tired look as if they shunned82 the light, a look caused partly by the pink color that spread all over the lids, and partly by his habit of winking83 more slowly, or rather of keeping his eyes closed longer, than other people did. The forehead was high, the temples well rounded and smooth. The nose was thin, faintly arched, and rather long, the chin too long and too pointed84, but the mouth was exquisite85, the lips fresh in color and pure in line, the teeth small and white. Yet it was not - 146 - its beauty that drew attention to this mouth; it was rather the strange, melancholy86 smile of the voluptuary, a smile made up of passionate87 desire and weary disdain88, at once tender as sweet music and bloodthirsty as the low, satisfied growl89 in the throat of the beast of prey90 when its teeth tear the quivering flesh of its victim.
Such was Sti H?gh—then.
“Madam,” said he, “have you never wished that you were sitting safe in the shelter of convent walls, such as they have them in Italy and other countries?”
“Mercy, no! How should I have such mad fancies!”
“Then, my dear kinswoman, you are perfectly91 happy? Your cup of life is clear and fresh, it is sweet to your tongue, warms your blood, and quickens your thoughts? Is it, in truth, never bitter as lees, flat and stale? Never fouled92 by adders93 and serpents that crawl and mumble94? If so, your eyes have deceived me.”
“Ah, you would fain bring me to confession95!” laughed Marie in his face.
Sti H?gh smiled and led her to a little grass mound96, where they sat down. He looked searchingly at her.
“Know you not,” he began slowly and seeming to hesitate whether to speak or be silent, “know you not, madam, that there is in the world a secret society which I might call ‘the melancholy company’? It is composed of people who at birth have been given a different nature and constitution from others, who yearn97 more and covet98 more, whose passions are stronger, and whose desires burn more wildly than those of the vulgar mob. They are like Sunday children, with eyes wider open and senses more subtle. They drink with the very roots of their hearts that delight and joy of life which others can only grasp between coarse hands.”
- 147 -
He paused a moment, took his hat in his hand, and sat idly running his fingers through the thick plumes99.
“But,” he went on in a lower voice as speaking to himself, “pleasure in beauty, pleasure in pomp and all the things that can be named, pleasure in secret impulses and in thoughts that pass the understanding of man—all that which to the vulgar is but idle pastime or vile100 revelry—is to these chosen ones like healing and precious balsam. It is to them the one honey-filled blossom from which they suck their daily food, and therefore they seek flowers on the tree of life where others would never think to look, under dark leaves and on dry branches. But the mob—what does it know of pleasure in grief or despair?”
He smiled scornfully and was silent.
“But wherefore,” asked Marie carelessly, looking past him, “wherefore name them ‘the melancholy company,’ since they think but of pleasure and the joy of life, but never of what is sad and dreary101?”
Sti H?gh shrugged102 his shoulders and seemed about to rise, as though weary of the theme and anxious to break off the discussion.
“But wherefore?” repeated Marie.
“Wherefore!” he cried impatiently, and there was a note of disdain in his voice. “Because all the joys of this earth are hollow and pass away as shadows. Because every pleasure, while it bursts into bloom like a flowering rosebush, in the selfsame hour withers103 and drops its leaves like a tree in autumn. Because every delight, though it glow in beauty and the fullness of fruition, though it clasp you in sound arms, is that moment poisoned by the cancer of death, and even while it touches your mouth you feel it quivering in the throes of corruption104. Is it joyful105 to feel thus? Must it - 148 - not rather eat like reddest rust75 into every shining hour, ay, like frost nip unto death every fruitful sentiment of the soul and blight106 it down to its deepest roots?”
He sprang up from his seat and gesticulated down at her as he spoke44. “And you ask why they are called ‘the melancholy company,’ when every delight, in the instant you grasp it, sheds its slough107 in a trice and becomes disgust, when all mirth is but the last woeful gasp108 of joy, when all beauty is beauty that passes, and all happiness is happiness that bursts like the bubble!”
He began to walk up and down in front of her.
“So it is this that leads your thoughts to the convent?” asked Marie, and looked down with a smile.
“It is so indeed, madam. Many a time have I fancied myself confined in a lonely cell or imprisoned109 in a high tower, sitting alone at my window, watching the light fade and the darkness well out, while the solitude110, silent and calm and strong, has grown up around my soul and covered it like plants of mandrake pouring their drowsy111 juices in my blood. Ah, but I know full well that it is naught112 but an empty conceit113; never could the solitude gain power over me! I should long like fire and leaping flame for life and what belongs to life—long till I lost my senses! But you understand nothing of all this I am prating114. Let us go, ma chère! The rain is upon us; the wind is laid.”
“Ah, no, the clouds are lifting. See the rim115 of light all around the heavens!”
“Ay, lifting and lowering.”
“I say no,” declared Marie, rising.
“I swear yes, with all deference116.”
Marie ran down the hill. “Man’s mind is his kingdom. Come, now, down into yours!”
- 149 -
At the foot of the hill Marie turned into the path leading away from the castle, and Sti walked at her side.
“Look you, Sti H?gh,” said Marie, “since you seem to think so well of me, I would have you know that I am quite unlearned in the signs of the weather and likewise in other people’s discourse117.”
“Surely not.”
“In what you are saying—yes.”
“Nay.”
“Now I swear yes.”
“Oaths gouge118 no eye without fist follows after.”
“Faith, you may believe me or not, but God knows I ofttimes feel that great still sadness that comes we know not whence. Pastor119 Jens was wont120 to say it was a longing121 for our home in the kingdom of heaven, which is the true fatherland of every Christian122 soul, but I think it is not that. We long and sorrow and know no living hope to comfort us—ah, how bitterly have I wept! It comes over one with such a strange heaviness and sickens one’s heart, and one feels so tired of one’s own thoughts and wishes one had never been born. But it is not the briefness of these earthly joys that has weighed on my thoughts or caused me grief. No, never! It was something quite different—but ’tis quite impossible to give that grief a name. Sometimes I have thought it was really a grief over some hidden flaw in my own nature, some inward hurt that made me unlike other people—lesser and poorer. Ah, no, it passes everything how hard it is to find words—in just the right sense. Look you, this life—this earth—seems to me so splendid and wonderful, I should be proud and happy beyond words just to have some part in it. Whether for joy or grief matters not, but that I might sorrow or - 150 - rejoice in honest truth, not in play like mummeries or shrovetide sports. I would feel life grasping me with such hard hands that I was lifted up or cast down until there was no room in my mind for aught else but that which lifted me up or cast me down. I would melt in my grief or burn together with my joy! Ah, you can never understand it! If I were like one of the generals of the Roman empire who were carried through the streets in triumphal chariots, I myself would be the victory and the triumph. I would be the pride and jubilant shouts of the people and the blasts of the trumpets123 and the honor and the glory—all, all in one shrill125 note. That is what I would be. Never would I be like one who merely sits there in his miserable126 ambition and cold vanity and thinks, as the chariot rolls on, how he shines in the eyes of the crowd and how helplessly the waves of envy lick his feet, while he feels with pleasure the purple wrapping his shoulders softly and the laurel wreath cooling his brow. Do you understand me, Sti H?gh? That is what I mean by life, that is what I have thirsted after, but I have felt in my own heart that such life could never be mine, and it was borne in on me that, in some strange manner, I was myself at fault, that I had sinned against myself and led myself astray. I know not how it is, but it has seemed to me that this was whence my bitter sorrow welled, that I had touched a string which must not sound, and its tone had sundered127 something within me that could never be healed. Therefore I could never force open the portals of life, but had to stand without, unbidden and unsought, like a poor maimed bondwoman.”
“You!” exclaimed Sti H?gh in astonishment128; then, his face changing quickly, he went on in another voice: “Ah, now I see it all!” He shook his head at her. “By my troth, - 151 - how easily a man may befuddle129 himself in these matters! Our thoughts are so rarely turned to the road where every stile and path is familiar, but more often they run amuck130 wherever we catch sight of anything that bears a likeness131 to a trail, and we’re ready to swear it’s the King’s highway. Am I not right, ma chère? Have we not both, each for herself or himself, in seeking a source of our melancholy, caught the first thought we met and made it into the one and only reason? Would not any one, judging from our discourse, suppose that I went about sore afflicted and weighed down by the corruption of the world and the passing nature of all earthly things, while you, my dear kinswoman, looked on yourself as a silly old crone, on whom the door had been shut, and the lights put out, and all hope extinguished! But no matter for that! When we get to that chapter, we are easily made heady by our own words, and ride hard on any thought that we can bit and bridle132.”
In the walk below the others were heard approaching, and, joining them, they returned to the castle.
At half-past the hour of eight in the evening of September twenty-sixth, the booming of cannon133 and the shrill trumpet124 notes of a festive134 march announced that both their Majesties135, accompanied by his Highness Prince Johan, the Elector of Saxony, and his royal mother, and followed by the most distinguished136 men and women of the realm, were proceeding137 from the castle, down through the park, to witness the ballet which was soon to begin.
A row of flambeaux cast a fiery138 sheen over the red wall, made the yew139 and box glow like bronze, and lent all faces the ruddy glow of vigorous health.
See, scarlet-clothed halberdiers are standing in double - 152 - rows, holding flower-wreathed tapers140 high against the dark sky. Cunningly wrought141 lanterns and candles in sconces and candelabra send their rays low along the ground and high among the yellowing leaves, forcing the darkness back, and opening a shining path for the resplendent train.
The light glitters on gold and gilded142 tissue, beams brightly on silver and steel, glides143 in shimmering144 stripes down silks and sweeping145 satins. Softly as a reddish dew, it is breathed over dusky velvet146, and flashing white, it falls like stars among rubies and diamonds. Reds make a brave show with the yellows; clear sky-blue closes over brown; streaks147 of lustrous148 sea-green cut their way through white and violet-blue; coral sinks between black and lavender; golden brown and rose, steel-gray and purple are whirled about, light and dark, tint149 upon tint, in eddying150 pools of color.
They are gone. Down the walk, tall plumes nod white, white in the dim air....
The ballet or masquerade to be presented is called Die Waldlust. The scene is a forest. Crown Prince Christian, impersonating a hunter, voices his delight in the free life of the merry greenwood. Ladies, walking about under leafy crowns, sing softly of the fragrant151 violets. Children play at hide and seek and pick berries in pretty little baskets. Jovial152 citizens praise the fresh air and the clear grape, while two silly old crones are pursuing a handsome young rustic153 with amorous154 gestures.
Then the goddess of the forest, the virginal Diana, glides forward in the person of her Royal Highness the Princess Anne Sofie. The Elector leaps from his seat with delight and throws her kisses with both hands, while the court applauds.
As soon as the goddess has disappeared, a peasant and - 153 - his goodwife come forward and sing a duet on the delights of love. One gay scene follows another. Three young gentlemen are decking themselves with green boughs155; five officers are making merry; two rustics156 come rollicking from market; a gardener’s ’prentice sings, a poet sings, and finally six persons play some sprightly157 music on rather fantastic instruments.
This leads up to the last scene, which is played by eleven shepherdesses, their Royal Highnesses the Princesses Anne Sofie, Friderica Amalie, and Vilhelmina Ernestina, Madam Gyldenl?ve, and seven young maidens158 of the nobility. With much skill they dance a pastoral dance, in which they pretend to tease Madam Gyldenl?ve because she is lost in thoughts of love and refuses to join their gay minuet. They twit her with giving up her freedom and bending her neck under the yoke159 of love, but she steps forward, and, in a graceful160 pas de deux which she dances with the Princess Anne Sofie, reveals to her companion the abounding161 transports and ecstasies162 of love. Then all dance forward merrily, winding163 in and out in intricate figures, while an invisible chorus sings in their praise to the tuneful music of stringed instruments:
“Ihr Nümphen hochberühmt, ihr sterblichen G?ttinnen, Durch deren Treff’ligkeit sich lassen Heldensinnen Ja auch die G?tter selbst bezwingen für und für, Last nun164 durch diesen Tantz erblicken eure Zier Der Glieder Hurtigkeit, die euch darum gegeben So sch?n und pr?chtig sind, und zu den1 End erheben Was an euch g?ttlich ist, auff dass je mehr und mehr Man preisen m?g an euch des Sch?pfers Macht und Ehr.”
This ended the ballet. The spectators dispersed165 through - 154 - the park, promenading166 through well-lit groves167 or resting in pleasant grottos169, while pages dressed as Italian or Spanish fruit-venders offered wine, cake, and comfits from the baskets they carried on their heads.
The players mingled170 with the crowd and were complimented on their art and skill, but all were agreed that, with the exception of the Crown Princess and Princess Anne Sofie, none had acted better than Madam Gyldenl?ve. Their Majesties and the Electress praised her cordially, and the King declared that not even Mademoiselle La Barre could have interpreted the r?le with more grace and vivacity171.
Far into the night the junketing went on in the lighted park and the adjoining halls of the castle, where violins and flutes172 called to the dance, and groaning173 boards invited to drinking and carousing174. From the lake sounded the gay laughter of revellers in gondolas175 strung with lamps. People swarmed176 everywhere. The crowds were densest177 where the light shone and the music played, more scattered178 where the illumination was fainter, but even where darkness reigned179 completely and the music was almost lost in the rustling of leaves, there were merry groups and silent couples. One lonely guest had strayed far off to the grotto168 in the eastern end of the garden and had found a seat there, but he was in a melancholy mood. The tiny lantern in the leafy roof of the grotto shone on a sad mien180 and pensive181 brows—yellow-white brows.
It was Sti H?gh.
“. . . E di persona Anzi grande, che no; di vista182 allegra, Di bionda chioma, e colorita alquanto,”
he whispered to himself.
- 155 -
He had not come unscathed from his four or five weeks of constant intercourse with Marie Grubbe. She had absolutely bewitched him. He longed only for her, dreamed only of her; she was his hope and his despair. He had loved before, but never like this, never so timidly and weakly and hopelessly. It was not the fact that she was the wife of Ulrik Frederik, nor that he was married to her sister, which robbed him of his courage. No, it was in the nature of his love to be faint-hearted—his calf-love, he called it bitterly. It had so little desire, so much fear and worship, and yet so much desire. A wistful, feverish languishing183 for her, a morbid184 longing to live with her in her memories, dream her dreams, suffer her sorrows, and share her sad thoughts, no more, no less. How lovely she had been in the dance, but how distant and unattainable! The round gleaming shoulders, the full bosom185 and slender limbs, they took his breath away. He trembled before that splendor of body, which made her seem richer and more perfect, and hardly dared to let himself be drawn186 under its spell. He feared his own passion and the fire, hell-deep, heaven-high, that smouldered within him. That arm around his neck, those lips pressed against his—it was madness, imbecile dreams of a madman! This mouth—
“Paragon di dolcezza! · · · · · · · . . . bocca beata, . . . bocca gentil, che può ben dirsi Conca d’ Indo odorata Di perle orientali e pellegrine: E la porta, che chiude Ed apre il bel tesoro, Con5 dolcissimo mel porpora mista.”
- 156 -
He started from the bench as with pain. No, no! He clung to his own humble longing and threw himself again in his thoughts at her feet, clutched at the hopelessness of his love, held up before his eyes the image of her indifference187, and—Marie Grubbe stood there in the arched door of the grotto, fair against the outside darkness.
All that evening she had been in a strangely enraptured188 mood. She felt calm and sound and strong. The music and pomp, the homage189 and admiration190 of the men, were like a carpet of purple spread out for her feet to tread upon. She was intoxicated191 and transported with her own beauty. The blood seemed to shoot from her heart in rich, glowing jets and become gracious smiles on her lips, radiance in her eyes, and melody in her voice. Her mind held an exultant192 serenity193, and her thoughts were clear as a cloudless sky. Her soul seemed to unfold its richest bloom in this blissful sense of power and harmony.
Never before had she been so fair as with that imperious smile of joy on her lips and the tranquillity194 of a queen in her eyes and bearing, and thus she stood in the arched door of the grotto, fair against the outside darkness. Looking down at Sti H?gh, she met his gaze of hopeless adoration195, and at that she bent down, laid her white hand as in pity on his hair, and kissed him. Not in love—no, no!—but as a king may bestow196 a precious ring on a faithful vassal197 as a mark of royal grace and favor, so she gave him her kiss in calm largesse198.
As she did so, her assurance seemed to leave her for a moment, and she blushed, while her eyes fell. If Sti H?gh had tried to take her then or to receive her kiss as anything more than a royal gift, he would have lost her forever, but he knelt silently before her, pressed her hand gratefully - 157 - to his lips, then stepped aside reverently199 and saluted200 her deeply with head bared and neck bent. She walked past him proudly, away from the grotto and into the darkness.
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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4
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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6
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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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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8
wheedled
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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10
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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11
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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12
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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13
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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14
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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15
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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16
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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17
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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18
meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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19
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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20
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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21
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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22
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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23
buckle
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| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
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24
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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25
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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26
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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27
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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28
nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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29
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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30
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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31
annoyances
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| n.恼怒( annoyance的名词复数 )；烦恼；打扰；使人烦恼的事 | |
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32
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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33
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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34
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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35
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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36
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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38
upbraiding
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| adj.& n.谴责（的）v.责备，申斥，谴责( upbraid的现在分词 ) | |
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39
condoning
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| v.容忍，宽恕，原谅( condone的现在分词 ) | |
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40
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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41
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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42
bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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43
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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45
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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46
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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47
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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48
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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49
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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50
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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51
accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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52
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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53
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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54
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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55
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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56
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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57
sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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58
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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59
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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60
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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61
iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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62
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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63
rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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64
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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65
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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66
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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67
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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68
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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69
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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70
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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71
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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72
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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73
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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75
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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76
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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77
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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78
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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79
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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80
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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81
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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84
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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85
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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86
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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87
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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88
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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89
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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90
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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91
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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92
fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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93
adders
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| n.加法器，（欧洲产）蝰蛇（小毒蛇），（北美产无毒的）猪鼻蛇( adder的名词复数 ) | |
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94
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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95
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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96
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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97
yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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98
covet
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| vt.垂涎；贪图(尤指属于他人的东西) | |
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99
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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100
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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101
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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102
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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103
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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104
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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105
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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106
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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107
slough
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| v.蜕皮，脱落，抛弃 | |
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108
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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109
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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110
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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111
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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112
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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113
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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114
prating
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| v.（古时用语）唠叨，啰唆( prate的现在分词 ) | |
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115
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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116
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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117
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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118
gouge
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| v.凿；挖出；n.半圆凿；凿孔；欺诈 | |
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119
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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120
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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121
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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122
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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123
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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124
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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125
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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126
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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127
sundered
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| v.隔开，分开( sunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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129
befuddle
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| v.使混乱 | |
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130
amuck
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| ad.狂乱地 | |
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131
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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132
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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133
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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134
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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135
majesties
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| n.雄伟( majesty的名词复数 )；庄严；陛下；王权 | |
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136
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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137
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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138
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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139
yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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140
tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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141
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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142
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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143
glides
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| n.滑行( glide的名词复数 )；滑音；音渡；过渡音v.滑动( glide的第三人称单数 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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144
shimmering
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| v.闪闪发光，发微光( shimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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145
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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146
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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147
streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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148
lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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149
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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150
eddying
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| 涡流，涡流的形成 | |
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151
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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152
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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153
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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154
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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155
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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156
rustics
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| n.有农村或村民特色的( rustic的名词复数 )；粗野的；不雅的；用粗糙的木材或树枝制作的 | |
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sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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158
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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159
yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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161
abounding
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| adj.丰富的，大量的v.大量存在，充满，富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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162
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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163
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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164
nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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166
promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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167
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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168
grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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169
grottos
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| n.（吸引人的）岩洞，洞穴，（人挖的）洞室( grotto的名词复数 ) | |
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170
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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171
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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172
flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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173
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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174
carousing
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| v.痛饮，闹饮欢宴( carouse的现在分词 ) | |
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175
gondolas
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| n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 )；货架（一般指商店，例如化妆品店）；吊船工作台 | |
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176
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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177
densest
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| 密集的( dense的最高级 )； 密度大的； 愚笨的； （信息量大得）难理解的 | |
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178
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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179
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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180
mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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181
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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182
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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183
languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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184
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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185
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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186
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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187
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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188
enraptured
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| v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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189
homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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190
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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191
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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192
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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193
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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194
tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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195
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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196
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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197
vassal
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| n.附庸的；属下；adj.奴仆的 | |
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198
largesse
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| n.慷慨援助，施舍 | |
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199
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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200
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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