The Wandering Jew?—certainly not. More than eighteen centuries have passed over his head. In comparison with him, I am a very young Immortal2.
Am I, then, immortal? This is a question which I have asked myself, by day and night, for now three hundred and three years, and yet cannot answer it. I detected a grey hair amidst my brown locks this very day—that surely signifies decay. Yet it may have remained concealed3 there for three hundred years—for some persons have become entirely4 white-headed before twenty years of age.
I will tell my story, and my reader shall judge for me. I will tell my story, and so contrive5 to pass some few hours of a long eternity6, become so wearisome to me. For ever! Can it be? to live for ever! I have heard of enchantments7, in which the victims were plunged8 into a deep sleep, to wake, after a hundred years, as fresh as ever: I have heard of the Seven Sleepers—thus to be immortal would not be so burthensome: but, oh! the weight of never-ending time—the tedious passage of the still-succeeding hours! How happy was the fabled9 Nourjahad!—But to my task.
All the world has heard of Cornelius Agrippa. His memory is as immortal as his arts have made me. All the world has also heard of his scholar, who, unawares, raised the foul11 fiend during his master’s absence, and was destroyed by him. The report, true or false, of this accident, was attended with many inconveniences to the renowned12 philosopher. All his scholars at once deserted13 him—his servants disappeared. He had no one near him to put coals on his ever-burning fires while he slept, or to attend to the changeful colours of his medicines while he studied. Experiment after experiment failed, because one pair of hands was insufficient14 to complete them: the dark spirits laughed at him for not being able to retain a single mortal in his service.
I was then very young—very poor—and very much in love. I had been for about a year the pupil of Cornelius, though I was absent when this accident took place. On my return, my friends implored15 me not to return to the alchymist’s abode16. I trembled as I listened to the dire17 tale they told; I required no second warning; and when Cornelius came and offered me a purse of gold if I would remain under his roof, I felt as if Satan himself tempted18 me. My teeth chattered—my hair stood on end;—I ran off as fast as my trembling knees would permit.
My failing steps were directed whither for two years they had every evening been attracted,—a gently bubbling spring of pure living water, beside which lingered a dark-haired girl, whose beaming eyes were fixed19 on the path I was accustomed each night to tread. I cannot remember the hour when I did not love Bertha; we had been neighbours and playmates from infancy,—her parents, like mine, were of humble20 life, yet respectable,—our attachment21 had been a source of pleasure to them. In an evil hour, a malignant22 fever carried off both her father and mother, and Bertha became an orphan23. She would have found a home beneath my paternal24 roof, but, unfortunately, the old lady of the near castle, rich, childless, and solitary25, declared her intention to adopt her. Henceforth Bertha was clad in silk—inhabited a marble palace—and was looked on as being highly favoured by fortune. But in her new situation among her new associates, Bertha remained true to the friend of her humbler days; she often visited the cottage of my father, and when forbidden to go thither27, she would stray towards the neighbouring wood, and meet me beside its shady fountain.
She often declared that she owed no duty to her new protectress equal in sanctity to that which bound us. Yet still I was too poor to marry, and she grew weary of being tormented29 on my account. She had a haughty30 but an impatient spirit, and grew angry at the obstacles that prevented our union. We met now after an absence, and she had been sorely beset31 while I was away; she complained bitterly, and almost reproached me for being poor. I replied hastily,—
“I am honest, if I am poor!—were I not, I might soon become rich!”
This exclamation32 produced a thousand questions. I feared to shock her by owning the truth, but she drew it from me; and then, casting a look of disdain33 on me, she said,—
“You pretend to love, and you fear to face the Devil for my sake!”
I protested that I had only dreaded35 to offend her;—while she dwelt on the magnitude of the reward that I should receive. Thus encouraged—shamed by her—led on by love and hope, laughing at my late fears, with quick steps and a light heart, I returned to accept the offers of the alchymist, and was instantly installed in my office.
A year passed away. I became possessed36 of no insignificant37 sum of money. Custom had banished38 my fears. In spite of the most painful vigilance, I had never detected the trace of a cloven foot; nor was the studious silence of our abode ever disturbed by demoniac howls. I still continued my stolen interviews with Bertha, and Hope dawned on me—Hope—but not perfect joy; for Bertha fancied that love and security were enemies, and her pleasure was to divide them in my bosom39. Though true of heart, she was somewhat of a coquette in manner; and I was jealous as a Turk. She slighted me in a thousand ways, yet would never acknowledge herself to be in the wrong. She would drive me mad with anger, and then force me to beg her pardon. Sometimes she fancied that I was not sufficiently40 submissive, and then she had some story of a rival, favoured by her protectress. She was surrounded by silk-clad youths—the rich and gay. What chance had the sad-robed scholar of Cornelius compared with these?
On one occasion, the philosopher made such large demands upon my time, that I was unable to meet her as I was wont41. He was engaged in some mighty42 work, and I was forced to remain, day and night, feeding his furnaces and watching his chemical preparations. Bertha waited for me in vain at the fountain. Her haughty spirit fired at this neglect; and when at last I stole out during the few short minutes allotted43 to me for slumber44, and hoped to be consoled by her, she received me with disdain, dismissed me in scorn, and vowed45 that any man should possess her hand rather than he who could not be in two places at once for her sake. She would be revenged! And truly she was. In my dingy46 retreat I heard that she had been hunting, attended by Albert Hoffer. Albert Hoffer was favoured by her protectress; and the three passed in cavalcade47 before my smoky window. Methought that they mentioned my name; it was followed by a laugh of derision, as her dark eyes glanced contemptuously towards my abode.
Jealousy48, with all its venom49 and all its misery50, entered my breast. Now I shed a torrent51 of tears, to think that I should never call her mine; and, anon, I imprecated a thousand curses on her inconstancy. Yet, still I must stir the fires of the alchymist, still attend on the changes of his unintelligible52 medicines.
Cornelius had watched for three days and nights, nor closed his eyes. The progress of his alembics was slower than he expected: in spite of his anxiety, sleep weighed upon his eyelids54. Again and again he threw off drowsiness55 with more than human energy; again and again it stole away his senses. He eyed his crucibles56 wistfully. “Not ready yet,” he murmured; “will another night pass before the work is accomplished57? Winzy, you are vigilant—you are faithful—you have slept, my boy—you slept last night. Look at that glass vessel58. The liquid it contains is of a soft rose-colour: the moment it begins to change its hue59, awaken60 me—till then I may close my eyes. First, it will turn white, and then emit golden flashes; but wait not till then; when the rose-colour fades, rouse me.” I scarcely heard the last words, muttered, as they were, in sleep. Even then he did not quite yield to nature. “Winzy, my boy,” he again said, “do not touch the vessel—do not put it to your lips; it is a philter—a philter to cure love; you would not cease to love your Bertha—beware to drink!”
And he slept. His venerable head sunk on his breast, and I scarce heard his regular breathing. For a few minutes I watched the vessel—the rosy61 hue of the liquid remained unchanged. Then my thoughts wandered—they visited the fountain, and dwelt on a thousand charming scenes never to be renewed—never! Serpents and adders62 were in my heart as the word “Never!” half formed itself on my lips. False girl!—false and cruel! Never more would she smile on me as that evening she smiled on Albert. Worthless, detested63 woman! I would not remain unrevenged—she should see Albert expire at her feet—she should die beneath my vengeance64. She had smiled in disdain and triumph—she knew my wretchedness and her power. Yet what power had she?—the power of exciting my hate—my utter scorn—my—oh, all but indifference65! Could I attain66 that—could I regard her with careless eyes, transferring my rejected love to one fairer and more true, that were indeed a victory!
A bright flash darted67 before my eyes. I had forgotten the medicine of the adept68; I gazed on it with wonder: flashes of admirable beauty, more bright than those which the diamond emits when the sun’s rays are on it, glanced from the surface of the liquid; an odour the most fragrant69 and grateful stole over my sense; the vessel seemed one globe of living radiance, lovely to the eye, and most inviting70 to the taste. The first thought, instinctively71 inspired by the grosser sense, was, I will—I must drink. I raised the vessel to my lips. “It will cure me of love—of torture!” Already I had quaffed72 half of the most delicious liquor ever tasted by the palate of man, when the philosopher stirred. I started—I dropped the glass—the fluid flamed and glanced along the floor, while I felt Cornelius’s gripe at my throat, as he shrieked73 aloud, “Wretch! you have destroyed the labour of my life!”
The philosopher was totally unaware10 that I had drunk any portion of his drug. His idea was, and I gave a tacit assent74 to it, that I had raised the vessel from curiosity, and that, frighted at its brightness, and the flashes of intense light it gave forth26, I had let it fall. I never undeceived him. The fire of the medicine was quenched—the fragrance75 died away—he grew calm, as a philosopher should under the heaviest trials, and dismissed me to rest.
I will not attempt to describe the sleep of glory and bliss76 which bathed my soul in paradise during the remaining hours of that memorable night. Words would be faint and shallow types of my enjoyment77, or of the gladness that possessed my bosom when I woke. I trod air—my thoughts were in heaven. Earth appeared heaven, and my inheritance upon it was to be one trance of delight. “This it is to be cured of love,” I thought; “I will see Bertha this day, and she will find her lover cold and regardless; too happy to be disdainful, yet how utterly78 indifferent to her!”
The hours danced away. The philosopher, secure that he had once succeeded, and believing that he might again, began to concoct79 the same medicine once more. He was shut up with his books and drugs, and I had a holiday. I dressed myself with care; I looked in an old but polished shield, which served me for a mirror; methought my good looks had wonderfully improved. I hurried beyond the precincts of the town, joy in my soul, the beauty of heaven and earth around me. I turned my steps towards the castle—I could look on its lofty turrets80 with lightness of heart, for I was cured of love. My Bertha saw me afar off, as I came up the avenue. I know not what sudden impulse animated81 her bosom, but at the sight, she sprung with a light fawn-like bound down the marble steps, and was hastening towards me. But I had been perceived by another person. The old high-born hag, who called herself her protectress, and was her tyrant82, had seen me also; she hobbled, panting, up the terrace; a page, as ugly as herself, held up her train, and fanned her as she hurried along, and stopped my fair girl with a “How, now, my bold mistress? whither so fast? Back to your cage—hawks are abroad!”
Bertha clasped her hands—her eyes were still bent83 on my approaching figure. I saw the contest. How I abhorred85 the old crone who checked the kind impulses of my Bertha’s softening86 heart. Hitherto, respect for her rank had caused me to avoid the lady of the castle; now I disdained87 such trivial considerations. I was cured of love, and lifted above all human fears; I hastened forwards, and soon reached the terrace. How lovely Bertha looked! her eyes flashing fire, her cheeks glowing with impatience88 and anger, she was a thousand times more graceful89 and charming than ever. I no longer loved—Oh no! I adored—worshipped—idolized her!
She had that morning been persecuted90, with more than usual vehemence91, to consent to an immediate92 marriage with my rival. She was reproached with the encouragement that she had shown him—she was threatened with being turned out of doors with disgrace and shame. Her proud spirit rose in arms at the threat; but when she remembered the scorn that she had heaped upon me, and how, perhaps, she had thus lost one whom she now regarded as her only friend, she wept with remorse93 and rage. At that moment I appeared. “Oh, Winzy!” she exclaimed, “take me to your mother’s cot; swiftly let me leave the detested luxuries and wretchedness of this noble dwelling—take me to poverty and happiness.”
I clasped her in my arms with transport. The old dame94 was speechless with fury, and broke forth into invective95 only when we were far on our road to my natal96 cottage. My mother received the fair fugitive97, escaped from a gilt98 cage to nature and liberty, with tenderness and joy; my father, who loved her, welcomed her heartily99; it was a day of rejoicing, which did not need the addition of the celestial100 potion of the alchymist to steep me in delight.
Soon after this eventful day, I became the husband of Bertha. I ceased to be the scholar of Cornelius, but I continued his friend. I always felt grateful to him for having, unawares, procured101 me that delicious draught102 of a divine elixir103, which, instead of curing me of love (sad cure! solitary and joyless remedy for evils which seem blessings104 to the memory), had inspired me with courage and resolution, thus winning for me an inestimable treasure in my Bertha.
I often called to mind that period of trance-like inebriation106 with wonder. The drink of Cornelius had not fulfilled the task for which he affirmed that it had been prepared, but its effects were more potent107 and blissful than words can express. They had faded by degrees, yet they lingered long—and painted life in hues108 of splendour. Bertha often wondered at my lightness of heart and unaccustomed gaiety; for, before, I had been rather serious, or even sad, in my disposition109. She loved me the better for my cheerful temper, and our days were winged by joy.
Five years afterwards I was suddenly summoned to the bedside of the dying Cornelius. He had sent for me in haste, conjuring110 my instant presence. I found him stretched on his pallet, enfeebled even to death; all of life that yet remained animated his piercing eyes, and they were fixed on a glass vessel, full of a roseate liquid.
“Behold,” he said, in a broken and inward voice, “the vanity of human wishes! a second time my hopes are about to be crowned, a second time they are destroyed. Look at that liquor—you remember five years ago I had prepared the same, with the same success;—then, as now, my thirsting lips expected to taste the immortal elixir—you dashed it from me! and at present it is too late.”
He spoke111 with difficulty, and fell back on his pillow. I could not help saying,—
“How, revered112 master, can a cure for love restore you to life?”
A faint smile gleamed across his face as I listened earnestly to his scarcely intelligible53 answer.
“A cure for love and for all things—the Elixir of Immortality113. Ah! if now I might drink, I should live for ever!”
As he spoke, a golden flash gleamed from the fluid; a well-remembered fragrance stole over the air; he raised himself, all weak as he was—strength seemed miraculously114 to re-enter his frame—he stretched forth his hand—a loud explosion startled me—a ray of fire shot up from the elixir, and the glass vessel which contained it was shivered to atoms! I turned my eyes towards the philosopher; he had fallen back—his eyes were glassy—his features rigid—he was dead!
But I lived, and was to live for ever! So said the unfortunate alchymist, and for a few days I believed his words. I remembered the glorious intoxication115 that had followed my stolen draught. I reflected on the change I had felt in my frame—in my soul. The bounding elasticity116 of the one—the buoyant lightness of the other. I surveyed myself in a mirror, and could perceive no change in my features during the space of the five years which had elapsed. I remembered the radiant hues and grateful scent117 of that delicious beverage118—worthy the gift it was capable of bestowing—I was, then, IMMORTAL!
A few days after I laughed at my credulity. The old proverb, that “a prophet is least regarded in his own country,” was true with respect to me and my defunct120 master. I loved him as a man—I respected him as a sage—but I derided121 the notion that he could command the powers of darkness, and laughed at the superstitious122 fears with which he was regarded by the vulgar. He was a wise philosopher, but had no acquaintance with any spirits but those clad in flesh and blood. His science was simply human; and human science, I soon persuaded myself, could never conquer nature’s laws so far as to imprison123 the soul for ever within its carnal habitation. Cornelius had brewed124 a soul-refreshing drink—more inebriating125 than wine—sweeter and more fragrant than any fruit: it possessed probably strong medicinal powers, imparting gladness to the heart and vigour126 to the limbs; but its effects would wear out; already were they diminished in my frame. I was a lucky fellow to have quaffed health and joyous127 spirits, and perhaps long life, at my master’s hands; but my good fortune ended there: longevity128 was far different from immortality.
I continued to entertain this belief for many years. Sometimes a thought stole across me—Was the alchymist indeed deceived? But my habitual129 credence130 was, that I should meet the fate of all the children of Adam at my appointed time—a little late, but still at a natural age. Yet it was certain that I retained a wonderfully youthful look. I was laughed at for my vanity in consulting the mirror so often, but I consulted it in vain—my brow was untrenched—my cheeks—my eyes—my whole person continued as untarnished as in my twentieth year.
I was troubled. I looked at the faded beauty of Bertha—I seemed more like her son. By degrees our neighbours began to make similar observations, and I found at last that I went by the name of the Scholar bewitched. Bertha herself grew uneasy. She became jealous and peevish131, and at length she began to question me. We had no children; we were all in all to each other; and though, as she grew older, her vivacious132 spirit became a little allied133 to ill-temper, and her beauty sadly diminished, I cherished her in my heart as the mistress I had idolized, the wife I had sought and won with such perfect love.
At last our situation became intolerable: Bertha was fifty—I twenty years of age. I had, in very shame, in some measure adopted the habits of a more advanced age; I no longer mingled134 in the dance among the young and gay, but my heart bounded along with them while I restrained my feet; and a sorry figure I cut among the Nestors of our village. But before the time I mention, things were altered—we were universally shunned135; we were—at least, I was—reported to have kept up an iniquitous136 acquaintance with some of my former master’s supposed friends. Poor Bertha was pitied, but deserted. I was regarded with horror and detestation.
What was to be done? we sat by our winter fire—poverty had made itself felt, for none would buy the produce of my farm; and often I had been forced to journey twenty miles, to some place where I was not known, to dispose of our property. It is true, we had saved something for an evil day—that day was come.
We sat by our lone137 fireside—the old-hearted youth and his antiquated138 wife. Again Bertha insisted on knowing the truth; she recapitulated139 all she had ever heard said about me, and added her own observations. She conjured140 me to cast off the spell; she described how much more comely141 grey hairs were than my chestnut142 locks; she descanted on the reverence143 and respect due to age—how preferable to the slight regard paid to mere144 children: could I imagine that the despicable gifts of youth and good looks outweighed145 disgrace, hatred146, and scorn? Nay147, in the end I should be burnt as a dealer148 in the black art, while she, to whom I had not deigned149 to communicate any portion of my good fortune, might be stoned as my accomplice150. At length she insinuated151 that I must share my secret with her, and bestow119 on her like benefits to those I myself enjoyed, or she would denounce me—and then she burst into tears.
Thus beset, methought it was the best way to tell the truth. I revealed it as tenderly as I could, and spoke only of a very long life, not of immortality—which representation, indeed, coincided best with my own ideas. When I ended, I rose and said,—
“And now, my Bertha, will you denounce the lover of your youth?—You will not, I know. But it is too hard, my poor wife, that you should suffer from my ill-luck and the accursed arts of Cornelius. I will leave you—you have wealth enough, and friends will return in my absence. I will go; young as I seem, and strong as I am, I can work and gain my bread among strangers, unsuspected and unknown. I loved you in youth; God is my witness that I would not desert you in age, but that your safety and happiness require it.”
I took my cap and moved towards the door; in a moment Bertha’s arms were round my neck, and her lips were pressed to mine. “No, my husband, my Winzy,” she said, “you shall not go alone—take me with you; we will remove from this place, and, as you say, among strangers we shall be unsuspected and safe. I am not so very old as quite to shame you, my Winzy; and I daresay the charm will soon wear off, and, with the blessing105 of God, you will become more elderly-looking, as is fitting; you shall not leave me.”
I returned the good soul’s embrace heartily. “I will not, my Bertha; but for your sake I had not thought of such a thing. I will be your true, faithful husband while you are spared to me, and do my duty by you to the last.”
The next day we prepared secretly for our emigration. We were obliged to make great pecuniary152 sacrifices—it could not be helped. We realized a sum sufficient, at least, to maintain us while Bertha lived; and, without saying adieu to any one, quitted our native country to take refuge in a remote part of western France.
It was a cruel thing to transport poor Bertha from her native village, and the friends of her youth, to a new country, new language, new customs. The strange secret of my destiny rendered this removal immaterial to me; but I compassionated153 her deeply, and was glad to perceive that she found compensation for her misfortunes in a variety of little ridiculous circumstances. Away from all tell-tale chroniclers, she sought to decrease the apparent disparity of our ages by a thousand feminine arts—rouge, youthful dress, and assumed juvenility154 of manner. I could not be angry. Did not I myself wear a mask? Why quarrel with hers, because it was less successful? I grieved deeply when I remembered that this was my Bertha, whom I had loved so fondly, and won with such transport—the dark-eyed, dark-haired girl, with smiles of enchanting155 archness and a step like a fawn—this mincing156, simpering, jealous old woman. I should have revered her grey locks and withered157 cheeks; but thus!—It was my work, I knew; but I did not the less deplore158 this type of human weakness.
Her jealousy never slept. Her chief occupation was to discover that, in spite of outward appearances, I was myself growing old. I verily believe that the poor soul loved me truly in her heart, but never had woman so tormenting159 a mode of displaying fondness. She would discern wrinkles in my face and decrepitude160 in my walk, while I bounded along in youthful vigour, the youngest looking of twenty youths. I never dared address another woman. On one occasion, fancying that the belle161 of the village regarded me with favouring eyes, she brought me a grey wig162. Her constant discourse163 among her acquaintances was, that though I looked so young, there was ruin at work within my frame; and she affirmed that the worst symptom about me was my apparent health. My youth was a disease, she said, and I ought at all times to prepare, if not for a sudden and awful death, at least to awake some morning white-headed and bowed down with all the marks of advanced years. I let her talk—I often joined in her conjectures164. Her warnings chimed in with my never-ceasing speculations165 concerning my state, and I took an earnest, though painful, interest in listening to all that her quick wit and excited imagination could say on the subject.
Why dwell on these minute circumstances? We lived on for many long years. Bertha became bedrid and paralytic166; I nursed her as a mother might a child. She grew peevish, and still harped167 upon one string—of how long I should survive her. It has ever been a source of consolation168 to me, that I performed my duty scrupulously169 towards her. She had been mine in youth, she was mine in age; and at last, when I heaped the sod over her corpse170, I wept to feel that I had lost all that really bound me to humanity.
Since then how many have been my cares and woes171, how few and empty my enjoyments172! I pause here in my history—I will pursue it no further. A sailor without rudder or compass, tossed on a stormy sea—a traveller lost on a widespread heath, without landmark173 or stone to guide him—such have I been: more lost, more hopeless than either. A nearing ship, a gleam from some far cot, may save them; but I have no beacon174 except the hope of death.
Death! mysterious, ill-visaged friend of weak humanity! Why alone of all mortals have you cast me from your sheltering fold? Oh, for the peace of the grave! the deep silence of the iron-bound tomb! that thought would cease to work in my brain, and my heart beat no more with emotions varied175 only by new forms of sadness!
Am I immortal? I return to my first question. In the first place, is it not more probable that the beverage of the alchymist was fraught176 rather with longevity than eternal life? Such is my hope. And then be it remembered, that I only drank half of the potion prepared by him. Was not the whole necessary to complete the charm? To have drained half the Elixir of Immortality is but to be half-immortal—my For-ever is thus truncated177 and null.
But again, who shall number the years of the half of eternity? I often try to imagine by what rule the infinite may be divided. Sometimes I fancy age advancing upon me. One grey hair I have found. Fool! do I lament178? Yes, the fear of age and death often creeps coldly into my heart; and the more I live, the more I dread34 death, even while I abhor84 life. Such an enigma179 is man—born to perish—when he wars, as I do, against the established laws of his nature.
But for this anomaly of feeling surely I might die: the medicine of the alchymist would not be proof against fire—sword—and the strangling waters. I have gazed upon the blue depths of many a placid180 lake, and the tumultuous rushing of many a mighty river, and have said, peace inhabits those waters; yet I have turned my steps away, to live yet another day. I have asked myself, whether suicide would be a crime in one to whom thus only the portals of the other world could be opened. I have done all, except presenting myself as a soldier or duellist181, an object of destruction to my—no, not my fellow-mortals, and therefore I have shrunk away. They are not my fellows. The inextinguishable power of life in my frame, and their ephemeral existence, places us wide as the poles asunder182. I could not raise a hand against the meanest or the most powerful among them.
Thus I have lived on for many a year—alone, and weary of myself—desirous of death, yet never dying—a mortal immortal. Neither ambition nor avarice183 can enter my mind, and the ardent184 love that gnaws185 at my heart, never to be returned—never to find an equal on which to expend186 itself—lives there only to torment28 me.
This very day I conceived a design by which I may end all—without self-slaughter, without making another man a Cain—an expedition, which mortal frame can never survive, even endued187 with the youth and strength that inhabits mine. Thus I shall put my immortality to the test, and rest for ever—or return, the wonder and benefactor188 of the human species.
Before I go, a miserable189 vanity has caused me to pen these pages. I would not die, and leave no name behind. Three centuries have passed since I quaffed the fatal beverage; another year shall not elapse before, encountering gigantic dangers—warring with the powers of frost in their home—beset by famine, toil190, and tempest—I yield this body, too tenacious191 a cage for a soul which thirsts for freedom, to the destructive elements of air and water; or, if I survive, my name shall be recorded as one of the most famous among the sons of men; and, my task achieved, I shall adopt more resolute192 means, and, by scattering193 and annihilating194 the atoms that compose my frame, set at liberty the life imprisoned195 within, and so cruelly prevented from soaring from this dim earth to a sphere more congenial to its immortal essence.
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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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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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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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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fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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15
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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17
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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18
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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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
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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21
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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22
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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23
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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24
paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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25
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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26
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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27
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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28
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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29
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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30
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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31
beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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32
exclamation
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|
| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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33
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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34
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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35
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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36
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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37
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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38
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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40
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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41
wont
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|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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42
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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43
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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45
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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46
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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47
cavalcade
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| n.车队等的行列 | |
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48
jealousy
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|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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49
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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50
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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51
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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52
unintelligible
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|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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53
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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54
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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55
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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56
crucibles
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| n.坩埚，严酷的考验（ crucible的名词复数 ） | |
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57
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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58
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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59
hue
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|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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60
awaken
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|
| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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61
rosy
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|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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62
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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63
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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65
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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66
attain
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|
| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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67
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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68
adept
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| adj.老练的，精通的 | |
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69
fragrant
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|
| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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70
inviting
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|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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71
instinctively
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|
| adv.本能地 | |
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72
quaffed
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|
| v.痛饮( quaff的过去式和过去分词 )；畅饮；大口大口将…喝干；一饮而尽 | |
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73
shrieked
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|
| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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74
assent
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|
| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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75
fragrance
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|
| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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76
bliss
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|
| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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77
enjoyment
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|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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78
utterly
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|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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79
concoct
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|
| v.调合，制造 | |
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80
turrets
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|
| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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81
animated
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|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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82
tyrant
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|
| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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83
bent
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|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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84
abhor
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| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
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85
abhorred
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|
| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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86
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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87
disdained
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|
| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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88
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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89
graceful
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|
| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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90
persecuted
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|
| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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91
vehemence
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|
| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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92
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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93
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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94
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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95
invective
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|
| n.痛骂，恶意抨击 | |
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96
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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97
fugitive
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|
| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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98
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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99
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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100
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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101
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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102
draught
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|
| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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103
elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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104
blessings
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|
| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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105
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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106
inebriation
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| n.醉，陶醉 | |
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107
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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108
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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109
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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110
conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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111
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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112
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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113
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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114
miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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115
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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116
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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117
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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118
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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119
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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120
defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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121
derided
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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123
imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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124
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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125
inebriating
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| vt.使酒醉，灌醉（inebriate的现在分词形式） | |
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126
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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127
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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128
longevity
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| n.长命；长寿 | |
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129
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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130
credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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131
peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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132
vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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133
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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134
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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135
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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136
iniquitous
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|
| adj.不公正的；邪恶的；高得出奇的 | |
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137
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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138
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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139
recapitulated
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|
| v.总结，扼要重述( recapitulate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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140
conjured
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|
| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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141
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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142
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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143
reverence
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|
| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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144
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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145
outweighed
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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146
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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147
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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148
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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149
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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151
insinuated
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| v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
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152
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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153
compassionated
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| v.同情（compassionate的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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154
juvenility
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| n.年轻，不成熟 | |
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155
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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156
mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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157
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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158
deplore
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| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
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159
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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160
decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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161
belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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162
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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163
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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164
conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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165
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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166
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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167
harped
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| vi.弹竖琴（harp的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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168
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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169
scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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170
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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171
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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172
enjoyments
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| 愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 )； 令人愉快的事物； 享有； 享受 | |
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173
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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174
beacon
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| n.烽火，（警告用的）闪火灯，灯塔 | |
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175
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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176
fraught
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| adj.充满…的，伴有(危险等)的；忧虑的 | |
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177
truncated
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| adj.切去顶端的，缩短了的，被删节的v.截面的( truncate的过去式和过去分词 )；截头的；缩短了的；截去顶端或末端 | |
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178
lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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179
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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180
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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181
duellist
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| n.决斗者；[体]重剑运动员 | |
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182
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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183
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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184
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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185
gnaws
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| 咬( gnaw的第三人称单数 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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186
expend
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| vt.花费，消费，消耗 | |
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187
endued
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| v.授予，赋予（特性、才能等）( endue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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189
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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190
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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191
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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192
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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193
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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194
annihilating
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的现在分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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195
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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