There was no need for her to ask George why such a report should prevail, for she knew that he would be able to explain in a satisfactory manner, and, trusting him already, it was useless to demand details. Her feelings would remain the same after the telling of his story as they were now, therefore she avoided the disagreeable subject. Nevertheless, she was woman enough to desire a sight of Lola, and induced her mother to take her to the music-hall. Mrs. Ward was very pleased to do so, but she was too clever to hint that she guessed Dorothy's reason for making this request.
"Certainly, my dear," she said briskly. "I am very glad that you are coming out of your shell. Men hate a woman who can't talk of everything, and nothing is talked about but Lola."
"I must educate myself to please men, then," said Dorothy, dryly, "so I may as well begin with the dancer. On what night can we go?"
"Oh, Friday will do. Mr. Vane has invited us to dine at the Cecil, so I'll ask him to get us a box."
Dorothy would rather have gone with any one than with Mr. Vane, as she disliked his feeble attempts at lovemaking. However, there was nothing for it but to accept, since she had brought it on herself. With a smile which encouraged her mother to think she would behave sensibly toward Vane, she agreed to the proposed dinner-party and companionship, and Mrs. Ward wrote a note at once.
"I hope when she sees Lola, and hears the stories about that Brendon man, that she may refuse to have anything more to do with him," was Mrs. Ward's remark as she sealed her note. "I don't want to get the Brendon man into trouble by having him arrested for the murder. And I don't think Derrington would let me if I did wish it."
Her last speech was prophetic, for the next day Lord Derrington paid a visit to Curzon Street and had a short interview with Mrs. Ward, the gist6 of which was that she must hold her tongue.
"Brendon called to see me the other day," explained Derrington, looking grim, "and he showed me plainly that he had nothing to do with the matter."
"But how about the holly7 berry?"
"That is easily explained," replied Derrington, who, anticipating the question, had prepared an answer. "Brendon was one of the first to see the body, and in touching8 it the berry fell from the sprig. Afterward--mind you, afterward--Mr. Train found the berry, and, not knowing that Brendon had seen the body that morning, thought he had been in the room on the previous night."
"I'm sure he was," insisted Mrs. Ward.
"You are sure of nothing of the sort. Brendon could not have got downstairs without the connivance9 of Train, and you heard what Train said."
"He is such a fool!"
"The more likely to tell the truth," said Derrington. Then he asked, after a pause, "Why did you tell Dorothy to give the sprig of holly to Brendon on that night?"
Mrs. Ward shrugged10 her shoulders and looked down nervously11. "Oh, it was the merest kindness on my part," she said, trying to speak quietly. Derrington contradicted her at once.
"It was nothing of the sort," he declared with roughness. "You wished him to have the yellow holly in his coat when he saw Mrs. Jersey13, so that the woman might betray herself."
"I knew nothing about Mrs. Jersey at the time."
"Oh, but you did! With regard to the holly, you knew from me how it was used in connection with the death of my son at San Remo; and what I did not tell you, you learned from other people."
Mrs. Ward looked defiant14. "Well, I did. I am sure every one knew about the murder at the time," she said, "and I met some old frumps who gave me all details."
"I quite understand that; but how did you know about Mrs. Jersey?"
"That's my business," cried Mrs. Ward, becoming imprudent. "You are right about the holly; I sent to Devonshire expressly to get some. It was my intention to inclose a sprig in a letter to Mrs. Jersey so as to frighten her----"
"What good would that have done?"
"My business again," snapped Mrs. Ward, becoming bolder. "I had my reason for wishing to recall your son's death to her mind, and I knew that the yellow holly would do so most successfully. When Dorothy came from the Park and told me that Brendon was to stop with his friend at Mrs. Jersey's boarding-house, I thought that it would be better to let George wear the sprig. And I managed it in such a way that neither Dorothy nor George guessed how I planned the business. And I succeeded. Mrs. Jersey saw the sprig and nearly fainted. I knew then that----" Here she stopped.
Derrington saw that it was useless to question her further. She would only lie, and had been telling lies, for all he knew. Moreover, he did not think she could tell him anything pertinent15 to the case.
"I shall ask you nothing more," he said, rising to take his leave. "You have some reason for all this intrigue16, I have no doubt. What your intentions are, matters little to me. I came merely to warn you that Brendon is to be left alone."
"You won't have him arrested?"
"No. And what is more, I won't have him spoken about in connection with that crime."
Mrs. Ward forgot her desire to conciliate Derrington, forgot her desire to marry Vane to Dorothy, forgot everything in a sudden access of rage. "I shall do what I choose!" she cried.
"No," said Derrington, quietly, and looking her full in the face, "you will obey me."
"Obey you, Lord Derrington?"
"Yes. I have tried to conduct this interview quietly, Mrs. Ward, and to hint that your wiser plan is to be silent, but----"
"I don't want hints. I wish for plain speaking," raged the little woman. "How dare you address me like this?"
The old gentleman leaned forward suddenly and whispered a short sentence in her ear. Mrs. Ward's face turned pearly white and she tottered18 to a chair, closing her eyes as she fell into it. Derrington surveyed her with a pitiless expression.
"You will be silent about Brendon?" he asked.
"Yes," moaned Mrs. Ward. "I will say nothing."
When Derrington departed Mrs. Ward retired19 to bed after canceling her engagements for the evening. For twenty-four hours she stopped there, explaining to Dorothy that she was taking a rest cure. It apparently20 did her good, for on the evening of the day appointed for the meeting at the Cecil she arose looking bright and quite herself again. She had quite got over the fright given to her by Derrington, and, when she saw him later, treated him quite in her old manner. On his side the old gentleman made no difference, but he wondered how she was carrying herself so boldly. At once it occurred to his suspicious mind that there was some reason for this defiant behavior, and he determined22 to watch her. For this purpose he joined the party.
"It is the first time I have been to a music-hall for years," he explained to Dorothy; "but Walter has been talking so much about this new dancer that I felt I must see her."
"Why did you not dine with us at the Cecil?" asked Dorothy.
"I always prefer to dine at home, my dear young lady. Besides, it does not do for an old man to wag his gray beard uninvited among the young."
Meantime Mrs. Ward was chatting amicably23 to Vane and to a vapid24 War-Office clerk, who had formed a fourth at the Cecil dinner-party. He was a titled clerk, and heir to great estates, so Mrs. Ward made much of him. She was very diplomatic, and never neglected younger sons. "One never knows but what they may be rich some day," said Mrs. Ward in explanation of her wisdom.
The box was large and easily held the party. Mrs. Ward had a position directly in front, where she could see and be seen; but Dorothy kept herself behind the curtains. She could see the stage excellently, but did not wish to be recognized by any chance acquaintance. In an opposite box sat a red-haired man in immaculate evening-dress. Derrington recognized him as Bawdsey, but did not think it necessary to show his recognition. He sat at the back of the box between Vane and the War-Office clerk, and kept a watchful25 eye on Mrs. Ward.
That little woman sparkled like a diamond. She criticised the house, admired the decorations, and applauded the comic songs. It might have been that this indifferent attitude was one of defiance26, as she must have known that Derrington was watching her. But she acted her part consummately27, and he could not help admiring her coolness. "What an admirable actress," thought the old lord, "and what a dangerous woman!"
The ballet of "The Bacchanals" came at the end of the first part of the programme. When the curtain rose Dorothy was so anxious to behold28 Lola that she leaned forward so as to show her face to the whole house. Bawdsey saw her and put his glass to his eyes. He smiled slightly, and Derrington wondered why he did so. But at that moment, and while the stage was filling with dancers, he arose to receive some newcomers. These were none other than Miss Bull and Margery, for whom Bawdsey had procured29 the box. The little old maid was whiter than ever and wore her usual gray dress. Margery was smartly gowned in green, and with her light hair and stupid red face looked anything but beautiful. She placed herself in the best position, being evidently directed to do so by Miss Bull, for that lady preferred the shade. At all events, she secluded30 herself behind a curtain and kept her beady black eyes persistently31 on the stage. On seeing that the two were comfortable, Bawdsey disappeared, and did not return till the end of the ballet. Derrington saw all this, but no one else in Mrs. Ward's box took any notice. And why should they? Bawdsey and his party were quite unknown to them.
The ballet was modeled closely on the lines laid down by Euripides in his tragedy. The opening scene was the market-place of Thebes, and the stage was filled mostly with men. Pentheus, the King, is informed that the whole female population of the city, together with his mother, Agave, have gone to the mountains to worship a stranger. The seer, Tiresias, knows by his psychic32 powers that the stranger is none other than Bacchus, the god of wine, and implores33 Pentheus not to provoke his enmity. The King spurns34 this advice and gives orders that the so-called god shall be arrested. It was at this moment that Agavé appears. Dorothy looked at her eagerly.
Agavé has not yet assumed her Bacchanalian35 garb36. She is still in the quiet dress of a Grecian matron, but her gestures are wild, and she is rapid in her movements. In the dance which followed she is interrupted by Pentheus, who strives to calm her frenzy37. But Agavé, knowing the god of wine is at hand, becomes as one possessed38. Bacchus appears and is arrested by Pentheus. He is chained and hurried into the palace. Agavé warns the King against the impiety39 he is committing. Pentheus defies the gods. There is a peal40 of thunder, and the palace of Pentheus sinks into ruins. At the back appears the ruins of the city walls, which have also fallen, and on the summit of the heaped stones stands Bacchus, the god confest. At a wave of his wand vines begin to clamber over the ruins, and the cries of the Bacchanalians are heard. Pentheus tries to seize the god again, and darkness covers the stage. The last thing seen was Lola dancing in a wild red light, with extravagant41 gestures.
Dorothy could not say that Lola was handsome, but she had about her a wild grace which was very fascinating. When dancing she seemed to think of nothing but the revels42 in which she was engaged. She never cast a look at the house, and Dorothy noticed this. She was therefore somewhat surprised when, during the second scene, she saw Lola deliberately44 look in the direction of the box and stare at her piercingly for quite a moment or two. Rather confused by this sudden regard, the girl drew back. Lola noticed her no more, but continued to dance.
The second scene was the camp of the Bacchanals, where Pentheus, as a follower45 of the god, comes to see the orgies. It was a mountainous scene with a lurid46 red sky broken by masses of black clouds. There is no need to describe the ballet in detail. The frenzied47 dancers of the Bacchanals seemed to send the audience wild. There was something fierce and murderous about these orgiastic movements. And through the wild throng48 darted49 Lola, in leopard-skin and garlands, bearing a cup of wine, and flinging herself about in wild madness. She appeared to be a devil, and Dorothy shrank back at the sight of her wild face. The music also was terrible, and excited the dancers to further efforts of madness. It was a feast of witches, a Walpurgis night, a revel43 of the earth-powers. There was nothing spiritual about this riot of the flesh; the audience shuddered50 at the fierce rapture51 of the dancers, at the alluring52 pain of the music, at the reckless abandon of Lola Velez.
"It's too awful!" murmured Dorothy, moving to the back of the box, beside Derrington; "that woman is a demon53."
"Yet your friend Mr. Brendon helped her to this, position," said the old man, grimly.
"I am sure he cannot approve of this dancing," shuddered the girl, who was very pale.
"There is nothing improper54 about it," said Derrington.
"No. Everything is right in that way; but it is maddening, and unholy, and altogether terrible. The music is something like that in Tannh?user--cruel, evil, voluptuous55."
"Ah, your poor spiritual nature shrinks from that sort of thing! But Mrs. Ward seems to enjoy it."
She certainly did. Craning forward so as to get a full view of the stage, Mrs. Ward's eyes were alight. She would have enjoyed being in the throng herself, and would have danced as madly as the worst of them. And queerly enough Miss Bull appeared also spellbound. Her face was flushed, her eyes glittered, and her breath came and went in quick pants. "It's wonderful, Margery," she said, leaning out of the box and fixing her eyes intently on the whirling mass.
"It's very pretty," said Margery, stupidly. Her dull brain could not understand the wild madness of the scene, and she was as unmoved as though she had been listening to a sermon.
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" whispered Mrs. Ward, "come back to your seat. Lola juggles56 the head of Pentheus. It is the great dance."
"No," answered Dorothy, and clung to Derrington's arm. "I will stop here. It is too terrible."
The old man understood, and in the darkness of the box he slipped his arm round her. In that kind embrace Dorothy felt safe. If she looked upon that madness again she felt that she must cry out. Derrington quite appreciated her feelings. It was the repulsion experienced by the spiritual against the material.
The action of the ballet proceeded rapidly. Pentheus climbed a tree, the Bacchanalians surrounded it and dragged him down. Lola emerged from a frantic57 crowd bearing his head. Then began the dance, slowly at first with solemn pacings and stately gestures. The limelights, red and blue and green and yellow, were flashed on the swaying form of Lola as she eyed the head with terrible glances. Then the music flashed out into a wild galop. The scene became pandemonium58. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled, the violins shrieked59 in the orchestra, the dancers spun60, whirled, plunged61, and sprang and bounded, and frantically62 rushed about the stage. Everywhere at unexpected moments Lola appeared, tossing, smiting63, and caressing64 the head of Pentheus, whirling out and in as the rainbow lights played upon her restless figure. Finally, when the orgy was at its height, came a flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, the riot died away, the Bacchanalians sprang from the stage. Darkness descended65, the music sank to lulling66 tones, and quiet, silvery moonlight flooded the stage. There alone, in the center, sat Agavé, restored to her right mind, weeping over the head of her son. And on this scene of sorrow the curtain fell slowly to the strains of sweet music. The audience drew long breaths and felt as though a nightmare were at an end.
"Let us go now," said Dorothy, standing67 up and still clinging to Derrington's arm. "I wish I had not come."
She was interrupted by an ejaculation from her mother. Mrs. Ward also was standing up, but her eyes were fixed68 on Miss Bull. The little old maid, as though feeling the influence of that glance, slowly looked in Mrs. Ward's direction. The eyes of the two women met. From those of Miss Bull flashed a look of hate, and she withdrew behind the curtain of the box. Mrs. Ward was white and shaking. Clutching Vane's arm she requested to be taken to her carriage. "It is too much for me," she said, alluding69 to the ballet.
Derrington stood on the pavement when the brougham rolled away bearing the mother and daughter, both silent, both pale. He was alone, as Vane and the War-Office clerk were back again in the hall. "Humph!" said Derrington, his eyes fixed on the retreating carriage. "So you know that little woman who called to see me about the lease. I wonder how that comes about. Miss Bull knew Mrs. Jersey, and you, Mrs. Ward, sent that yellow holly. I wonder----" The old man stopped; he could not quite understand what Mrs. Ward was doing, but he repeated his former observation. "A dangerous woman," said he. "I shall speak to Bawdsey about her;" and making up his mind to this he went in search of the detective.
All that night Dorothy was haunted by strange dreams, in which the figure of Lola played a prominent part. Usually calm and self-possessed, Dorothy slept like a child, but the fierce music, the mad dancing, the knowledge that George knew this terrible woman--for so she appeared to the girl--caused her to sleep brokenly. She was up early, and after a breakfast that was a mere12 farce70 she took her way to the Park. It was her usual custom to walk in a lonely part about eight o'clock in the morning but on this occasion she was at her usual spot by half-past seven. This was a seat under a spreading tree in the center of a wide lawn. Few people came there at so early an hour, and Dorothy often read for an hour before returning home. In a mechanical manner she took a book out of her pocket--it was the "Meditations71" of Marcus Aurelius--and tried to fasten her attention on the soothing72 words of the stoic73 Emperor. But it was impossible. Before her inner vision passed the wild, flushed face of Lola Velez, and Dorothy could not drive it away. While endeavoring to do so some one came to sit on the seat. Dorothy, rather surprised, looked up. She saw Lola staring at her intently.
The dancer looked pale and worn. About her there was none of the unholy influence of the previous night. As the morning was cold she wore a sealskin coat and toque with a scarf of red silk twisted round her throat. This touch of color was all that was about her likely to suggest her foreign origin. With her pale face and piteous mouth and appealing eyes she looked like a broken-hearted woman. Dorothy's first movement was to go away; but when she saw the sorrow on that wild face she remained where she was. The two gazed at one another for a time, and the thought in the mind of each was the same. Both thought of George Brendon.
Lola began to speak without any preamble74. "Mr. Bawdsey pointed21 you to me at the last night," she said in her imperfect English. "He declared you did walk early, and I have been with my eye on your mansion75 since six hours--what you call o'clock. I see you come, I follow you, I am here, Mees Vard, I am here."
"What do you want?" asked Dorothy, calmly, her nerves much more under control than Lola's were. Yet both were agitated76.
"Ah," cried the foreign woman, throwing back her head, "give him to me! I love him--I worship him. Give him to me."
"Of whom do you speak, mademoiselle?"
"Ah, mademoiselle, so he speaks when angry. But I am no French. I am Se?ora--I am Spanish. I have warm blood here in my heart." She struck her breast fiercely. "And if you take him from me I will kill you. Yes, I will give you the death--quick, sure, sudden."
Her face drew near to Dorothy's as she spoke17, and the girl could feel her hot breath on her cheek. But Dorothy had a brave heart of her own and did not flinch77. For all she knew, Lola might intend to stab her at the very minute. The Park keeper was some distance away, and it was useless to create a scandal by calling him to her assistance. Lola was just the kind of mad creature to make a scene. Retaining control of herself, though her heart was beating rapidly, Dorothy fixed her eyes firmly on those of Lola. "Sit a little further away," she said, "and we will talk calmly."
"Are you not afraid?" asked Lola, surprised. She had always found the savage78 attitude so effective.
Dorothy laughed. "I was never afraid of anything or of any one in my life," she said coolly. "And I am not going to begin now. What do you want, mademoiselle? Why do you threaten me?"
"Bah!" cried the other, but moving back a little as requested, "you know, you blond white cat, you. It is George."
"What about George?"
"He is mine. He loves me. You would take him from me."
"If you are speaking of George Brendon----"
"Of who else should I speak? You know--ah, you know!"
"Yes. I know. I heard some rumors79 as to how he helped you. But I do not believe for one moment that he loves you."
"He does. You dare ask that he loves."
"I shall do nothing of the sort. We may as well understand one another, as you have no right to thrust yourself upon me."
"I do do what I do please," said Lola, sullenly80.
"These sorts of things are not allowed in England, I am sorry for you, and so I speak. Otherwise, I should call the Park keeper."
"I want not any sorrow. I do want my own George."
"Mr. Brendon is engaged to marry me," said Dorothy, deliberately.
Lola sprang to her feet with flashing eyes. "It will not be," she almost shouted. "I love him."
"Sit down," said Dorothy, much in the same tone as she would have used to a fractious child, and Lola resumed her seat immediately. The woman was a creature of impulse. Had Dorothy raged also, she would have gained the ascendancy81. But this calmness, to use a nautical82 simile83, "took the wind out Of her sails." She could only do as she was told.
"But I will have my George," she muttered.
"Listen to me," said Dorothy, quietly. "I have no right to answer your questions. But I am sorry for you. I will speak to Mr. Brendon."
"No--" Lola looked up in terror--"you must not do that. He will be very angry--oh, much--much enraged84."
"Then that shows me you have been speaking untruths. Mr. Brendon does not love you----"
"But I say yes--yes--yes!" Lola sprang to her feet again and poured forth85 her wrath86. "Ah, you think he will be milord and that you will marry him, but----"
"What do you know about that?" asked Dorothy, rising indignantly.
"Oh, I do know much--much," Lola snapped her fingers. "Yes, I know that which I do know. I can stop him from being milord, and that I will--I will. If he is milord he will marry--you--you. But as my own George he will make me--me--" she struck her breast again--"me, Lola Velez, madame his wife."
"You are talking nonsense," said Dorothy, coolly, though she felt annoyed and puzzled. "What can you know?"
"That which I do know. Wait--oh, wait a day--one day, two day, three day, and then--" She snapped her fingers. "You see--yes--you see how clever I am. I go, I go, you white cat. I go to get my George."
Lola darted away at a run, which slackened to a rapid walk as she neared the Park gates. Dorothy sat down again, too amazed to follow.
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1
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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connivance
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| n.纵容；默许 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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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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tottered
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| 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 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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apparently
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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amicably
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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consummately
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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implores
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的第三人称单数 ) | |
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spurns
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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bacchanalian
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| adj.闹酒狂饮的；n.发酒疯的人 | |
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garb
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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impiety
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| n.不敬；不孝 | |
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peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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revels
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| n.作乐( revel的名词复数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉v.作乐( revel的第三人称单数 )；狂欢；着迷；陶醉 | |
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43
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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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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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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voluptuous
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| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
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juggles
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| v.歪曲( juggle的第三人称单数 )；耍弄；有效地组织；尽力同时应付（两个或两个以上的重要工作或活动） | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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smiting
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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lulling
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的现在分词形式） | |
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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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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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alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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ascendancy
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| n.统治权，支配力量 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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