“Dear Mr. Ordham: I feel Isolde herself with these purple lilies in my hands. She was a great woman and no other colour is worthy2 of her. I have half promised to sing at Princess Nachmeister’s concert to-morrow night, and now I have a fancy to cover myself with these lilies and sing the Liebestod. One needs inspiration of an uncommon3 sort when, unsupported by orchestra and footlights, one feels as if one might founder4 any moment in a sea of impertinent eyes. Your eyes, at least, are kind and encouraging. I will sing to you—for once—in memory of a picturesque5 hour designed by a king, and one of that unhappy monarch’s rare triumphs.
“Thank you so much!
“Margarethe Tann.”
This note so flattered and delighted him that he went voluntarily to call on Frau von Wass, and further beatified by finding her surrounded, made himself so charming to her guests that although, in spite of a murmured invitation, he would not linger, Hélène was tempted7 to believe that he kindled8 alone in the light of her smiles.
But he had no intention of bestowing9 a thought upon her except when circumstances forced him into her society. She had craved10 no more than her due, and for a fortnight longer she should have the benefit of all the courtesy he could summon, but not a shadow of superfluous11 attention. Little dreaming of what was pickling for him, he had already consigned12 her to the past, and the only wish she inspired was the expiration13 of the fortnight. He was too indifferent constitutionally to speculate upon her sudden change of front, and too inexperienced, despite his cleverness, to be the match of any adventuress who wore the habit of his own world. With those profound and haunted abysses of wicked women he had had as little contact as with that practical side of life which tapers14 the wits and sharpens the vision. Ten years hence and the Hélène Wasses would be read and disposed of in short order; to-day he was but the good-natured, honourable15, gullible16 young English aristocrat17, who has been taken in time out of mind, and will continue to be until England is Americanized.
On the following evening he took his chair in the concert room of the Nachmeister Palast with an inner ferment18 so successfully concealed20 that his face was quite expressionless. For once he did not smile into every pair of eyes turned upon him. He thought of little but the note of Margarethe Styr, which he had read several times. Whatever her motive21, he knew that a great compliment had been paid him; and although a too kindly22 fate disposed him to take most compliments as a matter of course, and humility23 disturbed him at rare intervals24, to-night he was inclined to be not only exultant25 but grateful.
The immense room, with its old crimson26 brocades, its heavy dingy27 rococo28 gilding29, its cosmopolitan30 assemblage, was an imposing31 sight, and Ordham was still young enough to love society. Parties at Excellenz Nachmeister’s were seldom dowdy32 (unless too many royalties33 were present), and when, as to-night, the entire diplomatic corps34 was bidden, as well as many army officers and high officials, the men, in their beautiful uniforms, their orders and sashes, made an even more dazzling impression than the women. Uniforms at least were always new, and gowns did duty in aristocratic Munich for many seasons, regardless of changes in style. Waists too were large, and square, and soft; but the materials that covered them, whether old or new, were very rich, and jewels conceal19 many defects. A few besides Hélène Wass could be relied upon to display the fashions of Paris, and the women of the diplomatic corps were always resplendent.
When Princess Nachmeister received in this room she wore a powdered wig35 and a brocade as stiff as a hoopskirt, consequently was less of an eyesore than usual. Ordham had murmured his compliments, then after a hasty glance about—he arrived late—taken an empty chair between two people he did not know. Frau von Wass, a siren to-night in pale green tulle, water-lilies, and many pearls, left her seat, took a chair conspicuously36 apart, drew her eyelids37 into bows, and sent him a quiverful of arrows. All in vain.
A number of distinguished38 amateurs played and warbled brilliantly; for in the most musical city of northern Europe no one dared offend the hypercritical ear with a second-rate performance. Possart recited from Manfred. There was a small orchestra, and a tenor39 from Paris. At the end of two hours, when even the most artistic40 were thinking wistfully of supper and motion, there was a sharp rustle41 throughout the Festsaal, a deep intaking of breath: little Baron42 Walleypeg of the crooked43 smile had announced that Countess Tann had arrived at the last moment and would sing. (But he made the announcement in redundant44 phrases and tones of emotion, for he was a German, and he cherished a hopeless passion for Die Styr.)
She appeared suddenly on the platform at the head of the room and received a demonstration45. Not only was she the artist best beloved in Munich, but surprise shattered the languor46 appropriate to so fashionable an occasion.
Ordham saw his lilies. They were in her hair, on her breast, on the front of her skirt. But what diverted his attention from this expected compliment was the surprise afforded by her evening gown. He had seen her only in the heavy white draperies affected47 by the heroines of Wagnerian romance, and in the still more classic costume she had worn at Neuschwanstein; he had supposed her to be a massive woman built for such r?les, and the more untuned to private life. To-night she wore a closely fitting modish48 gown of maize-coloured tulle, in which the purple lilies seemed to grow. Her neck and arms were uncovered, every line of her figure was salient. She was almost slender, clean-limbed, with a low small bust49, and hips50 barely accentuated51. Her shoulders sloped gracefully52, her waist was so round that it looked small if it was not. Ordham was familiar, of course, with her long round throat, the famous arms and hands, and he marvelled53 that he had not taken for granted that the rest of her figure was built in harmony. Then he wondered what part that incomparable form, which might have risen from the mould of Messalina, had played in her unhappy past; and fancied he understood why she veiled it from the public eye with so complete an indifference54. Again he felt sorry for her, and more determined55 than ever to know her.
She wore her heavy dark hair in a low knot. Her skin, ivory-white, had the luminous56 effect he had often noted57 on the stage and missed at Neuschwanstein; her eyes were sullen58 and heavy, she held her head very high. To the surprise of her audience she sang them several folk-songs. When she paused, there was a spontaneous outburst of approval, then a vocal59 demand for more. The applause subsided60, and as she smiled and bowed, they took for granted that their desire for these old songs of their hearts was about to be gratified.
She burst softly into the Liebestod. Her face remained as immobile as ivory, but she threw the soul of Isolde into her voice. It floated upward in the first rapture61 of delirium62, and few but saw the wild face of the dying queen rise above the body of Tristan, the castle towers, the dead Kurwenal, the weeping figures of King Mark and Br?ngane, the army of retainers in the background. Ordham, at least, shared Isolde’s vision of the valiant63 soul that had replaced the clay, as she sang, in tones heart-breaking in their sweet frenzy64:
“Seht ihr’s Freunde?
?S?h’t ihr’s nicht?”
As her voice, rising on a higher and higher note, clear and sustained in the triumph of the seer, the heaven-given vision of the woman to whom her lost has been restored, it seemed the golden pathway upon which her own soul mounted to disappear among the stars. When she opened the flood-gates many gasped65 and wept; and Ordham, petrified66, wondered if all the passion of the world were being swept out into eternity67 by that soul of Isolde, whom nothing but the passion of death could satisfy.
The voice, remote, dying, drawn68 to a mere69 crystal thread, sank away on the last lines:
“ertrinken,
?versinken,
?unbewusst—
?h?chste Lust70!”
A great woman and her passion were dead and the world was poorer.
The applause was long and Styr was forced to return and bow many times; but when Baron Walleypeg announced that she would not sing again, the audience rose, and Ordham went in search of her. She had not glanced in his direction, but he chose to believe that she had kept her word and sung to him. He found her near the door of the supper room, surrounded by so dense71 a crowd of men and women that he could not approach within two feet of her. But she smiled at him, and a few moments later, when there was a break in the ranks, extended her hand. When he would have lifted it to his lips in the German fashion, which he privately72 thought beneath his dignity unless the hand were young and shapely, she shook his warmly, as if to remind him that she was an American. It was pleasant to feel a hearty73 clasp again, and he smiled with quick response, but asked her formally if it did not tire her to sing so often. She replied that nothing tired her; and then her ear was claimed by a personage in a light blue uniform embellished74 with many orders, whom she addressed as “K?nigliche Hoheit.” It was impossible to interrupt her conversation with a prince of the blood, but Ordham stood his ground and glanced about idly. Nothing could be more formal than Princess Nachmeister’s dinners, and nothing less so than her suppers, when her guests, presumably, had had enough of the straight and narrow chairs of Louis XIV. Only the unfortunate royalties were marshalled to an alcove75 and seated about a table on a dais; the other guests stood, sat on little sofas, grouped about small tables, as they listed; the women waited upon, not only by the lackeys76, but by the young officers and diplomatic attachés. Now and again the imposing and portly, who no doubt commanded the incessant78 service of their hausfraus at home, were moved to demonstrate their youthful agility79.
Ordham’s eye met the fixed80 gaze of Hélène Wass, sitting conspicuously apart. He nodded carelessly to the wife of the distinguished Geheimrath, heedless of the significance of the act, then coloured with annoyance81 as he turned to meet a glance of keen inquiry82 in the eyes of Margarethe Styr. Those eyes deliberately83 travelled from his to the siren in green tulle and water-lilies, and encountered a look of haughty84 defiance85. Another dignitary offering his arm, she moved away, but gave Ordham a little nod and smile which seemed to say, “Later—nicht wahr?”
As he turned he could not avoid seeing that Frau von Wass was still strangely alone, and felt that he could do no less than offer his services. She was quite at the end of the room, and she had time to observe that he came on a leaden foot. Once more hatred86 flamed and almost routed the octopus88 of her love. She had leapt to the not unwarranted conclusion that there was an understanding between Ordham and the great singer whom no man pretended to know informally. The hand-shake and smile, the challenging glance at herself, caused the depths of the desperate woman to swarm89 with fighting devils, rushing on their armours and polishing their blades. She swore under her breath that she would ruin him if she could not have him, and her momentary90 hatred gave her a poise91 which, in her ferment, she might otherwise have been unable to command. She smiled brightly when he finally stood before her.
“Bring me an ice and a cup of coffee,” she said, in the pretty woman’s careless tone of command, which he had thought so charming a few weeks ago. He left her with alacrity92; then, as he never could find anything, it was quite fifteen minutes before he returned, followed by two servants bearing a small table and a delicate but abundant supper.
“Always the grand seigneur!” she said lightly. “Even one or two Hoheits are waiting on the ladies, and as for several of my husband’s portly old confrères—Well! the less one expects of you the better.”
She took a chair that gave her the advantage of sitting with her back to the room, and Ordham wondered if she meant to treat him to a scene, then reassured93 himself with the memory of her formal renunciation. And her present manner was light and agreeable, that of the gay young woman of the world.
“See how bored those poor dears are!” She indicated the segregated94 royalties. “Whatever else has been my unhappy fate, I can at least be thankful that I was not born a Hoheit. Do you know that all the queer people of my acquaintance I have met at one or other of the royal palaces? No wonder royalties grasp at the few liberties permitted them, and snatch at any straw that relieves their ennui95.”
“You met me at court,” said Ordham, for want of something better.
“Oh, not at court. You forget I cannot go to court. We met at a rout87 at the Red Palace. Have you forgotten?”
“Of course not. Only these distinctions are beyond me. When do you break all our hearts by leaving Munich?”
“Fritz puts me off! But I shall get him away almost as soon as I planned. It is time!” The last sentence was delivered as from the mouth of a toy cannon96, and he jumped.
“What is it?”
“Do you not see that I am ostracized97? Did you not notice that I was driven to seat myself apart—like a pariah98?”
“Well, you are here”—he answered vaguely99. “It is not so easy—”
“You forget that Fritz is one of the Nachmeister’s oldest and closest friends—a prehistoric100 lover, no doubt. No matter how much she may hate me, she will never insult him. But when he dies—”
“Oh, well, you do not like Munich and would live elsewhere in any case.” Ordham’s supper was turning to gall101. Why would this woman always talk about herself?
“But the present? And if I should not be able to persuade Fritz to go, after all? Like all old men he is full of whims102. It will be a martyrdom—I may as well tell you the cause. I learned it to-day. All your friends and admirers of my own dear sex have suddenly discovered that you see more of me than of any one else and have formed the one conclusion that can tickle103 the Munich palate. They have made up their minds that as yet you are not seriously in love with me, however, and have determined to get me out of the way before I have worked your ruin.”
“Ruin?”
“Yes—It seems that I have a reputation! You would neglect your studies, miss your examinations, wreck104 your chances of a wealthy marriage—heaven knows what not! So they have made up their minds to put a stop to it.”
“Made up their minds—” An odd light was kindling105 in Ordham’s eyes, which no longer looked juvenile106, or even absent.
“It is a cabal107. I only learned of it by the merest chance—rather, to be exact, through the consideration of one faithful friend. They have agreed to cut me, drop me, mortify108 me so that I shall no longer have the courage to go anywhere. Meanwhile they will shower you with invitations that you may not have an instant’s time to seek me. When you no longer meet me, even see me, of course you will forget my existence, after the fashion of volatile109 youth. Even the men that once liked me are in the plot, for they have guessed for a long time that I was interested in no one but you; and men are pettier than women.”
She told this preposterous110 story with so much concentrated passion, such bitterness and venom111 of accent, that almost any man would have believed her. And Ordham was young and full of the vanity of youth. His eyes were blazing, his jaw112 line looked even longer than usual. She was quite aware that he mistook his natural (and British) resentment113 at coercion114 of any sort for righteous wrath115, also, that by this time he knew something of the petty cabals116 and intrigues117 of European court society; whose smiling distaste for truth in any form, he had once remarked to her, made even his diplomatic soul feel blunt and Anglo-Saxon.
“They have persuaded themselves that they think only of your welfare, that extraordinary future they all predict for you. But they know what their real motive is! It is their opportunity to cast me out, a pleasure too long deferred118. And out, I suppose, I must go.”
“Well, I will go with you.” This came through his teeth. “How dare they?”
Her eyes dilated119, but she dropped her lashes120. She was not so carried away by her victory as to lose sight of its contributing cause. To ask him now if he loved her, to pin him down, might be fatal.
“Dare? They have taken you up to such an extent that they look upon themselves as the natural arbiters121 of your destiny. They are devoted122 to you. They have made you the fashion. Not tamely will they sit by and watch their work undone123. If you want the whole truth,” she ran on with her amazing fertility, “they even wish to make you one of them. They have decided124 upon the Brobdingnagian daughter of the rich Herr von Schmidt, whose beer is justly famous. She is to be presented privately to the Queen-mother, and then she will be formally on the market. She looks as if she had beer in her very veins125, and her ankles are as thick as my waist. But what does that signify? She is the only child of an ennobled Schmidt and will inherit millions. They will succeed! They will succeed! They are so clever—and you—you are so indolent—you would accept any one determined to marry you. It is your destiny to be managed, and when these friends fling garlands about your neck and gold dust into your eyes, you will murmur6: ‘What a bore, but why not? My family expect something of the sort. What matter a yellow skin and thick ankles?’ While I—I—” She pounded the table in her mounting passion, no longer entirely126 simulated. “I shall be an outcast. Once out, they will never let me in again. Fritz, stupid as he is, will notice, inquire; he will treat me as badly as the rest. I shall have the whole world against me. I have always had the whole world against me. Those words will be found flaming in my heart when I am dead. Even if I left Munich, these people would hound me. It is my destiny. I can never escape it—never! never! You cannot understand; you, who were born at the top, who would compel deference127 for that alone if you committed the seven deadly sins, if you wore rags in Australia—while I—I, the daughter of a small merchant,—even if I had married a duke, the world would never let me forget that I was born bourgeois128. And a mere ritter, like Fritz—”
“Oh, please, please compose yourself! Let us go into another room.” Ordham was cold with terror. A scene threatened him, with all Munich as audience. She had stirred his anger, his dramatic sense, his pity; but for the moment he had no thought of her. She controlled herself so quickly and completely, however, that he was moved to admiration129. “Forgive me,” she said quietly, wishing that she had worn black velvet130 instead of this frivolous131 Lorelei costume, but contriving132 to look dignified133 in spite of her flushed cheeks and suffused134 eyes. “How could I forget myself? But I was carried away by the thought of that abominable135 cabal—remember that I only heard of it this afternoon. I wonder if they will succeed?”
“Of course not.”
She stared at him, fascinated, as she had done on the day of their reconciliation136. Again his brain seemed to cast its shadow of maturity137 over his face. This singular effect, combined with his youthful bloom and indolent strength, entranced the blasée woman choking with the dregs of life. With a last effort she controlled herself again. He had had as much as he could stand for one evening; better she go home and mature her plans. She rose and drew herself up, looking far more the great lady than many of the homely138 shapeless women whose pedigrees ran back into the Holy Roman Empire. “I shall go now,” she said. “Will you tell a lackey77 to call my carriage?”
He went with her into the courtyard, and as he bade her good-night, she said softly: “You will come to-morrow?”
“Of course.”
“I shall expect you.”
He returned hastily to the house in the hope of a word with Margarethe Styr. But she had gone; and he took his own leave immediately, almost scowling139 at his many good friends, and wondering if any young man had ever been thrown into such perturbation before.
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1
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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3
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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6
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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7
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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8
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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10
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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11
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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12
consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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13
expiration
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| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
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14
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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15
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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gullible
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| adj.易受骗的；轻信的 | |
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17
aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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18
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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26
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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27
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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rococo
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| n.洛可可；adj.过分修饰的 | |
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29
gilding
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| n.贴金箔，镀金 | |
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30
cosmopolitan
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| adj.世界性的，全世界的，四海为家的，全球的 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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dowdy
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| adj.不整洁的；过旧的 | |
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royalties
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| 特许权使用费 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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37
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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41
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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42
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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44
redundant
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| adj.多余的，过剩的；(食物)丰富的；被解雇的 | |
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45
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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46
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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47
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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48
modish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的 | |
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49
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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50
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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51
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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52
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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53
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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55
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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56
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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57
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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58
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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59
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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60
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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61
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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62
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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63
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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64
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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65
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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66
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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67
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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68
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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69
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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70
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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71
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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72
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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73
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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74
embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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75
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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76
lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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77
lackey
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| n.侍从；跟班 | |
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78
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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79
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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80
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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81
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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82
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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83
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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84
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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85
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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86
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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87
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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88
octopus
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| n.章鱼 | |
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89
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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91
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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92
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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93
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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94
segregated
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| 分开的； 被隔离的 | |
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95
ennui
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| n.怠倦，无聊 | |
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96
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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97
ostracized
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| v.放逐( ostracize的过去式和过去分词 )；流放；摈弃；排斥 | |
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98
pariah
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| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
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99
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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100
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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101
gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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102
WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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103
tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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104
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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105
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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106
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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107
cabal
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| n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
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108
mortify
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| v.克制，禁欲，使受辱 | |
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109
volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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110
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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111
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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112
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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113
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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114
coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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115
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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116
cabals
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| n.（政治）阴谋小集团，（尤指政治上的）阴谋( cabal的名词复数 ) | |
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117
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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118
deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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119
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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121
arbiters
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| 仲裁人，裁决者( arbiter的名词复数 ) | |
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122
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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123
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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124
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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125
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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126
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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127
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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128
bourgeois
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| adj./n.追求物质享受的(人)；中产阶级分子 | |
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129
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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130
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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131
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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132
contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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133
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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134
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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136
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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137
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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138
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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139
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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