***** At this time he had already begun to experience that great cycle of historical dreams which now replaced the dreams of his childhood in his mind, and into which the City now threw itself — as if at last it had found a responsive subject through which to express the collective desires, the collective wishes, which informed its culture. He would wake to see the towers and minarets67 printed on the exhausted, dust-powdered sky, and see as if en montage on them the giant footprints of the historical memory which lies behind the recollections of individual personality, its mentor68 and guide: indeed its inventor, since man is only an extension of the spirit of place. These disturbed him for they were not at all the dreams of the night-hours. They overlapped69 reality and interrupted his waking mind as if the membrane70 of his consciousness had been suddenly torn in places to admit them. Side by side with these giant constructions — Palladian galleries of images drawn71 from his reading and meditation72 on his own past and the city’s — there came sharper and sharper attacks of unreasoning hatred73 against the very Justine he had so seldom known, the comforting friend and devoted lover. They were of brief duration but of such fierceness that, rightly regarding them as the obverse of the love he felt for her, he began to fear not for her safety but for his own. He became afraid of shaving in the sterile74 white bathroom every morning. Often the little barber noticed tears in the eyes of his subject as he noiselessly spread the white apron75 over him. But while the gallery of historical dreams held the foreground of his mind the figures of his friends and acquaintances, palpable and real, walked backwards76 and forwards among them, among the ruins of classical Alexandria, inhabiting an amazing historical space-time as living personages. Laboriously77, like an actuary’s clerk he recorded all he saw and felt in his diaries, ordering the impassive Selim to type them out. He saw the Mouseion, for example, with its sulky, heavily-subsidized artists working to a mental fashion-plate of its founders78: and later among the solitaries79 and wise men the philosopher), patiently wishing the world into a special private state useless to anyone but himself — for at each stage of development each man resumes the whole universe and makes it suitable to his own inner nature: while each thinker, each thought fecundates the whole universe anew. The inscriptions80 on the marbles of the Museum murmured to him as he passed like moving lips. Balthazar and Justine were there waiting for him. He had come to meet them, dazzled by the moonlight and drenching81 shadow of the colonnades82. He could hear their voices in the darkness and thought, as he gave the low whistle which Justine would always recognize as his: ‘It is mentally vulgar to spend one’s time being so certain of first principles as Balthazar is.’ He heard the elder man saying: ‘And morality is nothing if it is merely a form of good behaviour.’ He walked slowly down through the arches towards them. The marble stones were barred with moonlight and shadow like a zebra. They were sitting on a marble sarcophagus-lid while somewhere in the remorseless darkness of the outer court someone was walking up and down on the springy turf lazily whistling a phrase from an aria83 of Donizetti. The gold cigales at Justine’s ears transformed her at once into a projection84 from one of his dreams and indeed he saw them both dressed vaguely in robes carved heavily of moonlight. Balthazar in a voice tortured by the paradox85 which lies at the heart of all religion was saying: ‘Of course in one sense even to preach the gospel is evil. This is one of the absurdities86 of human logic87. At least it is not the gospel but the preaching which involves us with the powers of darkness. That is why the Cabal is so good for us; it posits88 nothing beyond a science of Right Attention.’ They had made room for him on their marble perch58 but here again, before he could reach them the fulcrum89 of his vision was disturbed and other scenes gravely intervened, disregarding congruence and period, disregarding historic time and common probability. He saw so clearly the shrine90 the infantry91 built to Aphrodite of the Pigeons on that desolate92 alluvial93 coast. They were hungry. The march had driven them all to extremities94, sharpening the vision of death which inhabits the soldier’s soul until it shone before them with an unbearable95 exactness and magnificence. Baggage-animals dying for lack of fodder96 and men for lack of water. They dared not pause at the poisoned spring and wells. The wild asses97, loitering so exasperatingly98 just out of bowshot, maddened them with the promise of meat they would never secure as the column evolved across the sparse99 vegetation of that thorny100 coast. They were supposed to be marching upon the city despite the omens101. The infantry marched in undress though they knew it to be madness. Their weapons followed them in carts which were always lagging. The column left behind it the sour smell of unwashed bodies — sweat and the stale of oxen: Macedonian slingers-of-theline farting like goats. Their enemies were of a breath-taking elegance102 — cavalry103 in white armour104 which formed and dissolved across the route of their march like clouds. At close range one saw they were men in purple cloaks, embroidered105 tunics106 and narrow silk trousers. They wore gold chains round their intricate dark necks and bracelets107 on their javelin-arms. They were as desirable as a flock of women. Their voices were high and fresh. What a contrast they offered to the slingers, case-hardened veterans of the line, conscious only of winters which froze their sandals to their feet or summers whose sweat dried the leather underfoot until it became as hard as dry marble. A gold bounty108 and not passion had entrained them in this adventure which they bore with the stoicism of all wage-earners. Life had become a sexless strap109 sinking deeper and ever deeper into the flesh. The sun had parched110 and cured them and the dust had rendered them voiceless. The brave plumed111 helmets with which they had been issued were too hot to wear at midday. Africa, which they had somehow visualized112 as an extension of Europe — an extension of terms, of references to a definitive113 past — had already asserted itself as something different: a forbidding darkness where the croaking114 ravens115 matched the dry exclamations116 of spiritless men, and rationed117 laughter fashioned from breath simply the chittering of baboons118. Sometimes they captured someone — a solitary119 frightened man out hunting hares — and were amazed to see that he was human like themselves. They stripped his rags and stared at human genitals with an elaborate uncomprehending interest. Sometimes they despoiled120 a township or a rich man’s estate in the foothills, to dine on pickled dolphin in jars (drunken soldiers feasting in a barn among the oxen, unsteadily wearing garlands of wild nettles121 and drinking from captured cups of gold or horn). All this was before they even reached the desert…. Where the paths had crossed they had sacrificed to Heracles (and in the same breath murdered the two guides, just to be on the safe side); but from that moment everything had begun to go wrong. Secretly they knew they would never reach the city and invest it. And God! Never let that winter bivouac in the hills be repeated. The fingers and noses lost by frostbite! The raids! In his memory’s memory he could still hear the squeaking122 munching123 noise of the sentry’s footsteps all winter in the snow. In this territory the enemy wore fox-skins on their heads in a ravenous124 peak and long hide tunics which covered their legs. They were silent, belonging uniquely as the vegetation did to these sharp ravines and breath-stopping paths of the great watershed126. With a column on the march memory becomes an industry, manufacturing dreams which common ills unite in a community of ideas based on privation. He knew that the quiet man there was thinking of the rose found in her bed on the day of the Games. Another could not forget the man with the torn ear. The wry127 scholar pressed into service felt as dulled by battle as a chamberpot at a symposium128. And the very fat man who retained the curious personal odour of a baby: the joker, whose sallies kept the vanguard in a roar? He was thinking of a new depilatory from Egypt, of a bed trade-marked Heracles for softness, of white doves with clipped wings fluttering round a banqueting table. All his life he had been greeted at the brothel door by shouts of laughter and a hail of slippers129. There were others who dreamed of less common pleasures — hair dusty with white lead, or else schoolboys in naked ranks marching two abreast130 at dawn to the school of the Harpmaster, through falling snow as thick as meal. At vulgar country Dionysia they carried amid roars the giant leather phallus, but once initiated131 took the proffered132 salt and the phallus in trembling silence. Their dreams proliferated133 in him, and hearing them he opened memory to his consciousness royally, prodigally134, as one might open a major artery135. It was strange to move to Justine’s side in that brindled136 autumn moonlight across such an unwholesome tide of memories: he felt his physical body displacing them by its sheer weight and density137. Balthazar had moved to give him room and he was continuing to talk to his wife in low tones. (They drank the wine solemnly and sprinkled the lees on their garments. The generals had just told them they would never get through, never find the city.) And he remembered so vividly138 how Justine, after making love, would sit cross-legged on the bed and begin to lay out the little pack of Tarot cards which were always kept on the shelf among the books — as if to compute139 the degree of good fortune left them after this latest plunge140 into the icy underground river of passion which she could neither subdue141 nor slake142. (‘Minds dismembered by their sexual part’ Balthazar had said once ‘never find peace until old age and failing powers persuade them that silence and quietness are not hostile.’) Was all the discordance143 of their lives a measure of the anxiety which they had inherited from the city or the age? ‘Oh my God’ he almost said. ‘Why don’t we leave this city, Justine, and seek an atmosphere less impregnated with the sense of deracination and failure?’ The words of the old poet came into his mind, pressed down like the pedal of a piano, to boil and reverberate144 around the frail145 hope which the thought had raised from its dark sleep.* ‘My problem’ he said to himself quietly, feeling his forehead to see if he had a fever ‘is that the woman I loved brought me a faultless satisfaction which never touched her own happiness’: and he thought over all the delusions146 which were now confirming themselves in physical signs. I mean: he had beaten Justine, beaten her until his arm ached and the stick broke in his hands. All this was a dream of course. Nevertheless on waking he had found his whole arm aching and swollen147. What could one believe when reality mocked the imagination by its performance? At the same time, of course, he fully21 recognized that suffering, indeed all illness, was itself an acute form of self-importance, and all the teachings of the Cabal came like a following wind to swell148 his self-contempt. He could hear, like the distant reverberations of the city’s memory, the voice of Plotinus speaking, not of flight away from intolerable temporal conditions but towards a new light, a new city of Light. ‘This is no journey for the feet, however. Look into yourself, withdraw into yourself and look.’ But this was the one act of which he now knew himself for ever incapable149. It is astonishing for me, in recording150 these passages, to recall how little of all this interior change was visible on the surface of his life — even to those who knew him intimately. There was little to put one’s finger on — only a sense of hollowness in the familiar — as of a well-known air played slightly out of key. It is true that at this period he had already begun to entertain with a prodigality151 hitherto unknown to the city, even among the richest families. The great house was never empty now. The great kitchen-quarters where we so often boiled ourselves an egg or a glass of milk after a concert or a play — dusty and deserted152 then — were now held, by a permanent garrison153 of cooks, surgical154 and histrionic, capped in floury steeples. The upper rooms, tall staircase, galleries and salons155 echoing to the mournful twining of clocks were patrolled now by black slaves who moved as regally as swans about important tasks. Their white linen156, smelling of the goose-iron, was spotless — robes divided by scarlet157 sashes punctuated158 at the waist by clasps of gold fashioned into turtles’ heads: the rebus159 Nessim had chosen for himself. Their soft porpoise160 eyes were topped by the conventional scarlet flower-pots, their gorilla161 hands were cased in white gloves. They were as soundless as death itself. If he had not so far outdone the great figures of Egyptian society in lavishness162 he might have been thought to be competing with them for advancement163. The house was perpetually alive to the cool fern-like patterns of a quartet, or to the foundering164 plunge of saxophones crying to the night like cuckolds. The long beautiful reception-rooms had been pierced with alcoves166 and unexpected corners to increase their already great seating-capacity and sometimes as many as two or three hundred guests sat down to elaborate and meaningless dinners — observing their host lost in the contemplation of a rose lying upon an empty plate before him. Yet his was not a remarkable167 distraction168 for he could offer to the nonentities169 of common conversation a smile — surprising as one who removes an upturned glass to show, hidden by it, some rare entomological creature whose scientific name he had not learned. What else is there to add? The small extravagances of his dress were hardly noticeable in one whose fortune had always seemed oddly matched against a taste for old flannel170 trousers and tweed coats. Now in his ice-smooth sharkskin with the scarlet cummerbund he seemed only what he should always have been — the richest and most handsome of the city’s bankers: those true foundlings of the gut171. People felt that at last he had come into his own. This was how someone of his place and fortune should live. Only the diplomatic corps172 smelt173 in this new prodigality a run of hidden motives174, a plot perhaps to capture the King, and began to haunt his drawing-room with their studied politenesses. Under the slothful or foppish175 faces one was conscious of curiosity stirring, a desire to study Nessim’s motives and designs, for nowadays the King was a frequent visitor to the great house. Meanwhile all this advanced the central situation not at all. It was as if the action which Nessim had been contemplating176 grew with such infinite slowness, like a stalactite, that there was time for all this to fill the interval177 — the rockets ploughing their furrows178 of sparks across the velvet179 sky, piercing deeper and ever deeper into the night where Justine and I lay, locked in each other’s arms and minds. In the still water of the fountains one saw the splash of human faces, ignited by these gold and scarlet stars as they rose hissing180 into heaven like thirsty swans. In the darkness, the warm hand on my arm, I could watch the autumn sky thrown into convulsions of coloured light with the calm of someone for whom the whole unmerited pain of the human world had receded181 and diffused itself — as pain does when it goes on too long, spreading from a specific member to flood a whole area of the body or the mind. The lovely grooves182 of the rockets upon the dark sky filled us only with the sense of a breath-taking congruence to the whole nature of the world of love which was soon to relinquish183 us. This particular night was full of a rare summer lightning: and hardly had the display ended when from the desert to the east a thin crust of thunder formed like a scab upon the melodious184 silence. A light rain fell, youthful and refreshing185, and all at once the darkness was full of figures hurrying back into the shelter of the lamplit houses, dresses held ankle-high and voices raised in shrill186 pleasure. The lamps printed for a second their bare bodies against the transparent187 materials which sheathed188 them. For our part we turned wordlessly into the alcove165 behind the sweet-smelling box-hedges and lay down upon the stone bench carved in the shape of a swan. The laughing chattering189 crowd poured across the entrance of the alcove towards the light; we lay in the cradle of darkness feeling the gentle prickle of the rain upon our faces. The last fuses were being defiantly190 lit by men in dinner-jackets and through her hair I saw the last pale comets gliding191 up into the darkness. I tasted, with the glowing pleasure of the colour in my brain, the warm guiltless pressure of her tongue upon mine, her arms upon mine. The magnitude of this happiness — we could not speak but gazed abundantly at each other with eyes full of unshed tears. From the house came the dry snap of champagne-corks and the laughter of human beings. ‘Never an evening alone now.’ ‘What is happening to Nessim?’ ‘I no longer know. When there is something to hide one becomes an actor. It forces all the people round one to act as well.’ The same man, it was true, walked about on the surface of their common life — the same considerate, gentle punctual man: but in a horrifying192 sense everything had changed, he was no longer there. ‘We’ve abandoned each other’ she said in a small expiring whisper and drawing herself closer pressed to the very hilt of sense and sound the kisses which were like summaries of all we had shared, held precariously193 for a moment in our hands, before they should overflow194 into the surrounding darkness and forsake195 us. And yet it was as if in every embrace she were saying to herself: ‘Perhaps through this very thing, which hurts so much and which I do not want ever to end — maybe through this I shall find my way back to Nessim.’ I was filled suddenly by an intolerable depression. Later, walking about in the strident native quarter with its jabbing lights and flesh-wearing smells, I wondered as I had always wondered, where time was leading us. And as if to test the validity of the very emotions upon which so much love and anxiety could base themselves I turned into a lighted booth decorated by a strip of cinema poster — the huge half-face of a screen-lover, meaningless as the belly196 of a whale turned upwards197 in death — and sat down upon the customer’s stool, as one might in a barber’s shop, to wait my turn. A dirty curtain was drawn across the inner door and from behind it came faint sounds, as of the congress of creatures unknown to science, not specially198 revolting — indeed interesting as the natural sciences are for those who have abandoned any claims of cultivating a sensibility. I was of course drunk by this time and exhausted — drunk as much on Justine as upon the thinpaper-bodied Pol Roget. There was a tarbush lying upon the chair beside me and absently I put it on my head. It was faintly warm and sticky inside and the thick leather lining199 clung to my forehead. ‘I want to know what it really means’ I told myself in a mirror whose cracks had been pasted over with the trimmings of postage stamps. I meant of course the whole portentous200 scrimmage of sex itself, the act of penetration201 which could lead a man to despair for the sake of a creature with two breasts and le croissant as the picturesque202 Levant slang has it. The sound within had increased to a sly groaning204 and squeaking — a combustible205 human voice adding itself to the jostling of an ancient wooden-slatted bed. This was presumably the identical undifferentiated act which Justine and I shared with the common world to which we belonged. How did it differ? How far had our feelings carried us from the truth of the simple, devoid206 beast-like act itself? To what extent was the treacherous207 mind — with its interminable catalogue raisonné of the heart — responsible? I wished to answer an unanswerable question; but I was so desperate for certainty that it seemed to me that if I surprised the act in its natural state, motivated by scientific money and not love, as yet undamaged by the idea, I might surprise the truth of my own feelings and desires. Impatient to deliver myself from the question I lifted the curtain and stepped softly into the cubicle209 which was fitfully lighted by a buzzing staggering paraffin lamp turned down low. The bed was inhabited by an indistinct mass of flesh moving in many places at once, vaguely stirring like an ant-heap. It took me some moments to define the pale and hairy limbs of an elderly man from those of his partner — the greenish-hued whiteness of convex woman with a boa constrictor’s head — a head crowned with spokes210 of toiling211 black hair which trailed over the edges of the filthy212 mattress213. My sudden appearance must have suggested a police raid for it was followed by a gasp214 and complete silence. It was as if the ant-hill had suddenly become deserted. The man gave a groan203 and a startled half-glance in my direction and then as if to escape detection buried his head between the immense breasts of the woman. It was impossible to explain to them that I was investigating nothing more particular than the act upon which they were engaged. I advanced to the bed firmly, apologetically, and with what must have seemed a vaguely scientific air of detachment I took the rusty215 bed-rail in my hands and stared down, not upon them for I was hardly conscious of their existence, but upon myself and Melissa, myself and Justine. The woman turned a pair of large gauche216 charcoal217 eyes upon me and said something in Arabic. They lay there like the victims of some terrible accident, clumsily engaged, as if in some incoherent experimental fashion they were the first partners in the history of the human race to think out this peculiar218 means of communication. Their posture219, so ludicrous and ill-planned, seemed the result of some early trial which might, after centuries of experiment, evolve into a disposition220 of bodies as breathlessly congruent as a ballet-position. But nevertheless I recognized that this had been fixed221 immutably222, for all time — this eternally tragic223 and ludicrous position of engagement. From this sprang all those aspects of love which the wit of poets and madmen had used to elaborate their philosophy of polite distinctions. From this point the sick, the insane started growing; and from here too the disgusted and dispirited faces of the long-married, tied to each other back to back, so to speak, like dogs unable to disengage after coupling. The peal224 of soft cracked laughter I uttered surprised me, but it reassured225 my specimens226. The man raised his face a few inches and listened attentively227 as if to assure himself that no policeman could have uttered such a laugh. The woman re-explained me to herself and smiled. ‘Wait one moment’ she cried, waving a white blotched hand in the direction of the curtain, ‘I will not be long.’ And the man, as if reprimanded by her tone, made a few convulsive movements, like a paralytic228 attempting to walk — impelled229 not by the demands of pleasure but by the purest courtesy. His expression betrayed an access of politeness — as of someone rising in a crowded tram to surrender his place to a mutilé de la guerre. The woman grunted230 and her fingers curled up at the edges. Leaving them there, fitted so clumsily together, I stepped laughing out into the street once more to make a circuit of the quarter which still hummed with the derisive231, concrete life of men and women. The rain had stopped and the damp ground exhaled232 the tormentingly233 lovely scent234 of clay, bodies and stale jasmine. I began to walk slowly, deeply bemused, and to describe to myself in words this whole quarter of Alexandria for I knew that soon it would be forgotten and revisited only by those whose memories had been appropriated by the fevered city, clinging to the minds of old men like traces of perfume upon a sleeve: Alexandria, the capital of Memory. The narrow street was of baked and scented235 terra cotta, soft now from rain but not wet. Its whole length was lined with the coloured booths of prostitutes whose thrilling marble bodies were posed modestly each before her doll’s house, as before a shrine. They sat on three-legged stools like oracles236 wearing coloured slippers, out in the open street. The originality237 of the lighting238 gave the whole scene the colours of deathless romance, for instead of being lit from above by electric light the whole street was lit by a series of stabbing carbide-lamps standing upon the ground: throwing thirsty, ravishing violet shadows upwards into the nooks and gables of the dolls’ houses, into the nostrils239 and eyes of its inhabitants, into the unresisting softness of that furry240 darkness. I walked slowly among these extraordinary human blooms, reflecting that a city like a human being collects its predispositions, appetites and fears. It grows to maturity241, utters its prophets, and declines into hebetude, old age or the loneliness which is worse than either. Unaware242 that their mother city was dying, the living still sat there in the open street, like caryatids supporting the darkness, the pains of futurity upon their very eyelids243; sleeplessly244 watching, the immortality-hunters, throughout the whole fatidic length of time. Here was a painted booth entirely245 decorated by fleur-de-lis carefully and correctly drawn upon a peach-coloured ground in royal blue. At its door sat a giant bluish child of a negress, perhaps eighteen years of age, clad in a red flannel nightgown of a vaguely mission-house allure246. She wore a crown of dazzling narcissus on her black woollen head. Her hands were gathered humbly247 in her lap — an apron full of chopped fingers. She resembled a heavenly black bunny sitting at the entrance of a burrow248. Next door a woman fragile as a leaf, and next her one like a chemical formula rinsed249 out by anaemia and cigarette smoke. Everywhere on these brown flapping walls I saw the basic talisman250 of the country — imprint251 of a palm with outspread fingers, seeking to ward19 off the terrors which thronged252 the darkness outside the lighted town. As I walked past them now they uttered, not human monetary253 cries, but the soft cooing propositions of doves, their quiet voices filling the street with a cloistral254 calm. It was not sex they offered in their monotonous255 seclusion256 among the yellow flares257, but like the true inhabitants of Alexandria, the deep forgetfulness of parturition258, compounded of physical pleasures taken without aversion. The dolls’ houses shivered and reeled for a second as the wind of the sea intruded259, pressing upon loose fragments of cloth, unfastened partitions. One house lacked any backcloth whatever and staring through the door one caught a glimpse of a courtyard with a stunted260 palm-tree. By the light thrown out from a bucket of burning shavings three girls sat on stools, dressed in torn kimonos, talking in low tones and extending the tips of their fingers to the elf-light. They seemed as rapt, as remote as if they had been sitting around a camp fire on the steppes. (In the back of my mind I could see the great banks of ice — snowdrifts in which Nessim’s champagne-bottles lay, gleaming bluish-green like aged208 carp in a familiar pond. And as if to restore my memory I smelt my sleeves for traces of Justine’s perfume.) I turned at last into an empty café where I drank coffee served by a Saidi whose grotesque261 squint262 seemed to double every object he gazed upon. In the far corner, curled up on a trunk and so still that she was invisible at first sat a very old lady smoking a narguileh which from time to time uttered a soft air-bubble of sound like the voice of a dove. Here I thought the whole story through from beginning to end, starting in the days before I ever knew Melissa and ending somewhere soon in an idle pragmatic death in a city to which I did not belong; I say that I thought it through, but strangely enough I thought of it not as a personal history with an individual accent so much as part of the historical fabric263 of the place. I described it to myself as part and parcel of the city’s behaviour, completely in keeping with everything that had gone before, and everything that would follow it. It was as if my imagination had become subtly drugged by the ambience of the place and could not respond to personal, individual assessments264. I had lost the capacity to feel even the thrill of danger. My sharpest regret, characteristically enough, was for the jumble265 of manuscript notes which might be left behind. I had always hated the incomplete, the fragmentary. I decided that they at least must be destroyed before I went a step further. I rose to my feet — only to be struck by a sudden realization266 that the man I had seen in the little booth had been Mnemjian. How was it possible to mistake that misformed back? This thought occupied me as I recrossed the quarter, moving towards the larger thoroughfares in the direction of the sea. I walked across this mirage267 of narrow intersecting alleys268 as one might walk across a battlefield which had swallowed up all the friends of one’s youth; yet I could not help in delighting at every scent and sound — a survivor’s delight. Here at one corner stood a flame-swallower with his face turned up to the sky, spouting269 a column of flame from his mouth which turned black with flapping fumes270 at the edges and bit a hole in the sky. From time to time he took a swig at a bottle of petrol before throwing back his head once more and gushing271 flames six feet high. At every corner the violet shadows fell and foundered272, striped with human experience — at once savage273 and tenderly lyrical. I took it as a measure of my maturity that I was filled no longer with despairing self-pity but with a desire to be claimed by the city, enrolled274 among its trivial or tragic memories — if it so wished. It was equally characteristic that by the time I reached the little flat and disinterred the grey exercise books in which my notes had been scribbled275 I thought no longer of destroying them. Indeed I sat there in the lamp-light and added to them while Pombal discoursed276 on life from the other easy chair. ‘Returning to my room I sit silent, listening to the heavy tone of her scent: a smell perhaps composed of flesh, faeces and herbs, all worked into the dense277 brocade of her being. This is a peculiar type of love for I do not feel that I possess her — nor indeed would wish to do so. It is as if we joined each other only in self-possession, became partners in a common stage of growth. In fact we outrage278 love, for we have proved the bonds of friendship stronger. These notes, however they may be read, are intended only as a painstaking279 affectionate commentary on a world into which I have been born to share my most solitary moments — those of coitus — with Justine. I can get no nearer to the truth. ‘Recently, when it had been difficult to see her for one reason or another, I found myself longing125 so much for her that I went all the way down to Pietrantoni to try and buy a bottle of her perfume. In vain. The good-tempered girl-assistant dabbed280 my hands with every mark she had in stock and once or twice I thought that I had discovered it. But no. Something was always missing — I suppose the flesh which the perfume merely costumed. The undertow of the body itself was the missing factor. It was only when in desperation I mentioned Justine’s name that the girl turned immediately to the first perfume we had tried. “Why did you not say so at first?” she asked with an air of professional hurt; everyone, her tone implied, knew the perfume Justine used except myself. It was unrecognizable. Nevertheless I was surprised to discover that Jamais de la vie was not among the most expensive or exotic of perfumes.’ (When I took home the little bottle they found in Cohen’s waistcoat-pocket the wraith281 of Melissa was still there, imprisoned282. She could still be detected.) Pombal was reading aloud the long terrible passage from Moeurs which is called ‘The Dummy283 Speaks’. ‘In all these fortuitous collisions with the male animal I had never known release, no matter what experience I had submitted my body to. I always see in the mirror the image of an ageing fury crying: “J’ai raté mon propre amour — mon amour à moi. Mon amour-propre, mon propre amour. Je l’ai raté. Je n’ai jamais souffert, jamais eu de joie simple et candide.”’ He paused only to say: ‘If this is true you are only taking advantage of an illness in loving her,’ and the remark struck me like the edge of an axe284 wielded285 by someone of enormous and unconscious strength.
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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bouts
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| n.拳击（或摔跤）比赛( bout的名词复数 )；一段（工作）；（尤指坏事的）一通；（疾病的）发作 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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cabal
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| n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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discourses
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| 论文( discourse的名词复数 )； 演说； 讲道； 话语 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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16
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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calamitous
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| adj.灾难的，悲惨的；多灾多难；惨重 | |
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memoranda
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| n. 备忘录, 便条 名词memorandum的复数形式 | |
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19
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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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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21
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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22
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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23
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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24
fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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25
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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27
diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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28
diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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29
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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30
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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32
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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33
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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34
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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35
veneer
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| n.(墙上的)饰面，虚饰 | |
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36
diplomats
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| n.外交官( diplomat的名词复数 )；有手腕的人，善于交际的人 | |
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37
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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38
despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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39
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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40
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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41
maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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42
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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44
grudging
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| adj.勉强的，吝啬的 | |
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45
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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46
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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47
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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48
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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50
gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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52
dunes
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| 沙丘( dune的名词复数 ) | |
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53
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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54
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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55
observatory
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| n.天文台，气象台，瞭望台，观测台 | |
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56
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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57
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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58
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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59
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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60
distressingly
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| adv. 令人苦恼地；悲惨地 | |
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61
belches
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| n.嗳气( belch的名词复数 )；喷吐；喷出物v.打嗝( belch的第三人称单数 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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62
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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63
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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64
lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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65
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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66
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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67
minarets
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| n.（清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的）光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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68
mentor
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| n.指导者，良师益友；v.指导 | |
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69
overlapped
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| _adj.重叠的v.部分重叠( overlap的过去式和过去分词 )；（物体）部份重叠；交叠；（时间上）部份重叠 | |
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70
membrane
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| n.薄膜，膜皮，羊皮纸 | |
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71
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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72
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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73
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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74
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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75
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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76
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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77
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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78
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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79
solitaries
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| n.独居者，隐士( solitary的名词复数 ) | |
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80
inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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81
drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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82
colonnades
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| n.石柱廊( colonnade的名词复数 ) | |
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83
aria
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| n.独唱曲，咏叹调 | |
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84
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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85
paradox
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| n.似乎矛盾却正确的说法；自相矛盾的人(物) | |
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86
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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87
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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88
posits
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| v.假定，设想，假设( posit的第三人称单数 ) | |
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89
fulcrum
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| n.杠杆支点 | |
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90
shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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91
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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92
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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93
alluvial
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| adj.冲积的；淤积的 | |
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94
extremities
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| n.端点( extremity的名词复数 )；尽头；手和足；极窘迫的境地 | |
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95
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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96
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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97
asses
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| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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98
exasperatingly
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99
sparse
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| adj.稀疏的，稀稀落落的，薄的 | |
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100
thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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101
omens
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| n.前兆，预兆( omen的名词复数 ) | |
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102
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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103
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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104
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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105
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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106
tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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107
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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108
bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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109
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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110
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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111
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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112
visualized
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| 直观的，直视的 | |
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113
definitive
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| adj.确切的，权威性的；最后的，决定性的 | |
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114
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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115
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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116
exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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117
rationed
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| 限量供应，配给供应( ration的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
baboons
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| n.狒狒( baboon的名词复数 ) | |
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119
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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120
despoiled
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| v.掠夺，抢劫( despoil的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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122
squeaking
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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123
munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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124
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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125
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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126
watershed
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| n.转折点，分水岭，分界线 | |
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127
wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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128
symposium
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| n.讨论会，专题报告会；专题论文集 | |
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129
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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130
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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131
initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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132
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
proliferated
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| 激增( proliferate的过去式和过去分词 )； （迅速）繁殖； 增生； 扩散 | |
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134
prodigally
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| adv.浪费地，丰饶地 | |
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135
artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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136
brindled
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| adj.有斑纹的 | |
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137
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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138
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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139
compute
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| v./n.计算，估计 | |
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140
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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141
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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142
slake
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| v.解渴，使平息 | |
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143
discordance
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| n.不调和，不和，不一致性；不整合；假整合 | |
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144
reverberate
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| v.使回响，使反响 | |
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145
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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146
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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147
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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148
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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149
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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150
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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151
prodigality
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| n.浪费，挥霍 | |
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152
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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153
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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154
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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155
salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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156
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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157
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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158
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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159
rebus
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| n.谜,画谜 | |
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160
porpoise
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| n.鼠海豚 | |
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161
gorilla
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| n.大猩猩，暴徒，打手 | |
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162
lavishness
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| n.浪费，过度 | |
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163
advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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164
foundering
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| v.创始人( founder的现在分词 ) | |
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165
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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166
alcoves
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| n.凹室( alcove的名词复数 )；（花园）凉亭；僻静处；壁龛 | |
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167
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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168
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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169
nonentities
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| n.无足轻重的人( nonentity的名词复数 )；蝼蚁 | |
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170
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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171
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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172
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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173
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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174
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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175
foppish
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| adj.矫饰的，浮华的 | |
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176
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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177
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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178
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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179
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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180
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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181
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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182
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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183
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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184
melodious
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| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
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185
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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186
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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187
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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188
sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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189
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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190
defiantly
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|
| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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191
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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192
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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193
precariously
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|
| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
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194
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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195
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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196
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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197
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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198
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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199
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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200
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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201
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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202
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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203
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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204
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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205
combustible
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| a. 易燃的,可燃的; n. 易燃物,可燃物 | |
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206
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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207
treacherous
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|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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208
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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209
cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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210
spokes
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| n.（车轮的）辐条( spoke的名词复数 )；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 | |
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211
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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212
filthy
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|
| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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213
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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214
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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215
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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216
gauche
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| adj.笨拙的，粗鲁的 | |
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217
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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218
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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219
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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220
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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221
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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222
immutably
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| adv.不变地，永恒地 | |
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223
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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224
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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225
reassured
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|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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226
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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227
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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228
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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229
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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230
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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231
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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232
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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233
tormentingly
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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234
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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235
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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236
oracles
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| 神示所( oracle的名词复数 )； 神谕； 圣贤； 哲人 | |
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237
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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238
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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239
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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240
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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241
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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242
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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243
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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244
sleeplessly
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| adv.失眠地 | |
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245
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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246
allure
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| n.诱惑力，魅力；vt.诱惑，引诱，吸引 | |
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247
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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248
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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249
rinsed
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| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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250
talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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251
imprint
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| n.印痕，痕迹；深刻的印象；vt.压印，牢记 | |
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252
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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253
monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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254
cloistral
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| adj.修道院的，隐居的，孤独的 | |
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255
monotonous
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|
| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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256
seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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257
flares
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| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
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258
parturition
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| n.生产，分娩 | |
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259
intruded
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| n.侵入的，推进的v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的过去式和过去分词 )；把…强加于 | |
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260
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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261
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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262
squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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263
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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264
assessments
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| n.评估( assessment的名词复数 )；评价；（应偿付金额的）估定；（为征税对财产所作的）估价 | |
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265
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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266
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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267
mirage
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| n.海市蜃楼，幻景 | |
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268
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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269
spouting
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| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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270
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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271
gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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272
foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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273
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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274
enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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275
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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276
discoursed
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| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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277
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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278
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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279
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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280
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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281
wraith
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| n.幽灵；骨瘦如柴的人 | |
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282
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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283
dummy
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| n.假的东西；(哄婴儿的)橡皮奶头 | |
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284
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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285
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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