***** Alexandria Main Station: midnight. A deathly heavy dew. The noise of wheels cracking the slime-slithering pavements. Yellow pools of phosphorous light, and corridors of darkness like tears in the dull brick fa.ade of a stage set. Policemen in the shadows. Standing14 against an insanitary brick wall to kiss her goodbye. She is going for a week, but in the panic, half-asleep I can see that she may never come back. The soft resolute66 kiss and the bright eyes fill me with emptiness. From the dark platform comes the crunch67 of rifle-butts and the clicking of Bengali. A detail of Indian troops on some routine transfer to Cairo. It is only as the train begins to move, and as the figure at the window, dark against the darkness, lets go of my hand, that I feel Melissa is really leaving; feel everything that is inexorably denied — the long pull of the train into the silver light reminds me of the sudden long pull of the vertebrae of her white back turning in bed. ‘Melissa’ I call out, but the giant sniffing68 of the engine blots69 out all sound. She begins to tilt70, to curve and slide; and quick as a scene-shifter the station packs away advertisement after advertisement, stacking them in the darkness. I stand as if marooned71 on an iceberg72. Beside me a tall Sikh shoulders the rifle he has stopped with a rose. The shadowy figure is sliding away down the steel rails into the darkness; a final lurch73 and the train pours away down a tunnel, as if turned to liquid. I walk about Moharrem-Bey that night, watching the moon cloud over, preyed74 upon by an inexpressible anxiety. Intense light behind cloud; by four o’clock a thin pure drizzle76 like needles. The poinsettias in the Consulate77 garden stark78 with silver drops standing on their stamens. No birds singing in the dawn. A light wind making the palm trees sway their necks with a faint dry formal clicking. The wonderful hushing of rain on Mareotis. Five o’clock. Walking about in her room, studying inanimate objects with intense concentration. The empty powder-boxes. The depilatories from Sardis. The smell of satin and leather. The horrible feeling of some great impending79 scandal…. I write these lines in very different circumstances and many months have elapsed since that night; here, under this olive-tree, in the pool of light thrown by an oil lamp, I write and relive that night which has taken its place in the enormous fund of the city’s memories. Somewhere else, in a great study hung with tawny80 curtains Justine was copying into her diary the terrible aphorisms of Herakleitos. The book lies beside me now. On one page she has written: ‘It is hard to fight with one’s heart’s desire; whatever it wishes to get, it purchases at the cost of soul.’ And lower down in the margins81: ‘Night-walkers, Magians, Bakchoi, Lenai and the initiated….’
***** Was it about this time that Mnemjian startled me by breathing into my ear the words: ‘Cohen is dying, you know?’ The old furrier had drifted out of sight for some months past. Melissa had heard that he was in hospital suffering from uraemia. But the orbit we once described about the girl had changed; the kaleidoscope had tilted82 once more and he had sunk out of sight like a vanished chip of coloured glass. Now he was dying? I said nothing as I sat exploring the memories of those early days — the encounters at street-corners and bars. In the long silence that ensued Mnemjian scraped my hairline clean with a razor and began to spray my head with bay-rum. He gave a little sigh and said: ‘He has been asking for your Melissa. All night, all day.’ ‘I will tell her’ I said, and the little memory man nodded with a mossy conspiratorial83 look in his eyes. ‘What a horrible disease’ he said under his breath, ‘he smells so. They scrape his tongue with a spatula84. Pfui!’ And he turned the spray upwards85 towards the roof as if to disinfect the memory: as if the smell had invaded the shop. Melissa was lying on the sofa in her dressing-gown with her face turned to the wall. I thought at first she was asleep, but as I came in she turned and sat up. I told her Mnemjian’s news. ‘I know’ she said. ‘They sent me word from the hospital. But what can I do? I cannot go and see him. He is nothing to me, never was, never will be.’ Then getting up and walking the length of the room she added in a rage which hovered86 on the edge of tears. ‘He has a wife and children. What are they doing?’ I sat down and once more confronted the memory of that tame seal staring sadly into a human wineglass. Melissa took my silence for criticism I suppose for she came to me and shook me gently by the shoulders, rousing me from my thoughts. ‘But if he is dying?’ I said. The question was addressed as much to myself as to her. She cried out suddenly and kneeling down placed her head on my knees. ‘Oh, it is so disgusting! Please do not make me go.’ ‘Of course not.’ ‘But if you think I should I will have to.’ I said nothing. Cohen was in a sense already dead and buried. He had lost his place in our history, and an expenditure87 of emotional energy on him seemed to me useless It had no relation to the real man who lay among the migrating fragments of his old body in a whitewashed88 ward28. For us he had become merely an historic figure. And yet here he was, obstinately89 trying to insist on his identity, trying to walk back into our lives at another point in the circumference90. What could Melissa give him now? What could she deny him? ‘Would you like me to go?’ I said. The sudden irrational91 thought had come into my mind that here, in the death of Cohen, I could study my own love and its death. That someone in extremis, calling for help to an old lover, could only elicit92 a cry of disgust — this terrified me. It was too late for the old man to awake compassion93 or even interest in my lover, who was already steeped in new misfortunes against the backcloth of which the old had faded, rotted. And in a little time perhaps, if she should call on me or I on her? Would we turn from each other with a cry of emptiness and disgust? I realized then the truth about all love: that it is an absolute which takes all or forfeits94 all. The other feelings, compassion, tenderness and so on, exist only on the periphery95 and belong to the constructions of society and habit. But she herself — austere and merciless Aphrodite — is a pagan. It is not our brains or instincts which she picks — but our very bones. It terrified me to think that this old man, at such a point in his life, had been unable to conjure96 up an instant’s tenderness by the memory of anything he had said or done: tenderness from one who was at heart the most tender and gentle of mortals. To be forgotten in this way was to die the death of a dog ‘I shall go and see him for you’ I said, though my heart quailed97 in disgust at the prospect98; but Melissa had already fallen asleep with her dark head upon my knees. Whenever she was upset about anything she took refuge in the guileless world of sleep, slipping into it as smoothly99 and easily as a deer or a child. I put my hands inside the faded kimono and gently rubbed her shallow ribs100 and flanks. She stirred half-awake and murmured something inaudible as she allowed me to lift her and carry her gently back to the sofa. I watched her sleeping for a long time. It was already dark and the city was drifting like a bed of seaweed towards the lighted cafés of the upper town. I went to Pastroudi and ordered a double whisky which I drank slowly and thoughtfully. Then I took a taxi to the Hospital. I followed a duty-nurse down the long anonymous101 green corridors whose oil-painted walls exuded102 an atmosphere of damp. The white phosphorescent bulbs which punctuated103 our progress wallowed in the gloom like swollen104 glow-worms. They had put him in the little ward with the single curtained bed which was, as I afterwards learned from Mnemjian, reserved for critical cases whose expectation of life was short. He did not see me at first, for he was watching with an air of shocked exhaustion105 while a nurse disposed his pillows for him. I was amazed at the masterful, thoughtful reserve of the face which stared up from the mattress106, for he had become so thin as almost to be unrecognizable. The flesh had sunk down upon his cheek-bones exposing the long slightly curved nose to its very roots and throwing into relief the carved nostrils107. This gave the whole mouth and jaw108 a buoyancy, a spirit which must have characterized his face in earliest youth. His eyes looked bruised109 with fever and a dark stubble shaded his neck and throat, but under this the exposed lines of the face were as clean as those of the face of a man of thirty. The images of him which I had so long held in my memory — a sweaty porcupine110, a tame seal — were immediately dissolved and replaced by this new face, this new man who looked like — one of the beasts of the Apocalypse. I stood for a long minute in astonishment111 watching an unknown personage accepting the ministration of the nurses with a dazed and regal exhaustion. The duty-nurse was whispering in my ear: ‘It is good you have come. Nobody will come and see him. He is delirious112 at times. Then he wakes and asks for people. You are a relation?’ ‘A business associate’ I said. ‘It will do him good to see a face he knows.’ But would he recognize me, I wondered? If I had changed only half as much as he had we would be complete strangers to one another. He was lying back now, the breath whistling harshly through that long vulpine nose which lay resting against his face like the proud figurehead of an abandoned ship. Our whispers had disturbed him, for he turned upon me a vague but nevertheless pure and thoughtful eye which seemed to belong to some great bird of prey75. Recognition did not come until I moved forward a few paces to the side of the bed. Then all at once his eyes were flooded with light — a strange mixture of humility, hurt pride, and innocent fear. He turned his face to the wall. I blurted113 out the whole of my message in one sentence. Melissa was away, I said, and I had telegraphed her to come as quickly as possible; meanwhile I had come to see if I could help him in any way. His shoulders shook, and I thought that an involuntary groan114 was about to burst from his lips; but presently in its place came the mockery of a laugh, harsh, mindless and unmusical. As if directed at the dead carcass of a joke so rotten and threadbare that it could compel nothing beyond this ghastly rictus gouged115 out in his taut116 cheeks. ‘I know she is here’ he said, and one of his hands came running over the counterpane like a frightened rat to grope for mine. ‘Thank you for your kindness.’ And with this he suddenly seemed to grow calm, though he kept his face turned away from me. ‘I wanted’ he said slowly, as if he were collecting himself in order to give the phrase its exactest meaning, ‘I wanted to close my account honourably117 with her. I treated her badly, very badly. She did not notice, of course; she is too simple-minded, but good, such a good girl.’ It sounded strange to hear the phrase ‘bonne copine’ on the lips of an Alexandrian, and moreover pronounced in the chipped trailing sing-song accent common to those educated here. Then he added, with considerable effort, and struggling against a formidable inner resistance. ‘I cheated her over her coat. It was really sealskin. Also the moths118 had been at it. I had it relined. Why should I do such a thing? When she was ill I would not pay for her to see the doctor. Small things, but they weigh heavy.’ Tears crowded up into his eyes and his throat tightened119 as if choked by the enormity of such thoughts. He swallowed harshly and said: ‘They were not really in my character. Ask any business man who knows me. Ask any one.’ But now confusion began to set in, and holding me gently by the hand he led me into the dense120 jungle of his illusions, walking among them with such surefootedness and acknowledging them so calmly that I almost found myself keeping company with them too. Unknown fronds121 of trees arched over him, brushing his face, while cobbles punctuated the rubber wheels of some dark ambulance full of metal and other dark bodies, whose talk was of limbo122 — a repulsive123 yelping124 streaked125 with Arabic objurgations. The pain, too, had begun to reach up at his reason and lift down fantasies. The hard white edges of the bed turned to boxes of coloured bricks, the white temperature chart to a boatman’s white face. They were drifting, Melissa and he, across the shallow blood-red water of Mareotis, in each other’s arms, towards the rabble126 of mud-huts where once Rhakotis stood. He reproduced their conversations so perfectly127 that though my lover’s share was inaudible I could nevertheless hear her cool voice, could deduce her questions from the answers he gave her. She was desperately128 trying to persuade him to marry her and he was temporizing129, unwilling130 to lose the beauty of her person and equally unwilling to commit himself. What interested me was the extraordinary fidelity131 with which he reproduced this whole conversation which obviously in his memory ranked as one of the great experiences of his life. He did not know then how much he loved her; it had remained for me to teach him the lesson. And conversely how was it that Melissa had never spoken to me of marriage, had never betrayed to me the depth of her weakness and exhaustion as she had to him? This was deeply wounding. My vanity was gnawed132 by the thought that she had shown him a side of her nature which she had kept hidden from me. Now the scene changed again and he fell into a more lucid133 vein134. It was as if in the vast jungle of unreason we came upon clearings of sanity135 where he was emptied of his poetic136 illusions. Here he spoke of Melissa with feeling but coolly, like a husband or a king. It was as if now that the flesh was dying the whole funds of his inner self, so long dammed up behind the falsities of a life wrongly lived, burst through the dykes137 and flooded the foreground of his consciousness. It was not only Melissa either, for he spoke of his wife — and at times confused their names. There was also a third name, Rebecca, which he pronounced with a deeper reserve, a more passionate sorrow than either of the others. I took this to be his little daughter, for it is the children who deliver the final coup138 de grace in all these terrible transactions of the heart. Sitting there at his side, feeling our pulses ticking in unison139 and listening to him as he talked of my lover with a new magistral calm I could not help but see how much there was in the man which Melissa might have found to love. By what strange chance had she missed the real person? For far from being an object of contempt (as I had always taken him to be) he seemed to be now a dangerous rival whose powers I had been unaware140 of; and I was visited by a thought so ignoble141 that I am ashamed to write it down. I felt glad that Melissa had not come to see him die lest seeing him, as I saw him now, she might at a blow rediscover him. And by one of those paradoxes142 in which love delights I found myself more jealous of him in his dying than I had ever been during his life. These were horrible thoughts for one who had been so long a patient and attentive143 student of love, but I recognized once more in them the austere mindless primitive144 face of Aphrodite. In a sense I recognized in him, in the very resonance145 of his voice when he spoke her name, a maturity146 which I lacked; for he had surmounted147 his love for her without damaging or hurting it, and allowed it to mature as all love should into a consuming and depersonalized friendship. So far from fearing to die, and importuning148 her for comfort, he wished only to offer her, from the inexhaustible treasury149 of his dying, a last gift. The magnificent sable150 lay across a chair at the end of the bed wrapped in tissue paper; I could see at a glance that it was not the sort of gift for Melissa, for it would throw her scant151 and shabby wardrobe into confusion, outshining everything. ‘I was always worried about money’ he said felicitously152 ‘while I was alive. But when you are dying you suddenly find yourself in funds.’ He was able for the first time in his life to be almost light-hearted. Only the sickness was there like some patient and cruel monitor. He passed from time to time into a short confused sleep and the darkness hummed about my tired ears like a hive of bees’. It was getting late and yet I could not bring myself to leave him. A duty-nurse brought me a cup of coffee and we talked in whispers. It was restful to hear her talk, for to her illness was simply a profession which she had mastered and her attitude to it was that of a journeyman. In her cold voice she said: ‘He deserted153 his wife and child for une femme quelconque. Now neither the wife nor the woman who is his mistress wants to see him. Well!’ She shrugged154 her shoulders. These tangled155 loyalties156 evoked157 no feeling of compassion in her, for she saw them simply as despicable weaknesses. ‘Why doesn’t the child come? Has he not asked for her?’ She picked a front tooth with the nail of her little finger and said: ‘Yes. But he does not want to frighten her by letting her see him sick. It is, you understand, not pleasant for a child.’ She picked up an atomizer and languidly squirted some disinfectant into the air above us, reminding me sharply of Mnemjian. ‘It is late’ she added; ‘are you going to stay the night?’ I was about to make a move, but the sleeper158 awoke and clutched at my hand once more. ‘Don’t go’ he said in a deep fragmented but sane159 voice, as if he had overheard the last few phrases of our conversation. ‘Stay a little while. There is something else I have been thinking over and which I must reveal to you.’ Turning to the nurse he said quietly but distinctly, ‘Go!’ She smoothed the bed and left us alone once more. He gave a great sigh which, if one had not been watching his face, might have seemed a sigh of plenitude, happiness. ‘In the cupboard’ he said ‘you will find my clothes.’ There were two dark suits hanging up, and under his direction I detached a waistcoat from one of them, in the pockets of which I burrowed160 until my fingers came upon two rings. ‘I had decided161 to offer to marry Melissa now if she wished. That is why I sent for her. After all what use am I? My name?’ He smiled vaguely162 at the ceiling. ‘And the rings —’ he held them lightly, reverently163 in his fingers like a communion wafer. ‘These are rings she chose for herself long ago. So now she must have them. Perhaps….’ He looked at me for a long moment with pained, searching eyes. ‘But no’ he said, ‘you will not marry her. Why should you? Never mind. Take them for her, and the coat.’ I put the rings into the shallow breast-pocket of my coat and said nothing. He sighed once more and then to my surprise, in a small gnome164’s tenor165 muffled almost to inaudibility sang a few bars of a popular song which had once been the rage of Alexandria, Jamais de la vie, and to which Melissa still danced at the cabaret. ‘Listen to the music!’ he said, and I thought suddenly of the dying Antony in the poem of Cavafy — a poem he had never read, would never read. Sirens whooped166 suddenly from the harbour like planets in pain. Then once more I heard this gnome singing softly of chagrin167 and bonheur, and he was singing not to Melissa but to Rebecca. How different from the great heart-sundering choir168 that Antony heard — the rich poignance169 of strings170 and voices which in the dark street welled up — Alexandria’s last bequest171 to those who are her exemplars. Each man goes out to his own music, I thought, and remembered with shame and pain the clumsy movements that Melissa made when she danced. He had drifted now to the very borders of sleep and I judged that it was time to leave him. I took the coat and put it in the bottom drawer of the cupboard before tip-toeing out and summoning the duty-nurse. ‘It is very late’ she said. ‘I will come in the morning’ I said. I meant to. Walking slowly home through the dark avenue of trees, tasting the brackish172 harbour wind, I remembered Justine saying harshly as she lay in bed: ‘We use each other like axes to cut down the ones we really love.’
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1
cabal
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| n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
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sects
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| n.宗派，教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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libertine
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| n.淫荡者；adj.放荡的，自由思想的 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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asceticism
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| n.禁欲主义 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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initiates
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| v.开始( initiate的第三人称单数 )；传授；发起；接纳新成员 | |
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dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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Moslem
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| n.回教徒，穆罕默德信徒；adj.回教徒的，回教的 | |
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visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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benighted
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| adj.蒙昧的 | |
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flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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delta
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| n.（流的）角洲 | |
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amorphous
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| adj.无定形的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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venue
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| n.犯罪地点，审判地，管辖地，发生地点，集合地点 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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tamped
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| v.捣固( tamp的过去式和过去分词 )；填充；（用炮泥）封炮眼口；夯实 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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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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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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psyche
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| n.精神；灵魂 | |
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underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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psyches
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| n.灵魂，心灵( psyche的名词复数 ) | |
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aphorisms
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| 格言，警句( aphorism的名词复数 ) | |
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53
prohibitions
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| 禁令，禁律( prohibition的名词复数 )； 禁酒； 禁例 | |
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54
enlisting
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| v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的现在分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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55
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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57
Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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58
calculus
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| n.微积分；结石 | |
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59
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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60
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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61
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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62
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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63
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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64
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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65
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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66
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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67
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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68
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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69
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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70
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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71
marooned
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| adj.被围困的；孤立无援的；无法脱身的 | |
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72
iceberg
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| n.冰山，流冰，冷冰冰的人 | |
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73
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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74
preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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75
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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76
drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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77
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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78
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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79
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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80
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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81
margins
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| 边( margin的名词复数 )； 利润； 页边空白； 差数 | |
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82
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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83
conspiratorial
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| adj.阴谋的，阴谋者的 | |
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84
spatula
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| n.抹刀 | |
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85
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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86
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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87
expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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88
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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90
circumference
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| n.圆周，周长，圆周线 | |
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91
irrational
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| adj.无理性的，失去理性的 | |
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92
elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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93
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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94
forfeits
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| 罚物游戏 | |
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95
periphery
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| n.(圆体的)外面；周围 | |
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96
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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97
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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99
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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100
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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101
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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102
exuded
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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103
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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104
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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105
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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106
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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107
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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108
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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109
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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110
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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111
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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112
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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113
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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115
gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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116
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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117
honourably
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| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
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118
moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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119
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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120
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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121
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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122
limbo
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| n.地狱的边缘；监狱 | |
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123
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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124
yelping
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的现在分词 ) | |
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125
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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126
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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127
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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128
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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129
temporizing
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| v.敷衍( temporize的现在分词 )；拖延；顺应时势；暂时同意 | |
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130
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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131
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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132
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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133
lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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134
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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135
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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136
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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137
dykes
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| abbr.diagonal wire cutters 斜线切割机n.堤( dyke的名词复数 )；坝；堰；沟 | |
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138
coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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139
unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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140
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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141
ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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142
paradoxes
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| n.似非而是的隽语，看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 )；用于语言文学中的上述隽语；有矛盾特点的人[事物，情况] | |
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143
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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144
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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145
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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146
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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147
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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148
importuning
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| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的现在分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
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149
treasury
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| n.宝库；国库，金库；文库 | |
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150
sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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151
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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152
felicitously
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| adv.恰当地，适切地 | |
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153
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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154
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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155
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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156
loyalties
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| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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157
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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158
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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159
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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160
burrowed
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的过去式和过去分词 )；翻寻 | |
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161
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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162
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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163
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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164
gnome
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| n.土地神；侏儒，地精 | |
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165
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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166
whooped
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| 叫喊( whoop的过去式和过去分词 )； 高声说； 唤起 | |
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167
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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168
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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169
poignance
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170
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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171
bequest
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| n.遗赠；遗产，遗物 | |
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172
brackish
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| adj.混有盐的；咸的 | |
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